A Life Cut Short
January 13, 2011
Remembering Frank Crabbe
Frank Crabbe was an ex Weredale boy when he died of his wounds on or around Feb.16, 1966 at the age of 19 in Viet Nam. He was a PFC First Class in the 3rd Marines.I used to sleep with the radio on at night. Probably to CKGM back then. They had an all night disk jockey named H.K. Bassieur who would talk about some fascinating things through the wee hours.In my groggy state of mind I thought I had heard a news report about Frank being a Viet Nam casualty.When I got out of bed in the morning I thought it might have been one of those dreams where people you know are inserted into a story.The Gazette newspaper was delivered to our house and and I began leafing through it to see if there was any reality to what I was thinking. It didn't take long to find the newsitem.It was real.I never knew Frank really well. We were casual friends. He roomed across the hall from me at Weredale.
He was kind of heavy set with dark brown hair. One of those kids that seemed more mature than others.For some reason we once traded radios. I have no idea who got the best of the bargain.
Once in a while on a Saturday morning before heading home for the weekend we would have little chats. Sometimes in the evening. I didn't see him that much during the week because he was Catholic and went to St. Leo's and I went to Westmount High. Thinking back, what struck me about his personalty was, he was low key and easy to talk to. Unlike many others, he wasn't a threat. He just seemed like a nice guy making the most out of being in a bad spot. A few years after leaving Weredale, I ran into Frank at the downtown Eaton's store on St. Catherine Street.
He was working there. I believe in the sporting goods department. We talked for a few minutes and he asked me if I could hang around until his break and we could go and grab a coffee. I did and we did.
I can't recall what we talked about.I never saw Frank again.
I never had any idea that he was interested in joining the military.In all honesty, I probably wouldn't have thought about him much either if events hadn't unfolded as they did. We have all met people in our lives who we liked who ended up fading away. Life moves along.
In the mid 90s I was running my own company in Vancouver and was buying a lot of product from an American supplier in Plano, Texas just outside of Dallas. Every year this company would pay for a 3 day trip to a city in the US for their bigger customers. One year it was Washington, DC.
I took in all the things I had seen in the old Jimmy Stewart movies. The Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument. The Viet Nam Memorial Wall was designed by a Chinese American student. It is in the shape of a gradual vee. The vee extends for quite a number of yards. I believe the wall is made out of black granite. The names of the dead soldiers are listed chronologicly and not alphabetically with the earlier soldiers who died at the beginning of the wall on the left and the later cauualties ending on the right. You have to get assistance to find out where the person you are looking for is located. I think there are something like 50, 000 names. A vet sitting at a table told where to find Frank's name.
My eyes scrolled up and down and there it was. Frank Crabbe. With 2 B's and an E. I placed my hand on Frank's name and a bit of a tear came to my eye. I was saddened that this decent guy had had his life cut short by such a useless bloody war. I wondered why he had ever chosen to join the marines. He seemed to be doing OK for a young guy at Eaton's. Maybe it was break up with a girlfreind. Maybe it was belonging to a group. Maybe it was the adventure. Maybe it was a way of getting a post secondary education after his tour. Maybe.Maybe Maybe. There were other Weredale boys that served in Viet Nam. We all have different reasons for the things we do and have done. In itself, Weredale was a bit of hell for many. War is another hell most of us will never have to experience. These many years later, I still find it sad that Frank never got to live a full life. He deserved better.
Colin Paterson
