And his family — his wife and three sons, his twin brother and sisters, his grandchildren who’d never seen him — finally said goodbye, 31 years after Donald Vance Davis was shot down over North Vietnam while he was on an armed reconnaissance mission during the Vietnam War.

The military mounted no search and rescue effort.

His wingman saw his plane crash as it was attacking a truck convoy — and reported no chance for survival. So officials didn’t try.

But in 1988 and again in 1996, a joint team from the United States and the Socialist Republic of Vietnam visited the probable location of his crash site, talked to villagers and discovered that a fighter pilot found in the wreckage of that plane had been buried there.

The wheels began to turn, and ultimately proof was in. That pilot was Lt. Cmdr. Donald Davis, who grew up on Hobson Road. His father, R. Vance Davis, was general road foreman for Southern Railway.

And he and his twin brother, the late Ronald Davis, delivered the Salisbury Post and surely played in the woods near their home, the woods which are now Hurley Park.

Nice kids, an old friend here said of the twins when word came that his body had been identified. All-American hard-working kids.

More than a quarter of a century late, Donald would come home.

After he finished Boyden High School, Donald Davis attended North Carolina State and entered the Navy. He was shot down 11 days after he arrived for his second tour of duty in Vietnam.

In 1982, when his name was added to the list on the national Vietnam War Memorial, his mother, the late Claytie Cole Davis, told the Post her son believed in the American cause and returned for a second tour because other pilots had been there longer.

“He asked to go back and replace one of them,” she said. He was 32 years old.

But she admitted that she and other parents who lost children in the war were plagued by the feeling of useless loss.

“It was a useless war,” she said. “There’s no doubt about it ... They took the boys over there, and they were slaughtered and that was it.”

But his family was happy that the government finally brought him home.

“I’m just happy to see it come to a close, after all this time,” his widow, Georgia Ann Davis, said after the service at Arlington. “To know that he has finally been brought back to the country he so dearly loved is of great comfort to all of us.”

And she gave the Post a letter he wrote four days before he was killed during that night mission. He wrote the letter on July 21, 1967, to his twin brother, Ronald, and Ronald’s wife, Mary.

The letter reveals much about his bravery and how seriously he took his duty as a Navy pilot and flight instructor:

Dear Mary and Ron,

The last week, 14-21 July, has been quite an experience for me. Since I can’t write Mother, Daddy or Georgia with the frightening details and feel like telling someone, I selected you.

We lost 10 of our 80 aircraft our first week on the Yankee Station. I was in the flights when six of them were knocked down — saw five go to their death.

It’s all been rather like a bad dream.

Our opposition is formidable and seems to be gaining in experience and ability. Nearly every hop, we’ve had to dodge SAMs (surface-to-air missiles) from three to six SAMs each hop. Flak from light to heavy both into and particularly around targets.

I’ve seen so many fantastic displays of courage that I just can’t believe it. As for myself, I (have) never been so damn scared in my whole life. I really don’t think I’m much different from anyone else — the thing that really keeps you going is the greatest fear of all — that you won’t do your job or of letting someone else down.

Two days ago, one of our pilots was shot down in my flight. All of us hightailed it back out over the water and initiated rescue efforts. We were all low on fuel, but I was able to find an airborne tanker so I refueled and headed back in to cover the down pilot. Nobody else could refuel so I ended up flying over him alone for about an hour.

My radios were faulty — could only hear an occasional transmission. I did hear help was coming and didn’t want to leave the location until I could show a relief where he was down.

About three minutes before I absolutely had to leave to be able to get back to the ship with minimum fuel, help did arrive. When they got in the area, I thought they were MIGs and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t have enough fuel to run away at full power and still get back to the ship and also knew that I couldn’t handle both.

I decided that since it looked like my time was up, I could, by God, make them work for it.

I armed my guns and turned toward them hoping to take one with me. When I saw they were friendly, I almost cried. I couldn’t talk to them but got them to follow me to the area of the down pilot and by diving down at him enabled them to locate him and they got a helo (helicopter) and made the rescue.

I made it back to the ship by the barest of margins — a very happy and properly frightened pilot.

I pray each night that this terrible waste of people and resources on both sides can be resolved. But my determination that the communists not be allowed to gain more territory — even this God-forsaken little country — is if anything much stronger. We’ve lost so much here already and stand to lose all if we ever give up here.

Georgia is coming over to visit during our week in Japan, and I look forward very much to that. It will be a good break from what already seems like a long cruise.

I am delighted at the news of your expected arrival. Laura B. needs the competition. No children will ever have better parents, and yet I know they will mean more to you than you to them.

Send me a picture of L.B. when you can.

Much love to the three of you.

Don