| Reflections upon the character of Captain Frank |
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Following is material in the book of Ray Frank concerning LeGrand
Frank: Submitted by his niece The Chaplain at Tanagawa was Captain Frank*, from Richfield, Utah, a Mormon. He read on the lists that I too was a Mormon from Utah and sought me out. He was about thirty or thirty-five, yet his wisdom, faith, and love of his fellowman would have been hard to equal in men twice his age. Every night we talked to each other. He was such an inspiration to me--almost like an angel in hell. I felt that I personally knew his wonderful wife and darling babies back home. I believed, as he did, that his life was being spared for some great purpose. He had had too many narrow escapes on Bataan, including men being shot all around him and a bomb exploding beside him. Captain Frank was a humble, quiet-spoken man, very nice looking, and always clean. He was calm and poised; he never got ruffled; and he had a quality of leadership that men unquestioningly followed. What a comfort it was to me to talk with this dedicated, wonderful man. He was always busy. He spent long hours with the sick and dying, carrying water to them, writing letters to their loved ones at home for them, trying to cheer them up in their wretchedness and pain. You saw this Good Samaritan trying to find a warm shirt for some ragged, blond kid with a fever, or begging for rags from the Japs with which to wrap the bleeding feet and hands of practically fleshless Americans. Everyone in the camp respected him; how could one help it? The commanding officer of the camp told me one day that Captain Frank was the only man in the whole camp he would trust. Things had long before reached the point of every man rooting for himself, like hungry animals. Captain Frank stood out as a light in the darkness--a true Christian. He never used his authority on anyone; yet his kind, wise decisions were never questioned in settling minor quarrels or deadly feuds. I knew that God had spared Captain Frank's life, and believed with all my heart that he would continue to spare it, that he would be allowed to fulfill his dream of settling in Logan, Utah, and raising mink. His trusting, happy, homey character was the most essential need of the camp. He truly fed his Father's sheep. One night after work I saw him all bundled up in a blanket. I didn't think anything was wrong and didn't get to see him again that night. The next morning when I went out to wash, someone said, "Captain Frank died last night." I stood and stared; it was preposterous! I ran on weak, shaky legs to Curley Meyers, who was in charge of the hospital. He looked at my searching eyes and nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "He got some kind of virus that affects the brain. It was all over in twenty-four hours. There was nothing I could do." It shook everyone in the camp, but especially me. I wanted to run somewhere, to someone, but there was no one to turn to. Why had God taken him now? Why hadn't he taken him on Bataan when he had escaped death so many time? Why would he take him now when the whole camp depended on him for their link with God? When I need him so? I felt completely alone and forsaken. I wanted to die too. That day I was in charge of a six-man detain on the farthest corner of the dock. That was how I saw Captain Frank's box as it was carried by. They were taking his body to be cremated. I stood, bowed my head, and prayed with all the fervor in my body for a man whom the world never knew, who gave his life for his country. *My uncle was called up with his unit in Utah and was not a schooled chaplain; he was, I guess, an acting chaplain in lieu of any other in that camp. At the time he was called, he was a Bishop in the Mormon Church. |