Last July, we received the following e-mail that we ran as a letter to the editor:

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Good morning,

My Uncle, Carl Davis, served in Vietnam under a Lieutenant William P. Gunter from Cumberland, Maryland. Both were in the 82nd Airborne, 3rd Brigade, 1/505 Parachute Infantry Regiment in 1969-70.

Uncle Carl is desperately searching for Mr. Gunter whom he, in large part, credits with securing his safe return home from Vietnam. May I impose upon you and your staff for possible assistance in my search?

My uncle’s health is in serious decline. He has a strong desire to contact Mr. Gunter and offer his sincere gratitude. Any assistance you may lend will be most appreciated.

Joe Davis

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Gunter may have been a long-lost relative of mine — Great-grandmother Goldsworthy’s maiden name was Margaret Gunter — and I decided to look for him.

To my regret, I learned that he died at his Indiana home on New Year’s Eve in 1982 and is buried at Rocky Gap Veterans Cemetery. I sent Joe a copy of Gunter’s obituary in hopes that Uncle Carl might be able to track down some of his family.

Time passed, more e-mails were exchanged, Uncle Carl’s health improved, and Joe said he’d be glad to talk to me over the phone. They live in Tennessee, so I couldn’t just run over and visit him.

Uncle Carl and I must have talked for over an hour, and I don’t know that two men ever became friends faster than we did. I was a writer, he said, and he wanted me to tell Lt. Gunter’s story.

I said, “Why don’t you just write down everything you want to say about Lt. Gunter. Put it in your own words, from your heart. You were there, and you knew him. It’s your story, too.”

Uncle Carl wasn’t sure how good he was with words. “I’m just an old country boy from Tennessee,” he said.

I told him, “Hell, I’m just an old country boy from West Virginia,” and he laughed at that.

The last time we talked, Uncle Carl said that when the weather was good and he felt up to it, he and Joe would ride up to Cumberland so they could pay their proper respects to Lt. Gunter.

I said I would look forward to meeting them and sharing that time with them.

This e-mail came just a few days later:

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Jim,

Uncle Carl passed away about 15 minutes ago. I had just gotten off the phone with him and he had to go to the chiropractor and had to run. He had finished his letter to you and was preparing his photos. I would appreciate it if we eventually could finish this for him. He was a happy man at the end and that is all I could ask.

Joe

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I don’t know that I’ve ever mourned a friend I never met, and it still hits me now and then when I least expect it. I won’t say “lost,” because Uncle Carl and I will remain friends throughout eternity ... and, as it turns out, so will Joe and I.

Here is Uncle Carl’s story, just as he wrote it. It makes me wish that, had it been my fate to go to that war, I could have served with him and his lieutenant.

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Dear Jim,

First, I want to thank you for all the work and research you have done in trying to find Lt. Gunter for me. I shouldn’t just say me, because he was loved and respected by all that he came in contact with.

You know when you meet someone like Lt. Gunter who thought and cared for all, it makes you wonder what kind of a person he was as a child. I would bet he was such a fine person. I think that he was probably raised to think of everyone else before himself. But that’s something we will just have to wonder about, whether it was the way he was raised or was it just his character that made him the way he was.

Like I told you on the phone, the most important thing for me is for everyone in Cumberland to know what kind of a person Lt. Gunter was. First of all let me tell you that I met Lt. Gunter in April of 1969. I was put in his squad in the 82nd Airborne B Company 1st/505.

When I got to the Company the first thing you did was meet all the officers. Lt. Gunter just jumped out at me above all the rest. There was just something different about him from all the others. Once I got put in his platoon, he could tell I was nervous as hell. He came to me and told me that he didn’t want any one that wasn’t nervous or scared.

We talked for a few hours about a lot of different things. Lt. Gunter talked to all new men that came into his platoon. He told all of us to talk with him and each other. He tried to make all of us a family. He wanted us to do for each other, and to help everyone.

Now Jim, I want you to write all I have told you. It’s very important that people, especially his family, know how he did his duty for his Country and his men. He told every person in his squad that he didn’t want any Hero’s or medal hunters. He wanted all of us to come home safe, not in any coffin. I know of 3 people’s lives he saved, and I was one of them. I owe my life to Lt. Gunter, not many days go by that I don’t think of him.

I just want his daughters, his brother and his sister to know what kind of a MAN he was under pressure in Vietnam. I wish everyone could have been able to meet him. Please let the people in Cumberland know about him, he was such a wonderful person. May GOD watch over him and his family.

Jim, I told you I was not a writer or a reporter, but please try to get a story out of this. Change anything you want to. I just want him to receive what is due him. I can’t put into words what kind of a man and person Lt. William P. Gunter was. Again, anyone that didn’t know him really missed knowing a wonderful Man.

Jim, I did talk with his sister and brother. I wish I could have talked with his girls.

Yours truly, Sgt. Carl B. Davis, B Company 1st/505, 82nd Airborne 3rd Brigade

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When I went alone to Rocky Gap to visit Lt. Gunter’s grave, I stepped off the blacktop onto the hallowed ground and was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of “Welcome. We know you, and we’ve been waiting for you. Walk with us, and we will take you where you want to go.”

It lasted for what seemed like a long time, and so did the tears it produced. Then I was filled with a sensation of utter peace, and whoever was there led me straight to the place where a Tennessee country boy’s hero rests in a tranquility that I believe was denied to him in this life.

There should be a second Vietnam Veterans Memorial for those who died after they came home from that war because of wounds no one can see. The names of William Pierce Gunter and Carl Bruce Davis would be on that Wall.

I believe that Divine Providence sometimes grants us a brief stay so we can finish a job that, once completed, will allow us a measure of rest that we might not otherwise have known ... and that such grace was granted to Uncle Carl. If he and Lt. Gunter are now together and at peace, nothing else matters.

I’ve been looking forward to telling you their story since the day I first learned about it.

This wasn’t the ending I wanted to write, but it will have to do.

Welcome Home, Lt. Gunter. Welcome Home, Sgt. Davis.