CRAVER
CRAVER, ARTHUR
Reprint from The Examiner, March 29, 1945
It has been only a few years since he was a bit of a tow headed boy, following about over the fields behind his dad, or playing around the house asking the usual endless chain of questions of his mother. It hasn’t been so very long ago when he was in school, taking his part in the rough and tumble games of the kids in the little rural community school. Or perhaps playing hooky from school on a warm sunshiny day in spring when it seemed that such a day would be totally lost and wasted if at least a part of it was not spent down on the creek fishing, or just wandering along through the woods, thinking and building air castles as is the wont of youth of that age.
The years passed and he was suddenly grown up. He loved his home and his parents and his sisters. Theirs was a humble home, and many were the things in the way of material luxury that it did not contain. But his was a comfortable home, and it was HOME because it was filled with living and love abided therein. He was never considered an outstanding boy in any respect. he never accomplished much in the way of athletics, oratory, nor was he a leader in the community. But he was well regarded, loved and respected by all who knew him – and every one knew him – knew him for his straightforwardness, his honesty, and his willingness to do whatever there was to be done.
He grew up to become a definite part of his community. A dependable citizen for which there is and always will be such a great need. Then came the war. WAR with all its hell and heartaches. He went to protect and to help build a wall of defense for our country against the hordes that had set out to rule or ruin the world.
The parents of this lad, like the parents of so many, many others, were broken and sad at the thought of their only having to go on the battle fields to fight an enemy not worthy to be called a people. But finally they grew accustomed to his absence and sent into the mails a constant stream of encouragement and love that would reach him out there somewhere, to give him faith and hope and courage, and to become a boost to his lagging morale. The parents dreamed and thought of the time when the war would be over and their boy would return home.
Then, to these parents came the same kind of message that has come to other parents of our country, “Your son was killed in action on the battle fields of....”
He is gone and will never return to the little community in which he spent all the happy years of his childhood and boyhood. But he is, and always will be a part of the memory of the people of the community. The sacrifice he made for the community he loved and for the people he loved has not been in vain.
As a tribute to Arthur “Butch” Craver, son of Mr. and Mrs. Craver of Climax, who gave his life on the battle front of Luzon, February 25, 1945, this humble, sincere message is written.
Reprint from The Examiner, March 29, 1945
It has been only a few years since he was a bit of a tow headed boy, following about over the fields behind his dad, or playing around the house asking the usual endless chain of questions of his mother. It hasn’t been so very long ago when he was in school, taking his part in the rough and tumble games of the kids in the little rural community school. Or perhaps playing hooky from school on a warm sunshiny day in spring when it seemed that such a day would be totally lost and wasted if at least a part of it was not spent down on the creek fishing, or just wandering along through the woods, thinking and building air castles as is the wont of youth of that age.
The years passed and he was suddenly grown up. He loved his home and his parents and his sisters. Theirs was a humble home, and many were the things in the way of material luxury that it did not contain. But his was a comfortable home, and it was HOME because it was filled with living and love abided therein. He was never considered an outstanding boy in any respect. he never accomplished much in the way of athletics, oratory, nor was he a leader in the community. But he was well regarded, loved and respected by all who knew him – and every one knew him – knew him for his straightforwardness, his honesty, and his willingness to do whatever there was to be done.
He grew up to become a definite part of his community. A dependable citizen for which there is and always will be such a great need. Then came the war. WAR with all its hell and heartaches. He went to protect and to help build a wall of defense for our country against the hordes that had set out to rule or ruin the world.
The parents of this lad, like the parents of so many, many others, were broken and sad at the thought of their only having to go on the battle fields to fight an enemy not worthy to be called a people. But finally they grew accustomed to his absence and sent into the mails a constant stream of encouragement and love that would reach him out there somewhere, to give him faith and hope and courage, and to become a boost to his lagging morale. The parents dreamed and thought of the time when the war would be over and their boy would return home.
Then, to these parents came the same kind of message that has come to other parents of our country, “Your son was killed in action on the battle fields of....”
He is gone and will never return to the little community in which he spent all the happy years of his childhood and boyhood. But he is, and always will be a part of the memory of the people of the community. The sacrifice he made for the community he loved and for the people he loved has not been in vain.
As a tribute to Arthur “Butch” Craver, son of Mr. and Mrs. Craver of Climax, who gave his life on the battle front of Luzon, February 25, 1945, this humble, sincere message is written.
