Remembering veteran David Eugene Thomas

Editor’s note: This story is part of our tribute to Pettis Countians who died while serving in Vietnam. Their names are found on the monument located at the county courthouse.

My story with David Thomas began on my 16th birthday in 1960.

So long ago, yet I can see him so clearly. We had been hired as counselors at a camp in Knob Noster State Park that summer.

David had graduated from Reeds Spring High School and was living with relatives in Sedalia. Working at the camp gave him a little money and time to think about his future. He came from a broken home and was bounced between family members for much of his youth. He was a people person. He sort of pulled them in like a magnet. His friends and relatives were always important to him. His family in Sedalia was the most stable relationship he had. He liked sports and music. He listened to jazz. I had not been exposed to music like that. He was a great reader and he wrote poetry. He was a very spiritual person, although he had a problem with organized religion.

In September, David enlisted in the Army. We did write each other and I saw him a few times when he was home on leave. But at that age, it is hard to sustain a long-distance relationship. I know very little about his life during those years. North Carolina seemed like a world away and I assumed he was lost to me.

Meanwhile, I graduated high school and got a job at a pharmacy. One day in the winter of 1963, I ran into him. He had finished his three-year tour in the fall of that year. We began to see each other again and married that next spring. David got on with the police department and I continued working at the pharmacy. Our daughter, Amanda, was born in 1965. He was devoted to her. Not having grown up with a father in the home made him determined to be a good father to her.

When he first talked about re-enlisting in the Army, I was against it. He had heard of the warrant officer program. This was a six-month training school at Fort Wolters, Texas. Through the Army, he would be trained to fly helicopters. He knew it meant a tour in Vietnam, but he felt that the training and experience would enhance our future and open doors he had only dreamt of.

He reported to Fort Wolters in the fall of 1966. Mandy and I moved to Texas to be with him and rented a little apartment in Mineral Wells, Texas. He loved flying and graduated in early spring 1967. He was 25.

We were sent to Fort Rucker, Ala., and rented a house in Enterprise near the base. I recall many friends and picnics in the park and fishing on the lake. We hosted several marathon pitch games. Our home was always open to friends.

Word of his deployment came so quickly. Mandy and I took him to the airstrip and watched him get on the plane. The Peter, Paul and Mary song “Leaving on a Jet Plane” came on the radio as I drove the car away.

David sent a few pictures and described the country and the people in his letters. He had great empathy for the people, but wrote that no one could be trusted. He had seen several shootings and a bombing while in the city. He flew everything from gun ships to the rescue ships that went in to pick up the dead and wounded. He assured me he was careful and knew what he was doing. I’m sure that was true. He wanted to come home to us — but it was not to be.

When I saw the uniformed officers coming up the walk that afternoon in November, I knew my world had changed forever. David’s helicopter had been shot down on Nov. 3, 1967. He was listed as missing in action for about 24 hours until his body was recovered. Then he was sent home to Sedalia.

I used to struggle with why. Why did this have to happen to us? I will leave the right or wrong of that war for another time. I do know it took our brightest and best too soon.

The why’s don’t bother me too much anymore. I’m just grateful to have had him in my life.