Dave (wearing headphones) and members of Alpha Company. My face was bathed in the scent of a potpourri of aftershave lotions by the time I had been kissed by the last guy in line in front of me. This was not a typical reunion with old friends or classmates. I hadn’t known any of these men until this moment. As they hugged me and planted friendly kisses on my cheeks, they gave brief introductions: “I’m Joe. I carried the code book for the Captain.” “I’m Phil. I was his track driver. I don’t know why I wasn’t driving for him that day.” “I’m Dick. I was one of his platoon leaders. So glad you’re here. Dave was the best CO ever.” “I’m Lon. He was my hero.” “There are so many stories we have to tell you,” they say. “He was the best of the best.” They said they had known about me in ‘68-‘69 even if I didn’t know them. My husband, Army Captain David R. Crocker, Jr., carried a picture of me in his pocket in Vietnam, and at some point he had taken it out and shown some of them; perhaps some quiet moment when they sat around eating “beanie-weinees” or “ham and lima beans” from a pack of c-rations, or playing Blackjack back at base camp. For an infantry company in the area of Chu Chi province, there wasn’t much down time.  In April, 1969, one month before Dave was killed with four […]