Today is National POW/MIA Recognition Day. On this day, we pay tribute to the brave men and women serving our country who are prisoners of war or are missing in action. We are indebted to them for their sacrifice for our freedom. According to the Department of Defense Missing Personnel Office, more than 83,000 Americans are missing from World War II, the Korean War, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, the 1991 Gulf War and the Iraq War.

For many families, this day is not unique. Every waking hour is spent with the memory of a loved one who is a prisoner of war or declared missing in action. The legacy of these heroes will not be forgotten. We pray for their safe and quick return and for the families of those who've lost loved ones. We will never forget their service and sacrifice.

Dear Folks,

During these months as a POW I have not been permitted much freedom in corresponding with you.  Correspondence has been limited and there was much that could not be written.  Nevertheless, you folks were always on my thoughts and I know you were also thinking of me.  When thinking of you, I had memories of home to serve as a background.  However, I suppose you often wondered how I was living.  With this in mind, I decided to record a bit of our life here – may it help you to better understand how we lived as POWs.

I will not discuss the events of my capture and imprisonment.  It is military information not to be recorded.  Besides we refer to these events as “horror stories” and there is much we would like to forget.

            Our prison camp was Stalag Luft I located near Barth, Germany.  Barth was a small town on the shores of the Baltic north of Berlin.  The camp itself was on a small peninsula northwest of the town.

            Food was the most important single item in our existence.  Food seemed to take on a new meaning and meal time was the most enjoyable part of the day.  Naturally we ate many things we would have refused to eat at home, but for the first time we were eating to live.  Food preparation was hardly equal to that at home, but, with inexperienced cooks and primitive facilities, the meals were better than you might think.

            A great share of our food stuffs came as a gift of the American Red Cross through the International Red Cross.  At times we were issued the British Red Cross parcel.  The American parcel was designed for one man.  We combined our parcels and cooked for all fifteen men from them.  We were supposed to receive one parcel per man each week, but due to shortages we were not always that fortunate.