John McCain: Prisoner of War | When Your Luck Runs Out | 1
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This episode of Against the Odds contains explicit language and depictions of violence. Please be advised. It's the middle of the night on October 26th, 1967. An American pilot with tussled hair and a sharp jaw wakes up confused in a dark and cold room. His name is John McCain. He's on the ground, wearing nothing but his underwear. He looks around the tiny room. The concrete wall has a stain of dried blood on it.

Water drips from the leaking ceiling like a metronome. Is it a prison cell? He leans on his elbow to get up. A bolt of pain shoots through his right arm. And then again when he tries to move his left arm. He's in agony and he's all alone. How did I get here? And then it all comes back. It's the middle of the Vietnam War. His plane's been shot out of the sky. And now he's a prisoner of war.

Two guards enter, yelling in Vietnamese. John has no idea what they're saying, but he doesn't need a translator to know that they're angry. A third guard enters, carrying an old stretcher that he places next to John. They bend down and roll him onto it. It hurts like hell. John clenches his teeth and closes his eyes so that he doesn't scream. He doesn't want these men to think he's weak. They carry him out of the cell and then outdoors. John squints, trying to adjust his eyes to the light of day.

It looks like they're in a courtyard. Surrounding them are a group of squat buildings. They enter another building and then drop him on the floor. Another bolt of pain pierces through John's body. This new room is larger, and the dried bloodstains on the wall are bigger too. Standing in the center of the room are two Vietnamese men. One looks like a general, tall, stern, his posture ramrod straight.

The other is short and overweight. He lurks behind the general, timid. The taller man speaks to John, and the shorter man steps forward to translate. Tell us what you know, Yankee. John looks them both in the eyes, but stays silent. John knows the military code of conduct only allows him to reveal his name, rank, serial number, and date of birth.

I'm Lieutenant Commander John McCain. My serial number is 624-787. My date of birth is August 29th, 1936. The tall man is not happy. He tries another approach. If you tell us where your planes will attack next, we'll consider giving you a hospital stay. John guesses both his arms are broken, as well as one of his legs. He knows if he doesn't get medical attention, he could die. But he's not going to tell them anything.

Tell us! John feels a hard sting across his face. That hurt. But he refuses to say any more. He repeats his name, rank, and date of birth. The tall interrogator slams John to the ground and starts hitting him. John can't imagine any worse pain. He tries to think of something else, anything else. He thinks about his father. Both his father and his grandfather were decorated Navy men.

He wonders what they would do if they were here. What would they do to survive? In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder. If you're looking for new ways to ignite your creativity and open your mind to fresh perspectives, then let Audible be your guide. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, or any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, and new ways of thinking.

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From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds.

The Vietnam War ended almost 50 years ago, but for many Americans and Vietnamese, the wounds still feel fresh. American involvement in the Southeast Asian nation was long and cost tens of thousands of American lives and millions more Vietnamese. For many Americans, the conflict was necessary to stop the spread of communism and protect our way of life. For others, it was bloody, expensive, and an immoral intervention into another country's politics.

But for those years of agony and death came stories of heroism, tales of people who sacrificed to save others, and prisoners of war who survived the unthinkable. That's what happened to Lieutenant Commander John McCain. Most people today know him as a former senator and presidential candidate, but not everyone knows about the experience that turned him into that devoted public servant.

Over the next four episodes, we're telling the story of how John McCain survived six years in the most infamous prisoner of war camp in Vietnam. John always considered himself to be a lucky man. But what happens when he's put up against an enemy determined to break him? This is episode one, When Your Luck Runs Out.

It's early summer, 1954. An 18-year-old John McCain looks out the window at the passing trees and fields. He's in the passenger seat of his family car, and his father, John McCain Jr., or Jack, as everyone knows him, is driving. Jack always insists on driving, even though John's begged him many times to let him. But today, John didn't even want to get in the car. He and his father are making the hour-long trek to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland.

John's about to begin four years of training there, but it's the last thing John wants to do. He looks out the window as the fields roll by. It reminds him of the campus at Princeton. John visited a year ago with some friends, and he fell in love with it, a place he could take classes on literature, maybe rush a fraternity. But that isn't his destiny. From the day he was born, everyone expected John to become a Navy man.

He's the firstborn son. Both his father and his grandfather, his namesakes, were celebrated U.S. Navy captains. His father received both the silver and bronze stars for sinking Japanese submarines during the Second World War.

John wonders why he's not more like his father. Or his father has always been responsible, got good grades, and did the right thing. John spent high school having fun, pulling pranks, dating girls, and fighting. One time, he almost got expelled. But although he didn't want to enroll in the U.S. Naval Academy, John wants to prove to his father he can make it. John fiddles with the radio dial and then sneaks a glance at his father. Do you remember your first day at the academy? Were you nervous?

Jack is quiet for a moment. Finally, he says, Not really. John tries again. Any advice? Don't forget to be the first to make your bed every morning. Show them you're in charge. Yes, sir. The steel gates of the entrance to campus remind John of a prison, but there's no going back now. Before they part, John turns to his dad again. His father cracks a smile. Relax. You're a McCain. McCain men are Navy men. You're going to excel. It's what we do.

Then Jack gives John a firm handshake, stoic. His father gets in the car and drives away. John McCain's life as a Navy man is just beginning. John! Hey John! It's March 13th, 1960, and John McCain is in a deep sleep, which isn't an unusual thing. In the two years since he's graduated the Naval Academy, John's developed a reputation as someone who parties and recovers on the weekends.

But this time it's for another reason. Yesterday, an A.D. Skyraider plane John was piloting around the Naval Air Station Corpus Christi crashed into the bay. John emerged mostly unscathed, a sore back and a sprained ankle. He laughed about it with the other pilots and invited them back to his place the next night. He wanted to celebrate his brush with death. "Hey John, wake up man, let's go." John opens his eyes to see his roommate, Chuck Larson, standing above him, shaking his shoulder.

Chuck's outgoing, like John. They've quickly become the base's social butterflies, always making sure the bachelors in the training facility have a place to hang out. Someone's here to see you. What's her name? Chuck smiles. It's a he. Ugh, tell him the party's tonight. Groggy. John looks past Chuck and sees a man standing there. The man is older, gray hair, crew cut. John doesn't recognize him, but he quickly sees the man's uniform. Shit.

It's a Navy Admiral. John scrambles to get out of bed. Stay in bed, Ensign McCain. John throws on his shirt and sits up as the man introduces himself. Rear Admiral Robert Goldthwait, an old friend of John's father. Jack McCain heard about the plane crash and asked the Admiral to talk to John. Your father's worried about you. Tell him I'm fine. Just some bruises. A couple pills will do the trick. That's just like my dad, John thinks to himself, always checking up on me.

But the Admiral's demeanor makes John realize the man's not just asking about the accident. His father's worried about John in general. "Are you sure?" I said, "Just tell him I'm fine." The Admiral leaves, and John falls back on his pillow, frustrated. What's it gonna take to prove to his father that he's on the right path? Chuck comes back into the room. "Hey, you still good for tonight?" John pauses, thinks about the accident, the Admiral's visit, and his father. "Of course I am. Of course."

John closes his eyes. He still needs a bit more sleep. It's November 28th, 1965. John McCain sits in the cockpit of a fighter plane, marveling at the open blue sky.

John's gotten a hell of a lot better at flying in the last five years since the crash in Corpus Christi. Sure, some of the fellow pilots think he's still reckless, but he's quickly racking up airtime and expertise. It might come in handy soon. A year ago, the USS Maddox was attacked by three North Vietnamese torpedo boats in the Gulf of Tonkin, and that escalated the conflict between the US and North Vietnam. American bombing runs increased earlier that year, and more troops have been sent every month.

John's pretty confident that he'll be called into service, but he's not sure when. He knows it's his duty, just like it was his father's duty to take part in World War II. He knows how important the war was for his father, but John's not completely convinced he'll live up to the example. John checks his readings. He's just above the shore of Virginia. It'll be an hour until he arrives in Mississippi, his current base. And then he gets to see his wife, Carol Shep.

The party animal is now a married man and a father. Carol had two children from her first marriage, Doug and Andrew, and John's already started the process of officially adopting the boys. He and Carol are now talking about having a third, but she's worried about having a baby when John could be deployed at any time. But John reassured her he can fight and be a father.

Suddenly, the entire plane shakes. Shit. John surveys his controls. Engine failure. He starts running through calculations in his head. Where can he land? How much time does he have? He picks up the radio. I've got a flame out. John knows the most important thing to do is not panic. He tries to relight the engine. He tries again. And then again. Nothing. The plane is going down.

John takes a deep breath and pulls the ejection control handle on the side of his seat bucket. The cockpit opens and the wind flushes in. John shoots from the plane into the sky. As he rips through the air, he gets anxious. Is his parachute going to open? Is it going to open? Is it going to... John's parachute launches and he's now floating peacefully through the sky. He thanks God and watches as his plane crashes in the distance.

John shakes his head. He got lucky. Again. He thinks about Carol, the kids, his parents, and the war. Maybe it's time to grow up. Maybe it's time to start taking things a bit more seriously. Maybe it's time to get ready for the Vietnam War. It's nine months later, July 29th, 1967. John McCain's in the cockpit of his A-4 Skyhawk attack aircraft, sitting on the runway of an aircraft carrier called the USS Forrestal.

He's off the northern coastline of Vietnam. It's a key launching pad for American fighter planes. A month before, his wife Carol gave birth to a daughter, Sydney. It was hard to leave them, but he knew he had to. He wanted to prove himself as a top aviator, and combat experience is the best way. John's been thinking about this mission for a while now. Preparing for it. He steals himself. It's going to be a dangerous one.

Suddenly, John's plane is jolted. He looks around. What the fuck was that? He's not sure what happened. Were they attacked? There's no way the Vietnamese made it all the way over here. No way. Maybe friendly fire? He's trying to put it together when he realizes his plane is on fire. John looks out and realizes that flames separate him from the tarmac. He's gotta get out before the plane explodes.

He climbs over the nose of the cockpit and jumps down onto the deck, hitting the ground loudly. He feels his skin char and throbs from hitting the ground. He quickly rolls on the ground and stamps out the flames. He pauses. He's alive. It was some sort of malfunction. Okay. It was an accident, but the fire spread quickly to a few other planes, and John spots a pilot escaping another A4, doused in flames.

John runs over to help him, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees a dropped rocket burning. That could be... The bomb explodes, and John flies into the air. Hitting the ground 20 feet away, John sees blood and realizes he's been hit by fragments from the explosion. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move.

John peers through the thick black smoke. It's chaos, fire everywhere, bodies strewn across the deck, crater-sized holes on the carrier. John knew the dangers of going to Vietnam. He was about to undertake an important bombing mission, but now he's lucky to have survived. But John can't shake the feeling that next time, he won't be so lucky.

It's late August, 1967, a month since the USS Forrestal went up in flames. 134 men died that day, the worst loss of life on a US ship since World War II. John is hanging out in the squadron ready room with several other pilots and servicemen. Everyone's subdued. The ghosts of the fire seem to hover over everyone.

John's still shocked he survived. It was his bomber that had been hit by the errant missile. If he had been just a few more feet to the left, that'd be it. An officer enters the room and asks for everyone's attention. John recognizes the man. He's from another ship, the USS Oriskany. We need men for our ship. Is there anyone here that would like to volunteer for combat duty? The room falls silent. The men are still recovering from the fires. Some are still afraid to even step into a cockpit.

And the USS Eriskine, it's lost more pilots and planes than any other carrier. It also suffered a horrible fire a year earlier, killing 44 men. In his past life, John would have made a joke to alleviate the tension. But John's changing. I'll go. The accident on the forest was bad, but it wasn't combat. And John knows he needs to get up in the air to prove himself as an aviator. It's why he came to Vietnam. He'll do whatever it takes to get up there.

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John's flown a few missions since joining the USS Riskeny, but this one feels special. It's an Alpha Strike, a militarily significant target

The squad of 20 fighters are planning to bomb a large thermal power plant in the middle of Vietnam's capital, Hanoi. He begged to be put on this mission. The operations officer wanted to assign this mission to more seasoned pilots, but John had just personally destroyed two enemy aircrafts during a raid on an airfield outside of Hanoi. The officer relented, but warned him, "We expect to lose some pilots in this raid. Be careful." John told him not to worry.

He's a survivor. A warning bell goes off as John and the squad approach Hanoi. The enemy's tracking them. I see him. SAMs, or surface-to-air missiles, fly through the sky, billowing trails of smoke. They look like telephone poles launching towards them. He grips his controls and flies lower.

Within minutes, the sky fills with black clouds. But John's almost there. He dives down to 4,000 feet and locks in on the power plant. Missiles swoosh around him as he gets closer and closer. Shit, a missile's locked in on him. He could fly in evasive measure, but might not be able to circle back again. He decides to keep going. And he releases his bombs towards the power plant. Now he's got to get the hell out of there.

He pulls his stick to start a steep incline, but just as his plane lifts, shit! A missile blows off his entire right wing, and the plane drops quickly. John stays cool though. He radios in. I'm hit! And in one quick motion, pulls the ejection seat handle. But unlike his earlier airplane emergencies, this one doesn't go smoothly. He smashes into parts of the plane, breaking his left arm, his right arm, his right knee.

John's barely conscious as he's thrown into the sky. The last thing he sees clearly is a body of water thousands of feet below him. His parachute opens, and then he blacks out. Cold water jolts John back to consciousness. He's underwater. What? How did he get here? He quickly recalls the bombing run, the missile attack, the ejection, and now he needs to get to the surface.

He can see the bottom of a shallow lake. He uses his left leg to push himself and slowly floats up. He's above water, but when he reaches to inflate his life vest, fuck, his arms are in serious pain. He can't move them, which means John sinks underwater again. The cold burns. His gear and parachute are dragging him down, and when his right leg hits the bottom of the lake, pain shoots up it. Using his left leg again, he kicks.

John uses his teeth to pull at the toggle of his life vest. Come on, come on! And it works! John's vest inflates, and now he's floating. But the pain overwhelms him, and he blacks out. Again. John regains consciousness and feels something tugging at his shirt. And his pants. He's still in water, but is lying on something. A stretcher?

He opens his eyes and sees a dozen yelling Vietnamese men. He doesn't understand what they're saying or doing. They're wearing undershirts and shorts, so they can't be members of the Vietnamese army. They must be civilians. They lift a makeshift stretcher and roughly drag John out of the shallow water. The men drop John onto the shore. More men join them, also yelling. They rip off John's wet clothing and start hitting him, start spitting on him.

John knows he's their enemy, and this is their opportunity to take out their frustrations for all the bombing runs. John protests hoarsely, "Please, please my arms!" But they ignore him. It's then that he looks over at his right leg, and it seems angled, oddly. "My leg! My leg!" They pound a rifle into his shoulder, and John hears something inside him crack.

The crowds become a mob, hitting him again and again and again. He's about to pass out from the pain. And then, a female voice yells loudly in Vietnamese. Whatever she said, it worked. The mob stops attacking him and clears a path for a young woman. She approaches John, barking instructions to the men, pointing, gesturing. She crouches down in front of John, tenderly examining his limbs.

Before he knows it, she's creating bamboo splints for his arms and legs. John thinks this nurse is some sort of angel. But then a truck arrives and three Vietnamese officers jump out and rush towards John. They shout instructions at the crowd, but the nurse stands her ground. An officer leaves and returns quickly with something. It's a cup of tea. The nurse helps John take a few sips. And even though it's a little dirty, John's flooded with relief.

But then the nurse backs away. John strains to watch her as the army officers lift him and walk him towards the truck. John shudders. If that's how civilians treat a crashed American, what will the Vietnamese army do? George Day walks over to his door and leans in, trying to hear something. It's October 26th, 1967, and George, nicknamed Bud by his friends and fellow inmates, has been in the cell for about a month.

Two months before, Bud had been flying an F-100 fighter plane when it was downed in Vietnam. He was captured and brought here to Hoa Lo Prison. The French built the prison in the late 1800s when they colonized the region. The prison's become known for the brutal torturing of political prisoners.

The Vietnamese referred to it as the "fiery furnace" or "hell's hole". Thick 14-foot walls, shards of glass on top of the walls to prevent anyone from even thinking about going over, heavily armed guards, tiny cells, multiple solitary confinement areas. In 1954, the French left the country and the Vietnamese reclaimed the prison, converting it into a prisoner of war camp just as the Americans started to increase their presence in the country.

Bud arrived with a broken right arm, broken legs, and injured back, all from the crash. And the guards took no pity. The chief interrogator tortured him for days. Bud just barely survived that time and is still recovering. "What do you hear?" "Shh!" Bud's roommate, Norris Overley, leans against the wall. Norris shrugs. Probably nothing. But Bud senses something different.

He thinks back to the moment he arrived at the camp, entering past the guards and thick gates. Just the memory of it sends chills down his spine. Bud suddenly realizes what's happening. A new prisoner is being brought in. He says a prayer. The unlucky bastard will need it. Welcome to the Hanoi Hilton, whoever you are. It's early evening on October 27th, 1967, and Jack McCain and his wife Roberta are in their London home.

Jack's been stationed in England, and the two are preparing to leave for a dinner at the Iranian ambassador's home. Just as Jack puts on his Navy jacket, the phone rings. Hello? Roberta watches Jack. She knows her husband and can tell something's bothering him. Jack politely thanks the caller and hangs up. Roberta asks him if everything's okay, and Jack explains the caller was a Navy admiral informing him that two planes were shot down over Hanoi. One of them was John's plane.

No one could see any evidence of survivors. Roberta's at a loss. Is John dead? Jack explains it's too early to tell. He'll get more information later. Roberta grabs the phone to let their host know they won't be coming. Jack stops her. We're going to go, and we're going to keep our mouths shut.

Jack and Roberta attend the dinner, trying to keep their minds off John's fate. When people ask about John's deployment, they stay optimistic. When they return home, Jack receives another phone call. It's Admiral Tom Moorer, the American chief of naval operations. Jack is old friends with Moorer and is pleased he can get the honest truth. No bullshit. Jack urges his friend to level with him. Listen, Jack, we really don't think he survived.

Jack looks out onto the quiet London street and takes a minute. He now knows he may never see his son again. It's a bright sunny day in Jacksonville, Florida and Carol McCain is at home with her three children. The youngest, Sydney, is only 13 months old and already reminds Carol of John. She's crawling and jumping, doing whatever she can to escape from her playpen.

Carol really misses John. She knew she was marrying into the military, but didn't foresee a war that would immediately take John away. She wants him here. She wants him to play a role in Sidney's and the other boys' lives. Carol opens the door to discover two men standing there. The first is a young carrier air group commander who she knows. The other is an older man that looks like a chaplain. Her heart stops.

One of the first things military wives learn is that it's never a good sign when a chaplain comes to her door. "Can we come in, Carol?" "What's happened? Where's John?" "Can we come in?" "Tell me!" The commander takes a breath and tells her John's plane has been shot down and there are no signs he survived the crash. Carol zones out immediately. The man she loves, the father of her children, is dead. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

But she knows she can't. She doesn't want to scare the children. And most importantly, she knows John wouldn't want it. So she stands there, trying to listen to what the men are telling her while her heart breaks. This season, Instacart has your back-to-school. As in, they've got your back-to-school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back-to-school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.

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It's late October 1967. John McCain has just woken up from a nightmare. Only, it wasn't a nightmare. It's been his life over the last few days. Or, he thinks it's been the last few days. It's hard to tell in this small, dark, dirty prison. His time there has been spent being beaten by guards and then blacking out. Again. And again. And again.

John looks down at an empty bowl on the ground. There's some rice left, but John can't eat it. It's not that he doesn't want to, he's permanently hungry. He just can't get up, or even move his arms without sharp, jabbing pains. So, the guards spoon feeds him, but John throws up after just a few bites. Something's wrong with his stomach. Is it dysentery? John wonders if Carol and the kids know about his crash, or his parents. Does anyone suspect he's still alive?

His father looms large in his mind, especially when he's speaking to his interrogators. He knows his father would never give in to torture. It's not what an American does, and it's definitely not what a McCain does. But John also remembers a fellow pilot who broke his femur when he was ejected from a plane. The man's injury went untreated for a week, and by the end of that time, he died. John looks at his leg, severely swollen, discolored, and out of place.

It looks worse than the pilot's legs. And then it dawns on him. He's most likely going to suffer that pilot's same fate. The guard who enters is short and fat, with a milky right eye from cataracts. John's dubbed him the Bug. He's been hurting John over and over these last few days. And now, he's back for more.

John takes a deep breath and starts begging. A skinny man, standing behind the bug, translates the conversation. "Listen, please. I'm hurt. Bring me to the hospital. I need to go to the hospital. Now." "You have given us no information." "Listen, I promise. Just take me to the hospital and I'll give you whatever information you want. I promise." John's bluffing. At least, that's what he tells himself. The bug returns with a lanky man named Zorba.

The man's wearing medical gear and begins looking at John's leg, but he's a little rough, and when he grabs John's leg, it hurts him even more. So much for bedside manner. The medic turns to the bug and shakes his head. So, are you going to bring me? No. Please, take me to the hospital and I'll get well. I'll tell you what you need to know. The bug shakes his head. Please. It's too late for you. The bug and the medic leave John behind in the dark prison cell.

John lies there, realizing they're right. It is too late for him. He's most likely going to die in this cell. John is woken from a brief slumber by the sound of his prison cell door opening. Though he's probably only been a captive for a few days, he's already acquired a fear of the sound of the heavily rusted steel door. It means guards are visiting. It means he's going to be tortured. It means more pain.

And this time, John's sure it means death. But when he looks up to see his torturer, the bug, the man grins. "Your father is a big admin. Now we'll take you to the hospital." John is confused, almost delusional. Is his father here? Has help arrived? Is the war suddenly over? Did we win? Two guards put John onto a stretcher. The pain from just being moved knocks John unconscious.

John wakes up in a small room. It's dark, dirty, rats scurry along the wall, and there's a large puddle in the corner. But he also spots older medical equipment, and his legs and arms are in splints. It's a hospital. An unsanitary one, but definitely a hospital. The bug appears with two other people. They look proud, as though they know something John doesn't. The bug tells John that the doctors have given him blood and plasma.

As they list all the things they did for him and how nice they've been, John closes his eyes. Everything still hurts. Did they actually even help him? A man translates for the bug. "Now it's your turn, McCain. Tell us what you know." Once again, John gives him his name, rank, serial number, and date of birth. He's repeated these facts over and over since his capture. It's his go-to response. The bug starts to look angry.

"If you tell us nothing, I'll send you back, and I'm sure you don't want that." John swallows. If he returns to that prison, he knows he'll die. So he decides to give them something. Nothing huge, nothing that the Vietnamese wouldn't already know. Hopefully, that'll be enough. He tells them the name of the ship, the squadron's number, and the target the day of the bombing was the power plant.

The bug wants more. He asks the names of John's squadron members. John sighs, sounding defeated, and starts to list names. Bart Starr, Elijah Pitts, Jim Taylor, Boyd Dowler, Marv Fleming. Little do the guards know that John's reciting the offensive lineup of the Green Bay Packers. The bug's men diligently write down the names. John tries hard to keep a straight face.

The bug asks for the names of future American targets, and John starts lifting off cities he knows were already bombed. They seem to be falling for it, but it's not enough. The bug pushes for more information, and John's tired. Plus, would they really beat him up in a hospital? "No. Fuck you." The bug gets angry, and he hits John in the chest. Hard.

The bug keeps going, but John decides to test them. He starts screaming, loud enough that if anyone else is in the hospital, they'll wonder what's going on in this room. The bug stops beating, mutters under his breath, and storms out of the room. John smiles to himself, but then his satisfaction disappears. He may have saved himself now, but the bug will eventually get back at him.

Jack McCain and his wife Roberta are in their London kitchen, on the phone together. They're calling their son Joe, John's younger brother. Hello? Joe is a reporter in San Diego, so he has a pretty good idea when something's happening. Plus, both of his parents are on the line. It's something big. Honey, Johnny's been shot down. There's a long silence. Jack cuts in. His wingman saw his plane explode. They don't think he got out. Joe begins to cry.

So, what do we do now? Jack is silent as he thinks of his response. He's had to inform hundreds of families of the deaths of loved ones, but never his own. His instinct is to say there's nothing to do, but instead he takes a moment, and then pray for him, my boy. Jack and Roberta also get through to John's wife Carol to discover she already knows.

Jack again finds it hard to go through his usual motions. This is his own son he's talking about. He tells Carol that, if somehow John survived the crash, he's been captured. He'll probably die in their hands. They're brutal, the POWs. And they'll do their worst to John because of his family name. They hang up. Roberta goes to change for bed. While she does, Jack gets down on his knees and he prays.

It's late October 1967 and people in Hanoi crowd into a market. People of all ages are buying goods, running into friends and catching up. A radio starts blaring and the crowd quiets down. These "Voice of Vietnam" broadcasts are the best way to get updates of what's happening in the war.

Adding to the ever longer list of American pilots captured over North Vietnam was a series of newcomers. John Sidney McCain was one of them. Who is he? A US carrier, Navy Lieutenant Commander. Last Thursday, 26th of October, he took off from the carrier Oriskany for a raiding mission against Hanoi City. Unfortunately for him, the jet plane he piloted was one of the ten knocked out of Hanoi's sky.

McCain was married in 1965 and has a 10-month-old daughter. Sure, he also loves his wife and child. Then why did he fly here, dropping bombs on the necks of Vietnamese women and children? It's propaganda. But the Vietnamese in the Hanoi market don't know that. They believe that Navy Lieutenant Commander John McCain is responsible for the death of Vietnamese civilians. If it was up to the people of the country, he would be dead at this very moment.

John McCain has always considered himself a very lucky man. But here, in the middle of Vietnam, it seems like his luck has finally run out. This is the first episode of our four-part series, John McCain, Prisoner of War. If you like our show, please give us a five-star rating and a review.

If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend John McCain's autobiography, Faith of My Fathers, co-written by Mark Salter, as well as the book John McCain, An American Odyssey by Robert Timber, as well as the HBO Max documentary, John McCain, For Whom the Bell Tolls.

I'm your host, Mike Corey. Anthony Del Call wrote this episode. David Gardner is our producer. Our editor is Maura Waltz. Taylor Keelan is our consultant. Brian White is our associate producer. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Rob Schielega. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis. For Wondery...

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