Vietnam War POW Recalls Return Home 45 Years Later by U.S. Air Force Airman 1st Class Keith Holcomb
April 22, 2018
Proving their grit and American pride could outlast any amount of
torture or pain. They stood tall in defiance as a C-141 Heaven cargo
aircraft in front of them prepared to bring the men home.
The
now-retired Col. Harris recalled the moment he and his fellow POWs
were released from captivity by American troops; and the moment
seemed surreal to him.
Harris spent 2,871 days in Vietnam as
a POW after being shot down April 4, 1965, during a bombing run
targeting the Thanh Hoa Bridge, one of the most important
transportation routes the North Vietnamese had throughout the war.

Retired Air Force Col. Carlyle
Harris, former Vietnam War POW, speaks about his experiences
in captivity on March 20, 2015 at the 18th Annual POW/MIA
Symposium, hosted by the 560th Flying Training Squadron at
the Joint Base San Antonio-Randolph Fleenor Auditorium.
Harris was released Feb. 12, 1973, after being held for
eight years. His aircraft was shot down by an anti-aircraft
April 4, 1965, during a bombing run on the Ham Rong Bridge
at Than Hoa. The annual Freedom Flyer Reunion tradition
began when the 560th FTS was given the task to retrain more
than 150 POWs returning to flying status toward the end of
American involvement in the Vietnam War. (U.S. Air Force
photo by Johnny Saldivar)
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He said even after they were loaded onto buses with better clothing
and no blindfolds, they were still unsure of the situation. They
arrived to their aircraft, buses stopped and were let out.
“We lined up by height in lines of two at stiff attention, I gave my
facing movements and a salute because we knew it would really tick
off the North Vietnamese,” Harris said.
He explained how
their names were called and how they loaded onto the aircraft,
preparing to leave the life they had lived in Vietnam, it was almost
too good to be true.
“They did take us onto the airplane and
we sat down, and we were really happy but we were so stoic. We
didn’t know if we would taxi around the runway and be
re-incarcerated or what, so we just could not get our excitement out
until we felt the wheels let out underneath us.”
He took
multiple stops before getting home going from base hospital to base
hospital until finally staying at a base near his wife and family,
where they would see him, and for his son; where he would see him
for the first time in the eight years he’d been alive.
“Everyone was doing well, it was 2 o’clock in the morning and my
whole family was there,” he remembered fondly. “I hugged the girls,
they had come screaming, because they had still remembered me but my
son when I hugged him he didn’t really hug back because I was a
total stranger.”
He later was receiving gifts from his family
when he noticed his son in the corner out of the families gift
exchange, and Harris opened his arms to his son and was welcome to
find his son run and jump into his arms, and he recalled knowing in
that moment they bonded as father and son.
There are many
memories that have faded, Harris said, but the stories never fully
leave him.
He recalled the day before his capture, where they
executed a mission in which they attacked the Thanh Hoa Bridge with
mostly guided missiles, and were told to follow the same exact plan
for a follow-up mission April 4, with an exception to use bombs
rather than guided missles.
“We went in at the same time from
the same direction at the same altitude and I was the first flight
of four in and boy were they ready for me,” Harris said.
Harris was the first aircraft to drop his bomb on target April 4,
and explained what happened after he dove down.
“There was so
much anti-aircraft fire bursting everywhere they were sitting there
with their fingers on the trigger … they knew precisely where to
aim,” he laughed, “and they really let loose!”
He explained
the amount of focus it took to drop a bomb and he was unable to
register what was going on; the training kicked in and instincts
began to drive his actions.
“All that took up every bit of my
attention,” he said. “It didn’t affect me until after I dropped the
bomb and bottomed out, doing six G’s or so, and my aircraft was hit.
I wasn’t able to stay with it very long. I tried to radio my
squadron mates and tell them I’d been hit and would probably have to
eject, but the transmission was never received.”
He was
captured and kept alive for information as he was transported to
multiple POW camps, most notably the ‘Hanoi Hilton,’ an infamous
camp that held U.S. prisoners throughout the Vietnam War.
“One of the things I was driven by was to never do anything that
would bring dishonor to me, the Air Force or my family,” Harris
said.
His wife, two daughters and newborn son wouldn’t see
him for over eight years, but would remain in some form of contact
whenever possible with letters sparsely being sent back and forth
throughout his time as a prisoner.
Communication with his
family was important, but the communication inside of the camp was
absolutely essential for everyone’s survival. Harris taught the TAP
code to other POWs and it proved to be one of the most effective
ways for individuals to have some form of conversation.
“We
had to have some kind of communication to carry out the senior
ranking officers directives and also it was wonderful for our morale
to have another American to talk to about anything,” Harris said.
They were tortured periodically, moved from camp to camp, and
had every opportunity to break, but didn’t. By watching their fellow
POWs return with honor, it reinforced them to stay strong when it
was their time for interrogation. Surrounded by the military family,
they pushed each other to be outstanding even in the hardest of
situations.
“We had a lot of peer pressure to do the best
that we could, because when all of us would accept torture to a
large degree before giving them anything, it denied the North
Vietnamese the objective of what they were trying to do,” Harris
said. “We became tougher and gained pride we were doing something
that was beneficial.”
Beneficial it was, the TAP code had
saved his life, and many others on many occasions and was used even
after his release in February 1973.
“We assumed that release
was coming up very soon,” he recalled. “So when we came back to
Hanoi we provided a notification of our release. We were really
enthralled, happy it was going to be over, but we were also very
weary that would actually come to happen. We kind of took it with a
grain of salt, hopeful, but not sure.”
Now 45 years later
after that uncertainty, Harris said keeping connections with his
fellow POWs is also important to him, and a large group of them meet
every year and have kept up with each other outside of the reunions
as well.
“We bonded pretty well as a brotherhood, because
everyone there knew that anyone there would go through the ultimate
trials to save his buddies,” Harris said.
Many years after
his repatriation and return home, Harris said he can look back now
and see nothing had changed. He stood his whole life with pride in
America, in the Air Force and with his work.
“I think the
greatest lesson I was most proud of was the service, the honor
integrity and importance of our service to the country,” Harris
said. “We were all proud to be able to do what we did to the best of
our abilities ... I guess that what I’ve taken away from it all.” |
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