During the ceremonies I was presented with a sizable Government Bond, purchased with contributions from many people. I didn't feel I deserved, but I appreciated it very much.

Even more surprising to me than the parade was what I learned about how thoroughly my family had become involved in the matter over the past two and a half years. They had come to know people in the Pentagon, had called the White House on more than one occasion, and had done many other things just as amazing. But the person who astonished me most was my mother. A mild little woman who never before had set foot on an airplane had, unflinchingly, walked aboard and flown to new York to appear on a national television program, and had just as calmly utilized the same form of transportation to attend a gathering of the B-29 families in Florida.

Many people in Washington had come to know the name Mary Ellen Baumer, and I couldn't have been more proud of her. I'm thankful her wrath had been kindled on my behalf rather than toward me.

The intense feeling created by the spectacular welcome-home lasted for a while, but soon I became restless. Having been told I could have my choice of military hospitals for my operation, I selected Walter Reed Army Medical center. Also, I had been instructed to contact them when I was ready. They were thinking in terms of weeks, but being anxious to get to the next important step, I called within a matter of days. Accommodations were quickly arranged.

My stay at Walter Reed was a picnic compared to my confinement at Antung General. While the Chinese hospital personnel at Antung had been kind to me, the circumstances had been entirely different.

However, at Walter Reed I was surprised to find the only negative reaction to our capture and confinement I was to encounter. It was brought to my attention by a young army lieutenant who was a polio victim. We had become good friends and talked frequently about our problems and plans. Noticing that he was very agitated one day, I questioned him. He related a conversation he'd had with an officer who recently had been admitted with some minor ailment. The individual was a major in Air Force administration, I'm ashamed to add. I hadn't conversed with him much because he seemed a bit distant and reminded me of the type who seeks the cushy jobs and cozies up to the brass for personal gain.

One day while I was in another part of the hospital being tested, he and the lieutenant were discussing the matter of my imprisonment. Some things that were said led the lieutenant to suspect that the major was doubtful concerning our loyalties following our confinement. The lieutenant's suspicions were confirmed when the major asked, “What do you suppose they'll do with them?”

From his immobile position on the Stryker frame, the lieutenant responded quickly and emphatically, “They ought to give them all medals!” He said this ended the conversation.

The major was gone when I learned the story. I guess this kind of snap reaction was the sort of stupid thing the young crew member had feared.

When I recall this incident and remember the fight we all faced and the treatment we endured, I'm thankful that all the other Americans with whom we came in contact were not as shortsighted as the major. In fact, his kind of groundless thinking presented a far greater menace to the country than we ever could. I hope he soon found another niche in life.

Without exception, all the personnel at Walter Reed were most considerate and helpful. Doing everything they could, they made my recovery and retirement from a profession I liked very much as painless as possible. After I departed, I corresponded with some of these people for years.

Leaving Walter Red meant ending an interesting and trying experience. Reviewing that experience, I cannot help but recognize that others endured much worse than I — not only in Korea, but in Vietnam years later. I salute them all, especially the members of our crew and particularly Colonel Arnold who suffered through a hell all his own.

But leaving Walter Reed also meant breaking my last permanent contact with military service. I was closing the door on a career in which I was well trained and in which I felt I was progressing.

However, I never think, “If only I hadn't flown that last mission.” There are no “What if----s,” The experience and knowledge I gained, the things I learned about myself and others, and the spiritual and political awareness I acquired were all worth the price.