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On June 24, 1972, U.S. Air Force Captain David B. Grant was flying a mission from Thailand into conflict-ridden North Vietnam when his F-4 Phantom took a direct hit and exploded. The fuselage was separating when both Grant and his “back-seater,” Bill, ejected through the fireball. They landed without injury, about two miles apart. They would not see each other again until days later when they became cellmates in the infamous North Vietnamese prison known to American POW’s as the Hanoi Hilton.

Grant and his father, Colonel A.G. Grant, share a dubious distinction. As a young lieutenant flying B-17’s during WWII, A.G. was shot down over Belgium and spent a year and a half as a POW in Stalag Luft I. A.G. and David are the only father (WWII) and son (Vietnam) to have been POWs from those conflicts.

Grant had not intended to follow so closely in his father’s footsteps; in fact, it was his father who advised him against becoming a pilot. Grant had graduated from the University of Chattanooga in 1965 when he learned he’d received his draft notice and immediately enlisted in the Air Force. “I wanted to be a hospital administrator, but because of a pilot shortage, they made me a pilot,” he said.

After attending Officer Training School in San Antonio, TX, Grant and his new bride, Betsy, moved to Laredo, TX, for flight training. Upon graduation, his group had orders for Vietnam. But in January 1968 the USS Pueblo was attacked and captured by North Korea. Vietnam orders were cancelled, and they went to Japan.

There Grant met Lt. John Barker, now of Brevard, and was assigned as his GIB (guy-in-back) flying F-4 Phantoms. “John had a huge influence on my flying career,” Grant said. “We spent about 70% of our time in South Korea.” From Japan, Grant returned to MacDill AFB in Tampa where he upgraded to Aircraft Commander (guy-in-front). Once again, he received orders to Da Nang which were changed, and the Grants went to the Philippines.

Flying Low from Da Nang
In 1972, President Nixon authorized increased air strikes on North Vietnam targets. “Our assignment in the Philippines was curtailed and I again had orders for Da Nang,” said Grant. “I had seven days’ notice to get Betsy and the boys back to the states and depart,” said Grant. “I arrived in Da Nang on April 1, 1972.

“Flying from Da Nang was rewarding from a pilot’s point of view. We were doing a lot of close air support for our guys and using ordnance that required low-level delivery for accuracy. Flying at 1,000-2,000 feet, we could smell the gun smoke and watch the enemy scattering or even shooting at us, even though we were going 450 knots. When successful, we got some rewarding calls relayed back through the forward air controller that said ‘Thank you! You saved our butts.’

“I had one mission where the North Vietnamese Army were on the 2nd floor of a plantation house. They had our guys pinned down in the front yard behind a stone wall. From my plane, which was level with the 2nd floor window, I was able to strafe and clear the enemy from the building. I was so low that my jet’s exhaust dusted our guys.”

Captured and a Painful Journey
In June 1972, Grant’s wing moved from Da Nang to Takhli, Thailand. He and Bill, his GIB, were shot down at 4 pm on their first mission out of Takhli, about 40 miles from Hanoi. They tried to shoot me as I parachuted down and were fairly close when I landed, so I hid under a very dense bush on a steep incline. I dug in a little so I wouldn’t slide down. I spent the night that way, with creatures crawling all over me. The North Vietnamese were less than 50 yards away.”

In the morning, the enemy began their search and found Grant’s hiding place. “They did a ‘ready, aim, fire’ and 5 to 7 of them shot into the bush,” Grant said. “Then they waited. Then another ready, aim, fire. One shot hit me in the foot. They came into the brush and were shocked that I was alive when I rolled my head around and looked up at them.

“My arms were tied in back around a bamboo pole. I had a hole in my foot and hadn’t had any water. Then we started a hike. This was June in the jungle and it took about 4½ hours to get down the mountain. In the villages, they stirred up the crowd and the villagers struck me with sticks and rocks. Eventually a militia guy took over and beat me up. Then he stuck his automatic between my eyes and pulled the trigger. It clicked. Another mock execution followed.

“We continued through villages. In each one I was beaten. Finally, we arrived at a larger village where they held a night-time kangaroo-court trial. I was on my knees with a bayonet on either side of my head and I made the mistake of smiling at the woman who held one of the bayonets. She made sure the blood kept seeping from my temple. I was convicted as a war criminal and thrown into a little hut. They gave me some slush with rice and fish that was hard to keep down.”

The next morning, Grant was released to the regulars who put a bag over his head and tossed him onto the back of a truck for the journey to Hanoi. The road was in terrible condition and each bump and jostle brought agonizing pain to his injured foot.

Heartbreak Hotel
In Hanoi, Grant’s arms were finally cut free and he was thrown into a small room. “I stayed on the floor,” he stated. “After four days of interrogation and beatings, I was put in a small cell in the section of the prison called ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’ The dingy 5’x 7’ cells held two concrete slabs with shackles on the end. I lay there with no idea where I was, but it must have been Sunday because I heard some Americans singing.

“I hopped or crawled wherever I went, and the guard, unsympathetic because it slowed him down, ‘encouraged’ me with his rifle butt or his foot. The entire time I was there, nobody ever addressed my foot. I received zero medical help.