Bio, Black, Cole

Name: Cole Black Rank/Branch: O4/US Navy Unit: Date of Birth: 23 November 32 Home City of Record: Lake City MN Date of Loss: 21 June 1966 Country of Loss: North Vietnam Loss Coordinates: 213400N 1063900E (XJ708855) Status (in 1973): Released POW Category: Aircraft/Vehicle/Ground: F8E

Source: Compiled by Homecoming II Project from one or more of the following: raw data from U.S. Government agency sources, correspondence with POW/MIA families, published sources, interviews. Updated by the P.O.W. NETWORK 2008.

SYNOPSIS: The Vought F8 "Crusader" saw action early in U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. Its fighter models participated both in the first Gulf of Tonkin reprisal in August 1964 and in the myriad attacks against North Vietnam during Operation Rolling Thunder. The Crusader was used exclusively by the Navy and Marine air wings (although there is one U.S. Air Force pilot reported shot down on an F8) and represented half or more of the carrier fighters in the Gulf of Tonkin during the first four years of the war. The aircraft was credited with nearly 53% of MiG kills in Vietnam.

The most frequently used fighter versions of the Crusader in Vietnam were the C, D, and E models although the H and J were also used. The Charlie carried only Sidewinders on fuselage racks, and were assigned such missions as CAP (Combat Air Patrol), flying at higher altitudes. The Echo model had a heavier reinforced wing able to carry extra Sidewinders or bombs, and were used to attack ground targets, giving it increased vulnerability. The Echo version launched with less fuel, to accommodate the larger bomb store, and frequently arrived back at ship low on fuel. The RF models were equipped for photo reconnaissance.

The combat attrition rate of the Crusader was comparable to similar fighters. Between 1964 to 1972, eighty-three Crusaders were either lost or destroyed by enemy fire. Another 109 required major rebuilding. 145 Crusader pilots were recovered; 57 were not. Twenty of these pilots were captured and released. The other 43 remained missing at the end of the war.

Commander Cole Black was the pilot of an F8E sent on a combat mission over North Vietnam on June 21, 1966. His flight route took him northeast of Hanoi, where he was shot down near the border of Lang Son and Ha Bac Provinces about 15 miles southwest of the city of Lang Son.

Since the war ended, nearly 10,000 reports relating to Americans missing, prisoner or unaccounted for in Southeast Asia have been received by the U.S. Government. Many authorities who have examined this largely classified information are convinced that hundreds of Americans are still held captive today. These reports are the source of serious distress to many returned American prisoners. They had a code that no one could honorably return unless all of the prisoners returned. Not only that code of honor, but the honor of our country is at stake as long as even one man remains unjustly held. It's time we brought our men home.

SOURCE: WE CAME HOME copyright 1977 Captain and Mrs. Frederic A Wyatt (USNR Ret), Barbara Powers Wyatt, Editor P.O.W. Publications, 10250 Moorpark St., Toluca Lake, CA 91602 Text is reproduced as found in the original publication (including date and spelling errors). UPDATE - 09/95 by the P.O.W. NETWORK, Skidmore, MO

I am Cmdr. Cole Black and I was born and grew up on a farm back in Minnesota. I attended a little school out in the country for the first eight years of my formal education. I then went to high school at Lake City, Minnesota. I enjoyed high school very much and became interested in sports. I liked football and wrestling best. At age 17 I enlisted in the U.S. Navy and spent five years working as an electronics technician.

After completing the officers candidate school at Newport Rhode Island I was given a commission. I attended flight training and won my wings of gold in February 1957. I then became a reccee (reconnaissance) pilot and spent four years with Light Photographic Squadron 62 based at Cecil Field Florida. After leaving that squadron in 1961 I attended the U.S. Naval Postgraduate School at Monterey California where I received my B.S. degree in 1964. The war in Vietnam was getting started and after leaving Monterey I was assigned to Fighter- Squadron 211 based at Miramar California. I had completed one combat cruise in Southeast Asia and had only seven days left on my second cruise when I was shot down.

I was shot down on 21 June 1966 while flying an F8E of Fighter Squadron 211 based aboard the attack carrier Hancock. I was shot down north of Hanoi near Kep airfield. I ejected from my disabled fighter at a very low altitude and was captured by some Vietnamese peasants very shortly after I hit the ground. The peasants did not treat me too badly. However, I was soon in the hands of the VPA. On the way to Hanoi I was put on display for the local people. Some of them were very hostile, others just curious. When I arrived at Hanoi I was treated like an animal. The communists call it "reducing you to a dog." Perhaps that is a good analogy because when they get done with you, you are unable to use your hands and have to do things, such as eating, like a dog.

Soon after I arrived in Hanoi, on July 6, 1966, the communists saw fit to display American POWs in Hanoi. We were hauled down town and forced to walk through the streets of Hanoi while the local population humiliated, beat and tried to intimidate us. It was probably the most real demonstration of mob action I have or ever will see. I believe that even with the vice-like grip the communists have on their people, the people nearly got out of hand that night. In my opinion they were so keyed up they would have liked to have killed us all.

During my tour in prison, I can say that I have come to know some of the greatest guys in the world. We have known humiliation together; we have known compassion together; we have suffered together and now that we are home we once again, know the joy of being free and being in our great country. For me the thoughts of returning to America and to loved ones inspired me throughout my captivity. Even when you seem to be losing all else no one can take away the precious memories you may have of the loved ones you left behind, the joys you knew as a boy, the beauty of the country you will one day return to, and all the kind things your father and mother have done for you.

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Dogs and Friends,

Yesterday was a football day for the rest of America, but for a few of us here in San Diego it was Cole Black's day...his send-off west.

As I pulled into the parking lot the only space available was next to a guy getting out of his car...Rich Reddich, who was an F-8 pilot in Cole's era,

and who's daughter is an instructor WSO in the F-18 RAG. Right across the parking lot, getting out of their car were Jack and Kathy Ensch. We walked up

to the long line outside the chapel together.

The line of people waiting to sign the guest book looked like a line-up of "who's who in Naval Aviation". There were a lot of people from "our day",

pilots of all kinds of fighters and Phantom/Tomcat RIOs. Our good pal Guy Freeborn and Jenny were there. Karen was outside greeting the people in the line

as they waited to sign the book. She told me to go on down front, that there was a reserved section for Cole's XPOW friends. I did, and there were

about 20 of the FOGS there. Jack and I were the only FNGs. Three large wreaths were placed to the far left, on stands. Two were from Karen and from the

family members, and the other one read "GBU, 4th Allied POW Wing". On a stand just off-center was a very large color picture of Cole in his service-dress

whites, cap, looking directly at the camera, with that little smile. An organist was playing a beautiful medley of inspirational songs.

The chaplain was a Navy Captain. Promptly at 1300 he asked us to stand. A military detail of nine sailors rolled the casket up to the front of the

chapel, then too their places in the right front three rows, beside some of the FOGs. The funeral directors turned the casket cross-wise to the

congregation with Cole's head to our left, and centered it. It was draped in the American flag, and remained closed.

A woman soloist sang "You are the wind beneath my wings". Lots of tiny tears...

Karen spoke first, and told us how she and Cole met, and how she immediately sensed the "gentle" man she'd just met. The next day she told a

co-worker she'd just met the man she was going to marry.

The chaplain introduced a line-up of speakers which included three long-time friends of Cole's, (Bobby Hulse was one) including one childhood friend

from his hometown in Minnesota, and two FOGS (Karen had asked me if I wanted to say a few words but I felt unworthy to do so, so I didn't). All the

speakers had very warm and tender thoughts of Cole to express to us. All were very good, and all stressed Cole's gentle nature and good heartedness.

The soloist sang "Amazing Grace", a cappella.

The chaplain then delivered a brief "soft-sermon", and asked up to "remain in the spirit" of the occasion as we went outside. We sang the Navy Hymn

as the honor guard and pall bearers rolled the casket outside, then we followed.

Outside, chairs had been set up on the lawn and the casket was centered in front of them. We all gathered around in a large semi-circle. There was a

21 gun salute by a rifle squad, TAPS by a bugler, and a flag-folding by two sailors. One of the sailors took the flag to Karen and knelt to present it to

her. AT THE INSTANT both of them had their hands on the flag, four F-18s came over and did the "Missing Man" tribute. The timing could NOT have been

better. At that point, at least two of the XPOWs "lost it"... I know, I saw them. I was standing next to one, and the other one was wearing my clothes...

The chaplain invited the family to come forward and place long-stem roses on the casket and bid their final farewells, and one-by-one, they did.

Karen and some others kissed the casket.

The casket was then rolled out to the front of the chapel by the detail of sailors, and after it was loaded into the hearse the funeral director

invited us all to come to the O-Club. I stopped to speak to the chaplain. His name is Johnny Poole, and he's from Mississippi. I told him I was from

Tennessee, and I loved listening to his voice---..., with that typical deep, resonant, melodious quality, perfect English, and a soft, southern

accent---... He did an absolutely perfect job, conducting the entire service with total dignity and grace.

On the way to the O-Club I stopped to get two roles of nickles.

At the club two bars were set up in the main dining room, along with a superb buffet. Another bar was set-up outside. There was a large screen

set-up and a continuous slide-show of Cole's ventures played. People did what people do on occasions like that. I handed out nickles to the guys I knew,

and to the ones I didn't know if they were wearing wings. After about an hour an a half I wandered outside to talk to friends out there, and shortly about

twenty people came out to throw nickles. Jack Ensch and a few others knew the words so we sang "Throw a nickle on the grass" and the people threw the

nickles. The word got out, and a group of about 15 family members came out. I gave them nickles, Jack and I sang again, and they threw nickles. We had two

more songs and throws, then made an announcement for EVERYBODY who wanted to throw a nickle to come out to the grass. About 60 came out and Jack and I

sang one last time.

Within a few minutes it was all over, and the place was empty. It was about 1630. I gave Karen a hug and reminded her that her POW family was

right here for her, and asked if she got everything she wanted in preparation for, and from, the service. She was totally satisfied with all the assistance

and support she had gotten from the CO of MCAS Miramar. In my mind, it couldn't have been better, or more nicely done, in any respect.

ODF...and our friends too,

SecDog