Re: The Bracelet

Date: March 09, 2004

"Bristol Twp. woman connects with POW

In his darkest hours, Jack Fellowes, 72, had two Patricias in his life — both pulling for him in her own way. Until now, he only knew about one, “Pat,” his wife.

She’s the one who answered the phone last month to learn that another Patricia — Patricia Robalik of Bristol Township — had been holding onto the POW/MIA bracelet inscribed with Jack’s name all these years. Robalik bought the bracelet from a student group at Bucks County Community College in 1969, about three years after Fellowes was taken prisoner in North Vietnam on Aug. 27, 1966.

Robalik bought the bracelet because she thought it was “a good idea,” she said. Her own two sons were serving in Vietnam. Both returned home.

When the war came to a close, Robalik put Fellowes’ bracelet away. She decided not to turn it in when they were collected for a memorial sculpture, though.

“I thought, ‘No. I’d like to find out what happened to him first,’ ” she told me last week.

Finding out was no easy thing. The few times she tried, Robalik, now 77, came up empty.

That is until Feb. 26, when she stopped by the Disabled American Veterans Service Center in Bristol Township. There, she ran into Bill “Pud” Clarke, a former World War II prisoner of war. He promised her that chapter adjutant Bobby Ausura of Bristol Township, an Internet hobbyist, surely would be able to find some answers for her.

And he did. Within three hours, Ausura learned that Fellowes, born in Buffalo, N.Y., had been released in 1973. A retired Navy commander, he lives today with his wife, Pat, in Annapolis, Md.

Fellowes, who suffered permanent damage to his arms in captivity, was pleased to hear that Robalik planned to mail the bracelet to him. And she was just thrilled to hear he’d come home after one very long and painful journey.

Through his research, Ausura learned that Fellowes, who flew an A6A Intruder attack jet based on the USS Constellation, was shot down at 3,500 feet, 20 miles northwest of the city of Vinh in Nghe.

On the day he and copilot/navigator George T. Coker were captured, their aircraft was struck in the right wing by antiaircraft fire or debris from a surface-to-air missile.

“The aircraft immediately inverted, the stick was frozen and we were bouncing wildly. I later learned that the wing had been blown off,’’ Fellowes said.

“While still inverted, as the plane was falling, George Coker and I ejected. I felt a strong jolt as I struck earth …’’ He learned much later that he had seriously injured his back.

The pilot of a nearby American aircraft reported the area where the two ejected was about 18 miles inland, in a well-populated area. The terrain was primarily flat, with rice paddies and numerous houses and villages. There was little to conceal them.

According to government reports, enemy flak and poor weather visibility caused the wingman to lose sight of the two chutes. An intensive, three-hour ground search came up empty. The men’s emergency beepers could no longer be heard.

Fellowes described events this way:

“As I reached the top of a small knoll, I saw about 100 people running toward me. When I realized that I was going to be a prisoner, I sat down and pulled out a cigar. Just as I was about to light it, a hand came from behind my head and yanked it from my hand.

“This gesture convinced me that I was in less than amiable hands. Anyone who steals a man’s cigar is definitely unfriendly.

“We walked six or seven hours that first night. By the third day of walking, my feet and back were killing me. They had taken my boots away and my thick athletic socks were caked with mud and debris. They let me sleep very little during these three days and nights.’’

Fellowes described the blinding pain of rope torture that followed, as interrogators demanded information about his attack jet’s radar. A fellow U.S. prisoner nursed him for the four months that he was incapacitated following the torture.

Fellowes said his athleticism and sense of humor were major factors in his survival.

“I have always been a sports nut,’’ he told the authors of “We Came Home” in 1977. “God endows us with weapons to fight adversity. I would recall the entire lineup from teams and then recall the plays. This passed many a long hour.’’

He and co-pilot Coker were held in various POW camps, including Cu Loc and Hoa Lo, known as the Hanoi Hilton. Coker, too, survived. Fellowes vividly recalled his return home.

“We could not believe the reception. I was driven to the hospital in Portsmouth. I saw my wife, Pat, and children — Cathy, 16, Sharon, 13, John Jr., 11, and Tom, 9. They all looked great. The kids seemed to remember me well, but I got concerned about Tommy, my youngest. He was only 3 when I left and he seemed reluctant to say anything to me.

“I asked Pat, ‘What’s wrong with him?’ She advised me to exercise a little patience. Well, Tommy and I walked off a little from the others and kind of looked at each other. For a moment there was silence. Then Tommy said the words that lifted me three feet off the ground, ‘Dad,’ he said, ‘You’re the greatest.’ ’’

Fellowes’ message to other survivors that year was this: “I feel that most of us are the way we are, in the shape we are in, not because of the North Vietnamese, but despite ’em. The fact that we are Americans kept us going.”

That and the prayers of anonymous well-wishers like Patricia Robalik.

Columnist Kate Fratti, a sucker for happy endings especially in wartime, can be reached at 215-949-4179 or at kfratti@phillyBurbs.com. Her column appears on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
©2004 Copyright Calkins Media, Inc. "