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Response from TerryI usually just let others have their say because it bothers me in a way hard to explain that these exchanges are anonymous. Out of courtesy to Kevin, who signed his name, I'll join the fray and risk making things worse! First an aside. My daughter Melanie has nothing to do with the British soldier story, I merely meant I borrowed her clever expression of "goodness grief" so lets leave her out of the argument please. Second, a word about being brave. I thank those of you who have spoken out here on my behalf. It is true as some of you said that I brought home from the war several medals, even one that says "for heroism." But of all the men and women I know who have been to war and faced the enemy, including many who were decorated for heroism, I don't know a single one who will let themselves be called a hero, and most will stop you if you say it and tell you kindly the real heroes are the ones who never came home. If you ask them, and if you ask me, what did you do to earn that medal you will most likely hear in response "I was just doing my job, like the other guys." And so with a lofty medal for so-called heroism, I'll tell you about bravery by telling you about fear. I remember the fear most when flying at night and engaging enemy anti-aircraft fire, mostly .51 caliber. When those tracers reached up out of the black they seemed to float slow until they raced by, glowing so big we called them basketballs, and no matter how wide they missed, they always looked like they would hit you right between the eyes. We called it the "pucker factor," so we could tell each other how bad it was that day or night, when the adrenaline rush flashed your skin instantly cold no matter how hot it was, made your mouth dry and your heart tried for a second to leap outside your chest and the cheeks of your butt grew a life of their own as they reached down and took a huge bite out of your seat. When we told a fellow pilot coming on station in a firefight while we returned to base to rearm-refuel "pucker factor seven" that is what we meant, with a max of 10. I told you all that to tell you this - amidst that kind of fear you continue to do your job, operating three radios at once, flying the aircraft and thinking ahead to the next manuever, lining up, aiming, firing rockets or miniguns or other weapons, taking great care to hit the enemy and not our brothers. You might wonder how you would perform under those conditions - as new guys in the war we all wondered and obsessed with our wondering in private until the moment came, the first time doing our job under fire. We did fine, and each of you would do fine, too, because your training takes over with all the repetition of doing your job, and you know how importannt it is to cope with the fear because the consequences are great to our brothers on the ground if you do not. The same applies if you are captured. When I was shot down in 1969 we went down hard, my back was broken, I was trapped in the wreckage with paralyzed legs, fuel was leaking all over, the turbine was still running and I was too weak to break through the canopy, panicking because I didn't want to burn and I wanted even less to be captured. I didn't think it through to the level of knowing the enemy would have killed me immediately rather than carry me, but I knew two things about being captured: 1. Our enemy hated cobra pilots - our weapons were so fearsome they called our aircraft the "whispering death." They had a special treat for cobra pilots - string up on a tree, skinned alive, testicles cut off and stuffed in mouth while you bled to death. Sometimes I wondered if that were really true until I encountered some of the enemy's brutality, then I believed the stories. 2. I knew I would not perform well as a POW because I have a serious weak spot - claustrophobia. Put me in a box and I am defeated in one minute. I would rather die than go in the box. Once the enemy discovered that about me I would be a complete failure as a POW. But please understand this. That failure on my part would mean I tried to hold out as long as I could, no matter how quickly I broke, and whatever I gave the enemy in breaking would be on my head. The fact that I could not help myself would not diminish the shame my actions brought on my country. If you will think that through rather than leap on my confession to use against me, maybe you will see the point. As POWs we have a duty to not become a tool of the enemy. If we do, we have failed, even if we tried to resist. Many of us cobra pilots swore we would never be taken alive. We carried .38 pistols and we knew the only thing those little popguns were good for was shooting yourself if capture was imminent, but that was bold talk of 21 year olds over beer. Who knows whether we would have had the courage to do it if the time had come? So, bottom line, would I personally measure up where the British soldiers failed so miserably? Probably not. If I failed to measure up to my own standards, would that invalidate the standards to restrict info to the enemy to name, rank, serial number and date of birth? No. The standard is not composed of what mistreatment each of us can absorb, and the example POWs I named are people I admire for their endurance under terrible conditions. I like to think I could survive much of that mistreatment . . .until they put me in a box, then I'm worthless. Each of you is entitled to your opinion of the British captives and of me. When we differ, differing doesn't need to be hostile, but I've given you plenty of ammo here to blast me with if you wish. PS: Two other cobra pilots broke all the rules when I was shot down, they landed, broke me out of the cockpit and stood guard with just pistols until the medevac arrived to haul my carcass to a hospital. Right after the CO chewed their butts for putting a cobra on the ground in an unsecure area so close to the enemy he awarded them the Soldier's Medal for saving lives. They both are more proud of that award than any other they received, maybe because amidst all the killing and dying I was one they were able to save. When I later thanked them for saving my skin they brushed it off by saying "Any of the other guys would have done the same thing." The remarkable thing is they were right, that's what we did for each other. And we expected much from each other, too, like behaving well if we were ever captured. I always worried about being captured and having my weakness discovered, and failing as a POW. Terry Garlock tgarlock's blog | login to post comments
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