- Contributed by听
- ambervalley
- People in story:听
- Samuel, Edith, Dennis Samuel Jones and Doris Wheatley nee Jones
- Location of story:听
- Caen France and Ironville
- Background to story:听
- Army
- Article ID:听
- A2774342
- Contributed on:听
- 23 June 2004
My brother, Dennis Jones
My brother, Dennis Samuel Jones, worked in the waggon works at the Iron Forge at Ironville, Derbyshire, where most of the other members of our family worked too. Dennis was my parents' youngest child; they also had me, Doris, then my sisters, Beatrice, Alice and Phyllis. As Dennis was the youngest and a boy (after four daughters), he was always made a fuss of by everyone. He was a lovely lad.
Dennis did not have to join up but he wanted to. He was 18 when he joined the Army, and he was in the 2/6th Battalion of the South Staffordshire Regiment. His service number was 14660279.
Leave
He went away to do his training and I remember one time when he returned on leave, he came to the forge to see me and told me all about the thousands of men that had been killed during the war. Little did we know that he would suffer the same cruel fate.
On 6 June 1944 my brother landed in Normandy with the rest of his battalion. One month later - on 8 July - his regiment attacked the town of Caen, hoping to relieve it from the Germans.
Tragically, my brave brother was shot dead. He was in an orchard near to the town. The majority of Caen was finally captured from the Germans on 10 July, two days after his death. Two-hundred and twenty-three men died during those two days of battle.
Terrible news
Back at home in Ironville it was my 33rd birthday on 8 July 1944. My Dad was at work and I was at home with my Mum and my two daughters Jean and Rita. A telegram came for my Mum to say that her son (my brother) Dennis had been killed in action in France. There were no other details. Mum was hysterical and inconsolable; she was threatening to throw herself in the local reservoir as she was so upset.
A father's grief
I had to go down to the Forge, not only to fetch my Dad as only he would know how to deal with Mum, but also to break the news to him that his only son had been killed.
My Dad was also very upset but managed to hold his own and eventually calm my Mum down, but she was never the same again. Details came through much later to let us know the exact circumstances of how he had been killed.
No more birthdays
My birthday was also never the same again. I have never let anyone celebrate it or organise anything special as it will always be a sad day for me. It was the day I lost my brother, Dennis Jones, the hero.
Dennis is buried in the war cemetery at Cambes en Plaine in Calvados France. I always promised myself that I would go and visit him but somehow never made it, and now at 93 years of age I don't suppose I ever will.
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