<p>
George died instantly when exploding bombs collapsed the after-end of the ORYUKU MARU upon the American prisoners in the hold below. Thus died one of the finest, most courageous officers of our day, but out of the wreckage of the ship has lived one of the greatest faiths and greatest spirits of yesterday and tomorrow. No words or bronze or stone can be adequate to his memory.</p>
<p>
<em>George Harold Crawford</em> was born at Fairfield, Washington, December 15, 1908, the son of George Henry Crawford and Frances G. Muldary. His boyhood, however, was spent at his later home in Cocolalla, Idaho, with his two sisters, Lillian (now Mrs. Harold J. March of Spokane, Washington), and Frances (now Mrs. Norman J. Campbell of Spokane, Washington), and two brothers, Robert and Curtis, the latter his twin who did not survive him.</p>
<p>
Appointed to West Point in 1929 George distinguished himself in no great particular but graduated well in his class of 1933. He often said that he had not tried to distinguish himself in any field there because he believed that an officer’s training should be well-rounded, not concentrated or specialized. He did, however, take completely to himself the ideals of the Academy and his career shows how much he lived them.</p>
<p>
As a Second Lieutenant of Coast Artillery in 1934 he married Helen Satterlee Travis of Richmond, Virginia on September 22nd of that year and took her to his station at Fort Amador, Canal Zone. A daughter, Emily Dulaney was born to the Crawfords there on November 18, 1935. George was a devoted, thoughtful husband, very much in love with his wife and family, and the relations between all of them were exceedingly close and harmonious. George’s long separation from them later was hard for him to bear, unusually hard, but he bore it unselfishly.</p>
<p>
After his service in Panama, George was stationed at Fort Barrancas, Florida, before attending the Coast Artillery School at Fort Monroe, Virginia. Shortly after graduation there in 1939 he was ordered to the Philippines and his family went with him. He served in the 92nd Coast Artillery, Fort Mills and later Ii the 60th Coast Artillery on the same post. His separation from his family came in the first half of 1941, and this was the last time George ever saw them or they him.</p>
<p>
There was much to be done in the Philippines then and George, a captain, concentrated on the training and expansion of his automatic weapons battery. When war broke out George was in command of the new anti-aircraft automatic weapons battalion which he had trained and developed from a single battery. With the first promotions George was made a Major. The record of his battalion is chiefly his own.</p>
<p>
In the grim, hungry, disorganized days of the Battle of the Philippines George Crawford stood out as a leader, a cheerful, inspiring commander who brought help dally, both in substance and in spirit, to every unit of his battalion, scattered though it was in positions on Corregidor from the shore to the summit and from one end of the Island to the other. Every time Major Crawford visited one of his positions it was through threat of shell-fire and bombing, and, unwilling to risk anyone else’s life, George often went alone. More than this, he worked so zealously for the maximum efficiency of his battalion that he even obtained special permission to go to Bataan during the heaviest fighting, endangering his life again for first-hand information for the improvement of his positions. His staff, his officers, and his troops were devoted to him. For his heroism he received the posthumous award of the Bronze Star.</p>
<p>
With the fall of Corregidor and the capture of the garrison, George, too, became a prisoner, but in body only. In the dissolution of bodies and minds in prison camp his qualities of character and faith made him more inspiring, more of a leader than ever—a shining figure in utmost sordidness. He worked voluntarily on sanitation—a dirty job, a filthy job, that took mental as well as physical stamina. George Crawford stood out among others as an officer, a Christian and a gentleman, and helped them all. Frequently sick with malaria himself, he found quinine where there had been none and shared it with others. Hungry along with everyone else, he nevertheless gave away precious little bits of food he badly needed himself. His aid was not confined to his friends, his equals or superiors. He took care of everyone in his battalion, bringing the sick and dying whatever he could find, though sometimes it was only comfort—but that in prison camp was precious beyond belief.</p>
<p>
When George was leading, when George was showing the way, the banners had not flown for a long, long time, the music and the headlines were far behind, and the future was impenetrable in a hungry, cold, dirty despairing present. Yet George Crawford in those times, not moments but long dreary years, gave hope to hopeless men, faith to faithless men—and all he gave was part of him. Now we know how big he was.</p>
<p>
<em>—Major John M. Gulick</em></p>
<p>
</p>