Open Doors: Vietnam POWs Thirty Years Later  
 
     
 

THE GUARDIAN
Vice Admiral William P. Lawrence, USN (Ret.)

Bred as guard dogs, mastiffs are fiercely territorial. Vetter McCain, named after a notable Marine and a notable U.S. Senator, is no exception. He rarely leaves his master’s side — all 240 pounds of him. He is noble, proud, serious, thoughtful and doggedly defensive of his home. Just like his master.

Bill Lawrence is one of those rare individuals who embodies legendary strength of mind and body. Throughout his life, he has relied on a combination of acute intellect and a fine-tuned ability to coach his body into action — as a National College Football Hall of Famer, drafter of the U.S. Naval Academy’s honor code, renowned Navy test pilot and survivor of the POW experience. To many colleagues, Bill is larger than life.

This is the man who was the first naval aviator to fly twice the speed of sound in a Navy airplane. He was among the final 32 candidates for the Project Mercury program. And he was the senior ranking officer at Camp Vegas, tasked with providing the guidelines and setting the rules for other prisoners in the camp to follow. Ever the guardian of standards, where did he get the strength, the ability, the power?

“I grew up in a family where there was a strong emphasis on both physical and mental activity. I was able to develop a body that could endure all the challenges I had to face in my life.” Extreme discipline and challenges — both academically and athletically — motivated Bill. “I loved being a test pilot. It was exciting to determine why an aircraft acted a certain way. I loved analyzing it — it was a tremendous mental challenge.” His powerful brain and refined brawn enabled him to excel and survive numerous setbacks: a wife who divorced him and debilitating illnesses that handicapped him physically and sapped him mentally. The stroke he suffered three years ago has lingering physical effects, but his proud, fighting spirit remains intact and has sustained him through these difficult times.

There was a time in Vietnam when he was put in the “hot box” — a dark, unventilated, unlighted cell — for 60 days. To remain sane required focus. Mind over body. So, Bill decided to compose a poem in his head. He’s a big fan of Sir Walter Scott’s ability to create order and rhythm out of words. Perhaps it is no coincidence that Scott was a poet who was also known for his character. Bill especially admires Scott’s poem “The Lady of the Lake,” a poem formed in masterful iambic pentameter.

“Scott had genius, but I had time. [I said to myself,] I’m going to compose a perfect iambic pentameter poem in my head. And I did. When I came back and they asked me to speak to a joint session of the Tennessee state legislature, I quoted that poem that I had kept in my head all those years.” And it became the state poem of Tennessee:

Beauty and hospitality are the hallmarks of Tennessee;
and o’er the world as I may roam
no place exceeds my boyhood home.
And oh how much I long to see
my native land, my Tennessee.

He still seeks out the mental — and physical — challenges. The stroke took away the use of one of his arms, so writing his memoirs and personal correspondence — thoughtful, practiced and unembellished —is a way for him to maintain both mental and physical discipline. It seems to be a form of therapy. “I’m a big one for waking up and thinking in the middle of the night. I think about all the good ideas and what I want to do the next day.” Vetter McCain, the gentle giant whose nighttime breathing is the source of his
insomnia, lets out a protective snore.

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