POW tried to stay optimistic after capture by
Iraqis in Gulf War
Elizabeth Huff
The Enquirer
Col. Rhonda Cornum said it wasn't until she was a prisoner of war in Iraq during the Persian Gulf War that she came to appreciate having a large nose.
She could tilt her head back to see out from under her blindfold Ñ a small bit of autonomy in a place where her captors controlled when she could sleep, eat or talk.
"I complained about this nose for the first 36 years of my life, and I finally appreciated it," said Cornum to an audience that filled the Hart-Dole-Inouye Federal Center auditorium with laughter.
She is an optimist who can look back on her imprisonment during the last couple weeks of the first Gulf War as a time of personal growth.
During National POW/MIA Recognition Day ceremonies on Friday, Cornum spoke about her experience of being captured by Iraqi forces on Feb. 27, 1991.
"They pretty much control your life," Cornum said. "The only thing left is what's in your head, and they really can't control that , so you take advantage of that."
She showed a picture of the Earth from space. One half was bathed in sunlight. The other was cloaked in shadow.
"You can look at your world and it is either dark or light," she said. "It's up to you how you look at it."
Cornum was a flight surgeon in the U.S. Army for an Apache attack helicopter unit. They were shot down while trying to rescue an American pilot.
Even while buried under a pile a burning wreckage, she was optimistic.
She thought, "'Well, at least I'm dying doing something honorable,' and that is important because I have done plenty of dumb things," she said with a laugh.
Cornum didn't die. But she was badly hurt.
Both arms were hanging at odd angles, and she had a piece of metal in her back when Iraqi forces found her.
During her speech, Cornum shut her eyes as she described thinking that when they undo the tight Velcro of her flight suit from around her wrists, her arms would fall out.
But they stayed connected, just broken.
She and another survivor were encircled by a group of Iraqi soldiers, and guns were held to the back of their heads.
"I'm thinking, 'OK, what positive thing can I think about,' because I was convinced I was going to be executed that day," she said.
Instead, they were thrown into the back of a pickup to be taken to a prison camp. They were kept in a 10-by-12 foot room with a bench and a small, high window where the "bad guys" could look in, she said.
The war ended soon after their capture. She was repatriated on March 6, 1991.
Looking back, she said she learned to gauge the gravity of events on a different scale. Now she worries less.
She also learned to prioritize.
"Decide what's important and go get it," she said. "You might not have time tomorrow or the next day or the next day to go get it. So, don't waste your time doing dribble."
Cornum was able to grow from her experience. She is now a senior military medical commander, has made advances in medical research, owns a farm in Connecticut and learned to appreciate her family more.
"Nothing you can do will change the experiences you had," she said. "What you can change is what you do with them."
Elizabeth Huff is a health and features reporter.
©2006 Battle Creek Enquirer, Michigan