Remembering a friend and war hero

Robert Brennan and Richard Gilmore met in eighth grade and became instant friends, the kind of friendship that most kids can only dream of.

Growing up in Boulder City in the mid-1960s, they did like most boys here did, they rode bikes, shot their guns in the desert, read Mad Magazine, had a mutual interest in military history and enjoyed making model airplanes. And since the Gilmores lived down at Willow Beach, the two spent many weekends there together, often on the lake in Gilmore’s small, aluminum boat.

“We graduated from BCHS in 1967 and Richard went into the Army to become a helicopter pilot,” Brennan said. “Vietnam was in full swing and Richard was fascinated by the action. I thought I was going to get drafted but I never did. He wanted to fly, which is why he joined instead of waiting to see if he got drafted, and if so, he may not have had the choice of becoming a pilot.”

Gilmore, who received his airplane pilot’s license while still in high school, would successfully train to become a military helicopter pilot at Hunter Airfield in Georgia.

He was just 19.

But it wasn’t until decades later that Brennan would find out that his childhood friend was a war hero, and possibly one of the more decorated soldiers Boulder City has ever seen.

“Nobody knew him quite as well as I did in high school and I had no idea that he’d done so much while in Vietnam,” Brennan said. “I think people will be amazed when they read this. ‘That was our classmate?’”

Brennan reached out to the Boulder City Review over the summer following the dedication of the Shane Patton memorial statue. He was hoping that his friend could receive some recognition, albeit belated, for his service to his country.

“The classmates who are still around, and can make it, get together once in a while and we started talking about Richard,” he said. “So, I thought he deserves a little more attention because I don’t think Boulder City knows we had another war hero from here. I don’t want him to be forgotten.”

Brennan said the two didn’t correspond with one another while Gilmore was in Vietnam but did get together once he returned following his first tour of duty.

“When he came home, we hung out a lot but I never really asked him any questions about his experience in Vietnam,” he said. “However, he did share several combat experiences with me. He hadn’t changed. To me he was still Richard.”

They would see each other a year later after Gilmore’s second, and final, tour. But Gilmore soon thereafter moved to Utah where he’d attend college and would eventually find a career in journalism. But as is often the case, the two went their own ways, started their adult lives and lost touch.

Gilmore died of natural causes on April 24, 2013 at the age of 63 while living in Arizona. He’s buried in the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery.

It wasn’t until years later that Brennan received word of his friend’s death.

“His sister (Susan Chastain of Oklahoma) said that toward the end of his life, he had pretty bad PTSD,” he said. “I guess he stayed to himself and didn’t want to be around many people. It was when we were planning one of our reunions that someone told me he had died. I felt bad because I had never reached out to him and we lost touch. I think about him often.”

A step back

Ray Chesson, a longtime columnist for The Nevadan, formerly the Las Vegas Review-Journal’s Sunday magazine, featured Gilmore in his column in 1969 before he left for Vietnam as well as a year later when Gilmore volunteered to return to war.

In the latter article, Chesson wrote, “The following interview might leave the reader wondering why anybody would volunteer to return to Vietnam. To Warrant Officer Gilmore, it is just a job, something he calls work, something he speaks of in a soft, unemotional voice.”

Chesson asked Gilmore if the pilots handle any guns. Gilmore told him, “In the gun ships, yes. I like the Gatlings, the mini-guns, best. They are on special mounts on the skids, one on each side. They can fire up to 6,000 rounds a minute but are usually set to fire 2,000 to save ammo.”

He added, “The mini-guns can be deflected almost directly down, and sounds like a buzzsaw. You can spray the whole countryside. When using rockets, the aircraft must be aimed at the target.”

Highly decorated

During his time in Vietnam, Gilmore was awarded a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, three Medals of Valor and three Distinguished Flying Crosses. Between his two tours, Gilmore accumulated more than 850 hours of combat flight time. Brennan said during his research, neither he or Gilmore’s sister were able to find out the specifics behind each of the medals.

“Richard never shared that information with me,” Brennan said. “When I found about them years later, I was amazed and very impressed. He’d talk about the action but never the medals.”

While little was found as to the origin of Gilmore’s medals, they did come across a 1970 Las Vegas Sun article that discussed one of his three Distinguished Flying Crosses for an event on Nov. 26, 1969 near Bu Dop in Vietnam.

It stated, in part, “Responding to a call for reinforcements, he arrived on the scene in time to join a low-level attack on an enemy anti-aircraft complex. When the gunner had a malfunction, he (Gilmore) provided cover fire for him while still flying. Skillfully maneuvering his craft, he placed effective suppressive fire on the enemy, directed air strikes and made accurate damage assessments until darkness forced him to break off.”

Over the past few months, Brennan, along with the help of Gilmore’s sister, have compiled additional information on Gilmore’s time in Vietnam. Most of the information came as a bit of a surprise.

“It surprised me but in a way it didn’t,” said Brennan, who has lived in Henderson for many years. “It made me realize that Richard was both a warrior and a hero.”