Dog tags find way to family

By Howard Wilkinson

Cincinnati Enquirer

CiNCINNATI

Last weekend in a restaurant in a tiny southeastern Texas village, a stranger handed Fran Uecker of Landen the most precious gift she has ever received.

It was just a tiny, rectangular piece of aluminum — a military dog tag — stamped with some lettering: Vordenberg, Wesley P./Tetanus shot 1942.

It was the dog tag that had belonged to her father, a World War II veteran of the Army Air Force who passed away in 1992 after a long career as a professor of education at Xavier University.

And the story of how it came into her possession, Uecker said, “is nothing short of a miracle.”

It began about 10 years ago, in the village of Blessing, Texas, where Jack Hodge, a Vietnam veteran, was working in his garden and saw a shiny object wedged in the ground under a tree.

Hodge dug it up and knew at once what it was, having worn dog tags during his own Army days.

He knew that many soldiers and airmen had trained in nearby Victoria, Texas, during World War II and wondered if the man who had worn the dog tag was still living.

Years later, Hodge told his friend Tom Cleere about his discovery; and Cleere, about five years ago, told the story to his niece, Gail Cleere, a federal-government employee in Washington, D.C., who wanted to help solve the mystery.

She contacted a military historian, who could tell her only that Vordenberg was from Maineville, Ohio, was a Protestant, and had had a tetanus shot in 1942.

Cleere began calling all the Vordenbergs she could find in Ohio and surrounding states, coming up empty.

Then, she made a phone call to the Warren County Historical Society to check burial records, and someone there recalled that there had been a Vordenberg at Xavier.

She called Xavier, and the university put her in touch with Joe Wessling, a retired professor who had been a close friend of Vordenberg’s and had written an obituary for him when he died.

“Of course, I knew of Wes’ military service and knew it had to be him, so I put Gail in touch with Fran,” Wessling said.

Cleere and Uecker had an emotional phone conversation and began making plans for a reunion in Texas, where Hodge would turn over the dog tag that had been half-buried in his garden for decades.

That reunion took place June 6 in the Outrigger Restaurant in Palacios, Texas, where Cleere told the story of the search for Wesley Vordenberg.

“When Jack presented me with the dog tag, I felt Daddy there next to me and broke into tears,” Uecker said. “I now have something that my father wore close to his heart, and I can’t tell you how emotional I have been ever since.”

The amazing part, Uecker said, was that the dog tag, after nearly 70 years, is in near-pristine condition.

The only question now is how it ended up in Hodge’s garden. Uecker has her own theory on that — one that draws on how well she knew her father and her late mother, Lola, who were a young married couple living near the Army Air Force base in Victoria in 1942.

Vordenberg rose to the rank of captain in the Army Air Force and served in the Pacific Theater, training reconnaissance pilots on how to spot enemy ships and aircraft.

The base in Victoria was a major training facility for the Army Air Force during World War II and the young, just-married airman was one of thousands who passed through Texas on their way to the war zone.

Uecker — who was born three years after the war ended — has no way of knowing, but her idea is this: Her parents loved music, loved the theater, loved entertainment.

She can see them, in 1942, taking the short trip from Victoria to Palacios to the Luther Hotel, where there was a pavilion that was the site of many a USO show to entertain the troops — performers like Rita Hayworth, the Tommy Dorsey Band and many others played there.

“I can see them stopping on the way in Blessing to have a picnic lunch — mom was always fixing picnic baskets — and sitting under an oak tree and enjoying the day,” Uecker said.

“And Daddy dropped his dog tag,” she said. “I don’t know, but that’s the way I picture it in my mind.”

Now, she considers Hodge, Gail and Tom Cleere and their families to be friends for life.

“We have formed a bond that will last through time,” Uecker said. “And I will carry this piece of my father’s life with me forever.”