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IN SEARCH OF A
NAME
01:00 AM EDT on Sunday, September 18, 2005
BY
RICHARD SALIT Journal Staff Writer
NEWPORT -- It's a simple
gravesite -- tucked in the rear of a small cemetery, sandwiched between two
other plots, pressed hard against a metal fence and obscured by drooping tree
branches. And it's marked only with a small plain stone.
"UNKNOWN US
NAVY," it reads. "WORLD WAR II AUG 1943."
Now, 62 years after a
sailor's badly decomposed body was fished out of Narragansett Bay and buried
here, the mystery may soon be solved.
It's a story about a deadly boat
accident that few locals remember, a veteran on a personal mission to identify
and honor unknown service members, and the grief that grips families whose
loved ones never come home from war -- dead or alive.
But mostly it's a
story about three sailors -- Seaman 1st Class Raymond Johnson, of Fort Wayne,
Ind., Seaman 1st Class Cecil C. Joyner, of Jacksonville, Fla., and Seaman 2nd
Class Jack M. Shaul, of New Lisbon, Ind.
One of them is buried in
Newport. But that may soon change.
AS THEY BOARDED a Navy whaleboat
after a night out on the town in Newport in December 1942, the 17 sailors knew
a world war awaited them. But they had no idea a fierce squall off Block Island
was bearing down on their 26-foot vessel.
They were returning to the
384-foot destroyer Gherardi, moored at a Navy pier at Coddington Cove, in
Middletown. The ship had been commissioned only 75 days before, and its crew
was green. They had come for training at the naval base's Torpedo Station
Annex.
It should have taken just 30 minutes for the whaleboat to motor
from Newport Harbor to the destroyer. But along the way, the winds began
gusting to nearly 40 mph. The seas quickly turned menacing, repeatedly washing
over the rails. Then a large wave filled the boat and stalled the engine. The
next capsized it, tossing the crew into the icy waters of Narragansett Bay.
Only two sailors survived, desperately holding onto the boat until it
washed ashore in Jamestown. Some bodies were found the next day and more were
recovered in the following months. All were identified. That left three missing
-- Johnson, Joyner and Shaul.
In August 1943, eight months after the
accident, fishermen found another body floating in the Bay. It was missing a
head and arms and was badly decomposed. Authorities could not identify it. They
did, however, conclude that it was an enlisted sailor because of the Navy
trousers found on the remains and that he was probably from the crew of the
Gherardi because of the whaleboat accident.
With no name and no home,
the body was buried in Island Cemetery Annex.
Meanwhile, the families
of Johnson, Joyner and Shaul received telegrams from the Navy informing them
their loved ones were presumed to have drowned in Rhode Island when their boat
capsized.
IN 1995, a job brought Ted Darcy to Island Cemetery. He was
working for WFI Research Group, of Fall River, and had been hired to learn more
about foreign aviators killed in accidents in the United States. While walking
down a row of tombstones in Lot 172-173, he came across grave 21. It was
unmarked.
"I'm wondering why the hell is there this space in the middle
of the row," he recalls. "When I finished, I went back to the office. A woman
said that's the unknown sailor."
A retired Marine who served in
Vietnam, Darcy remembers thinking, "Oh no, he's got to have a marker. I thought
that's as far as it would go."
But even after he got a local veterans
group to install a stone marker, he couldn't let it go. He pored over newspaper
archives until he came across articles about the Gherardi accident and the
bodies that were found months later. He figured his unknown sailor was one of
the three men whose bodies were unaccounted for.
In 1943, the Navy had
no way of identifying the body. But in 1995, Darcy knew there was a way. The
military was using DNA testing to identify unknown service members who had been
killed, even those who had died many years earlier. It would mean locating the
families of Johnson, Joyner and Shaul and then persuading the Navy to disinter
the remains.
Darcy had experience tracking down families like these.
But he didn't know what he was getting into this time. No matter how hard he
tried, he couldn't seem to find Joyner's family. And without blood relatives of
all three of the missing sailors, the Navy wouldn't disinter the remains and
conduct DNA testing, he said.
"I dialed every Joyner in Jacksonville,"
he said. "Nobody knew him. Nobody heard about him. Of course, his wife had
remarried and her name had changed. . . . It's the hardest one I've ever done."
It would be eight years before he would get the break he
needed.
MACK VAN OSDELL JR. remembers how his mother used to look at
every sailor she saw in their hometown of Jacksonville. Could it be Cecil? Her
only brother had supposedly drowned in Rhode Island, but how could anyone be
sure?
"She never really believed he had died because the body was never
found," Van Osdell said.
Van Osdell was only 5 when his 22-year-old
uncle left behind a widow.
"I think they were only married three
months. They were high school sweethearts," he said.
Van Osdell
traveled around the world during a 23-year career in the Air Force and then
worked for a petroleum company. It wasn't until after he fully retired that he
turned his attention to his uncle. By that time, Van Osdell's mother was
Joyner's sole surviving sibling. Joyner's widow had remarried and is still
alive in Florida.
"It was something I always wondered about," said Van
Osdell. "No one in the family had looked into it."
The family did know
that Joyner had been aboard the Gherardi. With that bit of information, Van
Osdell and his wife, Sally, began searching the Internet this summer. They
learned about a veterans group called the USS Gherardi Association, which
coincidentally was having its annual reunion in Jacksonville this year. They
sent an e-mail to its president, Eugene F. Phillips, of Vernon, Conn., asking
for information about Joyner. They were amazed at the information Phillips
quickly uncovered.
A man named Ted Darcy had been looking for someone
from Joyner's family for a long time, he told them.
ON A RECENT summer
day, Mack Van Osdell stood next to the grave of the "Unknown Sailor." He pushed
aside branches to get a good look at the stone.
"Sixty-three years and
it's finally coming to light," he said. "It's mind-boggling." Van Osdell and
his wife already had plans to visit the Northeast when they learned his uncle
might be buried in Newport. At the cemetery, they met Darcy and Phillips for
the first time. Phillips took a log book out of his trunk and looked up
Joyner.
"He joined the ship on 10 October, 1942, in Norfolk, Virginia,"
he told the Van Osdells.
There's a good chance Johnson, Joyner and
Shaul would have survived the war, Phillips said. The Gherardi went on to take
part in the Normandy invasion and never lost a crew member in combat, he said.
If one of the three missing Gherardi crew members is buried here,
there's some indication it's Joyner. The sailor whose remains were found was
estimated to be 5 feet 10 to 5 feet 11. Joyner was 5 feet 9.
"He was
the tallest of the three," said Darcy, who then added that it could just as
well be Johnson or Shaul. "That's as far as you can take it without DNA
testing."
Van Osdell, who has agreed to give blood for the test, said
he and his mother would be pleased with any outcome.
"Even if it's not
my uncle, one of the other families will have closure," he said.
After
getting in touch with the Van Osdells, Darcy tracked down the relatives
quickly. He called people in Shaul's hometown and learned his sister had
married and moved to Bloomfield, Colo. For Raymond Johnson, an article
published in a newspaper led Darcy to a tip that Johnson's brother, Jessie, was
in Needles, Calif.
RAYMOND JOHNSON knew how to take care of himself. He
could also take care of his little brother.
"He never let anyone bother
me," said Jesse Johnson, the youngest of nine children. "He wasn't very big,
but he was tough." They grew up poor and times got harder when their father
died young, in 1936. Raymond left home to work on his own and enlisted in the
Navy in 1941. A year later, the family would learn of his death. Jesse was
13.
"We were told he was lost in a boat accident. That's all we was
told," he said. "I was in the service myself from '45 to '50. I know what the
service is, and I know these things happen. I'm not callous."
His
mother took the news hard.
"I came home from school and she was really
broken up," he said. "I remember that very well. . . . I'm the only one left
and I'm 76 years old."
Jesse was happy to provide a blood sample to
help identify the remains. But it's for the other families and the Gherardi
Association, not so much for himself, he said. From what he's heard, it's
probably not his brother. Even if it is, he's not very emotional about
it.
"I don't have any feelings about where he should go," he said. "I'm
going to be cremated when I'm dead. When you're gone, you're gone. That's it."
WHEN JANE RYAN picked up the phone recently, it was a stranger bearing
strange news.
"He just called out of the blue one day and said, 'We
think we have found your brother,' " she said, recalling the conversation with
Ted Darcy.
For an instant, the unimaginable came to mind. Jack's alive,
she thought. Then she came to her senses. Darcy was talking about buried
remains that might or might not be her brother's.
The Shaul family lost
Jack when he was 19. Jane was just 11 at the time. Her brother had dropped out
of school and enlisted in 1942.
"Everyone in the family was very
involved with the war," Ryan recalls. "My oldest brother joined the Air Force
and my second oldest joined the Marines. And Jack went into the Navy."
By the end of the year, her parents would receive the tragic news about
Jack. They already had experienced the grief of losing a child.
"We had
lost my brother, who would have been two years younger, maybe three years
younger than Jack," she said. "He had been run over by a car when he was eight
years old. He had died in my father's arms."
After the news arrived
about Jack, she said, "our lives were never the same." Her parents moved from
Indiana to a town in Florida that had a naval base. "That was really bad
because there were sailors everywhere. My parents were always looking into
everyone's faces and thinking maybe it was Jack and he had amnesia."
Even though she's 74 now, has long since moved far from home and is the
only surviving sibling of six children, Ryan definitely wants her brother sent
home.
"If it's his body, it would be such closure," she said. "I could
get his body and take it back to that little town. They have a beautiful little
cemetery there where my parents are buried."
THE NAVY has sent kits to
each of the families and each has given blood samples and returned
them.
"We're not at the end of the story. We're at the beginning," said
Ken Terry, head of the POW/MIA branch of the Navy's casualty-assistance
division. "Navy Mortuary has to go through all of the red tape for getting the
remains disinterred."
That process could take up to a year. But once
DNA is extracted from the skeletal remains, the laboratory analysis shouldn't
take too long. Terry said the case was unique because most DNA testing is
undertaken for service members killed in combat.
"It's an interesting
case, to say the least," he said.
Darcy expects the disinterment will
happen much sooner than a year and that one of the families -- Johnson, Joyner
or Shaul -- will finally have an answer to a stubborn mystery.
Richard
Salit can be reached at (401) 277-7467 or by e-mail at
rsalit@projo.com.
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