Page 115 - Cityview Magazine - July/August 2017

VETERAN SPOTLIGHT
Story by Trent Eades
“Hell yeah!”— PRESIDENT RICHARD NIXON WHEN ASKED TO CONFIRM BILL ROBINSON’S POW CAMP BATTFIELD PROMOTION FROM ENLISTED MAN TO OFFICER.
LEANING OUT OF A HH-43B
“Huskie” rescue helicopter, its
intermeshing blades spinning inches above the tree tops, U.S. Airman First Class William A. Robinson swung a rescue cable toward the Air Force pilot nearly 100-feet below in the dense jungle. One hand gripped the cable and the other controlled the winch; he used a hot mic to direct the Huskie’s pilot. They were at “bingo fuel”; they had just enough to get back to base, but the crew wasn’t about to leave the pilot to the North Vietnamese swarming the area. Suddenly, flames erupted from one of the two accompanying A1-E Skyraider fighter support planes; it took a hit in a rocket pod. As smoke poured from the Skyraider, it turned and sped back to base. The other Skyraider followed it, leaving the Huskie unprotected. Bullets
tore through the Huskie as Robinson finally succeeded in swinging the cable to the pilot. Just as Robinson started pulling the pilot up, the helicopter dipped, its blades ripped through the tree tops, and the helicopter plummeted to the ground.
The Rescue Mission
What happened next shaped the rest
of Robinson’s life. He, along with Neil Black, who was also on that ill-fated rescue helicopter, were held by the North Vietnamese for 2,703 days, making them the longest-held enlisted Prisoners of War in U.S. military history, a fact that somewhat embarrasses Robinson because, as he says, “Some officers were held longer.” Over the course of two interviews, one in a pleasant diner in Vonore and one at
his comfortable home in Madisonville,
Tennessee, Robinson tells me about
the rescue mission, his experiences as
a POW, his reception when he came home, and his mission in life now. As the photos Robinson show me demonstrate, he has always been a large man, both
in stature and personality; and his garrulous, witty, and optimistic nature are manifest as I ask him about his experiences. He is also self-deprecating. As Robinson tells it, he was just doing his duty. “I grew up with the mentality that as an able-bodied male, it was my responsibility to defend my country,” he says. “I saw my father do it; I saw people from the neighborhood do it. So, when I was 18, I walked into the post office and signed up with pride. I was telling my country, ‘If you need me I’m here’.”
Robinson was born on Aug. 28, 1943, in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, and
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