NOVEMBER 1965 THE ZOO
It was 1859, and Genevan businessman Henry Dunant was horrified at the gruesome scene before his eyes. He had traveled to Emperor Napoleon III’s headquarters in Italy to ask for land rights for a new business venture. He came away with more than land rights, however, when he witnessed the aftermath of the Battle of Solferino, an excessively gory battle in the Second War of Italian Independence. What he saw greatly impacted his life, and he wrote his account in a book called A Memory of Solferino, in which he described the grisly scenes of war and posed the question, “Would it not be possible, in time of peace and quiet, to form relief societies for the purpose of having care given to the wounded in wartime by zealous, devoted and thoroughly qualified volunteers?”*
A man of action, Dunant didn’t just write about this concept; he also proposed a solution, which suggested that all nations come together to create volunteer relief groups that could serve as impartial humanitarians to assist the wounded and those affected by wars. A committee was formed that included Dunant, and in 1864, the first Geneva Convention was held in Switzerland. Twelve nations signed an agreement for the nonpartisan care for the sick and wounded by war. They also proposed an international emblem to identify the personnel and their supplies so that their safety would be assured from both sides of war. The emblem was a red cross on a white background, chosen in honor of Dunant’s nationality; it was the reverse of the Swiss flag. Thus, the Red Cross was born. In 1901, Dunant received the Nobel Peace Prize.
In 1906, thirty-five nations met to update the rules of the First Geneva Convention. These updates included additional protections for the wounded and those captured in battle. After World War I ended, it was clear to all that more updates were needed to ensure the humane treatment of prisoners of war. In 1929, those updates were made in another Geneva Convention. These new updates insisted that all prisoners of war must be treated compassionately and humanely; this included the living conditions of said prisoners. After World War II, it was clear that the Convention of 1929 did not prevent horrific acts from being carried out inside the prison camps and concentration camps. The Geneva Convention of 1949 addressed these issues, which included expanded protections for prisoners of war, including the following areas of protection:
• They must not be tortured or mistreated.
• They are required to give only their name, rank, birth date, and serial number when captured.
• They must receive suitable housing and adequate amounts of food.
• They must not be discriminated against for any reason.
• They have the right to correspond with family and receive care packages.
• The Red Cross has the right to visit them and examine their living conditions.
Every member of the armed forces knew the articles of the Geneva Convention. In fact, each member also carried a Geneva Convention Identification Card. This was a requirement of the Geneva Convention, which stated:
Each Party to a conflict is required to furnish the persons under its jurisdiction who are liable to become prisoners of war, with an identity card showing the owner’s surname, first names, rank, army, regimental, personal or serial number or equivalent information, and date of birth. The identity card may, furthermore, bear the signature or the fingerprints, or both, of the owner, and may bear, as well, any other information the Party to the conflict may wish to add concerning persons belonging to its armed forces. As far as possible the card shall measure 6.5 × 10 cm. and shall be issued in duplicate. The identity card shall be shown by the prisoner of war upon demand, but may in no case be taken away from him.*
Not only did every member of the military know their rights as provided by the Geneva Convention, but they also knew that North Vietnam was one of the 195 countries that had ratified the articles of the Geneva Convention of 1949. It was in this knowledge that the early POWs had hoped that their treatment would be fair and humane. We quickly found the opposite to be true.
In order to justify their unlawful and unethical treatment toward us, the North Vietnamese refused to refer to us as prisoners of war and instead continually used the words “criminals of war.” They went to great lengths to propagate the illusion that we had committed war crimes and thereby did not merit the safety measures laid out in the Geneva Convention.
We were constantly inflicted with painful punishments in an effort to extract a written or taped statement that we were being treated fairly and humanely. We might be forced to kneel on the rough concrete floor or sit on a stool with irons locked around our ankles and our hands cuffed behind our backs. If the weather was cold, the guards would throw cold water on us and then open the shutters so the freezing wind would blow across our wounded bodies. Often we were kept in these positions all night, and some of us were worn down to the point of experiencing hallucinations. The irony of the statements they wanted us to write would have been laughable had the treatment not been so miserable.
It was now November 1965. Shu and I were moved to the first building we had entered two months earlier. In our absence, the large cells had been divided into two smaller cells. We were on the end of the building. The cell immediately behind us had been converted to a bath. Water oozed under the newly partitioned wall, keeping our cell damp, but we were pleased that we could have contact with most of the men in camp who used this bath.
We stayed busy tapping with them and passing information we had obtained. Shu and I could keep an accurate count of the number of men in camp because we now washed all the eating utensils in this bath, twice daily. We also had voice contact with men who dumped their buckets in the toilet next to the bath. The window in the bath had not been bricked up, but iron bars were installed and the louvered shutters retained. Through cracks we could usually keep track of the guard and had time for a few whispered comments when the men entered or left the toilet.
In keeping with the changed attitude of our captors, the Vietnamese demanded that we bow whenever a guard entered our cell or we saw one outside. This was a most onerous requirement for Americans, and we refused. At first, the guards got angry, reported us to the interrogators, and by threats tried to obtain compliance with the new regulation. They also implemented a “no bow, no chow” policy, which led to many hungry POWs. Usually, the food was withheld for a few hours, but some POWs were deprived of food and water for up to three days.
When this failed, they resorted to cruel punishment. A refusal resulted in a beating, half rations, or other punishment. Their favorite tool was a truck fan belt, with which they beat our buttocks and back while we were held prone on the floor by other guards. Sometimes they banged our arms and backs with the butt of a rifle.
Slowly, we all learned to grudgingly comply. We were supposed to bend down about sixty degrees from the waist, but generally got away with little more than a nod of the head. To help our own self-esteem when showing deference to these barbaric captors, Shu and I began uttering an oath at each guard as we reluctantly made some pretense at bowing. We knew the guard did not understand us when we nodded and audibly said, “F–you,” but it helped our morale immensely.