BITTERSWEET CEREMONY ETCHES 24 NAMES TO VIETNAM WALL
SNOW CUTS SHORT VETERANS DAY SERVICE AT ARLINGTON
By Zita Arocha
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, November 12, 1987
; Page C01
Nine years after Nicholas Franzer died in a Florida hospital of injuries he
had suffered in Vietnam, his name and 23 others were officially added to the
black granite wall of names of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial yesterday at a
solemn Veterans Day ceremony capped by tears and snow.
For his mother, Alvina Franzer, 71, and his brother, David, 44, who also
served in the U.S. Army but did not go to Vietnam, the ceremony was a
bittersweet end to their struggle to have the 29-year-old soldier's name
included on the wall.
Their 18-month effort included sending dozens of letters to top Army
officials and enlisting the help of their local American Legion Ladies
Auxiliary. The family hired a lawyer to search for documents to prove that
Franzer, who was paralyzed after he stepped on a land mine in Vietnam in 1970
and died in a Margate Hospital eight years later, had died as the result of
the war injuries.
Much of that was forgotten yesterday as the 24 names were read before a
crowd of several hundred people who had gathered at the memorial in a blinding
snowstorm.
"As a family, we felt there wasn't any hope," said David Franzer, a table
factory worker from Coldwater, Ohio, near Dayton. "But now we feel more
peaceful. We feel someone cares, and his name is where it belongs."
"My son was very courageous," said Alvina Franzer, brushing a tear from her
cheek. "He would have felt honored {that} his name was placed on the wall."
The 24 names bring to 58,156 the number chiseled on the memorial wall, a
roll call of Americans dead or presumed dead as a result of the Vietnam War.
The memorial service, which included a moving rendition of "God Bless
America" by the music group Alabama, drew two big-name speakers, Bob Hope, who
regularly visited U.S. troops stationed overseas, and "Nightline" host Ted
Koppel. "We hope and pray these men will become a symbol for the insanity of
war," Hope said to a round of applause. "Let's hope the price they paid is a
lesson for the future."
At Arlington National Cemetery, where the ground was whiter than the
tombstones yesterday, the cold and snow forced the traditional program to be
cut back. Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger laid the presidential
wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns and a soldier played taps.
The weather kept away a crowd that had been expected to be in the
thousands. But some determined veterans came anyway, accompanied by friends
and relatives.
John Cucco, 40, dressed in Army fatigues and a hat decorated with medals,
came from Long Island, N.Y.
"It's my first trip. The time wasn't right before," he said, as he left
Arlington and headed for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.
At the memorial, the ceremony that in previous years has drawn as many as
5,000 people attracted only several hundred yesterday. But U.S. Park Police
officials said about 1,000 people visited the wall during the day to find
names of loved ones or to leave flowers and other mementoes.
"The ceremony was even more wonderful because so many people have never
seen the wall in the snow," said Jan Scruggs, president of the Vietnam
Veterans Memorial Fund, which campaigned to establish the memorial, sponsored
the ceremony and worked to have the 24 names added to the wall.
"We didn't care about the snow," said Ana Quinn, 66, of Thornville, Ohio,
whose son's name, Robert Joseph Quinn, was added to the wall. "If those guys
went through what they went through, then we can put up with a little snow."
Robert Quinn, a Marine Corps sergeant, died at age 24 from injuries he
received
when one of the men in his patrol stepped on a land mine. He did not die
until nine months after the accident, and his name initially was not included
on the wall because he died not in Vietnam but at Bethesda Naval Hospital, his
mother said. His name was added after years of efforts by his mother, two
brothers and sister.
"I hollered and I yelled," Ana Quinn said. "I even told a few people that
if they didn't put his name on the wall, I was going to take a hammer and
chisel and put it there myself."
Ana Quinn credits a Marine Corps officer, whose name she couldn't remember,
with finally having the name placed on the monument. Two days ago, she, her
daughter and Doris Perry, Robert Quinn's high school teacher, visited the
memorial for the first time and saw his name, took pictures and made several
rubbings.
"We stood there and talked to him," Quinn said.
Staff writer Patrice Gaines-Carter contributed to this report.
Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington
Post and may not include subsequent corrections.
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