My Friend John McCain
MidWeek columnist Jerry Coffee and John McCain have remained close friends since they were POWs in Viet -nam. Extra coverstory by Susan Page
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Editor’s note: This is a very personal look at the presumptive Republican presidential nominee Sen. John McCain, written by his longtime friend, MidWeek columnist Jerry Coffee. It is in no way an unbiased look, and in the interest of full disclosure, upon his return from an African mission later this month Jerry will go to work as McCain’s Hawaii campaign chair. Having published a cover story on Barack Obama earlier this year, we’re publishing this story, as well as the accompanying sidebar on Cindy McCain by Susan Page (page 43), in the interest of fairness as well as offering MidWeek readers a look at the candidate they will find nowhere else.
Sen. John McCain was campaigning in the western United States a few days ago, honing his energy policy and commenting on North Korea’s evasion of promised compliance in drawing down its nuclear missile program (an issue of dire importance to these Hawaiian Islands). As I watched the TV news clips, I marveled at this man who, like me, has already used up several of his “nine lives,” but like the Energizer Bunny just keeps on going.
It’s hard to believe it’s been 37 years since, as a POW in North Vietnam, I was moved from a fairly “easy” satellite POW camp to one of the cavernous cell bays of the medieval-like Hoa Lo prison in downtown Hanoi with 26 other “bad attitudes.”
“Because you have bad attitude you will go to a place more harsh,” the “V” snarled. (“V” was our generic slang term for the Communist interrogators.)
There, at what became known as the Hanoi Hilton, in cell bay No. 7, I first met Lt. Comdr. John McCain.
His name had been on my alphabetical memory list of more than 500 other POWs for a couple of years, and his story is well-known. His father, a four-star admiral (himself the son of an admiral), was commander of all Pacific military forces. After being shot down over North Vietnam, John had initially been left to die of his multiple injuries until interrogators learned of his father’s rank and position. In the Hanoi hospital, they set his broken bones just good enough for the propaganda photos. With his casts barely dry, he was returned to Hoa Lo, with Air Force Maj. Bud Day as his cellmate. Bud did everything for John he could not do for himself, which was ... everything, and slowly nursed him out of danger. To this day, Bud says, “I swear the ‘V’ put John in with me so they could blame me when he died.”
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But it soon became clear they had let Bud save him because of John’s “fame” as the “Crown Prince,” the target of every motley “peace” delegation that came traipsing through Hanoi.
John’s complexion was exceptionally pale and blended into his prematurely gray hair, and the movements of his frail limbs were stilted from bones that had healed askew. But his intellect and ascerbic wit were undaunted. The twinkle in his eye seemed to spark his very presence. The strength of his character was immediately clear, his standards were high and weakness or dishonor were hard for him to forgive. John had already been offered early release by the “V.” He knew that, if he accepted, it would be a propaganda coup for them, embarrassing to his father and demoralizing for the remaining POWs. This came at a time when none could be certain our release would ever come, even at war’s end. He turned them down flat.
Sometimes our sleeplessness coincided and we would sit up after most of the others were sleeping beneath their mosquito nets. We talked quietly about our families, our careers and our plans for the future. We shared silly childhood memories: “Remember when you’d have a fight with the kid next door and he’d come back over in your yard and you’d say ‘Get off my lawn’ and he’d say, ‘You’re not the boss of me!’?” As with many others, we developed a friendship cemented by shared adversity and bizarre circumstances.
John McCain’s POW person-ae was characterized by his courageous survival, his dedication to duty and his love for the country that his father and grandfather before him had served.
Upon our repatriation in early 1973, separations of unprecedented duration took their toll on relationships and families. John’s return to his wife, Carol, and three children (her two boys he adopted and their daughter) was joyful, but within a few years their marriage would end, a sad occasion for which John accepts full blame due to “my own selfishness and immaturity.” He was very generous in the settlement, however, and he and Carol remain friends to this day.
For several of us who returned to flying, sympathetic Navy doctors made some exceptions for otherwise disqualifying disabilities. Such was the case for John as he commanded the Navy’s largest aircraft squadron, training pilots to fly the A-7 Corsair. A Pentagon tour in the Office of Legislative Affairs introduced him to the world of politics. It was in that capacity, on a Congressional junket to the Far East which returned through Hawaii, that he was bedazzled by a much younger Cindy Hensley at a cocktail reception. A dinner for two at the Royal Hawaiian followed, and they were married within a year. They still vacation on Maui.
McCain’s meeting his future wife here in Honolulu was consistent with the special role of the Aloha State in his life. From prison, John had pictured his admiral father at Camp Smith as the commander of the Pacific Forces, but could-n’t have known his thoughts when, in December of 1972, the elder McCain ordered B-52 bombing raids on Hanoi - where his son was being held.
Navy veteran Sal Maza of Kapolei was Adm. McCain’s flight steward in those days.
“I spent more than one Christmas in South Vietnam with the admiral,” Maza recalls. “He said he felt closer to his son there.”
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And when we were released in 1973 (in great part because of those raids) and flew back home through Hawaii, the outpouring of aloha and lei was overwhelming. As John recalls: “Thousands of people turned out - many wearing bracelets that had our names - to cheer us as we disembarked the plane. I’ll never forget it.”
A few years ago, the senator flew to Honolulu to speak at a Navy League event honoring Adm. Joe Vasey, a good friend and shipmate of his father. That evening the admiral commented: “The John McCain I’ve known since he was a child has become a courageous leader of strong character, who can always be depended upon to put our nation’s best interest over partisan politics.”
On his arrival night, my wife, Susan Page, and I took John to dinner at Aaron’s atop the Ala Moana Hotel. He commented that the beauty of the Honolulu city lights reminded him of the beauty he had just seen in Alaska on a fact-finding trip with other senators, including Hillary Clinton. “We went there to confirm what we’d heard, the shrinking of the polar ice cap, and it’s really happening. You know, I’m very concerned about that.”
Afterward, while waiting for the valet to bring our car, a young woman stepped out of an arriving car and made eye contact with John. She hesitated and stared at him and said, “I know you! I’m supposed to know who you are ... don’t tell me!”
John stared back. “Mmmm. OK, I give up, who are you?”
John replied with a mischievous look, “Al Gore!”
She protested, “You’re not Al Gore. He’s more handsome than
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