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When first called upon to write the obituary of as close a comrade as <em>George “Czecho” Vanture</em> was to me, I almost thought it beyond my powers to do so. I still feel that I can never adequately express my feelings or do his memory justice. I feel, however, that above all his friends and classmates I am the one who can most clearly record the greatness of his character, personality and bravery in times of trial. Throughout this brief statement, behind the scenes runs continually the thought “But for the grace of God there am I”.</p>
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I will leave it for others to tell of Czecho’s early personal history and his peacetime accomplishments, for although we were roommates during our First Class year and had spent most of our service in the same branch, we had never served together until the fateful days of ‘41. Czecho arrived in Manila almost simultaneously with me in October 1941, although not on the same boat. We were both temporarily stationed at Stotsenburg before our assignment to the Philippine Army and during the hectic days preceding Pearl Harbor we had little chance to see each other.</p>
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I commanded the 71st F.A. (P.A.) and Czecho was assigned to the 91st F.A. (P.A.). On the night following the second day’s battle on December 23rd. Czecho arrived with a regimental combat detail to come to our support and after the smoke had temporarily cleared away, we found ourselves fighting shoulder to shoulder on the banks of the Agno River on Christmas Eve. The pressure of the enemy attack was terrific. I handled the Artillery while Czecho took on the bigger job of coordinating the remnants of Infantry, Cavalry and Engineers and by his inspiring leadership formed them into a defense line along the banks of the river. We held the river bank for two days and then retreated southward where Czecho picked up the remainder of the Artillery regiment and my outfit was ordered to San Fernando. He engaged the enemy two days later at Cabanatuan while my regiment was in action to the southeast at Baliwag and I did not see him again until some time in January when my regiment was ordered to support the 1st Division, Regular Army (P.A.), in the defense sector of Moron, Bataan.</p>
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Czecho was then Division Artillery Officer. We made a groupment of my regiment plus all the artillery we could muster in the sector for a coordinated defense system and during the bitter fighting of the next few weeks Czecho was constantly by my side at my Command Post and Observation Post while still acting as a buffer for me against the high command. The Division was surrounded by a surprise attack of the enemy on January 20th during which time I was wounded. Czecho being caught on the other side of the break-through, made his way alone and unaided to General Wainwright’s hdqtrs. of the 1st Corps to acquaint them with the situation and to urge a counter attack. When told by General Wainwright to rest and recuperate he replied, “Sir, I have a classmate who is dead or wounded there. I am going up to get him now”. He went with the counter attack which was launched and for three days the situation was in doubt. In the end the remnants of our trapped Division were forced to blow up our guns and trucks and escape through the jungle to our own lines. At the end of our march, the first man I saw was Czecho who, after taking care of our exhausted troops, saw to it that I was sent on my way to a hospital.</p>
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After my wounds had healed I returned to duty with the 2nd Corps in the east sector while Czecho remained with the 1st Corps on the west. During the next two months of siege we were unable to see each other although we talked several times by telephone. During the bitter days that followed our surrender and the Death March, our paths did not cross, but on the night that we finally reached our first concentration camp at O’Donnell and I was huddled with an exhausted group in a flimsy shack, I heard in the dark a voice calling, “Is Chick Fowler there?” To which I answered, “Yes”, and the voice replied, “This is Czecho. Move over, boys, I am coming in”.</p>
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From that time on we contrived to be inseparable. Whatever possessions we had or were able to get we considered unquestionably our common property.</p>
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After a brief stay in O’Donnell we were taken to Cabanatuan from where in October 1942 Czecho was ordered to Davao. So close was our comradeship that although not selected, I immediately volunteered to accompany him. For almost two years, we lived, worked, talked and thought together. We shaved with the same razor blade and smoked the same cigarette, if either of us was lucky enough to get one. Our innermost thoughts were common property to each of us.</p>
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Others have attempted to tell snatches of the rigors of our imprisonment but the real tale is yet to be told, if ever. Suffice it here to say, it was a period in which human instincts were bared to the core and the veneer of civilization was subjected to a tremendous strain. It is therefore with a total inadequacy of expression. I can only say that Czecho faithfully followed the ideals of his and our beloved Alma Mater.</p>
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We were shipped from Davao to Manila about June 1944. Czecho was sent back to Cabanatuan while I, being incapacitated, remained at Bilibid. He returned to Bilibid some time in November as a member of a group destined for shipment to Japan. For almost six weeks we were constantly together, during which time it was an even bet as to whether we would all be rescued or be shipped to Japan. On December 13th his fateful orders were received and after grasping my hand in a farewell, he marched away to what we all realized was almost certain death. His head was high and his eyes still held the fire in them that had glistened on the banks of the Agno River.</p>
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Czecho will bear no general’s stars with him to his Valhalla and he will never receive the medals and citations that are his proper due. Those who fight in as bitter a rear guard action rarely do. My greatest comfort is that when I go to join that “Long Grey Line” of which he is now a part. I will be able to call. “Where is Czecho? Move over, boys, I am coming in”.</p>
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<em>—H. C. F.</em></p>
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