At last, on February 12, 1973, American POWs were released. My father was the spokesman for the first group to land on free soil. We didn't know, in advance, that that would be the case, but were, of course, gathered around the television with family and friends. My mother always reminded me of how I watched, rocking back and forth in the chair, with my arms crossed across my stomach. It was kind of emotional, to say the least. Besides my own father, we watched the fathers and husbands of other POW families that we had grown to know and love over those eight years. Surreal.