Dear Ann Landers,
hen I first arrived in Vietnam in July 1968,1 was a supply officer for an artillery battery. My clerk was an enlisted man. His name was Kevin Howard Dugan. He was from Blue Point, N.Y. Kevin was extremely kind and helpful to this young, apprehensive first lieutenant. He was rather shy at first, but after a while, he opened up and was one of the friendliest and nicest guys I had ever met. He was low-key, understated and extremely competent. Kevin never forgot a thing. We were stationed at an isolated post, miles from the nearest city, and spent many long hours discussing New York, the Army and sports and, of course, talked endlessly about the meaning of life, death and war. After 50 days, I was transferred to another artillery battery in a town 17 miles away. Three weeks later, Kevin was coming to pick up sup-plies, and we planned to get together. I waited. Kevin never showed up. He was not a guy who would just fold out. I worried and thought about him a lot. I never heard from him again. Last week as I stood in front of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, I prayed that Kevin's name would not be there, but of course, it was. It is now 20 years later, and I want to let Kevin's parents know that their son is remembered by this lieutenant as a kind, loving young man who went out of his way to be helpful. Everyone who worked with him respected his competence and will-ingness to do more than was expected. Kevin would have made a terrific husband and father. What a shame that he never lived long enough to enhance the lives of so many peo- pie. His parents are aware of all this, of course, but I hope they will see my letter and get some pleasure out of knowing how much their son was admired and respected by all the men he served with. Please, Ann, help me convey this message to Kevin's parents through your column. Thank you. -Gil Noble, Vista, Calif.

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