Denied for decades, Vietnam vet has place on the wall

Army Master Sgt. Francis G. Corcoran was a "soldier's soldier," family members said.

Corcoran enlisted at age 18, became a Green Beret, and volunteered to serve in Vietnam, where he received a Purple Heart and Bronze Star for valor after saving comrades' lives by disarming a bomb at great risk to himself.

But his name never appeared on the gleaming black granite wall of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington - though he died in 1967 at age 39 from an illness contracted in Vietnam.

That oversight didn't sit well with his wife, Elizabeth, and eight children, who live in the Philadelphia area and South Jersey. Over many years, they wrote to Defense Department and veterans officials - even presidents - seeking to have his name added, to no avail.

Then came a letter last June from a defense agency director: "I have reviewed your request against qualifying criteria (for inclusion on the wall) . . . and concur with your recommendation."

On Monday - Memorial Day - Corcoran's wife, of North Wildwood, and seven of their eight children will gather for a ceremony at the wall and finally run their fingers over the engraved name, "FRANCIS G. CORCORAN."

"It's kind of bittersweet," said Elizabeth Corcoran, 86. "I'm thrilled his name is on the wall.

"He was a soldier from the get-go," she said. "He would have wanted this."

Francis Corcoran entered the Army shortly before the Korean War broke out and was stationed in Japan as part of the U.S. force there.

He later joined the 82nd Airborne at Fort Bragg, N.C., and was deployed to Vietnam, sometimes on classified missions unknown to the family even to this day.

"I know he went to Laos on a secret mission," his wife said. "He never told us about it and some of the kids tried to find out" - unsuccessfully.

"He did a lot of things I didn't know about," she said. "He got a Purple Heart and we don't know what that was for, either. I just know when he came back from Laos, he had post-traumatic stress."

The record obtained by the family "had black Magic Marker all over it," said Sgt. Corcoran's son, Francis "Frank" Corcoran Jr., 63, of Woodstown, Salem County.

"He received his Bronze Star for disarming a booby trap," he said. "The North Vietnamese or Viet Cong made it from an unexploded 500-pound bomb.

"He risked his life to disarm it," Corcoran said. "If he made a mistake, he would have been blown up."

At the time Sgt. Corcoran became ill from unsanitary conditions where he was stationed, the family was expecting to see him come home on leave. Maybe he'd get to be back in time for some Thanksgiving turkey.

Instead, Elizabeth Corcoran - who was then staying with her mother in Philadelphia's Port Richmond section - got a postcard, informing her that her husband was at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington. He had hepatitis C and encephalitis, a swelling of the brain from infection.

"He called and sounded really weak," said his wife, who rushed to Walter Reed.

Sgt. Corcoran soon died, leaving Elizabeth with eight children to care for. "My mother asked me, 'What are you going to do with all those kids?' " she recalled. "I said, 'I'm going to do what I have to do.' "

The loss left a void in the family especially felt by Frank Jr. who was 16 at the time. "As the oldest, I had the best and longest relationship with him," said Corcoran, now 63, a retired director of information technology at JPMorgan Chase & Co. "I loved and respected him and his death was very difficult for me."

The family's house was crowded with family and friends after Sgt. Corcoran died, said daughter Mary Corcoran-Pody, 51, an insurance executive who lives in Philadelphia's Torresdale section.

"I remember the casket and the military pomp and circumstance," said Corcoran-Pody, who was age 4 at the time. "They drove to the military cemetery in Gettysburg.

"My father used to call me his 'little peanut,' " she said. "I didn't see him often but he sent me a laminated card with a picture of a clown on my birthday on May 26."

The family moved to a house in Northeast Philadelphia in 1968, and much later, after the wall was erected in Washington, learned that their loved one was not included.

Was it because he died at home? Was it because he had been involved in classified missions?

The Defense Department sets the criteria for and decides whose names are eligible for inscription while the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund pays for the name additions, according to the fund. Changes to the wall are made as records are reevaluated and status revised from missing in action to killed in action.

"We wrote letters but heard nothing back," said Mary Corcoran-Pody.

The news of her father's inclusion on the wall - and the engraving on Mother's Day - left the family ecstatic. Plans were made for a ceremony at the wall on Memorial Day to remember their father.

Sgt. Corcoran is one of seven service members whose names will be added, which will bring the total on the wall to 58,307.

"It's just obviously overwhelming and unbelievably meaningful," said Corcoran-Pody. "It means something different to each of us because of the difference in ages."

The four sons - Frank Jr., Michael, Tim, and Larry - and four daughters - Mary, Anne, Patricia, and Lisa - ranged in age from 3 to 16 at the time of their father's passing.

"This will bring closure and represents all the men and women who sacrificed for us," said Corcoran-Pody. "When I see them in uniform, I thank them for their service.

"We can drive to work and do everything else in our lives because of what they do," she said.

The addition of Sgt. Corcoran's name on the wall will once again bring the family together around him.

"It's good for everyone," said Elizabeth Corcoran. "It evokes a lot of memories.

"He loved being a soldier so I'm glad this is happening," she said. "He certainly deserves it."