THROUGH THE EYES OF A CAPTIVE
Edward Colimore is a former Inquirer staff writer The Gulf War had just broken out. Jeff Zaun, a Navy navigator and bombardier, was nestled in the cockpit of an A-6E Intruder, poised to drop cluster bombs on an Iraqi air base when a missile struck.
Edward Colimore
is a former Inquirer staff writer
The Gulf War had just broken out. Jeff Zaun, a Navy navigator and bombardier, was nestled in the cockpit of an A-6E Intruder, poised to drop cluster bombs on an Iraqi air base when a missile struck.
The Cherry Hill native ejected along with pilot Bob Wetzel, who broke both arms exiting, and the two were captured and later whisked away to Baghdad for interrogation.
In the days that followed, Zaun became the face of the first Gulf War, the image of the battered, bloodied American POW appearing on front pages, magazine covers, and televisions around the world.
His ordeal - from the Jan. 17, 1991, shoot-down to a March 4 release - was fresh in his mind 25 years later at a squadron reunion at Virginia Beach last weekend, even as reports of Iran's capture and release of 10 U.S. sailors dominated the news.
The media were also focused on the freedom of four Americans held for years in Iran, and the apparent kidnapping of three others in Baghdad by what Reuters described as an Iranian-backed Shiite militia.
"A news alert flashed on my phone" when the sailors were captured, Zaun said. ". . . I feel a camaraderie with anybody in the military.
"Their captivity was quick," he said. "That's a good thing, but it was tricky for both sides."
Zaun, 53, a former credit ratings analyst who lives in Jersey City, knows what it's like to be held by a foreign government and sees the sailors' ordeal from a unique perspective.
In the end, "it's a Rorschach test," he said. Depending on personal outlooks and politics, "people will see this in different ways. Was it a POW situation or a rescue?"
After his foiled mission to destroy a refueling station at Iraq's H-2 airfield, Zaun was blindfolded, handcuffed, and transported to Baghdad, where he was interrogated and beaten.
The then-Navy lieutenant also was ordered to appear on tape denouncing the allied invasion of Iraq and given the impression that he'd be killed if he didn't. He beat himself in the face to be a less attractive candidate for broadcast but was forced to do the video anyway.
"What I went through was different" from what the sailors went through, he said. "I was in a war and was trying to kill somebody."
The coalition effort known as Operation Desert Storm began on the morning of Jan. 17, 1991, knocking out command-and-control sites, oil refineries, and weapons plants - all with the latest military technology.
In the case of the sailors detained by Iran this month, there was no attack. "There was a mechanical or navigational error," Zaun said. "They were there for a day and weren't injured."
The sailors were filmed on their knees with their hands clasped behind their heads, and one of them gave a videotaped apology for entering Iranian waters. Obama administration officials thanked Iran for its assistance and lauded the improved diplomatic ties.
"There's a lot we don't know," Zaun said. "It was framed as less of a POW situation than a rescue.
"When I heard the apology, I thought: 'I hope the sailors don't become political ping-pongs in the presidential campaign,' " he said.
"The Iranians didn't look [like] adults - not just because of the filming but because the release came at the same time they were getting billions of dollars," part of a deal with the United States that seeks to prevent Iran from developing nuclear weapons. "It looked like tit-for-tat."
After his release, Zaun and others were honored in a parade attended by 23,000 people in Cherry Hill. He also spoke to a huge crowd of 58,000 gathered at the football stadium at Cherry Hill High School West, where Zaun graduated in 1980.
Zaun avoided the media spotlight and remained in the service until 1998, leaving active duty as a lieutenant commander. The Naval Academy graduate later attended the Wharton School, and on Sept. 11, 2001, was planning to call about a job at an investment bank in the World Trade Center when it was attacked by terrorists.
He's had time to reflect on his ordeal and has advice for the sailors released by Iran: "Be careful with the media. You don't have a staff to manage it. The Navy secluded us and has quarantined them, too. Being kept out of the limelight is a good thing."
One of the bright spots in his combat experience was a friendship that developed with a former enemy - Layth Muneer, an Iraqi air force general and pilot in charge of the base in Anbar that Zaun was sent to bomb.
Muneer brought order to the chaotic capture of Zaun and Wetzel, had them taken away in his personal car, and treated them well, Zaun said. The treatment deteriorated only after the POWs were transferred to Iraq leader Saddam Hussein's secret police in Baghdad.
About two decades later, the general came to the United States seeking asylum, and with the help of a friend, eventually reconnected with Zaun, who has met him several times - often with Wetzel - to talk about the war that brought them together.
The three met in Alexandria, Va., last weekend and hope to give presentations about their shared experience that may turn into a book.
Muneer, whose son now serves in the U.S. Army, "did what he was supposed to do, treating us like POWs," Zaun said. "I don't have any animosity. We're friends now."