Early this week I was asked by someone very close the me to find out what I could about a Marine killed in Vietnam named David Ralf Devik. I began my research with a minimum of factual information, and as I learned more about the man and who he was I realized his story needed to be told, not because he died but because he lived. He is typical of so many that were involved in that awful war.
This is from the Seattle Times , 7 March 1968
For David Devik, There Was No Middle Road by Marty Loken
David Devik was as contradictory as the world in which he lived – “a queer mixture of liberal and conservative,” his father said yesterday.
Marine Lance Cpl. David Ralf Devik – just Dave to those who knew him – was buried two weeks ago in Arlington National Cemetery. He died 10 Feb (1968) aboard a C-130 cargo plane that crashed on the Khe Sanh airstrip after being riddled by enemy ground fire.
Corporal Devik, the David few Seattle friends knew, had taken another man’s place on the delivery run to Khe Sanh from base at Da Nang.
That was David the marine, whose personal commitment to volunteer for every available duty, cost his life. That was the David who won two Air Medals in his first month of combat duty. the David who liked to fly night missions aboard the flare-shooting planes.
“For some strange reason – thrust between real companionship and stark terror – Dave seemed to enjoy the experience immensely,” his father, the Rev. Rudolf Devik, archdeacon of the Episcopal Diocese of Olympia, said.
“He and his friends bought Japanese motorcycles and cameras during leaves in Tokyo,” the archdeacon said. “Dave said the cycles were really great.”
The Other David – Dave before he joined the service – had “great respect” for conscientious objectors and was fully prepared to become one after graduating from Newport High School in 1966.
“He was fascinated by the whole arena of social change. He cared . . . and did not like to see people put down,” his father said
The Devik family lived in a poor area of Des Moines IA, when Dave was a youngster, and he learned to “love people – no matter who or what they were.”
When the Deviks moved to Bellevue, where they now live at 5617 126th Ave. S. E., David was exposed to a new, different environment. His unusual concern for the oppressed did not give way to suburban apathy – it was strengthened.
David saw no middle ground, but he was not sure which way to step. He had an interest in sports, and was a member of Newport High’s wrestling team.
“He never won a match, but he had more guts than anyone I’ve seen,” the archdeacon said.
David’s contradictions abounded. He was serious about many things: started to become deeply involved with central-area organizations and church groups, and had a personal library more impressive than his father’s. But, despite his thirst for reading material and knowledge, David’s grades in school were only about average
After high school Dave said he did not undertand how anybody – including me – could stand in the middle road and just watch what was happening in the world,” his father said.
” He wanted to be a conscientious objector and at the same time, he thought about signing up with the Marine Corps. His reasoning tht something had to be done and done all the way – was the same for both arguments.”
At one point David thought he had made the decision. He bought a guitar let his hair grow and stopped shaving.
He was prepared to refuse induction into the service and suffer the consequences when his identity search hit a brick wall. He joined the Marine Corps Reserves.
David went to Vietnam last July, but did not share “all the details” in letters to his family.
Like his son Archdeacon Devik is a bit paradoxical.
After serving in the South Pacific he became a reservist chaplain in the National Guard. He spends a week-end each month with 4,500 reservists as a member of the 81st Infantry Brigade at Pier 91, but questions the validity and morality of the war.
“It’s absurd,” he said “but no more absurd than the times we live in . . . I just hope the degree of absurdity will lessen and some degree of sanity will come into the picture.”
The United States must become the servant of peace, not the unswaying author of peace, he said.
Servant of peace? Author of peace?
That, perhaps was the contradiction which haunted David Devik, the corporal who died with marines after treading the elusive line
Could the armed forces become authors of peace? Was it morally right to serve Was it morally right not to serve?
David seemed sure on only one thing: There was no middle ground
David was the radio operator on a KC-130 call sign Basketball 813. It was hit by 50 cal fire on its approach. The bullets penetrated the skin of the aircraft and some of the fuel bladders it carried. Those fuel bladders caught fire. David stayed at his station and fed the pilots information and updates. The aircraft landed and soon after exploded.
David was a Hero by anyone’s measure. He is still loved and missed by his family.
His awards include a DFC, Purple Heart, 6 Air Medals as well as the other more common awards.
All too often we get focused on the Stolen Valor and the other stupidity of a few bad apples, we forget to look around us and recognize the true privilege and honor we have to be in the company of real Hero’s.
Learning about Lcpl Devik has been my honor.
