The Evil Hours by David J. Morris

the matter, however, is more complicated and fascinating. In fact, McCain and his comrades enjoyed a number of measurable psychosocial advantages that enabled them to survive and stay sane in the face of unspeakable horror. If scientists had set out to engineer a group of men designed to withstand the pain and furies of trauma, they might have created the men of the Hanoi Hilton. As a group, they were older, higher-ranking, and more mature than the average draftee. (The typical prisoner was fifteen years older than the average American servicemember.) Virtually all of them had been to college, and as pilots and flight crew, they were the products of one of the most rigorous military training systems in existence at the time, a training regimen that typically included over a year of flight school and a comprehensive medical screening. A substantial number of them had even attended a mock prisoner-of-war school designed to help captured personnel survive enemy captivity. The U.S. government had literally spent millions training each of these men.
    Second, the Hanoi Hilton is unique in the annals of military prisoner-of-war camps for its relative geographic stability and for the emotionally supportive prisoner culture that developed there. Admiral James Stockdale, one of the highest-ranking prisoners, who was later awarded the Medal of Honor, described his role in the prison as one “presiding over a unique society.” This society was built upon mutual care, unity, and optimism in the face of adversity. Newly captured prisoners would later speak of being “mentored” by the more experienced prisoners.
    Importantly, when the men of the Hanoi Hilton were finally released at the end of the war, they were given a lavish hero’s welcome.In a time when many Vietnam veterans were met with suspicion and hostility when they came home, these men were treated like returning astronauts. President Nixon, who had campaigned extensively on the issue of their repatriation, hosted a special dinner at the White House in their honor, which included performances by Bob Hope, John Wayne, and Sammy Davis Jr. Most of them returned to find their marriages, families, and finances intact. Each man was given a complete medical exam, free access to medical care, and even lifetime passes to Major League Baseball. Many of the former POWs, like George Coker, a navy pilot captured in 1966, were given their own welcome-home parades and the “keys to the city” of their hometowns. Most of the Hanoi Hilton “alumni” chose to remain on active duty and were generally regarded as something like celebrities by their comrades. They were frequently called upon to deliver motivational speeches, imparting the life lessons they had learned while in captivity. In short, while their traumatic “dosage” was exceedingly high, this group of survivors was not simply told they were heroes upon return and sent packing; their suffering was acknowledged, processed, meditated upon, and even celebrated by their culture. Trauma workers often talk about the post-trauma reintegration process being dictated by the “opportunities to be understood.” From this standpoint, the POWs from the Vietnam War were uniquely blessed.
    As John McCain later wrote,
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In the many years since I came home, I have managed to prevent the bad memories from intruding on my present happiness. I was thirty-six years old when I regained my freedom. When I was shot down, I had been prepared by training, as much as anyone can be prepared, for the experiences that lay ahead. I wasn’t a nineteen- or twenty-year-old kid who had been drafted into a strange and terrible experience and then returned unceremoniously to an unappreciative country.
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    The Hanoi Hilton experience is a unicorn in the literature of trauma, a case in which a perfect storm of circumstances converged to produce a group of people who defied the odds and, as such, would be