Former fighter pilot recounts his experiences as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam.

'I'm No Hero' is the story of Charlie Plumb, but it is also the story of all POWs who faced an isolated world of degradation, loneliness, tedium, hunger, and pain. It is no pretty story. It tells of the torture room with walls built to muffle human screams, of the 'rope trick' and 'fanbelt' techniques designed to make a man talk, of illness, of insanity. But it also tells of the ingenuity and creativity which allowed the men to outsmart their guards and to set up communication systems, classes, escape plans, and to maintain their chain of command. It is a revealing story. It pictures men who are reduced to the basics physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It shows how these situations can be survived with individual integrity and pride intact. It tells of growing relationships with God which came as a result of desperate need. It outlines a closed society's methods of developing rules which allow members to live together in harmony. It is a story of hope, for it suggests that the techniques used by POWs to survive their conditions can be used by others to overcome similar situations faced in day-to-day living.

The harsh conditions, the daily routines that occupy a prisoner's time, and above all, the psychological struggles and behavioral quirks of captives forced to live in close confinement are conveyed with devastating simplicity and candor. Throughout, the author constantly probes his own conscience, questioning motivations and decisions. What emerges is a multileveled portrait of an individual determined to retain his humanity in an uncivilized environment.

A fresh look at the how US troops played a part in the resistance of US troops to the American war in Vietnam Even if you don't know much about the war in Vietnam, you've probably heard of "The Hanoi Hilton," or Hoa Lo Prison, where captured U.S. soldiers were held. What they did there and whether they were treated well or badly by the Vietnamese became lasting controversies. As military personnel returned from captivity in 1973, Americans became riveted by POW coming-home stories. What had gone on behind these prison walls? Along with legends of lionized heroes who endured torture rather than reveal sensitive military information, there were news leaks suggesting that others had denounced the war in return for favorable treatment. What wasn't acknowledged, however, is that U.S. troop opposition to the war was vast and reached well into Hoa Loa Prison. Half a century after the fact, Dissenting POWs emerges to recover this history, and to discover what drove the factionalism in Hoa Lo. Looking into the underlying factional divide between pro-war “hardliners” and anti-war “dissidents” among the POWs, authors Wilber and Lembcke delve into the postwar American culture that created the myths of the Hero-POW and the dissidents blamed for the loss of the war. What they found was surprising: It wasn’t simply that some POWs were for the war and others against it, nor was it an officers-versus-enlisted-men standoff. Rather, it was the class backgrounds of the captives and their pre-captive experience that drew the lines. After the war, the hardcore hero-holdouts—like John McCain—moved on to careers in politics and business, while the dissidents faded from view as the antiwar movement, that might otherwise have championed them, disbanded. Today, Dissenting POWs is a necessary myth-buster, disabusing us of the revisionism that has replaced actual GI resistance with images of suffering POWs—ennobled victims that serve to suppress the fundamental questions of America’s drift to endless war.

When Green Beret Lieutenant James N. Rowe was captured in 1963 in Vietnam, his life became more than a matter of staying alive. In a Vietcong POW camp, Rowe endured beri-beri, dysentery, and tropical fungus diseases. He suffered grueling psychological and physical torment. He experienced the loneliness and frustration of watching his friends die. And he struggled every day to maintain faith in himself as a soldier and in his country as it appeared to be turning against him. His survival is testimony to the disciplined human spirit. His story is gripping.

Chronicling a lesser-known aspect of World War II, this glimpse into secret history re-creates the world of Aliceville, Alabama, during the war, when as many as 6,000 German prisoners-of-war (POWs) and 1,000 military police guards set up camp and stayed for almost three years. It discusses how the residents of Aliceville helped build, operate, and supply the camp, as well as become inextricably intertwined with camp life and the soldiers being held there. Uncovering what being treated well by the enemy meant in the lives of these POWs, this relevant and fascinating story investigates the nature of war and the principles of human dignity in the midst of America's seemingly unending war on terror, which has brought "Geneva Convention" back into common vocabulary along with questions about what is appropriate treatment of enemies and how future generations are affected by such treatment.