Army Specialist Richard Delgado of Selma died in a Vietnamese rice paddy more than 40 years ago. He was shot by enemy soldiers who'd taken him prisoner during the Vietnam War. Delgado's family gathered recently at his grave in Selma with an eyewitness -- another soldier who was captured with Delgado, but survived.

The soldier, William Babcock of Sitka, Alaska, brought flowers for Delgado's grave.

It was a time for tears, heart-felt talk and acknowledging this truth: The Vietnam War -- though long over -- still has the power to stir emotions and raise questions about loved ones. Babcock held answers to many things that the family wondered about for years. Victor Delgado of Selma -- who was closest in age to Richard -- wanted to know whether the war had turned his brother mean.

"I was afraid when he came back, he might come back different," said Victor Delgado. "He was lovable. I just didn't want him to come home with a sour attitude."

Babcock assured him that his brother had a sense of humor as they flew helicopter missions. However, Richard Delgado -- who died 10 days after turning 21 -- was more than good-natured.

He was "honest, competent and brave," Babcock wrote a Delgado family member before coming to Selma. "You can be proud of him. His actions spoke exceptionally well of his integrity and bravery."

Richard Delgado was the youngest of 12 children born to Pedro and Margarita Delgado. His parents and some of his siblings have died, but he still has family in Fresno County, including sister Socorro Reyna and brothers, Henry and Victor Delgado, all of Selma.

Victor Delgado was less than 2 years older than Richard, and they grew up close. When they got into trouble as boys and their mother spanked them, Victor would shed tears, but not Richard. "I ain't cryin'," he would say.

He might have been a tough little guy, but he became a dance-loving, devoted uncle who didn't mind putting on an apron to help women in the family make Christmas tamales. When Victor, and his wife, Yolanda, had a girl in 1964, Richard thought little Monica was the most beautiful baby in the world.

"He would have made a good dad," Yolanda Delgado said. "He was full of life."

Richard Delgado graduated from Selma High School in 1965, and joined the Army with some of his buddies in April 1966. He shipped out for Vietnam in 1967, a parting that Victor Delgado still recalls.

The family had a farewell party, and then several relatives took Richard to the bus station in Fresno. They had a movie camera and captured Richard Delgado waving goodbye -- film the family still likes to watch. Sister Socorro Reyna was at the bus station; she said the way that Richard waved, it was like he knew he wasn't coming back.

Added Victor Delgado: "We knew people were dying over there, but we never thought it would happen to us."

Richard Delgado had been in Vietnam for seven months on Jan. 31, 1968 when he boarded a helicopter piloted by Babcock, who at the time was a 23-year-old first lieutenant. Delgado was the crew chief and responsible for the upkeep of the aircraft.

The helicopter's crew didn't know it, but enemy Viet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers had started a major campaign that day that would come to be called the Tet Offensive. The crew's mission was reconnaissance of bridges near the city of Hue.

At the first bridge, enemy gunfire severely damaged the helicopter and it had to land in a rice paddy. An old man was at work there with a small boy and a water buffalo.

The crew of four -- including a co-pilot and a door gunner -- sat up a defensive position around the downed helicopter and waited to be rescued. They had put out an emergency call prior to going down, but before help could arrive, Viet Cong forces overwhelmed their position and took them prisoner, Babcock said.

"I cannot begin to explain what was in all our minds," he would write years later. "One group gathered us together and were 'playing' with us, while another group placed explosives on our ship."

The Viet Cong blew up the helicopter and then led the four American captives toward Hue. As they walked, the sound of rescue helicopters cut through the air. As Babcock turned to see where the helicopters were, he saw Viet Cong shoot his co-pilot and Delgado.

The helicopters swooped in, gunfire erupted and amid the confusion, Babcock and the door gunner were rescued.

Back in Selma, the Delgados were first told by the army that Richard was missing in action. For two weeks they waited for more information. "We wanted to know, and we didn't want to know," Victor Delgado said.

Finally the news of his death came. The family learned that he had been on a helicopter mission and that the helicopter had gone down. However, they didn't know the whole story, and wouldn't for decades.

Meanwhile, Richard Delgado was honored with a full military funeral in Selma in 1968. It seemed as if half the town came to the service, Victor Delgado said. In addition to family members -- his mom would live until 1973; his father died in 1958 -- Richard Delgado was survived by his widow. Her name was Lucy Polanco, and they met at Selma High.

Lucy and Richard married a week before he left for Vietnam, Victor Delgado said.

As the years passed, Richard Delgado was not forgotten. His family members treasured letters that he wrote from Vietnam. Babcock, the pilot, also remembered as he worked as a commercial pilot around the world.

Hardly a day went by that he didn't think of Richard Delgado. Then late last year, Babcock posted an e-mail on Delgado's page at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall Web site. The memorial is in Washington, D.C.

The e-mail began "Dear Richard" and went on to say: "Forgive me for not being there with you." Babcock said last week that he wrote those words because of his guilt over surviving, while Delgado did not.

Babcock's e-mail led one of Delgado's nieces, Cecilia Luna of Norco, to contact him. He eventually wrote her a letter -- which she shared with the family -- that detailed all that happened on Jan. 31, 1968.

Victor Delgado was devastated when he finally learned the whole truth. "It hit me like a ton of bricks," he said. "Even though it was 41 years ago, it seemed like yesterday. It brought it all back."

As Victor Delgado and other family members dealt with the new information, the opportunity came up for Babcock to visit Selma. Now retired, he was back in the United States and planning to drive north from Southern California.

Visiting Richard Delgado's grave and meeting his family was emotional, but necessary, Babcock said: "It's something I wanted to do for a long time. I should have done it after the war, but I was trying to put it behind me."

About 20 members of Richard Delgado's family gathered with Babcock at the Selma cemetery. They talked. They took pictures. They gathered in a circle, held hands and Babcock said a prayer for Richard.

Then they went to Christina Carrillo's house in Fowler to talk some more. Carrillo is another niece of Richard Delgado. Many family members were there, including sisters Margaret Perez and Helen Alatorre, both of Fresno, as well as Socorro Reyna, and brothers Pete of Reedley and Victor. Another sister and brother, Connie Flores of San Diego and Henry, weren't able to make it.

Socorro Reyna said it was an honor to meet Babcock. "To me, he's like family now," she said.

Victor Delgado spent some time alone with Babcock at Carrillo's. Delgado asked to hear again about the day his brother died. However, they didn't just talk about the past. The two men also discussed getting an Army POW medal for Richard Delgado; Babcock already has one.

He said the Army didn't recognize him as a prisoner of war until he submitted paperwork in the late 1990s, and that he got the POW medal in 1998.

Babcock said he waited all those years to be recognized as a POW so others would stop doubting that a few hours of captivity qualifies a soldier as a POW. He said he doesn't often tell the story of being captured, but when he does, he doesn't want to be doubted.

Meanwhile, Victor Delgado and his niece, Cecilia Luna, are working to get the same recognition for Richard Delgado. They say it's a matter of submitting the required documents, which they're trying to round up.

Richard's widow, Lucy, who remarried and now lives in Sanger, has some of those documents, and she has agreed to send them to Victor Delgado, he said.

Why does he pursue it? "I think my brother deserves as many honors as he can get," Victor Delgado said. Army regulations allow a family member of a POW who dies in captivity to receive the POW medal regardless of the length of captivity.

It would mean a lot to the Delgados for Richard to get the medal. Victor Delgado even asks for Richard's assistance. Victor lives a short distance from the cemetery, and he stops by Richard's grave four or five times a week while taking walks. As loved ones do at cemeteries, he talks to Richard.

"Help me to get you your due," Victor Delgado says, one brother to another. They're still close, and even death hasn't changed that.