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HONORED ON PANEL 2E, LINE 92 OF THE WALL
RICHARD EDWARD WINGATE
WALL NAME
RICHARD E WINGATE
PANEL / LINE
2E/92
DATE OF BIRTH
CASUALTY PROVINCE
DATE OF CASUALTY
HOME OF RECORD
COUNTY OF RECORD
STATE
BRANCH OF SERVICE
RANK
REMEMBRANCES
LEFT FOR RICHARD EDWARD WINGATE
POSTED ON 7.3.2006
POSTED BY: Dan Phillips
From a Schoolmate and Fellow Soldier
In Memoriam:
When I think of you, I remember a tall, dark haired, dark eyed, handsome, graceful young boy with a quick, innocent wit, an uncommon gentleness, a ready smile, and a "Devil-May-Care," laugh tempered by such a warmth and infectuousness so as to draw in anyone within earshot, all of which made him the most popular guy in our grade - with girls and boys alike. Everyone wanted to be his friend and be befriended by him.
I remember that you could whack a softball farther than anyone in the eighth grade at North Belmont Elementary School even though we had barely embarked upon the sixth grade ourselves. I can still see you clowning in the lunch line every time a teacher's back was turned. And I vividly remember your starring performance in our eighth grade play wherein I had only a small part. You are fixed in my memory just as we both were in our "salad days," and that will never change.
As I have grown older, however, the attribute of yours that I am drawn to and respect the most is bound up in the ultimate sacrifice which you made. For you, as Abraham Lincoln stated, "gave the last full measure of devotion." My own devotion to that memory has grown over the years perhaps because the shock, the disbelief, and the hurt that I felt upon first learning of your death has moderated somewhat with the passing of the years, but that attraction, more likely, is due to my having grown old enough now to dimly see that there is an end to the road which I travel as well, and that vision has given me a whole different perspective on the matter.
All those recollections, coupled with the horrific images of my own experiences with the First Infantry Division (1968-1969) in yet another theater in which you were center-stage and in which I once more played only a supporting role, have allowed me a clearer impression of the magnitude and the magnificence of that life which you laid down - which life is certainly the finest example which I can call to mind of, "the better angels of our nature."
It is, moreover, as I look back on the past thirty seven years and take into account all of the happy as well as sad memories that you were denied, I realize two important things: how fortunate I was to escape the fate which you were dealt, and to what extent your heroism has impacted on and truly enriched my own life - far beyond my, "poor power to add or detract," with my clumsy words, in fact, beyond measure or any other form of expression, for that matter.
Furthermore, as long as I have vitality of mind, that part of yourself (unconsciously and unwittingly left behind - much as you might have walked away from your footprints on some sandy beach) which you shared with me so long ago; that part, will always live on with me. I think of you often now with an affection born of our past affinity that is nearly overwhelming at times.
For all the aforementioned reasons, Richard, I salute you as schoolmate, as superlative person, and simply as hero - which you were, are, and always shall be.
I thank you!
I am a better person for having known you.
Dan (Danny) R. Phillips
When I think of you, I remember a tall, dark haired, dark eyed, handsome, graceful young boy with a quick, innocent wit, an uncommon gentleness, a ready smile, and a "Devil-May-Care," laugh tempered by such a warmth and infectuousness so as to draw in anyone within earshot, all of which made him the most popular guy in our grade - with girls and boys alike. Everyone wanted to be his friend and be befriended by him.
I remember that you could whack a softball farther than anyone in the eighth grade at North Belmont Elementary School even though we had barely embarked upon the sixth grade ourselves. I can still see you clowning in the lunch line every time a teacher's back was turned. And I vividly remember your starring performance in our eighth grade play wherein I had only a small part. You are fixed in my memory just as we both were in our "salad days," and that will never change.
As I have grown older, however, the attribute of yours that I am drawn to and respect the most is bound up in the ultimate sacrifice which you made. For you, as Abraham Lincoln stated, "gave the last full measure of devotion." My own devotion to that memory has grown over the years perhaps because the shock, the disbelief, and the hurt that I felt upon first learning of your death has moderated somewhat with the passing of the years, but that attraction, more likely, is due to my having grown old enough now to dimly see that there is an end to the road which I travel as well, and that vision has given me a whole different perspective on the matter.
All those recollections, coupled with the horrific images of my own experiences with the First Infantry Division (1968-1969) in yet another theater in which you were center-stage and in which I once more played only a supporting role, have allowed me a clearer impression of the magnitude and the magnificence of that life which you laid down - which life is certainly the finest example which I can call to mind of, "the better angels of our nature."
It is, moreover, as I look back on the past thirty seven years and take into account all of the happy as well as sad memories that you were denied, I realize two important things: how fortunate I was to escape the fate which you were dealt, and to what extent your heroism has impacted on and truly enriched my own life - far beyond my, "poor power to add or detract," with my clumsy words, in fact, beyond measure or any other form of expression, for that matter.
Furthermore, as long as I have vitality of mind, that part of yourself (unconsciously and unwittingly left behind - much as you might have walked away from your footprints on some sandy beach) which you shared with me so long ago; that part, will always live on with me. I think of you often now with an affection born of our past affinity that is nearly overwhelming at times.
For all the aforementioned reasons, Richard, I salute you as schoolmate, as superlative person, and simply as hero - which you were, are, and always shall be.
I thank you!
I am a better person for having known you.
Dan (Danny) R. Phillips
POSTED ON 10.11.2005
POSTED BY: Bob Ross
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye – 1932
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye – 1932
POSTED ON 12.25.2002
POSTED BY: Tony Japuntich
A friend remembered
I never came to know him very well, but remember how much fun he and his friend, Martin Frank Schwick, were aboard the ship as we sailed to Viet Nam. They were killed at the same time, together, not long after we arrived at An Khe. Both were members of the 1st Platoon (YAHOE), Co. B, 2/12th Cav, 1st Cav. Division.