Robert Ray Jones

My mother was one of eight children. My father, too, was one of eight children. I am completely honest when I say that I have no idea how many cousins I have.

Of my 14 aunts and uncles by blood, there is only one I never met: Robert Ray Jones. He died eight years before I was born, just about 30 days or so after D-Day. My mother was 14 years old when her older brother died, and along about 1998 or 1999, the fact that his body was never found began preying on her mind. His name is engraved on a wall in the Brittany American Cemetery in Saint-James, Normandy, France, and there is a marker in the family cemetery in just outside Kenly, NC, but as his body was never found, there is no grave.

Unfortunately, there are only two of my mother’s siblings still alive: her twin brother George, and the baby of the family, my Aunt Lorraine. I love my Aunt Lorraine dearly, and would thus never be so crass as to reveal her age, but suffice it to say, both have a few years in the rearview mirror. And so it is that bits and pieces of the family history are being lost.

According to my mother (and this was late in life, so the recollections may be faulty), the last family member to see Robert alive was my Uncle Roy, who saw him in England just prior to the D-Day invasion. Alas, my Uncle Roy is no longer around to confirm this story. But it may explain why he named his son, my cousin, Robert. According to my Aunt Lorraine, Robert was “blown up” during actions in northern France subsequent to the invasion, and that is why there was no body. Another family tale had it that the family buried a casket in the family cemetery that contained nothing but his dog tags. That story does not ring true for many reasons: would the family really go to that extraordinary expense during a time of fiscal hardship; when did the government start returning dog tags (note the plural) to families; and if Robert truly was “blown up” to the point that no body was available for burial, how did the dog tags survive?

Before going further, I should note what I think I know of dog tags, based on my viewing of many, many World War II television shows during the 1960s. My understanding is that each GI wore two dog tags, giving his name, serial number, date of tetanus toxoid inoculation, blood type, and religion (P for Protestant, C for Catholic, H for Hebrew). There was no + or – for Rhesus blood factor. Up until 1943, the name and address of next of kin was included, but that was later removed from the dog tag, as it could be used to mentally torture any GI who was captured. One dog tag was worn on a chain around the neck, the other on a chain around the neck chain. If a soldier died in battle, the second dog tag was pulled and kept until the death of the soldier could be recorded officially, while the first stayed with the soldier, so that the burial detail could identify the victim that was being buried.

In 1999, I went with my mother, my father, one of my daughters, and about nine or so other relatives and family friends to the Brittany American Cemetery, where we saw Robert’s name engraved on a wall, and generally enjoyed the peacefulness of this wonderful place, filled with close to 5,000 graves, including some 500 or so unknowns. It brought some peace to my mother.

All that is background. Now, on to the story.

I have an Ancestry.com account primarily for Kathy, who enjoys doing a little genealogical work from time to time. I don’t remember my log-in information, so it really is an account for her. In other words, I am not Mr. Genealogy. My sister, though, is Mrs. Genealogy, and she is quite active on Ancestry. Through her activities, we have discovered four cousins we were previously unaware of. I gather she has been building a family tree on Ancestry, or something similar to that, because one day she received a communication through Ancestry, asking about Robert Jones. The gentleman who contacted her lives in Seattle, Washington, and he asked for Robert’s serial number. My Aunt Lorraine has that information, and when my sister transmitted that information to him, he sent her a picture of Robert’s dog tag, pictured above.

Oh, man, do we have questions!

But as of now, we have no definitive answers, so there will, I hope, be a part two to this post. It seems that an elderly French woman had the dog tag in her possession, and our Seattle, Washington contact came to know of it through friends who live in northern France and know the woman. The woman has had it for many years. Did she know my uncle? Where is the other dog tag? Does she know what happened to the body?

For now, this is an unfinished story. I will keep you posted, if any more information comes to light.

Isn’t technology grand?