Jeremiah Denton for the Ages. By Rich Lowry.
Jeremiah Denton for the Ages. By Rich Lowry. National Review Online, April 1, 2014. Additional comments at NRO blog The Corner.
Jeremiah Denton Blinking Morse Code “T-O-R-T-U-R-E.” Video. luck3148, January 23, 2013. YouTube.
Lowry:
Jeremiah
Denton, the Vietnam War POW who has died at age 89, uttered one of the great
statements of defiance in American history.
In
1965, he was shot down in his A-6 during a bombing run over North Vietnam. He
became a captive for more than seven years and endured an unimaginable regime
of torture, humiliation, and isolation, managing to retain his dignity and
spirit even as his captors went to hideous lengths to snuff them out.
Soon
after his capture, a young North Vietnamese solider signaled to him to bow down
and, when he refused, pressed a gun to his head so hard it created a welt.
Denton quickly learned that this would be mild treatment. He was taken to Hoa
Lo Prison, or the Hanoi Hilton, where he led the resistance to the North
Vietnamese efforts to extract propaganda confessions from their prisoners.
As
Denton related in his book, When Hell Was in Session, they tried to starve one out of him. After days, he began to
hallucinate, but he still refused. They took him to what was called the
Meathook Room and beat him. Then, they twisted his arms with ropes and relented
just enough to keep him from passing out. They rolled an iron bar onto his legs
and jumped up and down on it. For hours.
He
agreed finally to give them a little of what they wanted, but at first his
hands were too weak to write and his voice too weak to speak. He hadn’t
recovered from this ordeal when the Vietnamese told him he would appear at a
press conference.
Denton
told a fellow POW that his plan was to “blow it wide open.” He famously blinked
T-O-R-T-U-R-E in Morse code during the interview, a message picked up by naval
intelligence and the first definitive word of what the prisoners were being
subjected to. When asked what he thought of his government’s war, Denton
replied, “Whatever the position of my government is, I believe in it, yes sir.
I’m a member of that government, and it’s my job to support it, and I will as
long as I live.”
The
legend is that under the pressure of the Inquisition, Galileo said of the
Earth, “Yet, it moves.” That Martin Luther said, “Here I stand, I can do no
other.”
Denton’s
words aren’t an embellishment. They were seen by millions when they were
broadcast in the United States, and he almost immediately paid for them in
torment so horrifying that he desperately prayed that he wouldn’t go insane.
For two
years, he was confined in what was dubbed “Alcatraz,” reserved for the “darkest
criminals who persist in inciting the other criminals to oppose the Camp
Authority,” in the words of one of the guards. Alvin Townley, author of the
book Defiant, writes of the Alcatraz
prisoners and their wives back in the States, “Together, they overcame more
intense hardship over more years than any other group of servicemen and
families in American history.”
When
the American involvement in the war ended and the POWs finally were released,
Denton made a brief statement on the tarmac upon his return, no less powerful
for its simplicity and understatement: “We are honored to have had the
opportunity to serve our country under difficult circumstances. We are
profoundly grateful to our commander in chief and to our nation for this day.
God bless America.”
A Roman
Catholic, Denton told his family that he had forgiven his captors and, after
recounting to them on his first night back what he had gone through, that he
didn’t want to speak to them of it again. His son James says he often heard him
say — with typical modesty — “That’s over. I don’t want to be a professional
jailbird.”
He
certainly wasn’t that. Denton went on to become a U.S. senator from Alabama.
With his passing, we’ve lost a hero whose example of faithfulness and duty
should be for the ages.
Jeremiah Denton was the very model of a Jacksonian warrior and hero.