Saturday Morning, September 5, 2026

Out of the Frying Pan

Two minutes. Just two minutes. He was losing altitude, fast. The F-105D Thunderchief shuddered and shook. Ahead was the Gulf of Tonkin, a safe spot to ditch. Groundfire had found its target. It was a game of time. The joy stick fought back. Come on. Come on! Only a stiff headwind kept the flames behind him. But the heat. Radiating to the core.

Zhou Peichun, wc. Beijing 1880-1910, late Qing Dynasty.
Watercolor from his torture/execution book,
on rice paper, 32 pages

In an instant a tremendous fireball engulfed him, the explosion smacking his helmet like a solid right hook. Shrapnel and fire filled his vision, the jet disintegrating. He felt for the ejection handle, fingers wrapped, and pulled. A rush, a blur. He jettisoned straight up, the jet spiraling straight down. Pain touched every nerve in his body. With the ejection so powerful and the parachute lagging seconds from fully opening, he hit the ground from an altitude of 400 feet leaving a jet flying at 600 mph. His reward? A broken wrist, ankle, and shoulder and an unfriendly rescue party. But this would be only a small part of his suffering. For Air Force Major Fred Cherry, the next seven years would be Dante's dream, courtesy of the North Vietnamese.

Hiroshi Murata, signed print 5/30, 1980.
Titled Niwa Hanabi, translates Fireworks in the Garden or a F-105D Thunderchief expoding under your seat, 27¾" x 37¾"

A Bridge Too Far

U.S. Naval Lieutenant Porter Halyburton, flying rear seat in a F-4B Phantom II as the radar intercept officer, studied the landscape below. This day their target was a bridge deep into North Vietnam, 75 miles above Hanoi City. The danger high, the odds higher.

Zhou Peichun, wc. 1880-1910, late Qing Dynasty.
Another watercolor from his torture/execution book.

Multiple sketches from Leon Kelly, Philadelphia and Parisian artist (1901-1982). A prisoner to his passion, he eventually succeeded, earning national recognition.

Porter watched the jungle pass below. He saw several flashes and smoke, signs of enemy fire. In an instant anti-aircraft bullets tore into the jet's vitals, smoke and flame knocking them out of the sky. Communication with his pilot nonexistent, and with the jet in death decent, Haly yanked his ejection handle. He shot skyward as the silk billowed above his head. From his parachute perch, he watched the Phantom hit the ground in a ball of flames, his pilot never ejecting. There was little time to mourn. Time was now death critical. As he drifted down, his greeting committee was waiting below, shooting rifles at him. It was a welcome he would never forget, a foreshadow of the agony the next seven years would bring.

Will the Real American Aviator Please Stand Up

Cu Loc Prison, 1965. Nicknamed The Zoo, located in Hanoi. It was no picnic, no spa, thousands of miles away from the Geneva Rules of Convention. American POWs were housed there, days filled with brutal torture and intense interrogation. 24-7, treatment beyond human endurance. If the interrogators didn't kill you, the food, insects, and disease would.

Donato Localio, born 1954, oil painting on canvas. Abstract Expressonism and Brutalist art forms appeared post WWII along with Existential writings, reflecting a world attempting to come to terms with such human destruction.

The horror was intentional, despair sown into each prisoner's psyche. The cell door opened and tossed in was Lt. Halyburton.

14k gold bracelet. The end of the rainbow we all seek, endlessly.

Adjusting his eyes to the light and his nose to the stench, he stared. There, before him, crumpled on the ground was a human being, wrapped in gauze and filth. Major Cherry, stared up with suspicious eyes. Each other mistrusting. A spy? A plant? Both understood the enemy's underhanded tricks. There was one additional issue. Knowing this holding was for American pilots, Haly refused to believe Fred was a legitimate prisoner. He would soon discover Fred Cherry, like Porter Halyburton, grew up in the south. The difference? Porter was white and Fred was black. Worse, Major Cherry outranked Lt. Halyburton.

Ebony and Ivory

The Vietcong were well aware of America's racial divide, having watched American television. The problem was constant. Civil unrest between blacks and whites filled the headlines. This cell arrangement was intentional, intended to break the prisoners, a bargaining chip for interrogators.

Another illustration from Zhou Peichun's book.

How clever of the Vietcong, trading on America's perceived weakness. But soon this relationship evolved against the enemy.

Sterling squash blossom necklace & earrings

Through conversation, Fred and Porter realized neither was a plant. Stories turned to home life, military training, shared experiences, good and bad. They grew closer. Seeing Fred's condition, Porter cared for him. In a turn of events, Haly told the guards if Fred did not receive medical treatment, he would die. Did they want the death of the only black prisoner on their doorstep? He received the treatment and though it was barbaric, it eventually brought relief. One day Haly noticed Fred's scalp was filled with oozing blood and ants. He stripped him down and standing in slime under a cold shower, scrubbed Fred until he was clean. Instead of this shared space destroying them, it enhanced them. There were no separate bathrooms here. No back-of-the-bus treatment. Life perspective altered. One human balancing with the other for the basic need. Survival. A lifetime bond sealed.

The Seven Year Bitch

Despite torture, Americans refused to submit. Fred Cherry would not be the Vietcong's spokesman for American Civil Rights, though the pressure was upon him to do so. His reward was 702 days in solitary confinement with a bonus of 93 consecutive days of brutal torture. Beatings. Hangings from one's hands while tied behind their backs, water dousing better known today as water boarding. The list endless.

1930 Standing Liberty quarter, obverse & reverse

After eight months of cell dependency, the Vietcong separated them. Physically, but not spiritually. They would both endure seven more years, their initial friendship guiding them in the darkest days. Fred and Porter were a failed experiment for the Vietcong, and these American flyers would pay the price. In 1973 with the Paris Peace Accords signed, the POWs were released. Behind them were The Zoo and Hanoi Hilton. Life opened a new chapter. The two would meet again and again, sharing friendship and freedom forever. Major Fred Cherry now resides in Arlington National Cemetery. Lt. Porter Halyburton still lives, carrying Fred's banner in spirit and admiration. An American story. The American dream