When the Lord was creating Vietnam veterans, He was into His 6th day of overtime when an angel appeared.
"You're certainly doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And God said, "Have you seen the specs on this order? A Nam vet has to be able to run 5 miles through the bush with a full pack on, endure with barely any sleep for days, enter tunnels his higher ups wouldn't consider doing, and keep his weapons clean and operable.
He has to be able to sit in his hole all night during an attack, hold his buddies as they die, walk point in unfamiliar territory known to be VC infested, and somehow keep his senses alert for danger.
He has to be in top physical condition existing on c-rats and very little rest. And he has to have 6 pairs of hands."
The angel shook his head slowly and said, "6 pair of hands....no way."
The Lord say's "It's not the hands that are causing me problems.... It's the 3 pair of eyes a Nam vet has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through elephant grass, another pair here in the side of his head for his buddies, another pair here in front that can look reassuringly at his bleeding, fellow soldier and say, "You'll make it".......when he knows he won't.
"Lord, rest, and work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord. "I already have a model that can carry a wounded soldier 1,000 yards during a firefight, calm the fears of the latest FNG, and feed a family of 4 on a grunt's paycheck."
The angel walked around the model and said, "Can it think?"
"You bet," said the Lord. "It can quote much of the UCMJ, recite all his general orders, and engage in a search and destroy mission in less time than it takes for his fellow Americans back home to discuss the morality of the
War, and still keep his sense of humor."
"This Nam vet also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with ambushes from hell, comfort a fallen soldier's family, and then read in his hometown paper how Nam vets are baby killers, psychos, addicts, killers of innocent civilians."
The Lord gazed into the future and said, "He will also endure being vilified and spit on when he returns home, rejected and crucified by the very ones he fought for."
Finally, the angel slowly ran his finger across the vet's cheek, and said, "There's a leak...I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak", said the Lord. "That's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for bottled up emotions, for holding fallen soldiers as they die, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for the terror of living with PTSD for decades after the war, alone with it's demons with no one to care or help."
"You're a genius," said the angel, casting a gaze at the tear.
The lord looked very somber, as if seeing down eternity's distant shores..
"I didn't put it there," he said.
(pause for reflection)........God bless Nam vets
(Author Unknown)
This page was intended to be filled with letters from,
those of you who knew Frank. I only have one and
that is from a man who not only knew Frank, he
flew with him.
The sender's name is Sandy Gideonse, and he
remembers Frank with fondness. He and Frank
were flying back to the base together when he
lost contact with Frank's chopper. A search was
conducted but no there was no sighting of Frank
his crew or the chopper. No oil slick, no
equipment parts.....nothing.
It seems incredible to me that the government of this country
can put a man
on the moon but can't find evidence to prove beyond
a shadow of a doubt that
all those left behind in Vietnam have been accounted for. According to Sandy,
Frank's military ID card was found
after the crash and turned over to the
Officer in Charge of property. What happened to that card after it left
Sandy's hands remains a mystery to this day. Sadly, Sandy was killed in an
accident just before Christmas before I had a chance to talk to
him again.
The following was a letter I received early in my search for information about Frank and his crew. I am deleting the name of the writer.
Frank was one aircraft of a flight of four
that was
returning
Batagnan ( sp
) Peninsula some miles south of Ky Ha.
When the flight exited the
weather,
Frank's aircraft was nowhere in sight. A search was conducted but no
evidence
of his aircraft was ever found.
The pilots in the squadron believe that
Frank's aircraft crashed in the sea, perhaps near the shoreline, and
that any
surviving crew members of the crash ( and there may have been none )
were
captured and killed by the local VC cadre.
I can tell you from personal
experience that the VC in this area were a particularly aggressive
bunch.
In order to confirm my recollection for you, I will publish your
request for
information about Frank's loss in the August issue of the Ugly Angel
Newsletter. To do that I would appreciate it if you could e-mail me
your post
office address so any respondents to the inquiry will know where to send
information. Only a fraction of our 155 member mailing list is on the
internet
and e-mail capable.
To the best of my knowledge, and I have heard this story from several
first
hand sources, Frank's loss was as I have described it. There was no
attempt to
cover up his loss nor was his loss ( and that of the three crewman with
him )
ignored. As thorough a search as circumstances permitted was conducted.
You may be interested to know that of the thirty-three members of the
Ugly
Angels who died in Vietnam, the vast majority died as a result of
operational
accidents similar to that which apparently befell Frank. In fact,
during my
time in the squadron we lost one other full crew who launched on a
Medevac
mission and were never seen again.
To this day we have no clue as to
how they
were lost.
The following letter came as a confirmation of Frank's bravery and ability to lead. A man and a Marine to be proud of!
Jan I am writing this to you and your sons. Woops and Daughter. I was
an
enlisted man in the Marine Corps, and as such was not allowed to become
friends with the Officers.
However, the enlisted men did have opinions
of
the quality of our leaders. We had certain Officers that we liked and
wanted
to fly with. Among those well liked by the enlisted men was of course
Lt.
Frank Visconti.
We enjoyed the lower ranks because they were closer to
our
ages and still had a gift of humor with them. Your Father was one to
laugh
with the crew members and joke with us.
Lt. Visconti was respected by
the men
not because of his rank but in spite of it.
He was a natural leader
and
seemed like a good guy. Above all else Lt. Visconti was a Marine in
the
best meaning for that title. His courage was unquestioned.
After a
flight
with him to a hot zone we all decided that this was a man to fly with .
He
would fly right into the teeth of the enemy and sit on the ground as
long as
necessary to off load troops on take on wounded.
Some of the time we
were
taking fire from the enemy , but The pilots never said hurry up or
anything ,
They just let us do our jobs. There are times when sitting in the
belly of
the plane when we were taking fire and could not see the enemy to
return fire
, Lt visconti would fly in a crab maneuver to allow us to return fire.
Even
though incredibly brave , Visconti never put us in a position that we
were
too vulnerable, at the same time we accomplished the mission. I am
Proud to
have served with him .
I did not know your Father on a personal level
, but
know in my heart that this was a man among men. Sincerely
George
Ralph
Arnold
This note is being placed out of respect for Jan Visconti. I have never met her. She was kind enough to comment on a post I left on The Vietnam Wall site. I did not know her husband, Frank Visconti. I do know that he is my brother and I carry him in my heart.
I was a nineteen and a half year old Army Infantry officer who had the great privilege of commanding a rifle platoon during the Winter/Late Spring of 1968. We operated in Quang Ngai and Quang Tin Provinces. This was Southern I Corps and a very, very nasty place. We were in regular contact with NVA and Main Force Viet Cong. I was terribly wounded in June of 1968. I was twenty years of age. I spent the ensuing eighteen months getting pieced back together at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, D.C. I was retired at the ripe, old age of twenty-three due to my wounds.
I then went to college, graduate school and law school. I have been a career prosecutor for twenty years. I have been married to an extraordinary woman for thirty years. We have been blessed with four above-average children: a daughter (20 and a junior at UCLA and three sons (15, 12 & 7). We live on a small farm in the heart of the Wine Country of Northern California.
The Good Lord has been more than generous to me. I am thankful and humbled by it every day. My youngest son turned seven yesterday. I was amazed throughout the day by the enormity of what has been given to me.
I lost many, many brothers in The Jungle. Some of them died in my arms. I carry all of them, including Frank, in my heart. It is where they are closest to me. It is where they belong. The beauty of their courage, love and sacrifice stuns me to this day.
We must never, ever again waste our precious youth on half-hearted political folly. Sleep tight, my dear brothers. Sleep the gentle sleep granted to those who placed love above fear. Please know that I love you and that I will speak of you. He is not heavy because he is my brother.
"Between two hills
The old town stands.
The houses loom
And the roofs and trees
And the dusk and the dark,
The damp and the dew
Are there.
The prayers are said
And the people rest
For sleep is there
And the touch of dreams
Is over all."
God Bless:
James Patrick Casey
Charlie Three Zero Out.
The following is a letter from my "daughter" Debbie, married to my son, Staff Sgt. Michael S. Marine.
Dear Frank,
It's been over a year now that I have "known" you. It's not a knowing
as
a close friend or family member...it's a knowing as in "understanding".
Not that I can ever come close to the sacrifices you made in leaving
your beloved and children behind, or in giving up this earthly
existence.
It's understanding why you did it...and the kind of man it
took to make such a gesture to the world he left behind.
How could I understand that? I can hear you asking as you grin that
small smile and shake your head at me...
I can understand because I have learned so much from you. Through my
first forays into Web Design, brought on purely by the desire to help
my
Mom build this site for you, I adopted my own POW/MIA's...and I
learned.
I learned about the families and aching hearts left behind.
I learned about the government's callous disregard for the rights of
our
men and women that fought to help us KEEP those rights.
I learned about bravery, fellowship, love, and loyalty.
I learned about pain and grief, the kind that eats a woman's soul and
tears her world apart.
I learned that love does indeed go past the grave.
I learned that deep within me, I have a small place set aside for
fear...fear that we will never ever know what really happened to you
and
so many others...because our government, the one you served to protect,
doesn't want us to know.
I learned that I could love a man I never met, as a brother.
I learned that my Mother has a poets soul, a warriors heart, and an eye
for the truth.
I learned that I could owe a debt to someone I could never repay...lots
of someones...each and every POW/MIA and Veteran...those that went
before me and before their time, so I could have this freedom..to write
exactly how I feel about whomever I feel like writing about.
I learned the feeling of helplessness as we try to find out the
truth...a feeling I am certain is not 1/1,000th as strong as that of
your beloved Jan.
and lastly my dear dear Marine...
I learned that some men or women touch the hearts of people in ways
that
will never be forgotten...and can do so even from above. As you have
touched mine.
Take care and Remember us as we Remember You Marine and Friend!
Happy Holidays Sir.
Semper Fi - Deborah L. Marine
Dear Frank,
Just wanted to wish you another "Merry Christmas" and a "Happy New Year"! It must be a great celebration up there! You were thought of and still loved.
Arlene
Dear Frank,
Look what came in my e-mail today! You are not forgotten!
Back in 1969, I was 16 and I acquired a POW bracelet with the name of
Francis Edward Visconti and the date 11/22/65 on it. I wore that
bracelet for over four years and gently put it away in my jewelry box. I
had never found out if this man came home or not. On July 23, 2000,
I went to see the Traveling Wall in Maine and found my answer. I wept. I
left my bracelet there to be interred in the Maine Veterans Memorial
Cemetery. I never knew this man, but I have been carrying his name with
me for 32 years. I now have closure.
I'm not sure who I actually am emailing but I got your address from Veterans Search. I hope that it is ok that I have contacted you. I just wanted you to know that this "stranger" has NEVER forgotten Francis Visconti either.
God Bless You.
Cheryl Lajoie
