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This is a picture of a security guard at SCIS, I tried to tell him that I'm taking a picture about xenophobia, but I think he didn't understand and gave me a happy smile, luckily I can use my genius photoshop skill to fix this crucial mistake.
POW Camp 198 (Island Farm) was a Prisoner of War Camp in Bridgend, South Wales. It was built originally as a dormitory for female factory workers in 1938, it became a POW camp in 1944. The camp hosted a number of Axis prisoners, most of them German, and was the scene of the largest escape attempt by German POW’s in Britain during World War II in March 1945.
These photographs, taken in September 2012, showcase the building as it stands today.
Inspiration for some of the framing of the shots came from the 1975 New Topographics exhibition.
R4 POW
Volvo B10M/Plaxton Excalibur C49FT
Berkeley Coach & Travel, Paulton, Somerset
Stratford-upon-Avon, 20 August 2001
The registration refers to the Pow family, owners of the Berkeley business.
Boo, late for class...I shall write the caption a bit later.
My roommate made this, and we decided to do a photoshoot for him ;) I can't remember where he found the Youtube video, but I'll link it later, if I do find it.
Nap time before another class...I'm so tired today.
November 25, 2012 - The Cabazon Pow Wow at Fantasy Springs Casino in Indio, CA. Drums, Colors and Native American Culture.
Camp 50 is nowadays remembered, if at all, largely because of its connection with the celebrated Manchester City goalkeeper Bert Trautmann. No less interesting from a historical perspective is the story of the British army's official interpreter at the camp, Company Sergeant Major Kurt Bloch.
Born in Berlin on 20 March 1901, Kurt had married Ella Moses (b. 11 November 1904) in 1926. The Schöneberg district marriage register is endorsed to the effect that the couple were in fact divorced in 1931, but this seems to have had no effect on either their domestic situation or their professional activities. The Berlin telephone directory for 1937 places the couple at Dircksenstr. 51, also the location of the Kamm-Bloch factory of which Ella is named as “inhaberin” or proprietor. They are again included in the personal listings in the 1938 directory, but there is now no mention of the comb factory. It appears from other records that Kurt left Germany via the port of Bremen on 14 November 1938. Ella soon followed, travelling on passport no. J11/F856/38 issued at Berlin on 31 December 1938 and landing at Grimsby on 31 March 1939. Registration of the civilian population of England and Wales on 29 September 1939 found the pair reunited in Bradford, West Yorkshire, where Kurt is listed as “Hair Comb Maker” and Ella as engaged in “Unpaid Domestic Duties”. In the meanwhile, on 10 January 1939, Kurt's German birth registration had been endorsed to the effect that he was deemed to have taken the name “Israel” in accordance with an order of 17 August 1938 on identification of those deemed to be of Jewish extraction. The “Jüdischer Gewerbebetriebe in Berlin 1930-1945” database, compiled in 2005-12 under the auspices of the Chair of 20th Century German History at Humboldt University (www2.hu-berlin.de/djgb/www/about), shows that the Bloch factory in Berlin had been taken over in 1938 and was liquidated by the Nazis in 1940.
The Bloch & Adler comb factory in Bradford, in which Kurt and/or Ella presumably had some interest, employed several European Jews who had arrived in the city via Kindertransports etc. One of them, Albert Waxman (1924-2019), would later join the RAF and serve as interpreter at POW Camp 265 Park Farm, near Peterborough. Before then, however, both Kurt Bloch and his wife were briefly interned as “enemy aliens”. Records show that Kurt was released on 8 November 1940 on account of his acceptance for enlistment in the Auxiliary Military Pioneers Corps of the British army. Ella was simultaneously released from her internment on the Isle of Man and, on 7 January 1941, she returned to Bradford.
Kurt Bloch's war service record has not been examined but it is apparent that, at least by April 1946, he held the positions of Staff-Sergeant and Interpreter at Camp 50 and had placed himself at the centre of political re-education efforts:
“The key man in re-education is the interpreter, S/Sgt Bloch, a German Jewish refugee. He is quite one of the best and most efficient interpreters I have yet encountered and takes a most active part in the re-education of the PsW”.*
An account of Bert Trautmann's first meeting with him is given by Trautmann biographer Catrine Clay:
“The first time thy met wasn't auspicious. Sergeant Bloch marched into the camp office in his British army uniform and discussed matters with [POW labour organiser] Mr Maynard before addressing POW Trautmann in what sounded like perfect English. 'My name is Sergeant Bloch', he announced, short and sharp, pronouncing his name 'Block' as in English. He ordered Trautmann to wait in the car, ready for a day of inspections... They had 8 farms to visit that day, which meant being on the road for a good 12 hours... [As they drove] Bloch sat looking out of the window at the passing countryside, smoking a cigarette and humming contentedly. He was a big man with a wide girth and seemed to have an easy temperament. After a while Bernd's curiosity got the better of him.
'I thought you interpreters spoke German'.
'We do', he said in English, adding, 'I'm as German as you are' in German in a strong Berlin accent, and laughing.
Bernd had to laugh as well at the way Bloch had caught him out like a typical Berliner. But after that a silence hung between them because they both knew why Bloch was in England not Berlin.
'I left in 1936', Bloch said after a few minutes, again in German. 'I used to have a brush and comb factory but the Nazis took it off me so I came here.... How about you?... You were a Fallschirmjäger [paratrooper], weren't you?'
So Bloch knew all about him.”**
Impressed by the CSM's evident concern for the welfare of the POWs, Trautmann told The Guardian in 2010:
“I quickly came to see Bloch, and every other Jew, as human beings. At first I sometimes lost my temper with him, but, in time, I talked to him as if he was just another English soldier. I liked him”.***
In October 1946 Kurt was naturalised as a British subject under the “Crown service” provisions of the British Nationality and Status of Aliens Act. Shortly after this he was discharged from the army and so left the Camp. He and Ella settled in London, remaining there until their deaths in April 1968 and July 1965 respectively.
The almost universal praise that Kurt had received from visiting lecturers and PID inspectors alike for his efforts to further the political re-education of the POWs at Camp 50 makes all the more startling the claim, following his departure, that “CSM Bloch” had fostered in the Camp an “atmosphere of 'gestapo-mentality' and general mistrust” by using his influence to favour those who shared his “strong left wing views” when it came to deciding which prisoners should be repatriated or given certain privileges:
“Through his “agents” he knew of the individual PWs' political views. Nobody dared to utter opinions different from Bloch's, lest they jeopardized their chances of repat”.
Was Kurt Bloch a left-wing extremist? This seems unlikely given his background as an entrepreneur. Moreover it is surely understandable -even commendable- that he would wish to counter any lingering Nazi influence, given what had happened to his former homeland and all that he had suffered personally. Perhaps the strongest charge that can be levelled against him is that he seems to have been something of an opportunist who, in his eagerness to demonstrate his commitment to the cause of political re-education, failed to carry the generality of the POWs along with him or to notice that his superiors were increasingly more concerned about the spread of communism in Europe than they were about residual Nazism in the camps. I can find no record of his subsequent employment by PID.
*From the report by Major Readman, 8 July 1946, at National Archives ref. FO 939/132 “Prisoner of War Camps: 50 Working Camp, Garswood Park, Ashton in Makerfield, Lancashire”.
**“Trautmann's Journey: From Hitler Youth to FA Cup Legend”, Yellow Jersey Press 2010. The book is based partly on conversations between the author and her subject in 2007. Some factual inaccuracies – CSM Bloch is given the forename “Herman”, and his departure from Germany put back by two years- may be attributable to memory lapses and/or misunderstandings on Trautmann's part. It seems unlikely that he and Bloch would have been on first-name terms in 1946.
***“Bert Trautmann: from Nazi paratrooper to hero of Manchester City”, 10 April 2010.
Images from National Archives ref. FO 939/300 “Reports on Camp Lectures: 50 Working Camp, Garswood Park, Ashton in Makerfield, Lancashire”-
Left: Letter of 4 May 1946 from S/Sgt K Bloch to Major Robert Seeds, PID Lecture Section, enclosing manuscript copies of two lectures “which I held in this Camp and hostels recently”; offers to repeat them at other POW camps. (Major Seeds would return the manuscripts with his letter of 5 June to the Camp 50 commandant: “With such lecturing your S/Sgt must be doing a lot of good work in your camp but would you explain to him that I cannot use British camp staff for lecturing in other camps”.)
Right, above: Letter of 26 July 1946 from S/Sgt Bloch to Major Seeds' successor, G R Halkett, enclosing a copy of “Aufbauwille” No. 9 and seeking an interview.
Right, below: Note by G R Halkett of S/Sgt Bloch's visit on 31 July 1946: “Will be dem[obilised] in September and will apply for use as Lecturer or TA...”.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; authored on the 24.5.16 by Landsturmmann A. Hermann from the Feldproviantamt (commissariat) of the 26 Reserve Division. Postage cancelled on 25.5.16 with 14 Reserve Korps stamp. Photogr. Julius Manias, Strassburg.
Second of a series of POW pictures I have uploaded for your interest. British POWs are halted on their march into captivity for a photo opportunity. The location is most likely Straßburg.
So we have the fireworks festival going on right now in Spidy land...
for the french population
www.internationaldesfeuxloto-quebec.com/fr/
and for the rest of you
montreal.about.com/od/montrealevents/a/fireworks_mtl.htm
and i tought i had found a cool spot nobody knew about to shoot from..well guess again..so many people knew about my secret..!!
so i'm posthing a couple..gonna try my hand again from a different place and hopefuly get something better next time...
also supose to go with another flickr friend Miss DaisyB...
so enjoy your weekend..i know i'm realy loving all this heat and sun..:-))
xoxoox
POWs, Russians, but among them might be a lot of Latvians or others. For the German soldier they were simply Russians.
"You are not forgotten" is the motto on the POW★MIA flag. God bless those who actively remind us of the unaccounted cost of war.
From the autumn 2016 trip to Vietnam:
If ever there were a good way to finish up a trip, this particular Sunday in October would be it. Before arriving in Hanoi, I honestly had exceptionally low expectations. A bit like Saigon, if you are to go online and try to look up a list of places to visit – basically a tourist’s stock photography checklist, as it may be – you don’t find much that’s appealing. Well…I didn’t, anyway, and as a result, I had pretty low expectations for Hanoi.
The charm and beauty of Hanoi, however, isn’t in any one particular place. It’s in the experience of the entire city. (I’d say the same for Saigon, but multiply that a few times for Hanoi.) On this day in the Old Quarter in particular, I kept finding myself thinking, “Oh, my God, I shouldn’t be this lucky as a photographer…” Today ended up being mostly about people, with a little food and historical locations mixed in.
As I mentioned in the last set of posting, today would start off a bit sad with Junebug leaving for China a day before I would. So, we were checked out of our room by 6:00 in the morning or so. The breakfast at the Art Trendy was wonderful. Buffet with a mix of made-to-order omelets mixed in. Strong work, Art Trendy, strong work…
When June left, I really had nothing to do since it was still six in the morning and I was temporarily homeless as I had to switch hotels. So…I sat around the lobby for about two hours (possibly slightly awkward for the poor girls working there, but oh, well; I had to sit somewhere).
Around 8:00, I finally dragged my old bones out of the hotel and walked the five to ten minutes down the street to the Aquarius, where I politely asked them to hold my non-camera bag until I come back around 1:00 in the afternoon to check in.
After that, I was finally off with my cameras to enjoy an early Sunday morning in the bustling Old Quarter. On the street where the hotel is situated are a number of restaurants where locals were jammed in to enjoy noodles, steamed buns, and the like. It was wonderful to be among that crowd (though someone tried to scold me ever so slightly for taking pictures of people eating).
Since this was right next to St. Joseph’s Cathedral – and it was Sunday morning – I found my way back into the church where we crashed the wedding the afternoon before and realized that I almost got locked into Sunday mass while walking around taking pictures. So…I stayed. I prayed. And my prayer was answered when I realized the side doors and even the back door were open. (Ok…I didn’t really think I was locked in a church, but it did feel like it a little bit.)
Upon exiting the church, a handful of frames under my belt, I walked along the lovely streets photographing shops and people. At Caphe, I piggybacked on someone else’s photo shoot – it looked like they were doing a promo for the place, or possibly just a personal shoot for five women, though I have a feeling it was the former. At any rate, I was quite pleased with that little set and am presenting quite a few of those here, even if they’re a little redundant.
My ultimate goal with this wandering was to find my way to the Hanoi Hilton. Now, I’m not taking about the hotel chain, of course, but rather the prison that U.S. prisoners of war sarcastically called the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam War. (This is the prison where Senator John McCain was interred while a POW, and there are one or two pictures to that effect here.)
This prison has a particularly interesting history (and morbid since…well…it’s a prison). It’s about a hundred years old and was founded by the French colonialists around the turn of the 20th century. During the first 50 years of its history, the French imprisoned Vietnamese insurgents and those who wanted independence. In the eyes of the French…renegades (hence the imprisonment). In the eyes of the Vietnamese – especially the current government – patriots and national heroes. If they were truly freedom fighters, then I would probably side with the current government on that one.
The French even had a guillotine installed here and overcrowding was a major problem. There were plenty of escape attempts, and more were successful than you may think, which is a little peculiar.
After the battle of Bien Dien Phu and the ejection of the French from the north (and before the U.S. got involved in the south), the prison changed hands and was under control of Ho Chi Minh. During the Vietnam War, it became one of the main prisons for U.S. POWs, as I alluded to above.
The propaganda claims that the Vietcong were absolutely humane and decent with U.S. prisoners, allowing them to observe their religious rites (Christmas celebrations, etc.), allowed prisoners to smoke and enjoy leisure (board games, basketball, etc.), and claimed they were well-fed.
This is certainly how it’s presented in the prison/museum currently. If you were to go online, though, and try to find a contrary report, you would find that this was all coerced and staged to make it appear as if things were on the up and up. (For anyone curious, per my Vietnamese friends, the general education in Vietnam today is how terrible the French and U.S. were for colonizing and torturing the country and keeping it from its independence.)
So, what’s the truth of what really happened? Who knows? Outside of firsthand accounts, it’s impossible to know for certain and even then, memory can be a tricky thing. I tend to like to say the truth is always somewhere between two opposing viewpoints, no matter what the topic may be.
From an impartial and purely photographic point of view, the prison, currently a museum/memorial, is an interesting place to spend an hour or two. Some of the exhibits seem a bit cheesy, but some are quite tasteful and well done. There’s also an informational video. You’ll have to see this with a bit of imagination (the prison, that is), as at least half of it has been leveled for high rise buildings. At least there’s some tangible piece of it left to visit, including the main gate (Maison Centrale).
After about two hours here at the Hanoi Hilton, I walked over towards the Opera House to get a few daytime shots but, really, to get lunch at El Gaucho. I was looking forward to a proper steak. The prices were astronomical (though justifiable based on what I ate), though I just opted for a steak salad. It was so good I contemplated going back for dinner, but had other plans.
With a happy stomach, I went back to finally check in at the Aquarius Hotel and got my workout huffing up six flights of stairs each time I went out. I relaxed here for a few hours until 4:00 when a dear friend of mine came to town to see me.
Ngan and I had an ice cream at Baskin Robbins right in front of St. Joe’s before heading over to the Temple of Literature. This is a temple dedicated to education and, bless my soul, it’s a place where university graduates come for graduation pictures.
On this particular day – a warm, sunny, late Sunday afternoon – it was packed with college students. And it was beautiful to see that many people happy, full of hopes and dreams, and dressed in either cap and gown or traditional Vietnamese clothes. In short…I had a field day shooting for an hour here.
Around 5:00, Ngan had to head back to school, and I went back to my hotel. I had one more meeting. Hoa, who traveled around Thailand & Cambodia with me in May, flew back to see me this evening. She picked me up at 6:00 on her scooter and rode me all around Hanoi by evening.
She started by taking me to Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum (which I consider a lot more photogenic in its setting than the Great Gangster’s Mausoleum on Tiananmen Square). This one, at least, was in a parklike setting. At evening, it’s well-lit and you can find people relaxing in the grass in front of it. During the day, you can visit and there are quite a few buildings behind the mausoleum that you can also see.
After a few minutes here, Hoa took me by West Lake – the largest lake in Hanoi, as I mentioned yesterday – and just drove me around for over an hour, it seemed. My impressions that Hanoi (even out of the Old Quarter) seemed to be a good place to live – though I’d be concerned about the air pollution – and people here seemed to be happy. Also…Vietnamese really love their coffee.
We finally returned to the Old Quarter for dinner at one of the famous restaurants she recommended and she treated me to a wonderful dinner. I can’t recall what we ate (the Vietnamese names of it, anyway), but it was nice.
After dinner, she drove me over towards the Opera House and then, finally, we stopped by Hoan Kiem Lake in the heart of the Quarter and walked around the lake. It was getting close to 10:00 by this time, and I wanted to get back to the hotel to get a few hours sleep before waking up for my early flight in the morning. Hoa came to the airport with me to see me off.
If ever there were a great way to finish a great trip, this was it. I absolutely loved Vietnam – honestly, a lot more than I imagined I would, even with every single person I know who’d ever come here saying what a fantastic country this is – and would gladly come back. This seems to be one of the kinds of countries that you would never get tired of or, if you did, it would sure take a long time. With that, I’ll bid goodbye to Vietnam for now with the hopes that I’ll someday return to this land of amazing food, landscapes, and people.
As always, thanks for dropping by and viewing these pictures. Please feel free to leave any questions or comments and I’ll answer as I have time.
From the autumn 2016 trip to Vietnam:
If ever there were a good way to finish up a trip, this particular Sunday in October would be it. Before arriving in Hanoi, I honestly had exceptionally low expectations. A bit like Saigon, if you are to go online and try to look up a list of places to visit – basically a tourist’s stock photography checklist, as it may be – you don’t find much that’s appealing. Well…I didn’t, anyway, and as a result, I had pretty low expectations for Hanoi.
The charm and beauty of Hanoi, however, isn’t in any one particular place. It’s in the experience of the entire city. (I’d say the same for Saigon, but multiply that a few times for Hanoi.) On this day in the Old Quarter in particular, I kept finding myself thinking, “Oh, my God, I shouldn’t be this lucky as a photographer…” Today ended up being mostly about people, with a little food and historical locations mixed in.
As I mentioned in the last set of posting, today would start off a bit sad with Junebug leaving for China a day before I would. So, we were checked out of our room by 6:00 in the morning or so. The breakfast at the Art Trendy was wonderful. Buffet with a mix of made-to-order omelets mixed in. Strong work, Art Trendy, strong work…
When June left, I really had nothing to do since it was still six in the morning and I was temporarily homeless as I had to switch hotels. So…I sat around the lobby for about two hours (possibly slightly awkward for the poor girls working there, but oh, well; I had to sit somewhere).
Around 8:00, I finally dragged my old bones out of the hotel and walked the five to ten minutes down the street to the Aquarius, where I politely asked them to hold my non-camera bag until I come back around 1:00 in the afternoon to check in.
After that, I was finally off with my cameras to enjoy an early Sunday morning in the bustling Old Quarter. On the street where the hotel is situated are a number of restaurants where locals were jammed in to enjoy noodles, steamed buns, and the like. It was wonderful to be among that crowd (though someone tried to scold me ever so slightly for taking pictures of people eating).
Since this was right next to St. Joseph’s Cathedral – and it was Sunday morning – I found my way back into the church where we crashed the wedding the afternoon before and realized that I almost got locked into Sunday mass while walking around taking pictures. So…I stayed. I prayed. And my prayer was answered when I realized the side doors and even the back door were open. (Ok…I didn’t really think I was locked in a church, but it did feel like it a little bit.)
Upon exiting the church, a handful of frames under my belt, I walked along the lovely streets photographing shops and people. At Caphe, I piggybacked on someone else’s photo shoot – it looked like they were doing a promo for the place, or possibly just a personal shoot for five women, though I have a feeling it was the former. At any rate, I was quite pleased with that little set and am presenting quite a few of those here, even if they’re a little redundant.
My ultimate goal with this wandering was to find my way to the Hanoi Hilton. Now, I’m not taking about the hotel chain, of course, but rather the prison that U.S. prisoners of war sarcastically called the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam War. (This is the prison where Senator John McCain was interred while a POW, and there are one or two pictures to that effect here.)
This prison has a particularly interesting history (and morbid since…well…it’s a prison). It’s about a hundred years old and was founded by the French colonialists around the turn of the 20th century. During the first 50 years of its history, the French imprisoned Vietnamese insurgents and those who wanted independence. In the eyes of the French…renegades (hence the imprisonment). In the eyes of the Vietnamese – especially the current government – patriots and national heroes. If they were truly freedom fighters, then I would probably side with the current government on that one.
The French even had a guillotine installed here and overcrowding was a major problem. There were plenty of escape attempts, and more were successful than you may think, which is a little peculiar.
After the battle of Bien Dien Phu and the ejection of the French from the north (and before the U.S. got involved in the south), the prison changed hands and was under control of Ho Chi Minh. During the Vietnam War, it became one of the main prisons for U.S. POWs, as I alluded to above.
The propaganda claims that the Vietcong were absolutely humane and decent with U.S. prisoners, allowing them to observe their religious rites (Christmas celebrations, etc.), allowed prisoners to smoke and enjoy leisure (board games, basketball, etc.), and claimed they were well-fed.
This is certainly how it’s presented in the prison/museum currently. If you were to go online, though, and try to find a contrary report, you would find that this was all coerced and staged to make it appear as if things were on the up and up. (For anyone curious, per my Vietnamese friends, the general education in Vietnam today is how terrible the French and U.S. were for colonizing and torturing the country and keeping it from its independence.)
So, what’s the truth of what really happened? Who knows? Outside of firsthand accounts, it’s impossible to know for certain and even then, memory can be a tricky thing. I tend to like to say the truth is always somewhere between two opposing viewpoints, no matter what the topic may be.
From an impartial and purely photographic point of view, the prison, currently a museum/memorial, is an interesting place to spend an hour or two. Some of the exhibits seem a bit cheesy, but some are quite tasteful and well done. There’s also an informational video. You’ll have to see this with a bit of imagination (the prison, that is), as at least half of it has been leveled for high rise buildings. At least there’s some tangible piece of it left to visit, including the main gate (Maison Centrale).
After about two hours here at the Hanoi Hilton, I walked over towards the Opera House to get a few daytime shots but, really, to get lunch at El Gaucho. I was looking forward to a proper steak. The prices were astronomical (though justifiable based on what I ate), though I just opted for a steak salad. It was so good I contemplated going back for dinner, but had other plans.
With a happy stomach, I went back to finally check in at the Aquarius Hotel and got my workout huffing up six flights of stairs each time I went out. I relaxed here for a few hours until 4:00 when a dear friend of mine came to town to see me.
Ngan and I had an ice cream at Baskin Robbins right in front of St. Joe’s before heading over to the Temple of Literature. This is a temple dedicated to education and, bless my soul, it’s a place where university graduates come for graduation pictures.
On this particular day – a warm, sunny, late Sunday afternoon – it was packed with college students. And it was beautiful to see that many people happy, full of hopes and dreams, and dressed in either cap and gown or traditional Vietnamese clothes. In short…I had a field day shooting for an hour here.
Around 5:00, Ngan had to head back to school, and I went back to my hotel. I had one more meeting. Hoa, who traveled around Thailand & Cambodia with me in May, flew back to see me this evening. She picked me up at 6:00 on her scooter and rode me all around Hanoi by evening.
She started by taking me to Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum (which I consider a lot more photogenic in its setting than the Great Gangster’s Mausoleum on Tiananmen Square). This one, at least, was in a parklike setting. At evening, it’s well-lit and you can find people relaxing in the grass in front of it. During the day, you can visit and there are quite a few buildings behind the mausoleum that you can also see.
After a few minutes here, Hoa took me by West Lake – the largest lake in Hanoi, as I mentioned yesterday – and just drove me around for over an hour, it seemed. My impressions that Hanoi (even out of the Old Quarter) seemed to be a good place to live – though I’d be concerned about the air pollution – and people here seemed to be happy. Also…Vietnamese really love their coffee.
We finally returned to the Old Quarter for dinner at one of the famous restaurants she recommended and she treated me to a wonderful dinner. I can’t recall what we ate (the Vietnamese names of it, anyway), but it was nice.
After dinner, she drove me over towards the Opera House and then, finally, we stopped by Hoan Kiem Lake in the heart of the Quarter and walked around the lake. It was getting close to 10:00 by this time, and I wanted to get back to the hotel to get a few hours sleep before waking up for my early flight in the morning. Hoa came to the airport with me to see me off.
If ever there were a great way to finish a great trip, this was it. I absolutely loved Vietnam – honestly, a lot more than I imagined I would, even with every single person I know who’d ever come here saying what a fantastic country this is – and would gladly come back. This seems to be one of the kinds of countries that you would never get tired of or, if you did, it would sure take a long time. With that, I’ll bid goodbye to Vietnam for now with the hopes that I’ll someday return to this land of amazing food, landscapes, and people.
As always, thanks for dropping by and viewing these pictures. Please feel free to leave any questions or comments and I’ll answer as I have time.
I asked this boy's mother for permission to photograph him. He was so excited about his regalia and the opportunity to dance in the Grand Entrance.
National Museum of the US Air Force
Escape and Isolation
The harsh environment and hostile population surrounding prison camps offered little chance for escape. Still, some POWs tried, and many constantly planned for possible ways to escape. Navy Lt. George Coker and USAF Capt. George McKnight escaped from "Dirty Bird" in Hanoi, and made it 15 miles down the Red River before being recaptured. Both spent several days in irons and were transferred to "Alcatraz," a small prison especially for those the North Vietnamese wanted to isolate.
At Alcatraz, mental torture joined physical hardship: prisoners were isolated completely in tiny, dark, ill-ventilated, dungeon-like cells where they were kept in irons 15 or more hours each day. Navy Lt. Harry Jenkins spent 85 days in irons for communicating with another Alcatraz prisoner. Air Force Col. Robbie Risner spent 10 consecutive months alone in a darkened cell, and Lt. Col. "Swede" Larson spent 18 months in a similar situation. This treatment was not limited to Alcatraz--isolation was common in many camps.
Many POWs spent years, off and on, in solitary confinement. Capt. Tom Moe managed to live through an especially horrible torture session. He was beaten by several guards for many hours, bent backwards with ropes and irons and hung from a pole, slammed face-first onto a concrete floor, and nearly drowned with a filthy wet rag and iron bar clamped in his mouth. He wanted to die simply to escape the pain, but his captors laughed and told him, "It's easy to die but hard to live, and we'll show you just how hard it is to live."
The Cruelest Period
One notable escape attempt in May 1969 had horrific consequences for POWs. Air Force captains John Dramesi and Edwin Atterberry planned an elaborate escape from the "Zoo Annex." Despite their planning, they made it only a few miles. They had made clothing and props to blend in with the native population, and the prison authorities were furious that the Americans had been able to plan such a complex operation. North Vietnamese retaliation on POWs through the summer of 1969 was the most brutal and sustained episode of criminal inhumanity during the Southeast Asia War.
For two weeks, POWs on the "escape committee" who had helped Dramesi and Atterberry were tortured for details. Then, others who knew nothing of the plan were tortured as well. Already meager rations were further reduced, exercise banned, and many prisoners were savagely beaten over the coming months. One POW was hung upside down from the ceiling and shocked with a car battery. Teams of torturers wielding rubber fan belts took turns flaying the bare skin off POWs' bodies. Others were clubbed and forced to kneel for hours without sleep between whippings. Over a 2-week period, Navy Lt. Cmdr. Red McDaniel received more than 700 lashes. He suffered many open wounds, endured electric shocks, was bound in ropes and irons, and was hung upside down with a compound arm fracture--which guards manipulated while questioning continued. Many others suffered similarly as the orgy of retaliation spread among the camps.
For their escape attempt, the North Vietnamese murdered Atterberry by beating him to death, and they flogged Dramesi with fan belts for 38 straight days. They allowed him no sleep during that period (he was forced to sit on a small stool the whole time), they beat him savagely, and alternately tied him in tight ropes or restrained him in irons as he was forced to write and tape apologies. He had only two small pieces of bread and two cups of water each day, and lived in his own filth. Incredibly, he survived--but he was compelled to listen to Atterberry's screams.
Ordeals in the South, Cambodia, Laos, and China
Though most of the 660 total American military POWs who survived the war were held in North Vietnam, a significant number were imprisoned elsewhere. Some were held in South Vietnam (124), Cambodia (23), Laos (13) and China (2). Their experience was somewhat different from those in North Vietnam, and in some ways even more harsh. In South Vietnam and Cambodia, POWs were held by the Viet Cong, often imprisoned in bamboo cages or huts, and forced to move frequently. They were constantly exposed to the weather and jungle insects and disease, isolated from their fellow POWs, and at the mercy of guerillas who often were not controlled by any central authority.
Those held in Laos faced especially harsh environmental conditions, with little food and water in rugged, dry mountains. Details of Laotian captivity by Pathet Lao guerillas are sketchy, even decades afterward, since few POWs survived to tell about it. The complex history of U.S. involvement in Laos makes an accurate accounting of Americans there difficult. China released two military POWs at the end of the war, and several civilians had been held there as well--including one who had been imprisoned for more than 20 years since the Korean War.