JAMES H. HESTAND
CWO - United States Army
Captured: March 17, 1971
Released : February 12, 1973

I'm James Hardy Hestand, the first born in an average American family in
Oklahoma City. I have a younger brother and sister. When I was nine years old
my father died. My mother raised the three of us by herself.

After graduating from high school I was undecided as to my future, so I joined
the Army. Upon finishing helicopter training I was off to Vietnam in July
1970. Up until March 17, 1971 I was James Hardy Hestand, pilot, "one of the
men the enemy could never get." Then the bullets started hitting my plane, not
someone else's. Down I went.

For the next two years I was "Ni" (my Vietnamese name since they could not say
James Hestand), and my cage buddy was "Da" (short for Danny). For these two
years it was Da, Ni, Emde! (Vietnamese for shut-up.) We had to whisper and
talk low or be punished severely by the "Cong." One end of a six foot chain
was attached to my ankle and the other end to a log of a wooden cage, tiger
pit, or a dark bunker. It never came off 24 hours a day.

I am still haunted by dreams of deadly foot long centipedes and scorpions, six
foot cobras, bamboo vipers, and spiders as big as a man's stretched-out hand.
These creatures were ever constant "visitors" leaving tracks through my cage.
Each morning when I awoke I wondered why I was still alive and how long I
would survive. The B-52 raids and the steady diet of fish scraps with rice and
muddy water made me feel I would never return . . . add to that the fact that
my captors did not care whether we lived or died by refusing medical
attention; and it was a wonder we kept our spirits and hopes of survival
alive.

During those long and endless days we pooled our strength and courage into one
force, determined to survive this seemingly endless nightmare of pain,
suffering, torment, and fear.

The most wonderful day of my life was when I walked out of the dark jungles of
Cambodia on February 12, 1973, into the waiting arms of Freedom. Although my
hopes were shaken and shattered many times, I knew that my prayers would
someday be answered. When I stepped off the plane at Clark Air Force Base in
the Philippines, I knew my prayers had finally come true. My greatest desire
is that someday all of the remaining POWs and MIAs will come home again.