Birth year on both stones is incorrect. Parish Registries of Leigh and Deerhurst, Gloucester, England show he was born at Hucclescote, Gloucestershire, England 26 December 1807 and christened 21 Feb 1808 at the Parish Church of Churchdown.

Robert was a son of Robert Sr. Harris and Sarah Oakey. He married Hannah Maria Eagles, daughter of Ann Sparkes and Thomas Eagles on 18 Mar 1835, by their Methodist minister. Because English law decreed marriage was legal only if performed in the Church of England, they were remarried 28 September 1835. After posting banns in the church for four Sundays, they were married again, by the Reverend John Bishop at Saint Mary De Lode, Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England. His sister Elizabeth and her husband, Daniel Browett, were their witnesses.

Robert raised beef cattle and was a butcher by trade, as was his father and grandfather. He was an accomplished boxer, fighting at fairs and prize fights in England.

Robert and his family were converted to the LDS faith by Apostle Wilford Woodruff and baptized 11 June 1848 by Elder Thomas Kington. On 16 Feb 1841, they sailed from Liverpool aboard the "Echo". Traveling with him were his wife, Hannah Maria (8 months pregnant), children; Joseph Robert 5, Elizabeth 3, William "C" 14 mos, along with Robert's youngest sister Diana and her husband, Thomas Bloxham, their sister Elizabeth, her husband, Daniel Browett, and Daniel's younger Sister, Martha Rebecca.

A month out to sea his fourth child, Thomas Eagles Harris, was born on the Atlantic Ocean. They arrived at the Port of New Orleans (USA) 16 April 1841. Thomas is the paternal great grandfather of this contributor.

The family settled at Nauvoo, Hancock, Illinois, where son Enoch was born 1843, & daughter Sarah Ann, 1845. Robert volunteered to serve in the U.S. Army, Mormon Battalion in the War with Mexico, July 1846.

By 1847 his wife & children were in Winter Quarters, Douglas, Nebraska, where Robert III was born and died before Robert returned from the march to California in early 1848. His sister, Diana H. Bloxham and his sister Elizabeth's son, Moroni Browett, also died before he was able to return for them.

His brother-in-law, Daniel Browett, had remained in California to lead the Sutter's Fort Battalion members over the pass near Donner Summitt. They were ambushed and he was killed, along with two fellow trail scouts, by Indians.

At Council Point, Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie, Iowa, Robert's 8th child, Daniel Browett Harris, was born Oct. 1848. He was named to honor their beloved uncle, slain at Tragedy Spring, California.

After reaching the Great Salt Lake Valley, they settled at Kaysville, Davis County, Utah, where the following children were born: Maria 1851, Lucy Emma 1852, Janetta (twin) 1854, Henrietta (twin) 1854, Robert Charles 1856, Julia Ann 1858, Mary Ellen 1860.

Robert was an officer in the Utah Militia, serving in Echo Canyon. He served a mission to Muddy River Arizona for the LDS Church.

He moved his family to a farm at Muddy Creek, near Malad River, Idaho in 1869. After falling from a load of corn (about 1874) and suffering a concussion, he stated to his children, "This fall will cause my death". After failing to fully recover, they moved back to Kaysville near Holmes Creek. Robert then donated much time to the building of the Salt Lake Temple and died at his home 29 Feb 1876. LDS President, Wilford Woodruff, preached his funeral sermon.

He was buried alongside his wife, Hannah Maria, and his sister, Elizabeth, at Kaysville City Cemetery, Utah.

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The following is a tribute from his 4th great granddaughter:

It has been said that you don't know another man's trials until you've walked in his footsteps. I know that American Veterans who have defended our country by serving in our armed forces are unique in their bravery.

The history of this brave service is interesting to me because I wonder what it takes to be a "hero". Some people say a hero isn't afraid of anything. I think a hero is someone who does what's right, even if they are afraid. Those who've put their lives on the line to protect others are too sensitive and intelligent to have not felt the sting of fear.

My great grandfather served in the United States Navy during World War II. It was an awful time; when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, it was a savage attack; many naval men were killed. My grandmother said her father never talked about the fear, just the destruction of so many lives. When she asked him why he'd joined the navy during such a dangerous time, he would laugh it off saying, "Well, it was that or the air force, so I knew I could swim, and I sure as heck couldn't fly, so I decided to take my chances on a ship instead of a plane!"

My great uncle served in the air corps as a medic during the Korean War. He came home with post traumatic syndrome (shell shock) and even now, after nearly sixty years, he still suffers from it's effects. He doesn't talk about it but, I remember the family saying how it affected his nerves. He, many times, had to drag wounded men onto hovering helicopters while the enemy would fire at them, often shooting legs off a struggling comrade.

Once they were in the helicopter, it was Uncle Kim's job to save them long enough to get them to mobile medical units for emergency surgery. He still has nightmares about the brutality of the enemy, who routinely disregarded "rules of war".

I have read accounts of earlier wars, having had ancestors who served in the Revolutionary War, War of 1812, the Civil War and the War with Mexico. It makes me feel more patriotic to know that my family members have thus served our country and I think it is important to honor them and not forget their sacrifices.

My family celebrates Memorial Day by decorating graves. Several times we've been involved in planning programs at the local cemetery honoring our veterans. We also participate in placing over 300 flags on veteran's graves.

Two years ago, we decided to go on a pioneer trek; the trail we took in Wyoming was part of a route the Mormon Battalion soldiers took in coming west to protect the United States in the War with Mexico.

My great great grandfather was one of those soldiers; as I walked that dreary desert, I knew I was walking in the footsteps of a hero. We should all cherish their memories, letting them never be forgotten!