Ned Natale Loscuito, Jr.
Cullum No. 22887
Died 20 August, 1965 in Vietnam,
aged 26 years.
Interment: Woodlawn Cemetery, Bronx, New York

I always remember Ned as the winner: Ned the Indian fighter; Ned the bronco rider; Ned the knight errant; Ned the dragon slayer.  In all his childhood fantasies, he always emerged indisputably victorious.  The determination to win, the excitement of challenge, these were characteristics that would grow and remain with Ned.  Along with these stronger inclinations there developed a whimsical spirit, a lightheartedness that could relax those around him who might be grim, worried, or afraid.

 Ned’s days at West Point gave him many opportunities to manifest these seemingly contrasting traits.  Plebe year was a time for hard work and for breaking the “system.”  From a diary he kept of that unforgettable year, come these words of Ned’s: “Did all right in class.  Got chewed out at dinner formation for sprinting across mess hall. I cut off a Firstie.”

His athletic prowess was more appreciated on the baseball field, and by his first-class year he had become the team’s captain.  The “Dago,” endearingly so-called because of his ancestry, had to eat “fourths” on macaroni as a Plebe in addition to the other customary hazing.

By graduation, he would leave the Academy with a John W. Coffey trophy tucked under his arm and with memories of his accomplishments as brigade heavyweight boxing champion, as president of the Russian club, as a member of the ring and crest committee, and as cadet-in-charge of the special program committee.

After graduation he went on to gain his Ranger patch and a star over his paratrooper’s wings.

With all his surging energy and his many playful tendencies, one could detect signs of Ned’s developing wisdom.  His was a practical approach to life: the job was there to be done, and he would do it in the only way he knew how – to the very best of his ability.

His years at West Point were thoughtful, formative years.  Love for his God and his family was now coupled with another great love, love of country.  He did not play at becoming a soldier as a cadet; he was one and became an even better one as the years passed.  There were not many years, but his transformation was complete the day that he volunteered for duty in Vietnam.  For him there was no alternative.  “I’m a professional soldier, “ he wrote.  “I think I owe my country something and that is to stand by her now that she needs me, and not only because I need her.  I have a debt to pay as aesthetic as once can image.  Times are now measured in what was and what will be.  There is no present. … The real concept of looking and working, sweating and maybe dying if that has to be, is for a future in which we may have the time to look hard and long at the past. …  We don’t have that opportunity now.  It doesn’t exist for us. We can’t stop and wait, for the world will truly pass us by.”

Even to that far-off, confused, and strange land, he brought understanding and his special brand of Loscuito humor.  A sudden smile, an amazing confidence, tremendous zeal, and genuine pride in his work – these were the qualities which brought endless admiration from his Viet rangers.  Equipped with patience, a generous heart, and a piece of chalk, he began a series of English classes for the natives, and they responded enthusiastically.  He wrote home to the chaplain in the 24th Division asking for help in raising money for a Vietnamese building fund.  At another time he considered it a great accomplishment when he was able to get a group of natives just to wash and clean their ears.

Then, on the morning of 20 August, while on a “search and destroy” mission in the vicinity of Long Cong, he was shot by an enemy sniper.  He had advanced toward the assigned objective without regard for his personal safety in an effort to achieve better observation of enemy positions.

The Vietnamese people mourned him as they would an idol, and their country bestowed upon him the Vietnamese Gallantry Cross with palm leaf cluster and the Vietnamese National Order Medal Fifth Class posthumously.  His own country awarded him the Purple Heart, the Combat Infantry Badge, and two Bronze Stars, one with bronze “V” device for valor, all posthumously.

Of this I’m sure, Ned, your opponent never would have slayed you if he had had to stand up and face you.

You’re still the winner.
                                                                        --Sis