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VADM J. Stockdale, USN (Ret.)
Iraqi captors in the Gulf War are forcing downed aviators to regurgitate the same kind of simplistic Third-World dictatorship "peace-speak” formulations that North Vietnam s political commissar wrote out for us in preparation for our first showdowns with “the ropes.” His speech to the guy who was still hying to recover from ejecting into a 650-knot windstream front a tumbling jet would go something like this:
“We are a peace-loving people, known for our humane and lenient treatment of our captured invaders. You are a criminal caught red-handed murdering our people. You must repent, bear deep shame, and atone for your crimes by speaking out truthfully about your complicity in this inhumane bombardment, condemning the aggression of your country, and begging the forgiveness of the peace-loving Vietnamese people.”
At that point, the interrogation would begin. It would probably start with questions about missions, plans, future targets, then stop when the shattered pilot would refuse to go beyond name, rank, serial number, and date of birth. A nod from the interrogator to the torture guards—standing by with leg lugs, a heavy iron bar, and coils of Manila hemp rope—would trigger a smash to the pilot’s face (soft fist, probably, to avoid marks). The guards Would then wrestle him to the cement floor, lock his legs to the bar, and apply the ropes, binding his arms behind and cinching incessantly as the blood circulation stopped and pain became excruciating. The lead torture guard would add the tilip of claustrophobia by jackknifing the prisoner, standing on his back, jerking the rope ends up vertically to ever-tightening strangulation. While he pushed the heel of his foot against the American s head and forced it down between his feet. In this position, he writhed in suspension, choking for breath until he submitted.
This may have taken 20 to 40 minutes, maybe an hour, but at the point of submission the American was brought to his teet tor the real recorded “PR” interrogation. What I’m saying is that the interrogations of the POWs in Iraq that I’ve read about thus far convince me that they had been preceded by a routine similar to this.
The question is: What do we do about it? My answer is: Just know what’s probably going on and use it as a political weapon against the Iraqi government. That stems from my conviction that, though Geneva Convention standards ot conduct lor captive powers should apply universally, until some kind ot punitive action is taken against the leadership of violating countries— Which will be possible only after we win and win big against one of them in war—their behavior is a sort of built-in condition of life for captive air crewmen everywhere. This development in the last 40 years came about, to some extent, through the growth of ideologies, but particularly by the worldwide communication explosion. Although I think Third World dictators generate such tortured statements mainly for internal use in building up contempt for their enemies among their own people, the temptation to introduce visions of downcast and stammering American warriors into the overseas media mix is apparently also overwhelming.
The United States might be tempted to take one form of action that 1 fear. As a junior officer 1 first read a description of this
remedy in an article written by its originator, a bright active-duty Navy flag officer I knew and admired. He was so incensed to read the same sort of tortured statements as they poured out ol the Korean War that he decided something had to be done. Why not, he asked, finesse the whole problem of painful resistance behind bars by announcing to the world that U.S. servicemen had been officially ordered by their government to agree to go along with any statement the captors proposed, without resistance. This would theoretically reduce the propaganda value of prisoners’ statements to zero, and allow prisoners to live decent lives.
As a pilot in the late 1950s, I admit I thought my old friend had a pretty good idea. But after prison life in Vietnam, I realized that his idea would have been the world’s worst solution. Prisoners of war grow to live on honor and self-respect. Their reputation is one of the few things they have left in their world, and they value it as they would a life ring in a raging sea. Though they might have thought the “big finesse” idea was a good one the day they got shot down, after months or years behind bars, they would have hated themselves and their government for encouraging them to spew all that rot on the airways tree ol charge. They would have known by then what all prisoners come to know: compliance extracted by brute force is in no way as spiri-
Prisoner of war Navy Lieutenant Jeffrey N. Zaun: “Iraqi captors in the Gulf War are forcing downed aviators to regurgitate the same kind of simplistic Third-World dictatorship ‘peace-speak’ formulations that North Vietnam’s political commissioner wrote out for us in preparation for our first showdowns with ‘the ropes.’”
tuully damaging as that given away on a mere threat. And they would have learned from experience that in the end, their battle is a spiritual one, that the leak in the dike always starts from within, that once you throw down your barriers, the probing never stops.
1 learned that at least half of the U.S. prisoners of war in Vietnam would have junked any prior orders to comply with the enemy as soon as they got a load of what it was like behind bars. Ordering the prisoners to back off on their sense of honor would have been unthinkable. As a government is powerless to legislate morality, so also is it powerless to legislate degradation. 1 hat half who refused to obey the order would despise the hall who did. The prison organization would become a snake pit; discipline and morale would go down the tubes.
Many worse things confront a prisoner ol war than a torture system. Americans have shown that they can learn to live with that- and with honor. We brought no psychotics home from Hanoi; that may have been our greatest achievement.
It 1 scetn tough on prisoners in rejecting the big finesse, 1 also may scent lough on what I now say to American prisoner-kibitzers: Quit giving centerpiece status to that “name, rank, serial
Desert Storm
“To hell with this passive resistance. You've got to fight with your brains, with lies, with disinformation, with guile, with trickery."
number” sentence in the Code of Conduct. The centerpiece of the code is the establishment of an American military command structure behind bars. The name, rank, and serial number line is damned good advice for initial interrogations, but eventually it becomes a false issue. It was written into the code as a tactical detail and has been misinterpreted ever since.
In spring 1973 I met General S. L. A. Marshall, the distinguished journalist and author. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “How did you get along with that ‘name, rank, serial number rigamarole in Hanoi?” I said it was out of the question to hold to it during the four-year torture regime. I added that, sadly, some prisoners let it become a source of guilt.
“I was afraid of that,” he said. “You know, I was the wordsmith of that Code of Conduct. I lifted that sentence about being bound to give only name, rank, and serial number from the International Law prose describing what prisoners were obliged to give their captors. That was all the sentence meant, that they had to give their name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I never considered the fact that that formal 19th century prose might be misinterpreted. The last thing I wanted to do was send soldiers into prison constrained to what I call ‘the wooden Indian’ approach: ‘Me no talkum.’”
In my case, crippled, weak, hounded because I was senior, I had no thought of silence as virtue. 1 started saying to myself: “You’ve got to get on your feet and fight. To hell with this passive resistance. You’ve got to fight with your brains, with lies, with disinformation, with guile, with trickery.” Once hammered to write a history of the United States, I wrote several pages on the history of the Korean War—all bogus. The main point I invented was how U.S. public opinion was slow to grasp the idea of fighting a United Nations war until news started trickling in about the brainwashing of our own boys. American indifference vanished immediately.
I always smiled to myself when soon thereafter interrogators started telling prisoners: “The Vietnamese people do not try to brainwash you, we never do that ... we just try to explain. ...” This is just a lame example of some of the hoaxes Americans cagier than I pulled off to the delight of us all. What would we have been like after eight years of wooden Indianship?
In the last analysis, prisoner rules in any war are best made by those in the lockup, on the spot. That is what our Code of Conduct says: The senior prisoners will take command. When I was in the barrel, I used the Code of Conduct as a sort of Constitution, writing specific laws to fit the situation as I saw fit. The best thing we had going for us was being on our own, having no communication with the Pentagon, and thus the freedom to focus on what our ideals, those of us inside, called for. I think we chose some good ones, and I’m confident that those who follow in our footsteps in Iraq will do the same.
Vice Admiral Stockdale served two combat tours in Vietnam before his fighter was shot down in 1965. In nearly eight years of captivity in North Vietnam he spent four years in solitary confinement and “took the ropes” 15 times.
Interview
Vice Admiral W. Lawrence, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Based on his nearly six-year imprisonment in North Vietnam, Admiral Lawrence recently assessed the situation facing U.S. POWs in Iraq for Proceedings editor Fred L. Schultz.
Admiral Lawrence: I would like to make a preliminary statement on the POW issue.
Proceedings: Be my guest.
Admiral Lawrence: Wars today have a stronger propaganda element than any in history. That’s been a key aspect of war since World War II. And it seems inevitable that prisoners of war become pawns in the propaganda battle. When you’re fighting a totalitarian nation such as Iraq, which does not conform to the traditional rules of warfare, you know its leaders are going to use every device at their disposal to advance their cause, particularly from a propaganda perspective. The same occurred in the Vietnam War. We are fighting a nation in a desperate situation, in which its main goal is to arouse the sympathy of the Moslem masses around the world and cause nations such as Egypt, Syria, and Saudi Arabia to withdraw their support from the Allied Coalition. By broadcasting statements from POWs that are critical of their respective countries, the Iraqis hope to achieve this goal. Proceedings: How did seeing the POWs on TV affect you? What were your reactions?
Admiral Lawrence: It brought back painful memories of my own POW experience in Vietnam. Somehow, I had hoped that the Iraqis were a bit more sophisticated and advanced, perhaps, than the North Vietnamese. But I realize that they aren’t, that they’re fundamentally the same.
Proceedings: What can you tell us that only a former POW could tell us? What are those guys really going through?
Admiral Lawrence: They’re sturdy individuals. They wouldn’t be in this profession if they didn’t have the right stuff, and they’ve gone through the survival training. So, I am confident that they will endure their captivity well. I think most people in the world know that their public statements were obtained under coercion. So it shouldn’t reflect adversely on the men being held. I’m sure they gave their best effort to resist, but they’ve been told not to disable themselves permanently or to lose their rationality by trying to resist making some absurd propaganda statement. Proceedings: How do you feel about the requirement of the POW Code of Conduct to give only name, rank, serial number, and date of birth?
Admiral Lawrence: I think it’s proper in that it conforms to the Geneva Convention on the Treatment of POWs, which clearly states that it be the only information required of a prisoner of war. But some nations won’t abide by that provision.
It’s important that POWs resist giving military information