The real value in my dad’s dog tags now, of course, is in their continued existence. I can hold the gently curved pieces of metal between my hands and remember so well the father I knew for 50 years, knowing that I am holding a key to the 20-year-old man who spent more than a year of his life on Pacific seas, certain that he and his shipmates soon would be participating in the invasion of Japan.

The war ended before that came to pass, but a half-century later we remain absorbed in these larger-than-life events that absorbed the energies, and too often took the lives, of those we love.

There is, of course, important genealogical information on dog tags. The name is very important, because it could be different from the name we knew – my husband, for instance, was known in the service by his middle name because he used his baptism certificate rather than his birth certificate upon joining. The blood type is recorded, as is the service number – an item of data I may use to obtain more records on my dad’s service.

The discharge papers for Gayland Alton Moore Jr., technically NAVPERS-553, “Notice of Separation from the U.S. Naval Service,” tell us more. There are his birthplace and date, his dates of service, and a small box packed with the ratings he earned, from able-bodied seaman to MoMM2/c – motor machinist’s mate, second class.

We knew he had attended diesel school, but it turns out there were two – eight weeks in Richmond, Va., four in Detroit.

He was stationed on the LCI (G) 565. We had talked a lot about the 157-foot landing ship he had watched being built in seven days in The Solomons, Md., in 1944 – the ship that had been on its way to Normandy before being refitted and routed to the Pacific theater.

The titles of my dad’s medals are listed under “Remarks” – Asiatic-Pacific Medal, three stars, one for each battle; Philippine Liberation Medal, two stars; American Area Medal; and the World War II Victory Medal. The last is marked on the back, “Freedom from Fear and Want. Freedom of Speech and Religion.”

His mustering-out pay in December 1945 was $100, and his travel allowance from Boston to Abbot, Maine, was $12.45.

Most of this information I knew, but I had not known that his “main civilian occupation” prior to the U.S. Navy was as a spinner, nor that his employer was Oldtown Woolen Mills in Sangerville. The one-page document also contained possible plans for the future – he hoped to study engineering at the University of Maine.

The multicolored ribbons on the blue uniform he wore each Memorial Day don’t tell me as much as they would his fellow sailors, until I look at the medals that correspond to them. The ships on the face of two of them make clear his branch of service, and their existence make plain to me that his country appreciated what he gave to his country.

I asked my dad to show me his military medals many times. Especially now that he’s gone, I’m glad that I did.

Many ships and other types of military units have associations, newsletters and even Web sites that may link you to information on places and people that were part of your own military service, or that of family members.

My dad was a member of the USS LCI National Association, with membership just $10 a year, sent in care of treasurer Howard Clarkson, 73 Grange Road, Troy, N.Y. 12180. A recent issue of The Elsie Item contained not only excellent stories and pictures, but contact information that will allow me to write one of my dad’s shipmates.

Children of these veterans are welcome to join, as I will do. Take Wes Mossman, for instance. The Texas man was just 4 years old when his dad was killed in the Pacific, but the LCI Association Web site, www.usslci.com, helped him connect with Orono’s John Hoctor, captain of the LCI 365 on which Cliff Mossman served.

The December issue of The Elsie Item, in its listing of LCI personnel who had died recently, used a couple of lines that I think work wonderfully in remembering sailors who have died, whether recently or long ago. I don’t know their origin, but will pass that on when I find out.

“Their eternal voyage is done. They sail now to that eternal port of heavenly rest. Fair winds and following seas, Shipmates! We’ll see you again!”

Send queries to Family Ties, Bangor Daily News, P.O. Box 1329, Bangor, ME 04402; or send e-mail to familyti@bangordailynews.net.