'White Tornado'

That courage was truly tested in Vietnam. On the deck of the carrier Forrestal one day, McCain watched a missile from another plane come loose and hit his engine, creating a huge fireball. He miraculously survived but watched men obliterated before his eyes as the huge fire spread. By the time the blaze was extinguished, 134 men were dead, the largest military accident of the war. McCain thought he'd have to go home, but, eager for battle, found duty aboard another carrier.

On Oct. 26, 1967, as he made his 23d bombing run over North Vietnam, McCain's A-4 was shot down over a small lake in downtown Hanoi. Hauled ashore by an angry group of Vietnamese, he recovered consciousness and saw that his leg was broken. A rifle butt smashed his shoulder to pieces. Taken to the big prison nearby, nicknamed the "Hanoi Hilton" by American POWs, McCain was asked for the names of his squadron mates. He listed the Green Bay Packers offensive line. Near death, he was denied medical treatment until authorities discovered he was an admiral's son. Then he was thrown in a huge cast and told to say he was well treated to a French film crew brought in to record the North Vietnamese prize. He declined. Two other POWs, Bud Day and Norris Overly, nursed him back to life.

In June of 1968 came McCain's moment of truth. The U.S. Military Code of Conduct requires prisoners to be released according to when they were taken--first in, first out. More than 100 POWs were ahead of McCain in line, dating back to 1964. But Overly and some others took early release, and the North Vietnamese authorities offered McCain the same, no strings attached.

At this point, McCain was beginning what would turn into more than two years of solitary confinement, communicating with his close friend Bob Craner by tapping an elaborate code on the prison walls, and sometimes whispering through cups. McCain, emaciated from severe dysentery, doubted he could survive another year. Craner told him to take the release; the Code of Conduct allowed exceptions for the seriously sick and injured. McCain, desperately wanting to go home but knowing the release of an admiral's son would give the communists a propaganda victory and dishonor his family, declined.

"They taught you too well," the prison warden known as "The Cat" shouted when he heard the decision. "Now it will be very bad for you, Mac Kane."

And it was. McCain's teeth were broken at the gum line; his ribs cracked. After a week with his arms lashed behind his back, he reached his breaking point and signed a statement written by guards, saying: "I am a black criminal and I have performed deeds of an air pirate." Returned to his cell, McCain draped a prison shirt like a rope and considered hanging himself. Over time, with the help of the other POWs, he recovered. Communication was minimal. He didn't find out about the 1969 moonwalk until two years later.