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<p>First Lieutenant <em>David Reynolds “Wils” Wilson</em>, the son of George Earl and Lida Blanch Wilson, hailed from Kalamazoo, MI. Dave’s sister, Helen Wilson Nies, was a prominent judge in the DC area, and a member of the United States Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit. He arrived at West Point packing his golf clubs and a jovial personality according to the 1966 Howitzer write up. Dave was born May 7, 1944 and left us on the field of battle in the Hai Phong Municipality, Republic of Vietnam, on March 30, 1968. Dave left a wife, Lynn Lindsay, and one year old son, Chris Lindsay, who never had the opportunity to know what a great dad Dave would have been. Chris posted this one Memorial Day: “On this Memorial Day I reflect again on my father’s commitment and sacrifice in what he believed in. Again, I am in awe of the bravery that was displayed in his life and all the comrades that he fought beside with for a common goal. Freedom.” After graduation, Dave attended both Airborne and Ranger schools and was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 505 Infantry Regiment. Records show that he also was assigned as a MACV advisor. His convoy gunner in RVN posted, “He is the best officer I had in Vietnam. He was always there for the men.” Knowing Dave, we would have expected nothing less. He is buried at the West Point Cemetery along with many of his friends and classmates. His name is on the wall in DC at panel 47E, line 18. </p>
<p>At West Point, Dave was a member of the Golf Team all four years and a member of the French Club. Close friend and classmate Duke Parker shares his memories of Dave as a cadet: “Dave will forever be remembered as a cadet whom everyone couldn’t help but like and all wanted as a roommate. Even though he was on the Army Golf Team, he was always willing to help us terrible hackers. He was equally talented with his music. As a member of the cadet rock and roll band “Rasputin and the Chains,” Dave played in the Weapons Room on most weekends. He would play the forbidden “twist” when the OD wasn’t around, and we’d all dance with huge smiles on our faces. Dave knew every song from the 1950s and 1960s. He could tell you the artist, the label and what was on the flip side of every record. Mac Hayes, Mike Mewhinney, and I had more laughs and fun times with our good friend from Kalamazoo. Dave was unassuming, warm and had such an infectious smile. He would always go out of his way for others as he had done for me by staying after graduation to be a sword bearer in my wedding. It’s hard to comprehend losing him so soon after graduation. Most of us never got to say a final goodbye. But Dave knows that he will forever be in our hearts and remembered as a special friend and part of a lasting history of the Class of 1966. God rest his soul and bring us comfort knowing he surely has a special place in heaven.”</p>
<p>Ed Wright, a friend and classmate wrote: “Wils is long gone from our veil of tears. For two years as cadets in A-4 we shared our trials, travails, and small triumphs before we graduated from the cadet gray of West Point into the ‘real world’ of Army blue and cami’s, and imminent commitment to the combat raging in Vietnam. Wils always seemed to me the unlikely warrior. He consistently deflected unpleasantness with a self-deprecating chuckle and followed by a funny story, never in my recollection, to the expense of anyone but himself. To think of him as an infantry lieutenant in the raging combat of Tet ’68 is anomalous; such a realization actually drives my thoughts to wonder about what his adversaries, the VC and NVA, thought, if in other times they might have shared a Vietnamese beer or small swig of rice wine in some tiny hamlet with Wils.”</p>
<p>The “Some Gave All” statue by James N. Muir in the West Point Cemetery honors members of the classes of the 1960s who lost their lives in Vietnam. The inscription reads as follows: </p>
<p>“If you are able, save for them a place inside of you and save a backward glance when you are leaving, for places they can no longer go. Be not ashamed to say you loved them, though you may or may not have always. Take what they have left and what they have taught you with their dying and keep it with your own, and in that time when men decide and feel safe to call war insane, take a moment to embrace those gentle heroes you left behind.” </p>
<p>All who knew Dave were saddened by his early death. We think of him often and thank him for his friendship and service to our country. Be Thou at Peace, Dave. We miss you!</p>
<p><em>— Duke Parker ’66 and classmates</em></p>
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