Vietnam War Prisoner Bob Abbott
From James Donahue’s Journal
Bob Abbott had been one of many Michigan soldiers captured by the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War and held captive for years in terrible conditions. After the war ended, the prisoners that were still alive started to come home. Col. Bob Abbott of Deckerville, in Sanilac County, was one of them.
Abbott had been an Air Force fighter pilot that was shot down in April, 1967. He parachuted out of his plane and then was captured on the ground. He was held captive for the next six years, until March, 1973 before he was released. By this time I had gotten to know Bob’s parents and written stories about their long anxious wait. The father, a water well driller by trade, was a good natured man and we developed a friendship.
Word finally came that Bob was coming home. He was being flown into Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio. I was assigned to be at that base with a photographer on the day of his arrival. That was a major story assignment but Doris was in the hospital that week, under close observation because of a heart condition that developed during her pregnancy with Jennifer. It was a tough decision, but after assurances by Doris that she would be all right and that I should go, I went to Ohio.
It was a long and grueling trip. I think I went on my own on that first trip and carried a camera with me. I remember checking into a motel in Dayton after getting close, and then driving to the air base the following morning. There was a long and boring wait, once I found my way into the base and located the gathering area for the press corps. I was packed in there with newspaper, television, radio and a variety of media types, all there to report on a large number of prisoners of war expected to get off the same aircraft.
Bob’s parents were there, and we got together for the wait. When at last the plane landed and taxied up to where the media was gathered to record the event, I found myself being shoved out of the way by the television press camera people and their reporting staff. They had a lot of equipment on the ground and I realized I was going to have to fight to get a picture of Colonel Abbot at the moment he got off that plane. The other problem I had was that all of the men able to walk came off dressed in uniform. No one was announcing who was who among the number of men stepping off the plane. I got lucky. Bob’s dad came to my aid. He told me when his son appeared. I forced my way through the television crews and snapped some great shots of Colonel Abbott stepping down the stairs and leaving the aircraft.
Abbott was immediately whisked off for what they said was “debriefing.” After that, he was given some private time with his family. I hung around all the rest of the day, waiting for a chance to get an interview. Finally, his father came out and advised me that there would be no media interviews allowed that day. He said Bob really wanted to talk to me, however, and that he would make contact and set up another time when I could get the interview I was after.
I drove back to Port Huron that night with good photographs and a story of what had happened at the air base that day. But it was not what we had expected. I stopped at Port Huron, dropped off my film, wrote my story, and then drove on home to Sandusky.
Weeks passed and I thought Abbott had forgotten his promise. But then, out of the blue, I received a call from the father. Bob wanted to see me at a specific date at the air base. I was there, this time traveling with a photographer. It was a great interview. Bob said he had to wait until all of his friends were released from the prison stockade where he had been held before he felt free to tell me the whole story. That was the reason for the delay.
He told a story of extreme torture, of living for days, weeks and months inside a small box-like enclosure not much larger than a human body, of going without food and water, and of being interrogated and tortured. He told of the tricks he and the other captives used to keep their sanity and to communicate with one another. Somehow he had endured six long years of staying alive under these conditions. He had a wife in Michigan, and said his love for her kept him going. When he was released he found that she had found another life and filed for divorce. I was surprised that he survived that ordeal in one piece and was still sane. I remember driving all night after that interview, and then sitting in the office in Port Huron, writing that story even as the sun was coming up. It was such a dramatic story the words seemed to fly into that keyboard, even though I was extremely tired. My story and the photos we returned with filled that day’s front page
.
Abbott remained in the Air Force. He used his time attending college and getting a law degree at the expense of the Air Force. He applied his law degree to the work he did prior to his retirement from the service, then came to Sandusky and set up a private law practice. We remained friends as long as I remained on that job.
From James Donahue’s Journal
Bob Abbott had been one of many Michigan soldiers captured by the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War and held captive for years in terrible conditions. After the war ended, the prisoners that were still alive started to come home. Col. Bob Abbott of Deckerville, in Sanilac County, was one of them.
Abbott had been an Air Force fighter pilot that was shot down in April, 1967. He parachuted out of his plane and then was captured on the ground. He was held captive for the next six years, until March, 1973 before he was released. By this time I had gotten to know Bob’s parents and written stories about their long anxious wait. The father, a water well driller by trade, was a good natured man and we developed a friendship.
Word finally came that Bob was coming home. He was being flown into Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio. I was assigned to be at that base with a photographer on the day of his arrival. That was a major story assignment but Doris was in the hospital that week, under close observation because of a heart condition that developed during her pregnancy with Jennifer. It was a tough decision, but after assurances by Doris that she would be all right and that I should go, I went to Ohio.
It was a long and grueling trip. I think I went on my own on that first trip and carried a camera with me. I remember checking into a motel in Dayton after getting close, and then driving to the air base the following morning. There was a long and boring wait, once I found my way into the base and located the gathering area for the press corps. I was packed in there with newspaper, television, radio and a variety of media types, all there to report on a large number of prisoners of war expected to get off the same aircraft.
Bob’s parents were there, and we got together for the wait. When at last the plane landed and taxied up to where the media was gathered to record the event, I found myself being shoved out of the way by the television press camera people and their reporting staff. They had a lot of equipment on the ground and I realized I was going to have to fight to get a picture of Colonel Abbot at the moment he got off that plane. The other problem I had was that all of the men able to walk came off dressed in uniform. No one was announcing who was who among the number of men stepping off the plane. I got lucky. Bob’s dad came to my aid. He told me when his son appeared. I forced my way through the television crews and snapped some great shots of Colonel Abbott stepping down the stairs and leaving the aircraft.
Abbott was immediately whisked off for what they said was “debriefing.” After that, he was given some private time with his family. I hung around all the rest of the day, waiting for a chance to get an interview. Finally, his father came out and advised me that there would be no media interviews allowed that day. He said Bob really wanted to talk to me, however, and that he would make contact and set up another time when I could get the interview I was after.
I drove back to Port Huron that night with good photographs and a story of what had happened at the air base that day. But it was not what we had expected. I stopped at Port Huron, dropped off my film, wrote my story, and then drove on home to Sandusky.
Weeks passed and I thought Abbott had forgotten his promise. But then, out of the blue, I received a call from the father. Bob wanted to see me at a specific date at the air base. I was there, this time traveling with a photographer. It was a great interview. Bob said he had to wait until all of his friends were released from the prison stockade where he had been held before he felt free to tell me the whole story. That was the reason for the delay.
He told a story of extreme torture, of living for days, weeks and months inside a small box-like enclosure not much larger than a human body, of going without food and water, and of being interrogated and tortured. He told of the tricks he and the other captives used to keep their sanity and to communicate with one another. Somehow he had endured six long years of staying alive under these conditions. He had a wife in Michigan, and said his love for her kept him going. When he was released he found that she had found another life and filed for divorce. I was surprised that he survived that ordeal in one piece and was still sane. I remember driving all night after that interview, and then sitting in the office in Port Huron, writing that story even as the sun was coming up. It was such a dramatic story the words seemed to fly into that keyboard, even though I was extremely tired. My story and the photos we returned with filled that day’s front page
.
Abbott remained in the Air Force. He used his time attending college and getting a law degree at the expense of the Air Force. He applied his law degree to the work he did prior to his retirement from the service, then came to Sandusky and set up a private law practice. We remained friends as long as I remained on that job.