Franklin G. Atkinson, Jr. was born on August 3, 1947. His home of record is Hurffville, NJ.

He served in the US Army and attained the rank of Specialist 4 (SP4).

Atkinson was killed in action on May 2, 1969. He is buried at Bethel Methodist Church Cemetery in Hurffville located in Gloucester County in New Jersey.

Frankie

August 3, 1947-May 2, 1969 SP4, Army Hurffville, NJ

The Atkinson family roots in Gloucester County, NJ, go to the turn of the century and the name has since stood for community involvement, public service, and an intense sense of patriotism.
Franklin Atkinson, Sr. relates some of the family history. “My parents, Frank and Anna, operated a hundred and forty-acre dairy farm in Hurffville,” he says. “The homestead was the old stone house that now sits on Egg Harbor Road and is part of the Old Stone Village. I was born in that house. My wife, Edna, was born and raised in Mullica Hill. We attended Glassboro High School together, dated and married after graduation. I went to business school, worked at New York Ship for a year and then spent two years of World War II as a Marine in the Pacific.”
After the war, Franklin returned to Hurffville, and joined the family dairy business until 1960. He then went to work for Washington Township, serving as tax collector, treasurer, financial officer and administrator, retiring in 1987. The Atkinsons had three children, Franklin, Jr., Jill and Bruce.
Franklin, Jr. was born August 3, 1947 in Woodbury, NJ. He attended Hurffville elementary schools and was in the first graduating class of Washington Township High in 1966. He was an exceptional athlete, an avid dancer and a model big brother. His family proudly shares some of the memories.
“He was first team in any sport he played,” says Franklin, Sr. “Shortstop in baseball, starting halfback on the football team and he wrestled. He played in the Tri-County League after high school and was scouted by the Phillies and the Astros. He wanted to play baseball professionally.”
Edna, who passed away in April of 1995, recalled her son’s memory from a proud but broken heart. “He was liked by everybody. He really was one-in-a-million. He was our All-American boy.”
Jill Yarnell, of Sewell, NJ, was three years younger than Frank and remembers fondly their relationship. “He was very protective of me and we were close,” she says. “We had a lot of fun together growing up. He was as much a friend to me as a brother. We always had that special feeling between us.”
Bruce Atkinson, now of Florida, was the baby of the family. He was ten years younger and can recall the mentor that Frank was to him. “He taught me everything,” Bruce recalls. “He had excellent skills. Every sport he played, I learned. And he taught me how to fistfight, too, and to stand up for myself.”
When Frank was a senior, he and a friend started a business putting on dances and hops for social organizations. They used the old Hurffville Grange Hall, and owned their sound equipment. Frank always loved to dance. “He used to go to the Jerry Blavat dances,” says Jill. “He would have been a good choreographer.”
After Frank graduated from high school, he found a sales position at the Flagg Brothers Shoe store in the Cherry Hill Mall, and rapidly advanced to assistant manager of the Philadelphia store. He also continued playing ball and doing dance parties, whenever he could.
Alfred Cook, of Grenloch, remembered the time well. “I knew ‘Doc’, that’s what we called him, since I was 8 years old,” he said. “His family was a second family to me. We worked at the Star Lite Stables from the ninth to the eleventh grade. We did a lot of horseback riding and ball playing together.”
“Frank didn’t have any definite plans,” says Frank, Sr. “He wasn’t sure about college. He was business oriented but he really wanted to pursue professional baseball.”
Al Cook was in pretty much the same position when the Vietnam War heated up. “You have to understand that in 1966, the US was drafting everyone,” he remembered. “Both Frank and I were being scouted by the same two teams. But we knew it was only a matter of time before we would be drafted.”
In November of 1967, Frank was drafted into the Army. Al Cook decided to join the Marine Corps and eventually was awarded two Purple Hearts and a Silver Star for his service in Vietnam. “Nobody wants to go to war,” he said.
“Frank had been in a car accident,” Jill says. “His injuries could have relieved him of military service if he had pushed it. He wouldn’t do it. He just said, ‘I’ve been called to serve my country and that’s what I’m going to do.’ One of Frank’s friends went to Canada during the war and I just couldn’t see how it was so easy to do, especially when Frank could have avoided service altogether. I was mad for a long, long time.”
“The service was not that much of a transition for him,” says his father. “He had been on camping trips. He grew up on the farm so he knew what hard work and early rising were. He felt he had a job to do and he was doing it.”
After basic training at Fort Dix, NJ, Frank was trained as an infantryman, and then assigned to the Non-Commissioned Officers school at Fort Benning, Georgia. By November of 1968, he was on his way to Vietnam.
The 1st Battalion of the 16th Mechanized Infantry Regiment was an element of the 1st Infantry Division when Frank arrived, and operating from a base camp at Lai Khe, about thirty miles north of Saigon. The use of armored personnel carriers (APC) made the infantry units mobile and able to carry out rapid sweeps through the jungles, hills, and valleys of South Vietnam. The 1st Infantry Division mission, during 1969, was to train the South Vietnamese 5th Division in combat operations. The effort was named “Dong Tien” (Progress Together) and most units of the 1st Infantry co-deployed with their Vietnamese counterparts in and around the Lai Khe area.
During the first several months of Frank’s tour in Vietnam, he was an infantryman being transported to and from ‘hot spots’ in an APC. After about six months, he was assigned as a driver of one of the carriers. In letters home, he makes clear his views on the war and his part in it.
In one letter to his father, Frank wrote:

It’s worse than people think. You secure a village, move on to the next only to find the VC are back in the village you just left.

“In one of his letters to me,” Jill says. “Frank said he was so thankful that now as an APC driver, he spent most of his time under cover.”
“He wrote to me saying that he had it made,” Frank, Sr. recalls. “He said, ‘All I have to do for the last six months is escort convoys.’”
On May 2, 1969, Frank was killed doing just that. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star.
“There was some kind of foul up,” his father says. “The lead vehicle had stopped and the whole convoy was a sitting duck. They were ambushed.”
The news of Frank’s death spread rapidly. The Atkinsons were members of the Bethel Methodist Church in Hurffville, and to accommodate the huge turn out for the funeral services, the site was changed to the Pitman Methodist Church.
“That church was packed,” Frank, Sr. says proudly. “The procession from the church to Bethel Cemetery was led by both Pitman and Township police.”
Friends of the Atkinson family rallied around them. Edna recalled, “They were marvelous. We were treated with all the respect you could imagine. Frank was the kind of kid everyone liked.”
Jill remembers the immediate changes in her life. “I lost my best friend and a brother,” she says. “But I took from it what I consider to be the legacy Frank left. To never look back, take each day as it comes, and to follow your dreams.”
Years later, Frank, Sr. told Jill what had been said to him after Frank’s funeral by the father of one of the young victims of a tragic car accident in Hurffville a year and a half earlier. Alcohol had been a major factor in the crash. The man told Frank, Sr. that at least Frank’s death had been for something and not a total waste like his own son’s death.
“When Dad told me that story, I felt different,” Jill says. “I felt it gave me a better perspective. Frank did die for a cause.”
The loss deeply affected Bruce, also. “He was my role model,” he says. “I was so hurt inside. I didn’t have Frank to protect me and I couldn’t be the little brother anymore. My birthday stunk that year. I turned eleven at the end of May. His death destroyed me. I lost my desire to play baseball and I withdrew from any activities.”
“Mom and I became much more protective of Bruce,” Frank, Sr. says. “It was really tough on him.”
“I saw it, too,” says Jill. “I think Mom and Dad regretted not giving Frank more of the things he wanted. Bruce came along and asked for the same things, only he got them.”
“I had just seen Frank in February,” recalled Al Cook. “He came to my awards ceremony. We made plans to get together when he came home. I came home in March and was in North Carolina when I heard of his death. He was the first of three friends I lost in Vietnam. Ron Heck, Larry Lubonski and Frank. We were close.”
The Franklin G. Atkinson, Jr. All Veterans Park on Egg Harbor Road in Washington Township was dedicated in 1988. Frank, Sr. still takes care of some of the landscaping chores there. There is a scholarship fund in Frank’s name at Washington Township High School.
Bruce can now look from a perspective almost thirty years removed from that tragic time. “Today, I can smile when his image comes to mind,” he says. “I came out of my bubble when Vietnam vets were recognized with the Wall. I only hope and pray there won’t be anymore Vietnams for it will only destroy more lives and families. Frank was the best.”
The Atkinsons visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial a few years ago. They had put it off but felt it was time. “We were really impressed,” Frank, Sr. says. “We found Frank’s name and stayed there for a while. We were able to enjoy the rest of the day in Washington.”
Al Cook took his wife there in 1994. “It’s where I finally said goodbye to all three,” he said. “I cried and took the tears and put them over the names of my friends.”
It is hard for the family to view Frank’s death as a waste. They supported our country then and support it now. But Frank, Sr. has some regrets.
“When we took an island in the Pacific, we held it and that was that,” he says. “I could never understand the restrictions placed on the troops in Vietnam. That bothered me. It still does.”
Six months after Frank, Jr. was buried, Frank, Sr. paid a visit to the Heck family who had just lost their son, Ronald. “I felt they needed someone who could genuinely share what they were feeling,” he says. “We have shared that kinship since.”
Franklin Atkinson, Jr. died for a cause that was questioned, he died in a country a half a world away, but he died doing what he believed in. His father sums it up best when he says, “I still think about him every day. He thought he was doing what he should have been doing and that’s all there is to it.”

Excerpt from They Were Ours: Gloucester County’s Loss in Vietnam
by John Campbell
Used with permission of author

Sources: John Campbell and NJVVMF.
12/17/2024