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<em>Robert D. Glassburn</em> was born September 26, 1910 at Fort Terry, New York, the son of (then First Lieutenant Robert P. Glassburn, Class of 1907, and of Nancy Moore Glassburn.</p>
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In June, 1934, Bob married Zelda, daughter of Captain Daniel and Maude Eggleston, of Cristobal, Canal Zone. They had two children, Constance and Paul.</p>
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Almost from birth Bob displayed the gaiety of spirit that stood by him and distinguished him through the terrible months on Corregidor, and later, through the long Gethsemane of 32 months of torture, starvation and humiliation of spirit at the hands of his bestial Japanese captors.</p>
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Until he entered the Academy Bob’s life was the nomadic one of every Army son. His curiosity about all that went on around him was tireless. Of any subject that interested him he could not learn too much. At West Point the Librarian commented that he was the most indefatigable reader and best read man in the Corps.</p>
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He carried the same passion for accurate knowledge into his work as an officer; and into his hobbies, outdoor life and photography. His compassion for the helpless was such that, from early boyhood, he was usually nursing some stricken creature of the woods or field. His love of them was a particular expression of his most notable characteristic, a flaming passion for justice, so that the bent brows of the mighty held no terrors for him when he felt that anyone, however humble, in his command was the object of unfair treatment. He never failed to fight for the men and officers under him.</p>
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Bob was a stimulating, happy, generous friend. He had the fresh enthusiasm of a child for new facts, new places and new experiences. Life and the world were full of surprises and excitement for him and he had the rare gift of being able to communicate his enthusiasm to those around him. He loved people and laughed at the stuffed shirt. It was what one was that won his allegiance or his opposition, not what one pretended to be.</p>
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A young Lieutenant of his Battery, and the sole surviving officer of his command, upon learning of his death wrote:</p>
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“Bob was as good an officer as I ever hope to serve under. There wasn’t a man who served under him who did not think he was tops. I have been told many times before and after the surrender by men in our Battery that they would have gladly died for him. He was the most just man I have ever known in the Army. He treated me like a brother and taught me most of what I know about the Army. If he were living now and I should remain in the Service. I would follow him all over this country to try to serve under him. Of the many things he had on his mind constantly the two main ones were first duty and then his family. Not once did I see him even slightly act as if he was afraid. He was a very brave man. He was as cool and calm and businesslike during our action periods as it is possible to be. He carried a picture of his wife and two children in his left shirt pocket at all times. When, during an action, we would cease firing and take cover, he would pull out that picture and continue looking at it until the apparent danger was over. No one ever questioned him about this action, but I always had in mind that if he was killed he wanted the thought and sight of his family on his mind. He would slowly replace the picture when the danger was over and would say ‘well, I guess that is all’.’’</p>
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This same officer, writing of their weeks of torture on the hell ships enroute to Japan, related:</p>
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“On our second boat Bob worked on a detail carrying the bodies of men (killed when the ship was hit in Formosa) ashore to be cremated. For this he managed to get some extra rice and water. A few times he would be very tired at the end of the day and would not be able to eat all his food. This he would give to me. I shall never forget this and many other things he did for me.”</p>
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On August 3, 1946 Major General John L. Homer pinned on Bob’s nine year old son, Paul, the Silver Star, awarded posthumously with the following citation:</p>
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“For gallantry in action. From 29 December, 1941, to 6 May 1942, Major Glassburn commanded Battery ‘K’ of his Regiment at Fort Mills. Philippine Islands. During the above period combat conditions were practically continuous and frequently severe. Due to limitations of anti-aircraft armament, enemy planes were able to release their loads before coming within effective range of gun fire. Habitually, also enemy artillery opened fire on an antiaircraft battery whenever attacking planes approached its maximum range. Consequently, in order to attack planes, batteries were often compelled to execute their fire under a barrage and while bombs were descending. On all such occasions Major Glassburn remained in the open at his battery position, assisting and directing his men. By his calmness and courageous behavior in action and disregard for personal safety he inspired them to stand by their guns and concentrate on their duties. By his daring and gallant conduct under fire. Major Glassburn reflected great credit upon himself and the military service.”</p>
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Bob died of the combined effects of long starvation, exposure and an infected wound, at Moji, Kyushu, Japan, on January 30, 1945, in the arms of a friend, and a gallant Marine, Lieutenant Colonel James W. Keene, Marine Corps, whose command had been under Bob’s tactical control throughout the fighting on Corregidor. Colonel Keene wrote:</p>
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“The dive bombers came once more and when they left more than 250 Americans lay dead. Nothing was touched for two days. Then the Japanese began moving the bodies ashore for burial. I was detailed to lead the working party. Bob volunteered to go along as a worker to help bury his comrades and friends. It was while doing this work that he picked up the infection that was to cause his death.</p>
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“Back on board the third ship Bob’s foot kept getting worse. There was almost no food and little water. We managed to get a few sulfa drugs for him. Finally we arrived at Moji. The following day, in sub-freezing weather, we were ordered to disembark. The Japs refused to give the men who could not walk up to the deck warm clothing.</p>
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“I was busily engaged in assisting the weaker and crippled off the ship and into the shelter of an auditorium of some sort near the pier. I picked Bob up and started toward this building with him. He talked and seemed in no immediate danger. However, in crossing the street he passed out and within a few seconds his heart action had stopped.</p>
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“So you can tell your grandchildren that their Father was an officer, a gentleman, and as fine a soldier as ever wore a U.S.M.A. ring”.</p>
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So he died, not in the tumult of battle as he would have chosen, but no less gloriously. Thirty-three months of heat and thirst, cold and hunger, mental and physical torture, of pain of wounds, and Japanese bestiality, never broke his will nor dimmed his spirit. To the end, as related by those with him, he held up the spirits of the discouraged and helpless by his own unshakable refusal to give way to despair.</p>
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Death took him. It never conquered him.</p>
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<em>—His Father</em></p>
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