POW Network's Mary Schantag and
Capt Mike McGrath - Norfolk, 2007McGRATH, JOHN MICHAEL
Name: John Michael McGrath Rank/Branch: O3/United States Navy, pilot Unit: VA 146 Date of Birth: 10 July 1939 Home City of Record: Denver CO Date of Loss: 30 June 1967 Country of Loss: North Vietnam Loss Coordinates: 195800 North 1055100 East Status (in 1973): Returnee Category: Aircraft/Vehicle/Ground: A4C Missions: 184 Other Personnel in Incident: none
Source: Compiled by P.O.W. NETWORK from one or more of the following: raw data from U.S. Government agency sources, correspondence with POW/MIA families, published sources, interviews. 2003
REMARKS: 730304 RELEASED BY DRV
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 - 02/97 by the P.O.W. NETWORK, Skidmore, MO with material provided by Capt. John "Mike" McGrath USN RET
JOHN M. McGRATH Lieutenant Commander- United States Navy Shot Down: June 30, 1967 Released: March 4, 1973
I was born in Delta, Colorado on 10 July 1939. I attended the US Naval Academy and graduated in 1962 before completeing Naval Aviation training and getting my wings 22 November 63.
I flew my first tour and completed 157 missions aboard the USS Ranger, CVA-61. My second tour was aboard the USS Constellation, CVA-64. I was flying an A4C with the VA-146 on 30 June 67.
"Busy Bee 1, rolling in," I said to my wingman as I took aim on a steel bridge just north of the Vietnamese city of Thanh Hoa. I was flying my 179th mission over enemy territory. Suddenly, there was an explosion, and I was heading toward the ground in uncontrolled flight. Instinctively; I reached for the ejection handle. I felt the wind blast my face when I left the cockpit. As I tumbled through space, I saw the green canopy of trees coming toward me. I only had time for one thought, "My God, I'm dead." The parachute opened only a few feet above the tree tops. During those few seconds in the chute, I vowed that someday I would return to my country and my family.
During ejection, I received a broken and dislocated arm, and fractured vertabrae and knee. The brutal torture sessions that followed resulted in additional injuries - my other shoulder and elbow were dislocated. I was then denied medical treatment. I lived in Hoa Lo (the Hanoi Hilton), Zoo Annex, Camp Faith, Dog Patch and the Plantation.
How often, during those lonely months of solitary confinement and the long hard years that followed, I reflected upon my past life in the United States. I found myself duck hunting near my boyhood town of Delta, Colorado. I recaptured lost memories of the numerous times that I had pledged allegiance to the flag, or stood for the National Anthem. I remembered the agony of defeat and the joys of victory as I thought about my years as a wrestler at the United States Naval Academy. How glad I was that I had participated in sports and that I had developed the strength, stamina and determination that enabled me to resist my captors and survive some of the most barbaric treatment ever afforded anyone. I thought about every aspect of American life, everything from peanut butter sandwiches to a peaceful Sunday morning in church, and these were memories of warmth, love and greatness.
The Vietnamese denied us everything, except the bare essentials that would maintain life. With only their distorted propaganda, and without any books, paper, pencils or outside sources of information, the Communists tried to destroy our faith in God, Country and each other. They failed. They failed miserably. Their clumsy efforts only helped to strengthen our convictions.
I waited, sometimes patiently, sometimes in frustration, for that day when I would be released. In all my years as a POW, I was constantly sustained by a great faith in America and in our government. I never lost hope or faith in our government and country.
I was not disappointed, for on 4 March 1973, I returned to the greatest country and people in the world. I can now only offer my humble thanks to those who were concerned, never forgot us, and finally helped in securing our honorable release.
I was able to join my wife, Marlene, and our two fine sons, in San Diego on 7 March 1973. 23 years later, reflecting on those moments, I was thankful to be home with my family and to find them in good health. I am proud to have served my country in time of war. We put special effort into rebuilding our family. We took the kids out of school, bought a motor home and travelled around the United States for seven months. Our family has been happy and successful since that time.
After returning from Vietnam, McGrath was awarded the Defense Superior Service Medal, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, 17 Air Medals, 2 Bronze Stars, 2 Purple Hearts, the Navu Marine Corp Medal as well as the POW medal. He returned to school and has a Masters Degreee in Financial Managemnent. He was the Commanding Officer of VA-97, Department Head at USNA and Naval Attache in Quito, Ecuador before retiring from the United States Navy as a Captain in 1987. He and his wife Marlene have been married 35 years and reside in Colorado. McGrath is a flight officer for United Airlines, flying the 737, 300/500. In his spare time he likes to ski, hunt, fly fish, and play golf. He and Marlene travel extensively throughout the world. He continues his work as an artist, although he draws only occassionally now. He has joined the many surfing the INTERNET and is getting into computers. Mike is extremely active in the returnee's organization NAM-POWs, Inc, where he serves as Sec-Treasurer and maintains a large file a phoney POWs.
McGrath's sons are now both married. Rick was USNA in 1987. Rick and his wife have 2 children and a third due in early 1997. Jay graduated from the University of Colorado in 1987.
A book entitled Prisoner of War....Six Years in Hanoi is available from the Naval Institute at 1-800-233-8764 for $19.95 plus P&H. The book is the story of Capt. McGrath's imprisonment and was written and illustrated by him. --------------------------------------------------------------- Reprinted with permission of Ted Ballard 12/29/96 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996
Christmases In the Dungeons of North Vietnam by Ted Ballard
Christmas, 1966
On December 24th, 1966, I was living in a small twelve feet by twelve feet cell. My roommate was Navy Ensign George McSwain. We had no contact with other American POWs. For seven weeks George had been undergoing a torture that was called "holding up the wall"-standing facing the wall with his arms straight over his head. Periodically the guards would come in and beat him up. The Vietnamese were torturing George in an attempt to get me to sign a war crimes confession. I will not go into any details, but earlier they had tortured me for the same thing and failed.
I had spent two months in a cast, from my left ankle to my chest, and was now using crutches to hobble around the room.
As evening approached, a guard came and took George to be interviewed by some Vietnamese officers. While he was gone I suddenly felt the urge to walk without the crutches. I carried them with me but did not use them and made it all the way around the room. I had given myself a Christmas present and waited impatiently for George to come back so I could share it with him.
When George returned he had a few pieces of sugar candy and a cigarette for each of us. This was a pleasant surprise since I never thought the Vietnamese would recognize Christmas. George said the quiz room was full of oranges and bananas and we would receive some later. We never did.
Later some Christmas music was played over the camp radio. A POW sang two or three songs. I wondered who he was but never did find out. It was a sad Christmas Eve for me. As we went to bed, George was silent and despondent. We did not talk as we normally did. I could only imagine his thoughts. Mine were of my family and Christmases past.
The gong did not clang as usual Christmas morning. However, a guard came by and told George to get "on the wall." About three hours later he was taken to quiz and the officer (whom we called Dum-dum) told him that the Camp Commander had forgiven him of his "crimes" and he must obey the camp regulations. We were both jubilant at this news.
George's long ordeal was over. In a way we felt it was a victory for us since I did not have to write a confession or condemn the United States government. Several times I came close to calling a halt to the torture and writing the statement, but George was a tough man and he took it as he said he could.
The Vietnamese gave us a good Christmas dinner-a piece of meat, lots of rice, and, for the first time, cabbage soup.
Christmas 1967
The summer and fall of 1967 was a bad time for the POWs. Many men were tortured for propaganda purposes, and harassment by the guards was continuous.
There were about thirty men in our building, three to each room. My cellmates were Captain Bob Sandvick and Captain Tom Pyle.
On Christmas Eve we were taken to view a tree the Vietnamese had decorated. We were given some candy and extra cigarettes to take back to our rooms. Later in the evening we heard a guard opening the hatches to each of the cells. When he came to our cell he asked, "Protestant or Catholic?" We told him we were Protestants and he gave us each a small bag which contained an orange, several cookies. and small pieces of candy. This was our first "Gift from the Priest." We found out later that the Catholics got a tangerine instead of and orange. (Only the Lord knows why!) One POW who was living by himself told the guard he was neither Protestant nor Catholic. The guard closed the hatch without giving him anything! Next Christmas he decided to be a Protestant!
Some Christmas music was played over the camp radio. We also had to listen to a tape recording by a Vietnamese Catholic Priest. He allowed that we should pray to God for forgiveness of our crimes against the Vietnamese people.
Bob, Tom, and I reminisced about our families and other Christmases. It was a quiet evening for us. Our prayers were for those POWs who were still suffering from wounds.
Christmas Day we had a good dinner of meat, vegetables, and rice. In quantity it was about the size of an average American meal, but about six times our normal ration.
The senior ranking officer of our building initiated a "Home for Christmas" prayer. Each day at noon a signal was passed to all rooms. We would then recite the Lord's Prayer.
Christmas, 1968
In the spring of 1968, I was moved to another camp. Living conditions were somewhat improved. There were nine of us in a twenty-one by twenty foot room. Even though harassment and treatment by the guards was about the same, it was great to have more Americans to talk to. Peace negotiations had begun in Paris, but by the time Christmas came around our high hopes for an early settlement had vanished.
We had continued our daily "Home for Christmas" prayer. One day one of the men said, "What will we do if we don't make it home for Christmas?" Someone answered, "We will continue to pray for next Christmas."
As the season grew nearer the men began writing down the words for holiday songs. We used toilet paper, pens made form strips of bamboo, and ink from a mixture of cigarette ashes and water. Of course we kept these carefully hidden from the Vietnamese.
One of the men received a package from home. He shared everything he had with the rest of us. What a wonderful treat! Actual goodies from home!
Again we received a "gift from the Priest."
I shall never forget that Christmas Eve. A group of men quietly singing such carols as "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing" and "Silent Night."
Before retiring, Jim Hivner said, "Everybody who believes in Santa Claus, hang a sock on your mosquito net. Remember, those who believe will receive!"
I did not hang up a sock because I needed to wear them to try to keep warm. We each had two thin blankets but I had to use one of mine as cushion for my bad hip.
In the quiet of the night, as I had done the two previous Christmas Eves, I mentally shopped for, bought, and wrapped gifts for Ruth and Kevin. How are they? Are they well? Please, God, let them live normal and happy lives, and know that my thoughts are with them. May God bless and keep them, as well as the other members of the great Ballard family.
When I awakened the next morning I found a Christmas card inside my net. The other men had one in their stockings. Jim Hivner had made them without any of us knowing about it!
Christmas, 1969
The first ten months of 1969 were the worst for the POWs. An attempt to escape had failed and the Vietnamese had retaliated with extreme brutality.
In late October, however, a marked improvement in our living conditions came about. We did not know the reason, but the death of Ho Chi Minh may have had something to do with it. I believe now that it was the outstanding support of the American people and the pressure they put upon the North Vietnamese government that brought about the changes.
In December we were allowed to write our first letters home. I had about 800 million things to say to Ruth and questions to ask, but of course this was impossible in a six-line letter.
Several of us received packages from home, which we shared. In mine was a set of thermal underwear for which I was most grateful. One of my cellmates, Jim Sehorn, had given me one of his blankets. Finally, I could at least stay warm during those long, sleepless, miserable nights.
We made Christmas cards for the men in the other buildings. These were "air-mailed" by tying a rock to the paper and throwing them from our courtyard to theirs.
For a Christmas tree, we decorated a small swiss-type broom with strips of cloth and paper with various designs. Mike McGrath was quite a good artist and enjoyed doing things with his hands. He used one of his black pajama tops as a background and drew a tree on it. From paper and cloth he made stars and other ornaments and attached them to the tree. Small packages with each of our names were also attached. This was kept hidden during the day but was hung on the wall in the evenings for our enjoyment.
We exchanged gifts that Christmas, both real and imaginary. I gave away gift certificates and treated everyone to a dinner at the Fireside Inn in Las Vegas. One man, who had lost most of his hair, was given a wooden comb. I was given ear plugs and a nose clip so I would not be disturbed at night by nearby neighbors!
Christmas Eve the guards came around and gave us the "gift from the priest," also cookies and cigarettes. We were in a good mood and talked and quietly sang carols til fairly late.
Before retiring we each tied a stocking to our nets. I had saved some peanut butter candy from my package Ruth had sent and planned to put some in each man's stocking while they were asleep. I lay awake for about an hour and was just about ready to get up when I heard a noise and looked up. A POW was putting something in my stocking. He moved quickly from net to net and then sneaked back under his own. Ten minutes later another man got up and did the same thing. It took almost two hours for all eight of us to play Santa Claus.
Early Christmas morning I was awakened by a loud shout from Jim Sehorn: "Merry Christmas, everybody! Get up!. He did it! Santa Claus came! Get up! Get up!" What a sight - Jim running from net to net pulling everybody out of bed. Our stockings were full of candy, gifts, and greeting cards.
Later that day the guards came in and removed Mike's shirt with the decorations on it. He was taken to Quiz and the officers told him they were impressed with his art and were going to take it to the museum. Mike told them, "No, you are not." He jerked it off the table and tore it up!
Christmas 1970
In November, 1970, there was an unsuccessful attempt by the United States to rescue some POWs from a camp at Son Tay. Within the next few days all of the POWs were moved to downtown Hanoi to a large complex of jails named Hoalo Prison. We called it the Hanoi Hilton. Finally, after so many years, we were all in the same camp, with 25 to 56 men per cell. We became better organized militarily, academically, and religiously.
That Christmas season was a fairly good one for us. Many men had received packages from home and were allowed to keep the items in their cells. However, a few days before Christmas, the guards removed everything from the cells except for what they had given us. In October I had received my first letter from home, after more than four years as a prisoner. Included in the letter was a picture of Ruth and Kevin. I prized that picture more than anything in the world and I cannot describe my feelings when the guard took it away.
We began again to scrounge materials for academic purposes, etc. We drew names for gifts. Jim Sehorn gave me a wand and a pendulum to use with my course in hypnotism. I gave him the use of my services for a whole week to hold his legs while he did sit-ups and other exercises.
Christmas Eve the men put on an outstanding play. It was the POW version of Charles Dickens' "Christmas Carol." Scrooge was played by Dave Ford with Jerry Venanzi directing.
I thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas carols sung by a 15-man choir. The singing was disrupted once when a Vietnamese attempted to take pictures through the barred windows.
Again we received a "gift from the priest."
That night was a sad one for me. I was reminiscing over past Christmases when I had a strong feeling that my Mother had died. (She passed away in August 1969, but I was not notified until our release.)
Christmas morning I was again awakened by Jim Sehorn - with the same enthusiasm and excitement. About this time a most fascinating event occurred - big Tom McNish (six feet, two inches tall) was running up and down the long room with a large bag slung over his shoulder. Tom was dressed in white long-handled underwear and continued his prancing until everyone was up. Then he set down his bag, opened it, and out jumped Santa Claus! Rod Knutson had on a red suit, black "boots", stocking cap, and a white beard and mustache! I never found out where or how they scrounged all that material. Rod then proceeded to give out hilariously funny imaginary gifts to everyone.
We had an exceptionally good meal Christmas Day, and everyone was becoming optimistic about going home soon.
Christmas 1971
Our optimism suffered a setback in early 1971 due to the torturing of many individuals and especially the senior ranking officers. This was in retaliation for our attempts to conduct religious services and to gain improvements in living conditions. The United States had resumed the bombing of North Vietnam.
Ten of us had been removed to another large cell along with thirty four other POWs, all considered to be "die-hards" or trouble makers by the Vietnamese.
Christmas, 1971, was about the same as the year before. The choir sang carols which I thoroughly enjoyed. Six of us non-singers put on a skit imitating the choir.
Ed Davis sang a lovely song, one I had never heard before, having to do with Mary and her unborn child, Jesus.
I'll never forget Gobel James and his beautiful rendition of "O Holy Night."
One man entertained us with his version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
Tom McNish and Rod Knutson did their Santa Claus number again. Rod gave me some silver oak leaves indicating my promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Ruth had written me that it was Autumn in Carolina and the silver oak leaves were falling!
Dwight Sullivan presented me with a small poker table which he had made from bread and sticks. It even had ash trays. I kept the table for almost a year until the guards finally found it and took it away. I gave my friend Leroy Stutz an imaginary book, "How to Play Winning Poker" and allowed him to "pin" me at his discretion once per week for a whole month.
Christmas 1972
The bombing of North Vietnam continued into 1972, and many targets near our camp were being attacked. In May over 200 of us were moved to a camp within a few miles of China, in mountainous terrain. Our food and living conditions greatly improved. We were permitted more time outside, given canned meat and various types of vegetable soup to eat with the ever-present rice. Periodically the Vietnamese would go to a nearby village and kill a buffalo and cook it for us. We conducted weekly bridge and chess tournaments.
I spent one week in solitary confinement due to a minor disagreement with the Vietnamese officers. During this time my thoughts were mostly with my wife and son. Kevin is now thirteen years old. Graduating from high school soon. Hard to believe. I had missed so much of his growing up. One of these days he will come to me and ask for an automobile.
Most of us were given letters and packages from home that Christmas. There was a picture of Ruth and Kevin on a motorcycle. A black dog lay nearby. I could imagine the companionship that the dog provided for Kevin. I mentally composed a letter to "Blackie." I was both thankful for him and envious of him. He knew more about my son than I did - his habits, stomping grounds, and hiding places.
One of the men heard from the guards that the United States was bombing targets in Hanoi with big bombers night and day. We were jubilant at this news and felt that the attacks would continue until the Vietnamese agreed to release all prisoners.
Christmas Eve, 1972, was a quiet one for us. The choir sang some carols and that was about it. Our thoughts and prayers were about the future.
In January 1973, we were taken back to the "Hanoi Hilton" and were told that the war was over and we would all be going home soon. What would it be like? How have things changed after six and one-half years of isolation from the real world?
I was among the group of prisoners that was released on March 4, 1973. I did not look back at the camp. I said a prayer that went something like this:
Dear God,
We thank you for taking care of us for such a long time.
We now ask that you give us the courage to face the future
and to accept the changes that have taken place.
Ted Ballard tedballard@teleplex.net
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http://www.insightmag.com/main.cfm?include=detail&storyid=215624
February 7, 2000
VIETNAM WAR - Home Fires Burn for POWs/MIAs By Kelly Patricia O'Meara
It was on June 30, 1967, while carrying out his 179th bombing mission over Southeast Asia, that 27-year-old Navy pilot Mike McGrath's A4C Skyhawk was hit by antiaircraft artillery just south of Hanoi, the capital of North Vietnam. With no time to radio his location, McGrath ejected from his crippled aircraft and landed in a kind of hell few have known.
Within moments of slamming into the dense North Vietnamese jungle, the enemy was pulling at McGrath's badly broken body, stripping him of his clothing and binding his hands and feet with jungle twine. Caged like an animal and in excruciating pain, the American pilot was paraded through villages where locals were encouraged to poke and strike him with sticks. Upon arrival at the Hoa Lo prison - known to prisoners of war, or POWs, as the "Hanoi Hilton" - McGrath was tortured for 15 days, without medical care for his broken back and arm.
McGrath survived his injuries as well as the beatings, torture and starvation he and hundreds of other POWs were subjected to at the hands of their North Vietnamese captors. Not until February 1973, nearly six years after his capture, were he and his fellow POWs repatriated. It only was then that McGrath became aware of efforts that had been undertaken on behalf of the POWs and those listed as missing in action, or MIA. Twenty-seven years from the date of his release, McGrath still is receiving by hand and through the mail well-worn aluminum and copper bracelets that bear his name. His was just one of thousands of names engraved on such bracelets worn by nearly 5 million Americans determined that the POWs and MIAs in Southeast Asia would not be forgotten.
McGrath tells Insight that "most of us were optimistic about being released. We knew it was a matter of time and we had to hang in there. We never lost faith in our country. When we got home and learned about the bracelets we were very appreciative and very humbled that such a big program had been undertaken for us."
Carol Bates Brown, the 21-year-old college student who with two other students and a college adviser began the bracelet program in 1970, had wanted to draw public attention to the prisoners and those missing in Vietnam. They had been introduced by TV personality Robert Dornan (later elected to Congress) to the wives of three missing pilots. At the time, Dornan wore a circular metal bracelet he had obtained in Vietnam from hill tribesmen. The students thought such bracelets might be a positive way to remember POWs and MIAs.
Soon Brown was national chairwoman of the POW/MIA Bracelet Campaign for Voices in Vital America, or VIVA, a Los Angeles-based student organization that would produce and distribute the bracelets. "The problem," says Brown, "was that we were students and we had no money. Our adviser, Gloria Coppin, was able to locate a small engraving shop in Santa Monica, Calif., that agreed to make 10 sample bracelets to help us raise funds. Both Ross Perot and Howard Hughes were approached about lending us money to get started, but neither came through and Coppin's husband ended up donating enough brass and copper to make 1,200 bracelets. Jack Zeider, an engraver in Santa Monica, agreed to make the bracelets and let us pay him after we sold them. I don't think he thought he would see any money for his work, but he believed in our cause and did the job for us anyway."
To the surprise of Brown and the others, not only did the bracelets sell, they became hugely popular and remain so today.
The initial cost of manufacturing the bracelets, engraved with just the serviceman's name, rank and date of capture/date missing, was 75 cents. The price of a student admission to the local movie theater at the time was $2.50. Brown considered this a fair price for the nickel-plated bracelet but increased the price to $3 for the "adult" copper bracelet. The program was announced on Veterans Day 1970 and soon afterward VIVA was receiving as many as 12,000 orders per day.
The group forged a close alliance with relatives of the missing men, including the newly formed National League of Families, a nonprofit organization composed of the wives, children, parents and other close relatives of Americans who were listed as POWs, MIAs, killed in action/body not recovered and repatriated POWs. "We weren't officially connected to the league, but we worked closely with them and the money from the bracelets was poured back into the POW/MIA issue," says Brown.
VIVA made enough money from the bracelet program to produce other items to encourage awareness of the POW/MIA issue, including bumper stickers, buttons, brochures, matchbooks and newspaper ads. Its leaders even became members of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers recording union to make a record about the POW/MIA issue.
According to Brown, who dropped out of college to work full time on the bracelet program, "Coppin was adamant that we not have a highly paid professional staff. The highest salary was $15,000 per year, and administrative costs had to be kept below 20 percent of the income. Eventually we did hire a CPA. He was the `grown-up' and provided good sense about the business end of it."
By 1975 nearly $10 million had been raised from the sale of the bracelets and, though VIVA closed its doors in 1976, hundreds of thousands of bracelets continue to be sold by veterans organizations, each engraved with the name of one of the remaining 2,031 servicemen still unaccounted for in Southeast Asia. No records were kept by VIVA concerning the number of bracelets that were distributed for each serviceman. "We were just lucky if we could fill all the orders that were coming in and respond to the letters from people who wanted to write to their serviceman's relatives," says Brown. But numbers given by POWs, such as McGrath, provide a pretty good idea.
To date, McGrath has received more than 700 returned bracelets and has responded to most. "They keep coming," he says. "Just last week I received another bracelet from a man who for 27 years had been trying to find out what happened to me. Finally, he found my name and address on the Internet and sent me the bracelet with a letter. Such letters say pretty much the same thing. The most recent is a good example:
"`It is an honor to be writing to you. I have searched for quite some time trying to locate you. I wanted to return your original POW bracelet that my deceased wife wore until your repatriation.i I finally located you by browsing the POW/MIA Webpages. Thank you for the work you are doing to keep the memory of our brothers alive.'
"What's important," says McGrath, "is that those who wore these bracelets believe it made a difference. Because they're able to return the bracelet, it's a kind of closure for them. It's very emotional. They built a bond with their POW/MIA and returning the bracelet is a healing process for them, too. POWs are appreciative of the bracelets, of course, and sometimes the contacts have built into friendships that lasted for years." Ann Mills Griffith, executive director of the National League of Families, or NLF, sees the bracelets as "a symbol of the ongoing commitment to account for those who served our nation." She tells Insight, "The bracelets still make a difference because they show that people want answers; they still want accountability."
Griffith is referring to the cases of POWs and MIAs who still are unaccounted for in Vietnam. At the end of the war, there were 2,583 American prisoners missing in action or killed in action/body not recovered about whose whereabouts the Communists claimed to know nothing. By December 1999, 2,031 Americans still are missing and unaccounted for, with more than 90 percent of them in Vietnam or in areas of Laos and Cambodia where Vietnamese forces operated during the war.
Since the end of the war, the NLF's priority has been to resolve the live-prisoner question. During the years, says an NLF spokesman, "official intelligence has indicated that Americans known to have been alive in captivity in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia were not returned at the end of the war and, as a matter of policy, the government does not rule out the possibility that American POWs could still be alive."
Despite alleged bilateral cooperation between the United States and the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, the NLF continues to have to push for case-specific records on U.S. loss incidents in Laos and Cambodia. And Vietnam still refuses to respond to requests for records of the missing men.
"I can paper my walls with commitments that have been made and broken over the years," says Griffith. "I've been involved in this issue for 33 years; I can tell you the family members don't have the luxury of just believing what is said. We need accountability and believe that normalization of relations with Vietnam should be pursued in a policy of reciprocity."
Further complicating the POW/ MIA issue are the money problems of the U.S. Army Central Identification Laboratory in Hawaii, which is responsible for recovery and identification of repatriated remains. "The president says it is a matter of the nation's highest priority, yet they are not adequately funding the lab charged with carrying out the work," says Griffith. "If we're going to send people to recover and identify those who served our country you have to have people to do it, and that takes money."
Considering that the war in Southeast Asia cost taxpayers more than $150 billion and nearly 60,000 American lives, $12 million to fund the laboratory to identify the remains of U.S. servicemen who died in this country's longest war seems to many to be a mere drop in the budget bucket. "As a measure of the U.S. commitment to stand behind those who served, an increase of $10 million would really go a long way and further enable the lab to carry out their congressionally mandated mission," Griffith says.
Griffith has spent most of her adult life working on the POW/MIA issue, which began for her when her brother, Navy Cmdr. James Mills, was listed as MIA on Sept. 21, 1966. He has yet to be accounted for, while Griffith faithfully wears his bracelet. "For the first seven years," she recalls, "I didn't think that as executive director of the league I should wear my brother's bracelet - that it might seem inappropriate or self-serving to some - so I wore a bracelet engraved with another name."
Brown wore a bracelet honoring Navy pilot Paul Worrell, who had been listed as missing in action in 1966. Only in 1985, when Worrell's remains were repatriated to the United States, did she remove the bracelet from her wrist for the last time. And although she is aware of the custom of returning these bracelets to the serviceman or his family, Brown says she never felt comfortable doing so for fear of how it might affect them. During the years, however, she came to know the Worrells and still stays in touch with Paul's mother.
While sharing his own experience as a captive of the North Vietnamese, McGrath recalled a unique commissioning ceremony that occurred among the prisoners at the Hanoi Hilton involving a man whose name is well known to this reporter. As a teen-ager, I wore the bracelet of T/Sgt. Arthur Neil Black, shot down on Sept. 20, 1966, and I long have been aware that he was among the POWs returned in 1973. Beyond that, nothing.
According to McGrath, "Neil was across the hall from me at the Hanoi Hilton. He wasn't an officer, but still he was getting the same treatment as the rest of us - beatings and torture. We all were so impressed with the way Neil handled himself that the officers gave him a battlefield commission in prison. When he was released, the Air Force honored our decision and upheld the commission. Black remained in the Air Force, became a pilot and retired with the rank of major."
When this reporter removed Neil Black's bracelet from her wrist in 1973, she also removed the bracelet of WO2 Dennis Omelia, who had been listed as MIA since January 1971. Omelia's fate still is unknown. Twenty-seven years later, however, there is again a well-worn metal bracelet bearing his name on my wrist - for the duration. It may not make a difference, but as McGrath pointed out, "What matters is that we believe it does."
****NUMBERS TELL THE STORY****
When the prisoners of war were repatriated to the United States from North Vietnam in 1973 during Operation Homecoming, there was great public interest about how their years in captivity may have affected them. The following numbers speak for themselves:
* Seven POWs were awarded the Medal of Honor: Vice Adm. Jim Stockdale, U.S. Navy; Col. Bud Day, U.S. Air Force; Col. Don Cook (posthumously), U.S. Marine Corps; and Capt. Lance Sijan (posthumously), U.S. Air Force - all for action above and beyond the call of duty as POWs. Col. Leo Thorsness, U.S. Air Force; Sgt. Maj. Jon Cavaiani, U.S. Army; and Sgt. William Port, U.S. Army - all for heroism prior to being captured.
* 137 Vietnam-era POWs are graduates of one of the four military academies.
* 80 percent of the POWs who were repatriated remained in the military and retired with a minimum of 20 years service.
* 24 Vietnam-era POWs were promoted to flag rank.
* 16 POWs have held other public offices with distinction, including:
Everett Alvarez, former deputydirector of the Peace Corps and former deputy administrator of the Veterans Administration.
Lawrence Chesley, former Arizonastate senator.
Thomas Collins, former undersecretary of labor.
Jeremiah Denton, former U.S.senator. John Downey, Connecticut Superior Court judge.
Mark Gartley, former Maine secretary of state.
Samuel Johnson, U.S. representative.
Joseph Kernan, governor ofIndiana.
John McCain, U.S. senator, former U.S. representative, currently a candidate for the GOP nomination for president.
Douglas Peterson, ambassador to Vietnam and former U.S. representative.
John Pritchford, former mayor of Natchez, Miss.
Ben Purcell, former Georgia state representative.
Orson Swindle, federal trade commissioner and former assistant secretary of commerce.
Leo Thorsness, former Washington state senator.
James Warner, former senior White House domestic-policy adviser.
Ronald Webb, former assistant secretary of the Federal Aviation Administration.
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02/19/03
Mike McGrath has been notified that he is to be inducted into the "National Wrestling Hall of Fame, Colorado Chapter." He will receive the State Medal of Courage award, the first individual in Colorado to be so honored.
An awards banquet will be held at the US Air Force Academy Officers Club on April 27, 2003.
Mike wrestled on his home town HS team in Delta CO., then four years at the Naval Academy, (58 - 62), in the 147 lb. Class. He was team Captain his Jr & Sr years and qualified for the Nationals both those years
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Mike McGrath began his wrestling career in Delta, Colorado under Hall of Fame coach Arnold Torgy Torgerson and concluded his mat career at he U.S. Naval Academy On April 27th several of Mike s friends along with members of his family including his wife Marlene, son s Rick and Jay, their spouses and Mike s grandkids, gathered at the Officers Club at the US Air Force Academy to observe our classmate s induction into the National Wrestling Hall of Fame. Mike is the first recipient of Medal of Courage. 62 classmates John Ellis (and wife Dani) and Joe Procopio (and his date, Ms Kathryn Codo) attended the banquet and presentation.
MEDAL OF COURAGE
A candidate may be nominated who is a wrestler or former wrestler who has overcome significant challenges to compete in the sport of wrestling or who has shown exemplary courage and character when faced with adverse situations.
John M. "Mike" McGrath
Mike McGrath began his wrestling career in Delta, Colorado under Hall of Fame coach Arnold Torgy Torgerson and concluded his mat career at he U.S. Naval Academy.
At the Naval Academy he was a two time EIWA place winner, captain of the wrestling team his first class year and competed in the NCAA wrestling tournament for coach Ed Peery, graduating from USNA in June 1962.
McGrath s first courageous deed was performed at the age of 15, when he rescued a construction worker that had fallen in the Colorado. River.
As a Navy pilot, McGrath flew 179 combat missions against heavily defended targets in North Vietnam before being downed by enemy gunfire on June 30. 1967. Severely wounded, he endured lack of medical attention and torture until his release on March 4, 1973.
He received many military awards and decorations for heroism and shortly before his retirement saved two people in a non-related naval accident. For this, he was awarded the Navy-Marine Corps Medal for heroism.
McGrath went on to a second career as a commercial airline pilot and currently lives in Monument, Colorado with his wife, Marlene.
Mike was honored along with several awardees of a lifetime achievement award for long term service to the sport of wrestling.
The Hall of Fame is in Stillwater, Oklahoma. =========================
More info
| Denver Daily News Oct 12, 2009 LAMBORN HONORS FORMER VIETNAM P.O.W: On Friday, U.S. Rep. Doug Lamborn, R-Colo., presented the Silver Star Medal to Capt. Mike McGrath, USN (retired). The Delta native spent nearly six years in a North Vietnamese prison camp during the Vietnam War. The Silver Star Medal is the third highest military award designated solely for heroism in combat. The president awards this medal for distinguished gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States or while serving with friendly forces against an opposing enemy force. The Silver Star is often awarded to those prisoners who were tortured by their captors as they resisted enemy exploitation. The country recognized nearly all of the qualifying men with the Silver Star Medal shortly after their return to the United States in 1973. McGrath said he did not get the award at that time because he simply didn’t share with his commanders the details of his captivity. |
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http://www.deltacountyindependent.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=11244:delta-native-awarded-silver-star&catid=57&Itemid=359
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