Duty, Honor, Country: Col. George “Bud†Day, USAF-Ret
To any student of the history of the Vietnam War, Col. George “Bud†Day needs no introduction. On August 26, 1967, then-Major Day’s F-100 was shot down during a mission over North Vietnam. Smashing into the plane’s fuselage upon ejection, Day shattered his arm in three places and floated helplessly toward the ground—and waiting North Vietnamese militiamen. He was immediately captured and marched away to a makeshift camp, where he was tortured for refusing to answer his captors’ questions. The North Vietnamese figured that Maj. Day, in such a weakened state, was in no shape to attempt an escape, so they tied him up loosely. The North Vietnamese figured wrong. When his guards were not looking, Day untied the ropes and ran off, heading south toward freedom.
For nearly two weeks, Major Day, though weak and suffering from delirium, pushed on toward the safety of South Vietnam. Despite several attempts to signal U.S. aircraft, he was eventually recaptured by the Viet Cong, and returned to the prison from which he had escaped. He would soon be transferred to the notorious “Hanoi Hilton.†Though severely injured and suffering unimaginable torture at the hands of the North Vietnamese, Day refused to cooperate, earning the admiration of his fellow POWs and the contempt of his captors. For offering “maximum resistance†to the North Vietnamese, George “Bud†Day would later be awarded this country’s highest military award—the Medal of Honor.
In his book, Duty, Honor, Country, Col. Day tells his story, from the fast-paced life of an Air Force pilot to his capture and subsequent incarceration by the North Vietnamese. He takes readers within the walls of the “Hanoi Hilton†and the various prisoner compounds inside, among them “Heartbreak Hotel†and “Little Vegas.†He recounts his treatment at the hands of his North Vietnamese captors, including a sadistic interrogator nicknamed the “Bug.†He also describes what kept him going throughout his hellish six year ordeal as a prisoner of war: humor, faith in God, the pride and resolve of his fellow POWs, and the love of his family back home, especially his wife Doris—affectionately nicknamed “Viking.â€
In this issue of Valor, we proudly print a segment of Col. Day’s story. We begin on Christmas Eve, 1971. Following the American raid on Son Tay prison, and the relentless work of the families of the POWs, the North Vietnamese have brought many of the prisoners together in one compound, and have decided to, very slightly, improve their conditions. With the morale boost that came along with this reunion among the prisoners, it was decided that a small church service was in order. But what was supposed to be a small religious service turned into one of the most inspiring moments of the Vietnam War, and a testament to the strength of the human soul…
In his book, Duty, Honor, Country, Col. Day tells his story, from the fast-paced life of an Air Force pilot to his capture and subsequent incarceration by the North Vietnamese. He takes readers within the walls of the “Hanoi Hilton†and the various prisoner compounds inside, among them “Heartbreak Hotel†and “Little Vegas.†He recounts his treatment at the hands of his North Vietnamese captors, including a sadistic interrogator nicknamed the “Bug.†He also describes what kept him going throughout his hellish six year ordeal as a prisoner of war: humor, faith in God, the pride and resolve of his fellow POWs, and the love of his family back home, especially his wife Doris—affectionately nicknamed “Viking.â€
In this issue of Valor, we proudly print a segment of Col. Day’s story. We begin on Christmas Eve, 1971. Following the American raid on Son Tay prison, and the relentless work of the families of the POWs, the North Vietnamese have brought many of the prisoners together in one compound, and have decided to, very slightly, improve their conditions. With the morale boost that came along with this reunion among the prisoners, it was decided that a small church service was in order. But what was supposed to be a small religious service turned into one of the most inspiring moments of the Vietnam War, and a testament to the strength of the human soul…
On Christmas Eve, Jack, Ben and I, survivors of Heartbreak, were moved into Vegas for Christmas dinner. Our gear was shaken down. Everything we had been given from our Christmas packages (toothbrushes, soap, socks, clothing and food) was taken away from us. Most of it was never seen again. The deodorant, soap, and vitamins I had used so sparingly were gone! I nearly cried. With them went all of my pictures of Viking and the children.
Doors opened and we were moved en mass into Room Seven in the back courtyard of Hoa Lo Prison. Room seven was a 25-foot by 70-foot room accommodating 45 men. One built-up concrete pedestal was located in the center of the room. We had about 18 inches per man on the pedestal for bed space, but it was as pleasurable as a boy’s Sunday School picnic.
The back side area was named Camp Unity, or No OK Corral. A near-holiday mood enveloped us. Sleeping was out of the question. Everyone stayed up the entire night and talked or simply stared at all of these Americans. Happiness and joy washed through the group and built into a groundswell of relief from suffering. It seemed to be our emancipation.
People described what they speculated had prompted the moves. Some had been at Camp Faith and were able to see much of the air activity on Son Tay. There was a report that someone had contact with a South Vietnamese soldier who had described a “parachute raid.†As a result, we thought a commando raid had struck near Hanoi. It was a long time before we learned the true story of Son Tay from the new “shoot downs†in late 1972.
Delight at being in a big room was overtaken by the necessity of organizing normal activities to provide for food, cleanup and work details. We organized by seniority, sorted out our room SRO, the flight commanders, and sorted people into various flights.
It was necessary to establish comm links with Colonel John P. Flynn, the senior POW, if he were in camp, in order to get the chain of command going.
