My Uncle Art - Infamous Bataan Death March Survivor

A survivor of the Infamous Bataan Death March, Uncle Art waslisted as a P.O.W./M.I.A. during the second world war.

Until recently, I had very little information of the actualdetails, except that Art was a prisoner in Japanese P.O.W.camps for three and a half years.

From a few things my dad told me, aside from what littlerations they received, Uncle Art and his fellow prisonerssupplimented their diets with grass hoppers and an occasionalmonkey (a delicacy for them), when they were able to captureone.

Upon liberation, Art was reunited with family and friendsstateside.

This is a letter I wrote to him upon hearing of his beinghonored by our country's military in 2005, at the age of 90.

Even though this was written for my Uncle Art, I would like toco-dedicate it to anyone who has served in the US military inany capacity. The details may not be yours, but my admirationcertainly is.

Uncle Art,

I've wanted to write this for many years, and have even begunit several times, each time side-tracked by my own duties inlife. If you're hearing or reading this now, you'll know I wasfinally successful.

You have always been a hero to me, even before I understoodwhat a true hero you were, or for that matter, what a truehero even was.

My dad, Donald Franzwa, was the number one hero in my life. Ashis brother, you were my hero through association. After all,any brother of my dad qualified as a hero in my book.

As a yougster I always looked up to you. Way up. Partlybecause Dad did, and partly because I was so small and youwere six feet, four inches tall.

I still look up to you.

You've probably forgotten the day you graduated from "hero byassociation" to a bonified "personal hero" to me, but I neverwill. I was only about five or six years old and our familieswere on an outing on the Sandy River in Oregon. I believe wewere on your first boat, "Boatnik," when we pulled into shorefor a picnic.

We were all on the beach setting up lunch (OK, you were settinup lunch; I was being a five year old). The shore was fairlyshallow, gradually getting deeper, except for one spot. Thatone spot was well over my head.

I proceeded to run down the beach and jump into what Iexpected to be up to knees, and "sploop," under I went.

My life flashed before my eyes, (both seconds of it), and Iknew I was going to die.

Then I felt this great big hand pull me from the river by thehead, the way you might pluck a grapefruit from a basket.

That hand was yours Art, and no one could or ever willconvince me that you didn't save my life that day.

I thank you for that, and most of the time, my kids do too.

It wasn't until some years later that I realized that youweren't just my own personal hero, but a man recognized as ahero by my country as well.

I won't go into the details of your military heroism. Thereare those who honor you that know a heck of a lot more aboutthat side of you than I do. The amazing details of yourservice can be found by performing a search at:http://www.wwiimemorial.com/

(For anyone interested in the details of their own heros ofthat era, you may be able to find them by doing a search at:http://www.wwiimemorial.com/ . If you have details that wouldhonor one of our WWII veterans, your information would beappreciated.)

I would, however, like to extend my thanks to those who servedwith you, and to your compatriots who made the ultimatesacrifice to keep us free, as well.

You all make me proud to be an American, but Uncle Art...

You make me proud to be a Franzwa.

PS I'm still waiting for that second shaddish lesson. Thefirst one you gave me was forty years ago, and my memory's abit rusty, so when you've got a little time...

I probably still can't keep up with you, but I'm game if youare.

Your nephew,

David B. Franzwa Lebanon, Oregon