A Veteran’s D-Day War Story

Army Privates Richard Davala, Trevor Jones and Third Army General George Patton

by Chris Davala

Private Rich Davala, 1945

Veterans Day 2021

We salute the Members of your Family and Friends who have served and serve to Protect & Defend “We the People.”

Here’s one story of Valor from The Greatest Generation …

Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944

Normandy, France

He was young. He was scared.

The hour had come; the countdown was over.

D-Day had arrived.

“Finally,” the Army private thought: “It’s Go Time, after weeks and months of Hurry Up and Wait.”

A kid, who a year earlier was drafted out of high school, was now a soldier—schooled in the art of kill-or-be-killed combat, trained to serve in World War II.  Twenty-year-old Rich Davala inspected his gear one more time, as did the fellow soldiers of his unit. These brothers-in-battle belonged to the largest invasion force the world had ever seen. Their mission, as members of the Second Wave of the Allied Assault: Make it to shore, regroup on Omaha Beach, and kill the enemy. In simple terms: Stay alive. Do your job. Defeat Nazis.

Davala was long-past the days of basic training at Fort Eustis, Virginia. He now belonged to a five-man Artillery team—assigned to a half-track tank with a turret and four machine guns.

“The guy operating the machine gun was whoever got there first,” Davala recalled in a later interview with journalist Dominick Reda.

Private Trevor Jones

It was on D-Day that the draftee, who already had two older brothers fighting in the European War Theater, and a sister working in domestic production at home, saw so many of his countrymen die. It would be much later that Davala would learn the fate of his newly-made best friend—Trevor Jones. All told, unofficial estimates place the U.S. and Allied death toll at more than 5,000.

Davala had known Jones, from Michigan, for less than a year. They met and had become fast friends while on active duty. Both were musicians who made music and sang—albeit quietly—in the infrequent hours when they were off-duty. Davala had played harmonica all his life; Jones harmonized.

“Trevor was in my outfit. We pulled guard duty together. We became close during those boring times. During war, you make real good friends with guys overnight. You feel like you’ve known some of them for years.”

“I didn’t go in on the first wave,” said Davala. “If I did, I would probably not be talking to you right now. Those guys took a hell of a beating.”

“The stench of death was unbelievable,” Davala recalled. “There were stiff bodies of guys everywhere—many who died while dressing their own wounds. There were dead animals too and who knows what else.”

D-Day at Omaha Beach, the deadliest of the five beaches stormed on June 6, 1944.

The last time Davala saw Trevor Jones was as they slogged through the icy water—45 to 50 degrees—that June 6th and headed to Ground Zero—the rocky, rugged, unwelcoming sands of Omaha Beach.

“We got split up in all the chaos. I never saw him again.”

Finding Trevor

After the war, Davala learned that his best-friend, Jones, had died. He had no idea whether Trevor had survived that fateful day.  Questions surrounding Trevor’s death remained indelibly-etched, bittersweet memories for Davala, that is—until he took a post-war tour back to Europe, nearly 60-years later in 2013. He wanted to retrace his wartime steps and maybe, just maybe, find his long-lost, best-buddy’s grave.

Well, find it he did. It happened during that 2013 tour. In fact, Trevor Jones had become a local legend and was buried in Margraten, Holland—a cemetery for the war dead.

A jaw-dropping surprise awaited Davala—the cemetery’s commanding officer directed that Rich be escorted straight to Trevor Jones’ grave, where Davala was presented with an American flag and then placed it on Jones’ grave.

“It was such a thrill to finally be there,” Davala recalled. “I stood by the cross and they told me to get close and grab a pile of sand and rub it on Trevor’s name to make it stand out.

Rich Davala in 2013 at the Margraten, Holland gravesite of his D-Day buddy, Trevor Jones, killed in action in World War II.

“When you look out over that field of white crosses, you can’t help but get tears in your eyes. All those young guys in the prime of their lives...”

And, as it turns out Jones had survived D-Day. What Davala never figured out was what killed him on April 16, 1945. 

General Patton

As amazing as all this may be, Davala’s journey didn’t end in Margraten, Holland. As the old soldier tells it: “The tour then traveled on to Luxembourg and the grave of American Icon—General George Patton—in Hamm.”

General George S. Patton, Commander Third U.S. Army 

The general had died in a post-war hunting accident in Germany and was buried in Luxembourg.  General Patton was buried  as he wished—alongside other war veterans.

Davala was profoundly touched when asked by an official of the U.S. Monuments Commission, which administers the cemetery,  to lay a wreath on General Patton’s grave. “What a thrill” he said, “Little old me, a PFC … asked to lay a wreath on General Patton’s grave.”

General George S. Patton’s grave – American Cemetery and Memorial Hamm, Luxembourg

A Well Lived Life

And so it was that Richard M. Davala was our family’s “Last Man Standing” from World War II’s Greatest Generation. His life spanned ten decades.

Rich Davala with his harmonica in WWII and in 2013

He married his beloved wife Pauline, and raised two children—Rich Jr. and Janet. Oh yes … in his spare time, Rich spent many a night playing harmonica—just as he had with Trevor Jones, in a time so long ago and far away.

On January 10, 2021—during the ravages of the Year-of-COVID—the Davala family lost Rich. He was 96.  His was a “life well lived.”