MARSHALL, MARION ANTHONY
Name: Marion Anthony Marshall
Rank/Branch: O3/US Air Force, NAV
Unit: 13th TFS
Date of Birth:
Home City of Record: Upper Marlboro MD
Date of Loss: 03 July 1972
Country of Loss: North Vietnam
Loss Coordinates: 180720N 1054347E (WF778023)
Status (In 1973): Missing In Action
Category:
Acft/Vehicle/Ground: F4E
Missions: 51 North Vietnam  266 Total
Other Personnel In Incident: Stephen H. Cuthbert, remains returned, pilot
Source: Compiled by Homecoming II Project 01 April 1991 from one or more of
the following: raw data from U.S. Government agency sources, correspondence
with POW/MIA families, published sources, interviews. Updated by the P.O.W.
NETWORK.
REMARKS: 730329 RELEASED BY DRV
SYNOPSIS: The Phantom, used by Air Force, Marine and Navy air wings, served
a multitude of functions including fighter-bomber and interceptor, photo and
electronic surveillance. The two man aircraft was extremely fast (Mach 2),
and had a long range (900 - 2300 miles, depending on stores and mission
type). The F4 was also extremely maneuverable and handled well at low and
high altitudes. Most pilots considered it one of the "hottest" planes
around.
The F4J fighter plane piloted by Stephen Cuthbert and navigated by Marion
"Tony" Marshall was shot down on July 3, 1972, 70 miles northwest of Dong
Hoi in North Vietnam. A September 1972 Radio Hanoi broadcast stated that the
North Vietnamese had captured Capt. Marshall and mentioned the pilot,
Cuthbert, by name.
Marshall was taken prisoner and subsequently released in the spring of 1973.
He maintains that he never revealed the correct name of his pilot, although
just one week before he was to be released, Marshall's Vietnamese captors
returned his personal belongings to him, and included Cuthbert's custom-made
wedding band.
The Vietnamese deny any knowledge of Cuthbert. They maintain that to
"discover" additional information on Americans, they must have increased
"cooperation" from the United States so that their people will perceive
"good will." Cuthbert is one of nearly 2500 Americans lost in Southeast
Asia, and only one of many about whom the Vietnamese have certain knowledge
which they are withholding.
Stephen H. Cuthbert was promoted to the rank of Major during the period he
was maintained Missing in Action.
SOURCE: WE CAME HOME  copyright 1977
Captain and Mrs. Frederic A Wyatt (USNR Ret), Barbara Powers Wyatt, Editor
P.O.W. Publications, 10250 Moorpark St., Toluca Lake, CA 91602
Text is reproduced as found in the original publication (including date and
spelling errors).
UPDATE - 09/95 by the P.O.W. NETWORK, Skidmore, MO
MARION A.  MARSHALL
Captain - United States Air Force
Shot Down: July 3, 1972
Released: March 29, 1973
I was born in Washington, D. C. and lived in Maryland with my mother and
sister until I entered the United States Air Force Academy in June 1964,
after graduating from Douglass High School in Upper Marlboro, Maryland.  I
graduated from the Academy in 1968 and attended Navigator  Training and
Electronic Warfare Training at Mather Air Force Base, California.  After
survival training, I spent a year at MacDill Air Force Base, Florida in the
F-4  I was then assigned to the 13th TFS at Udorn RTAB, Thailand. I remained
with this Sierra Hotel Squadron from April 1971 until that fateful  day-3
July 1972.
Upon completion of my normal tour at Udorn, RTAB, Thailand, I extended for
six additional months. I was on a mission  as an F-4  backseater on a Fast
FAC (Foward Air Controller) mission in the southern part of North Vietnam on
3 July 1972. While we were in a dive to mark a target our external
centerline fuel tank apparently collapsed, causing the aircraft to become
uncontrollable. I was ejected  by the aircraft commander. I must have been
in shock following the ejection because I can only remember hitting the
ground and standing there dazed for  an unknown length of time.  My next
conscious recollection is of helping the Vietnamese remove my gun and G-suit
after which I do not recall anything until I suddenly "awakened," to find
myself stripped  and tied in an underground bunker - here I first realized
that I was in trouble and completely alone. It was an empty feeling  I was
moved to a village  during the night and interrogated the following day.
The interrogation was surprisingly  brief and shallow, and the treatment was
outstanding - compared to what I had expected. I told them that I was on the
mission as a photographer, hoping to escape before  my story caught up with
me. I reached Hanoi after traveling by jeep for five nights and hiding
during the days, spent Eve days in a loose solitary confinement and was
moved with four other men from the Hilton to the Zoo, where we moved in with
four additional men who had been captured recently. I remained at the Zoo
until  I was repatriated on 29 March 1973, except for  a brief return trip
to the Hilton  during the December campaign.
I was confident that it was simply a matter of time until I would be
released - whenever the war ended, and since I knew early  that my family
knew that I was OK, I did not suffer  any anxiety over my situation  as my
training had prepared me for the worst possible situation.  Also, I of
course, always realized that I faced  this  possibility whenever I went on a
mission.
The most difficult part of my internment was living  with the knowledge
that I had caused my family  and friends  to suffer  a period of anxiety and
worry, for which they could never be properly  prepared. They were among the
lucky ones however. The families of the men who are still  MIA have endured
and continue to endure a pain far worse than any torture we could have
suffered. My prayers are with these families.
================
Marion Marshall is a Lt. Colonel in the United States Air Force. He is
stationed in California with his wife Veta.
======================
http://www.bakersfield.com/opinion/story/669135p-711765c.html
The search for Capt. Tony Marshall
Saturday August 25, 2001, 09:25:03 PM
A television advertisement for the movie "Apocalypse Now Redux," a revision
of the Vietnam war classic, droned in the background as I searched a "junk
drawer" at home for something I had lost. It was one of those annoying
searches. The type that makes you mutter: "It's gotta be here someplace."
I jammed my hand to the back and grabbed something that felt familiar. But
when I pulled it out, I discovered I had not retrieved my lost treasure.
Instead, I had found a lost memory.
I held a metal band with the name: Capt. Tony Marshall. Nearly two decades
earlier, as the Vietnam War was winding down, I had worn the bracelet on my
wrist -- a reminder of an Air Force pilot I had never met who crashed over
North Vietnam on July 3, 1972.
Marshall was just one of the thousands of unlucky guys who had failed to
return from combat in Vietnam. His was just one of the many names on
bracelets worn by Americans to show their support and pressure the North
Vietnamese to treat American prisoners humanely.
I was working for the Navy at Lemoore Naval Air Station when I began wearing
Marshall's bracelet. Many Navy pilots missing in Vietnam had been flying
with Lemoore-based squadrons when they were shot down. When I reached into
the container of bracelets for one to
wear, I had hoped to retrieve a name I knew. Instead, I picked a stranger.
When the war was over and the prisoners were released in March 1973, I
slipped the bracelet from my wrist and tossed it into a drawer. I never gave
it another thought until I accidentally stumbled upon it a few days ago.
What happened to Capt. Tony Marshall? Did he live? Did he come home? Was he
like most soldiers whose names appeared on POW/MIA bracelets? Was there
never any hope of him being found alive from the moment he disappeared?
I began my search for Tony Marshall by clicking onto the Internet site
www.pownetwork.org. At first, I could not find him listed. However, further
research revealed Marshall's true first name was Marion -- not Tony. I also
discovered he survived the crash and captivity, and was freed by the
Vietnamese on March 29, 1973. He resumed his career as an F4 Phantom
pilot, retiring from the Air Force as a lieutenant colonel. For the past
decade, he has flown for United Airlines, ferrying passengers from Los
Angeles on international routes.
I caught up with Marshall between flights at his Apple Valley home. He
seemed pleased I had called and said it had been a long time since someone
who had worn his bracelet had contacted him. After his release, he received
many calls and letters from bracelet wearers.
He has maintained lasting friendships with some.
Now the only reminder he has of the campaign is the bracelet he still wears
on his own arm. It bears the name of the man who was piloting his jet when
it crashed in Vietnam.
"I wear it to remind me of my pilot. I wear it to remind me not to do
anything stupid when I fly," said Marshall, explaining pilot error and
equipment defects contributed to the crash. Marshall, who was riding in the
airplane's back seat as the navigator, and his pilot "dropped in" on North
Vietnam when their aircraft's fuel tank collapsed. Flying too low, they were
unable to regain control and their F4 Phantom crashed. Marshall safely
ejected. His pilot was first listed as missing. In recent years, his status
has been changed to dead.
Dazed and slightly injured when he hit the ground, Marshall was taken to the
Vietnamese prisons Americans called the Hilton and the Zoo.
"Conditions were relatively good by the time I was captured," he recalled.
"They were not torturing. The old guys had gone through hell."
"I camefrom a strictly civilian family," said Marshall, explaining he grew
up in Washington, D.C., where he lived with his mother and sister. After
high school, he entered the U.S. Air Force Academy. It was just four years
after graduating from the academy that he was taken prisoner in Vietnam.
"I warned my mother that crackpots might call and claim I was dead. I told
her to say thank you and then hang up. When the staff car drove up to tell
her I was missing, she said thank you, but showed no emotion. They came back
about a month and a half later and told her I was captured. Again she showed
no emotion. She just said thank you.
"I was so proud of her. She was very calm about the whole thing," he said,
recalling his mother going to the military hospital where he was taken after
his return to the U.S. She matter-of-factly announced that "she was there to
take her kid home."
Before we hung up, I told him how happy I was to learn he had survived and I
thanked him for risking his life in Vietnam. Whether or not you agreed with
the war, the men and women who did their duty as they saw it -- and in
Marshalls' case, paid a steep price -- deserve our thanks.
He thanked me and the others for wearing his bracelet. "The support really
helped. World opinion forced them to stop torturing us."
Tomorrow I will go to work and slip a copy of this column and my bracelet in
an envelope to be mailed to Marshall. The bracelet did its job. It helped
bring at least one soldier home.