Re: Beatinsg and Terror - Vietnam POW Remembers

Date: May 29, 2004

"Vietnam POW shares his story
Beatings, boredom and terror marked Robinson's ordeal

By Sharon Rauch DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER

ANDERSONVILLE - A month after Bill Robinson turned 22, he became a prisoner of war in Vietnam. He wouldn't return home until he was almost 30.

During his seven years as a POW, he was beaten and tortured more than 25 times, spent six months in solitary confinement, ate pumpkin soup so much be became sick of it and was rarely outside for more than 15 minutes at a time.

Asked how he overcame these experiences once he was released, Robinson shrugged his shoulders.

"I had been in there so long, I accepted my situation," he said recently while walking through the National Prisoner of War Museum. "I was ready to move on."

Robinson, who now lives in DeFuniak Springs, visits the national park several times a year as a guest host. He'll sit at a table in the museum and talk to visitors about his time in Vietnam. He plans to be there through Memorial Day.

Robinson said he spent most of his days with two or three other men in a cell about 8 feet by 5 feet.

He said life consisted of long stretches of boredom punctuated by terror.

His captors beat or tortured him for anywhere from two days to two months at a time. Sometimes they'd throw him in a hole for days or tie his hands and feet together for long periods. Other times, they choked and beat him until he almost passed out.

Robinson said his captors didn't want information from him. They wanted him for propaganda purposes. They'd force him to write positive letters to American politicians or those in the anti-war movement. The first time Robinson broke down and wrote a letter, he went back to his cell and "cried like a baby."

"I felt like I had let myself down, my country down," Robinson said.

But his leader (they still maintained rank inside the prison) told him to get himself together and "be ready for the next time." There was no recrimination. There was a "you had to do what you had to do" mentality.

When he did write letters for his captors, he would sneak in fictitious names such as Clark Kent (Superman's alter ego) so that any American who read it would know it was bogus.

The men in his cell, he said, tried to help each other out and not let anyone get too low.

"We made sure all three didn't get down at the same time."

When he talks about his six months in solitary confinement, he minimizes the experience. He knew other guys, he said, who were in solitary for seven years.

He kept himself going by viewing his capture as a three-day ordeal. Yesterday he was shot down, today he was imprisoned, tomorrow he'd get out. Christmas was another marker. They'd be home by then, the men would say. When Christmas came and went, they'd start planning for the next one.

Robinson knows many of the POWs in the museum videos. This one died last year. That one just had a shunt put in his heart. Robinson recently returned from a reunion in Charleston, S.C., and plans to go to another one next year in Washington, D.C.

Sometimes during his visits to the museum, veterans will come up to him but won't say anything. They might shake his hand or embrace him in a hug. Then they'll walk away.

Robinson doesn't mind. That connection is enough.

© 2004 Tallahassee Democrat and wire service sources"