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Inevitably, there were a few strange twists to the unfolding story. The Pentagon found that the Red list included 20 names of men previously recorded as killed in action. At Ft. MacArthur, Calif., Private Antonio Apodaca, a Korea veteran, found his name on the list. In Atlanta, Mrs. William Sasser gasped incredulously when she heard the name "Pfc. Walter Dixon." That was the name of her first husband, who was reported killed in action last May. At week's end the Defense Department was still checking into the case.
Salting of Skepticism. As the roll call of captives was hurried along, it was heavily salted with official U.S. doubts. Pentagon telegrams cautioned that "no assurance as to accuracy can be given at this time." Warned President Harry Truman: "For the sake of the families whose sons are missing in action, everyone should treat this list with skepticism."
What had happened to the U.S.'s 8,000 fighting men still missing in action? By & large, the Communist prisoner list checked with Pentagon records as to identity (only three of the 3,198 could not be found on any Defense Department roster). But in previous propaganda handouts, the Reds had named at least a thousand prisoners not found on their master list, a cruel discrepancy for many an American family. Some of the missing, like the 7,000 others never named as P.W.s, might still be alive; many had certainly died in battle and their bodies had not been recovered; others were presumably victims of atrocity or disease while in captivity.
While the truce negotiators struggled across the conference table, the U.S. could only wait and hope. Last week in Saginaw, Mich., Mr. & Mrs. Walter Fox listened as the radio gave the names from the Communist list. "Don't worry, Mom," said one of the younger children. "Ronald's name is going to be on that list." A few minutes later, a Western Union messenger knocked on the door. The telegram he handed Mrs. Fox was from the Defense Department: her son, reported missing last July, had been killed in action.