| Dr Raymond
Jones
Killed
on July, 10th 1916 at the Battle of the Somme
Dr Raymond Jones
with his brother, Major Edgar Jones (seated)
Scroll of Condolence---In Flanders Field by
Dr McCrae Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our places; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce
heard amongst the guns below We are the Dead. Short time ago We lived, felt dawn, saw the sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields Take up our quarrel with the foe; To you from falling hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die
We
shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.’ ------------
Westminster Gazette,
After
Gods By
Patrick MacGill Was
only yesterday Lusty
comrades marched away, Now
they’re covered up with clay. Seven
glasses used to be Called
for six good mates and me Now
we call for three, Little
crosses neat and white, Looking
lovely every night Tell
of the comrades killed in fight Hearty
fellows they have been And
now no more will they be seen Drinking
wine. Lithe
and supple lads were they Marching
merrily away Was it only yesterday?
Carnoy Military Cemetery where Lt. Raymond Jones, RAMC is buried. The cemetery is situated 1½ SE of Mametz Railway Station,
Fragments of letters from Raymond to his brother, Edgar, his nephew, Gareth, and his nieces, Gwyneth and Eirian.
January
30th 1916
March 29th 1916 My Dear Edgar, Your
Affectionate brother Raymond. 10th
South Wales Borderers, 38th Division June 7th 1916 Dear
Edgar,
I must
apologise for not answering your letter but I have written quite a lot to
Gwyneth etc. I am not sure whether
I thanked Gwen for the cake, if not thank her again warmly. We came back to the trenches Monday night after 10 days rest in same
place as before, the company being in a farmhouse. I
had quite a decent rest . Football
matches between battalions etc and our band playing a lot – quite a good band.
Last Sunday morning I went to hear Grand Mass for the fallen soldier of
both nations. Quite impressive!
and about 20 men at different bathhouses. There is not much glory about cleaning. Thomas John Atkins Rhondda Jones is here, but it wants tremendous powers of organising and concentration, as he is very particular that his little singlets and socks should be in a nice condition and aired. I don’t suppose I shall be at it very long. The billet is very snug and I have a lounge chair before a good fire with coal etc and as an old campaigner you will realise that one’s duty (according to the Boy Scouts Manuel) is too look after one’s health and comfort. I have got some fine shell caps, which I shall bring home also some pierces of a shell, which blew over my head in a field and dropped fairly near. I clear forgot to duck my head. They are very interesting to watch if you are out of the line of fire. They generally aim at certain spots and make huge holes in the roads and fields. One man was killed and three wounded in one of our baths but not RAMC men. Dai Jenkins, Barry was the sergeant in charge. He is now back with the field hospital and is getting on very well with his work. I am told you don’t get very nervy with shells until you feel the shock of one. The shock of the biggest is enough to make a man unconscious even if no injury is caused. There is a battery near my billet since a day or two ago so we may expect a lot of shells here as they always aim for the batteries. I went up the trenches with a medical friend 2 weeks ago. I had to walk in the open on a narrow board for about 600 yards to get into the front line. I was awfully afraid of tumbling over into pools and old trenches all around and it was pitch dark. Bullets whizzing round but I was so funky of falling I had no time to think as much about these as I should otherwise have done. You see I haven’t seen much excitement yet but no doubt shall have plenty when the big “strafe" commences. I saw some fine shelling of 4-5 German aeroplanes by our guns the other day but sorry to say not one came down. They must be very hard to hit. Dada will be interested that Rev A Davies has been staying with us here and he is now in hospital but is coming back to stay with me tomorrow. He is a fine chap and we are very friendly. Bryn Lewis is also near here. There was at a very good concert wed. night at Div headquarters; fine singing by one of our battalions. I shall write to Eirian before long. I am sending her a RAMC badge Warmest love to dada, Mama, Dada, Auntie Winnie and Eirian and Baden Powell Yychan (boy). Your affectionate uncle.
The shell fuses Uncle Raymond brought home for his nephew, Gareth January 11th ‘15 Dear Gwyneth and Eirian, The baccy arrived safely. Thanks awfully. We have been away from our quarters a week and the letters were delayed etc. I enjoyed my week up there very much. We had two days in an Advanced Dressing Station, which I described in my last letter. There were RAMC regular officers in the mess who had been through all the war and their yarns about the different big ‘shows’ as they called them were really fascinating. The RAMC officers seem to have a very exciting time in these cases. Of course, now in the trench work it is pretty quiet. Shells at times fall into their stations and messes and they have to vacate them. We are likely to stay in this place for some time. Hope we will be ‘up’ in time for the next big affair - almost certain to be. We have a hospital here for very uninteresting cases ie skin cases. This week I am in the office sitting down by a big fire and trying to look as busy as I can. The work so far has been very light. We have a comfortable mess room, a good new building. Since I’ve returned I sleep between sheets in a big bed. Great! The O.C. and the other chaps are all good fellows and we get on famously. Have not practiced French as much as I should like, but got a bit last week with my landlord who is a musical professor with poor digestion. We are well supplied with reading stuff now and for sometime. I attended lots of wounds last week; some pretty bad and got an insight into the routine of the Field Ambulance work. Four of the men there were mentioned in dispatches and deserved to do so. There was a padre with the A.O. S. whose leg was pulled tremendously. He was a very conscientious chap with little sense of humour. It was hard lines. Spent most of the time looking for someone to console and the beggar would not be consoled. One man would be a nonconformist, another was unconscious, another not quite well enough to take the strain. Anyhow he was a brave chap and went into the trenches every day and made me a present off a pair of pyjamas (consecrated of course). The Roman Catholics seem to be the most useful. Their work is more definite as their sheep have to be consoled whether they like it or not. The mainstay of our chaplains are funerals. There the victim is anon-resister; there seems to be a peculiar code of etiquette with them. The C. of E must never feel the spiritual pulse or look at the spiritual longing of the N.C. or the R.C. nor give him spiritual castor oil or spiritual ipecacuanha. That would be awful! I am curious to know what Harold Watkins will do now. I wonder whether he will be troubled with “cold feet”. Fred Roberts has joined in some class or other (guns). Bob his brother is in the firing line. I wonder what Robert Jones, Penllan has joined. Private Manuel Wragg ‘s military career also should be instructive. And entertaining. Will send you another photo if I can find one. I went to a concert of the Welsh guards on Saturday night. Welsh airs and ‘Hen Wlad Fy Nhadiau’ etc etc. They have done very well I am told. And lost lots of officers and men. We were attached to the Guards Division. Eich lwythr methodistardd a meluwel. Easter Monday 1916 Dear Eirian I was very
glad to get your letter. I am still in an A.D.S. with another chap. This the third one now.
We
left the other place where I slept in a cellar went to another place for a week
and came here yesterday. The reason
the changes being that the division are taking on another part of the line.
It is much nicer than being in the Headquarters of our
Ambulance. The Headman is a terror
for making all manner of new rules and regulations for the young bloods who are
unfortunate enough to be at the H.Q. I
hope I shall be kept here still longer when I shall tell him what a dangerous
place it is. As a result he hardly
ever comes up and only stays 10 minutes or so. The place we were in last week was pretty warm; one shell just skimmed
over our roof and smashed up a big tree and our tennis lawn just behind and as
the place was not sandbagged at all we should probably have sampled the golden
harp (wearing a gas helmet) sooner than convenient. We always carry our gas helmets here and a small knapsack
slung on our shoulders. We have to
visit the regimental aid posts whenever we are in the A.D.S.. The last place is
quiet as regards work but shelled a bit and not very protected. But quite intact
after 18 months as the inference is that it may last another 18 months but some
pieces have been dropping at times. It
is very interesting watching a ‘straff’. Tremendous noise! Shrapnel bursting in the air.
I
watched a machine gun being fired the other day in a straff. Wonderful how rapid 600 a minute is but the machinery seemed complicated.
Haven’t been in the trenches yet. I was going round the other morning with an M.O but he couldn’t come
when I went up. Dada will tell you
where some of the people were last December. I am about ¼ mile from there.
It
is not very safe going about the roads at night as the machine guns are played
on them and the country being so flat they can see us in the day. Ask Dada to write and also the rest of you to write oftener.
Letters are awfully scarce recently and one does enjoy
them. Exert
I was told to make myself and my men comfortable at once. I sent them to billets not far away for which I made a humble request the
following day! I had no building
materials. I sent my men to find some and they brought enough to make a dugout
and then reported that they were to be arrested if they went to the dump again.
That required careful consideration as it was out of my army area. However in about three days material came and in two days more everyman
was under cover in a beautiful dug out. The O.C. came down and saw a street of houses where hither to there had merely been
a track and he complemented me very highly. I threw off my tunic and dug - that impressed the troops.
Being O.C. is not at all bad. I paraded
my detachments one day and told them home truths which had a great effect, best
of all I made a sergeant work and felt pleased with himself for doing so. Enough of this!
Selfpride is
no commendation …You will understand that the time has not been with out its
excitement. Until today – for the
last fortnight I was in charge of a detached section of two pieces, 40 men and
one junior officer. I was visited
by one colonel, one brigadier and major general R.A. and I am pleased to tell
you that I did that which is most important of all in the army – I answered
all the questions addressed to me without hesitation. I camouflaged two places so well that the colonel reported to the G.C.
that they were not there! The G.O.C.
however to whom I showed them was frightfully bucked. The brigadier in one of our discussions said: “Well you are an
authority in these matters.” And I am not!! He was not sarcastic. He was just giving in gracefully on a certain point.
They really were very nice. I
can gather all kinds of property, which does not belong to me. I can build dugouts which delight the soul of an
R.E. You a see I was only sent out to an open field and told to dig a dugout. The TimesFebruary 3rd 1916 On Going into Action
Now
the weak impulse and the blind desire Give
way at last to the all-conquering will Love
now must pause, and fancy cease, until The
soul has won that freedom born of fire Sing,
then, no songs upon the sweet-voiced lyre: But
choose some other instrument, whose shrill Nerve-bracing
notes my doubting heart shall fill With
new courage, that will never tire. Sing
me the dead men's glorious deeds again! Tell
how they suffered, died, but would not fail! Stir
me to action! Let me feel their pain. This
strength, this mystery: - that at the tale I
rise with such clear purpose in my brain That
even Hell’s own gates shall not prevail. H.R.Eveston (Killed in action in France on January 24th 1916 )
Map taken from the book, Somme by Lyn MacDonald Raymond Jones was killed on July 10th 1916 near Mametz Woods.
His Grave
is at Carnoy
Row T..Gr 30
Part of letter about
Uncle Raymond. Dr Raymond Jones,
following his death at the Battle of the Somme July, 10th 1916. From his Batman to my grandfather, Major Edgar Jones.
He is buried in a British cemetery in a little
village behind the line, the name of which you may soon learn. There is one consolation the whole family may derive from his death and
that is he gave his life for others nobly and fearlessly. We all mourn his loss greatly, he was so kind and thoughtful to all of us
especially myself as I had served him as a servant from the time we were in
England. Accept my sympathy in your
great loss.
I am your obedient servant. Jas. R Jones Pte 48819 -----------------------------------------------------------------From
Rev. James Evans, C.F. 129th
F.A. 38th
Division, B.E.F. 11.7.16 Dear
Mr Jones, It is with profound sorrow I write to you this letter.
You will probably have heard from the War office that your
brother, Lt Raymond Jones, R.A.M.C. was killed in action yesterday in the great
battle. He was caught by a machine
gun while dressing the wounded in the thick of it. I cannot express to you the sadness of all of his fellow officers as well
as the men at this loss. ------------------------------------------------------------------
Part is lost
Our Stretcher bearers came into our advanced post
with the news that hundreds of wounded ,serious cases were lying in the wood and
could not be brought in for some time. As
soon as Jones heard this, at about 4.30.A.M., he filled his pockets with
bandages and went to find them. Over
a small ridge and down to the edge of the wood across about 40 yards of open, in
which it seemed impossible for anything to live. He never found his goal, he was killed before he reached the wood. I am going tomorrow by motor car to little wayside cemetery where we buried Jones, to stick up an oak cross, suitably inscribed on his grave: “Lieut.
Raymond Jones, R.A.M.C. Formerly of Cardiff, Practising here."
In Loving Memory Of Lieut. Raymond Jones RAMC 129 Field Killed In Action July 10 1916 RIP August 29th 1916
France
Dear Mrs Jones, I do not think that I ever had the pleasure of meeting you when I lived
at Oswestry in the year 1909, but I knew lots of people there. If you know Dr Beresford or Dr Cartwright they will tell you all about
me, as I was their assistant for along time.
I am writing to you because I was a great friend of your son Raymond. We were in the same Field Ambulance, the 129th and I am in it
still. Raymond and I had many good
days together and everybody liked him. He
was universally popular with officers and men and his death cast a gloom over
the whole medical service of the division. You
know the story, of course, of how he came to be killed. He was told there were a lot of wounded in a particularly dangerous
place, so he set off with bandages and dressings to do what he could to help the
poor wounded men, thus he got hit and I believe died very quickly afterwards. It
is very sad and I cannot tell you how I sympathise with you in your trouble.
There is some consolation, however, to think of the glorious
Death, which he died. Could here be
a fine example of self-sacrifice? A
soldier goes forwards to kill or be killed – the doctor usually stays behind
to dress the wounded who are brought back to him, but Raymond deliberately went
forward to face death – that perchance he might be able to save a life – or
to ease some tortured soldiers’ suffering. I
saw him after he was killed and his face was quite peaceful and calm, as though
he knew he had done his duty and was content to pay the terrible price. I saw afterwards the cross which was the most beautiful cross
I have ever seen out here – I have seen many alas! How many! Everyone
that could get to his funeral went to it. I
regret that I could not go owing to most urgent work and everyone misses him,
but no one misses him more than I do – for I have lost a kind friend who was
indeed on of the heroes of England. D.A.Taylor.
Lieut. R.A,M.C.
Cutting from local newspaper
An Englyn by R. William Parry in ‘Yr Haf a Cherddi Eraill’ In
Memoriam to a doctor, ‘Meddyg’ – Dr Raymond Jones, Llanrhaeadr yn Mochnant, Gwendid
mewn gofid gafodd ei ofal, A’I
Lafur tra galodd: Yntau
ei hun a hunodd Yn
yr man a’r modd. Roughly translated as
‘He
cared for the weak and troubled as
long as he was able: He
himself died in the same place And in the same manner.’
--------------------------------------------------------Raymond's Grave at Carnoy The inscription reads as follows Lieutenant R.J. Jones Royal Army Medical Corps 10th July 1916
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