Re: Ex-POW Enjoys the Better Life

Date: April 22, 2004

"Ex-POW, NASA retiree enjoys 'better life'

By: MARK EVANGELISTA, Citizen Staff

Bob Naughton holds a POW bracelet with his name on it and a cup, his only possession while he was imprisoned in Hanoi.
Bob Naughton was getting ready to tee up when he remembered that it was 25 years since he became a prisoner of war after being shot down over North Vietnam.


"As I hit the drive, I thought to myself, `This has got to be a better day,' " said the 65 year-old retiree on Monday.

"Then the ball skipped across the water and back on the course. Then, I realized how fortunate I am."
Today, the bookshelves and mantles full of awards and medals, both as an officer and a civilian, in his study betray him.

The tall and lanky former fighter pilot said his life is not accomplished, but he's had some "great opportunities."

"I've been lucky," he said.

In his first full week of retirement from NASA, he plans to take some continuing education classes, maybe art or music because he's "not talented but inquisitive."

As a former basketball player in college, Naughton said that being a POW was like an intermission between the real game of life and war.

"I kind of look at that as `halftime' in my life," he said.

"I went from 29 (years-old) to 35, going in one direction, not thinking very long range, but I was better because of it."

Lt. Naughton was on his 195th mission as a naval aviator when he was shot down and captured.

"I think my life was richer when I returned from the prison camp from being there," he said.

"I make a joke that I could have learned all that in six months instead of six years. I wasn't that slow of a learner," Naughton said with a smile.

He said his faith has helped him throughout his life and was especially strengthened through the six years that he was a prisoner of war in Hanoi. His faith in God was a starting point; then, he said he had to have faith in a different way.

"I had to have faith in my country in the hopes that we would not be forgotten," Naughton said.

"I had to have faith in my family that they could take care of themselves. All my life, I've been a Catholic...spent some time in the seminary. I learned to pray harder than I ever had to...for strength and to endure."

A book of drawings done by a fellow prisoner helped Naughton explain some of the torture that they endured. The sketch is of a man with his legs tied to a bench with stretched arms tied and pulled up behind his back while being forced to bow.

"This is a good drawing but they actually tied (the rope) around your thumb," said Naughton.

"They would usually dislocate it while bending you forward."

On the day that her husband was shot down, thousands of miles away, Peggy Naughton was at his brother's home in Iowa, helping with a graduation event for her niece.

She was at the dining room table with the rest of the family when they saw a Navy car coming down the road.

"I told them that it was probably someone lost, wanting to ask for directions," she said.

"And then I saw my mother come out of the car."

The naval officer told her that her husband was shot down but that they saw him on the ground.

"I knew that he'd be OK," she said.

Two and a half years would pass before Peggy Naughton knew that her husband was alive. The prison officials had allowed Bob to write a letter with six lines. Six sheets of paper, six books couldn't summarize what had happened. But Bob Naughton wrote the best letter that Peggy would ever receive - on Christmas morning, 1969.

"I told her that I was alive and mentioned all my children and that I would be home as soon as I can," said Bob Naughton.

"He named all the children and in his shaky handwriting, he said that he loved us and that he cared for us," Peggy Naughton said.

The letter was small, about the size of a snapshot, with Vietnamese words in the margins of poor quality paper that was folded over for delivery. But it was golden, priceless to Peggy Naughton.

"That letter was a Godsend," she said.

The intensity of the moment, years ago, still burns brightly and vividly today, as she takes her glasses off and wipes away tears.

Bob Naughton said he never received most of the packages sent by his wife. His captors probably enjoyed the contents.

He asked for small comforts such as underwear, which she sent. Little touches like squeezing in 150 vitamin tablets in a bottle made for 100 showed her dedication. She also made sure that the vitamins could be taken on a nearly empty stomach and minimal diet.

Naughton said that his normal waist size had dropped six inches. His wife made sure that the vitamins she sent would not tear up his stomach.

"And she bought me this instant breakfast," he said.

"I remember that I could take this and add flavor to this rice soup that they gave us in the morning. It was something that I could share. I could make it last for about four meals."

Upon his return, Peggy Naughton was told by military officials that her husband would be debriefed as soon as he landed at the Great Lakes naval base and that she would be fourth in the receiving party.

Bob Naughton was also told of how his homecoming would go.

"They asked me where I wanted to meet my wife and I said, `Right where I get off the plane,' " Naughton said.

"When they told me when I'd be meeting my wife, I knew that would change."

He may have earned his wings in 1962 but he flew the fastest down the stairs of the plane and into the arms of his wife who was waiting near the bottom of the stairs.

"It was wonderful," Bob Naughton said.

"It was everything that I'd imagined."

Naughton decided to stay in the Navy, attending the Command and Staff Course at the Naval War College and earning an MBA from the University of North Florida in 1975.

He then assumed command of Attack Squadron 83, followed by the East Coast A7 Training Squadron.

With the highest distinction, Naughton completed the Senior War College Course. A stint as director of research and analysis at the Center for War Gaming was followed by command of Naval Air Station Dallas. He served as commanding officer until 1986 and retired in 1987.

A job in defense-related industry was paying the bills but not paying off in other ways.

"I wasn't getting the same psychic reward," he said.

An invitation to work for NASA fit the bill for Naughton.

For 14 of his 15 years there, he directed a division of 400 civil servants and contractors with an annual budget of $60 million. His team of pilots, engineers and maintenance experts service the T-38s that soar through the area, providing training opportunities for astronauts.

"After working with all the astronauts," he said, "When they're up in space, I'm in there with them.

"Your heart is with them and it's their humility that does it. The world doesn't appreciate them enough."

Now his days are spent contemplating his next move, such as visiting grandchildren in Atlanta, San Antonio and New York, roaming around Texas to the Rio Grande Valley and Big Bend.

On his desk in the study is a book called "1,000 Things to Do Before You Die."

The book points out the world's landmarks and ultimate experiences in detail and how to get there. Beaches in Asia, shrines in Africa, temples in Greece fill a hefty tome.

Somehow they pale next to a retiree in Clear Lake who looks forward to yet another day that is better than the last.

©Clear Lake Citizen 2004 "