1LT Jerry Tyrus Lee, Vietnam Veteran, Native of Rocky Mount, NC.
First Lieutenant Jerry Tyrus Lee was a casualty of the Vietnam War. As a member of the Army Reserve, 1LT Lee served our country until May 13th, 1969 in Thua Thien, South Vietnam. He was 25 years old and was not married. It was reported that Jerry died when his helicopter crashed. His body was recovered. Jerry was born on August 1st, 1943 at Rex Hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina. 1LT Lee is on panel 25W, line 095 of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. He served our country for one year.
I only knew Jerry for a year in high school. He had a great sense of humor, very intellight (Davidson scholarship), played the string bass jazz style, lived in Ahoskie before Rocky Mount. "Tell us about Ahoskie, Lee." It's been almost 32 years. I wonder what you might have been and done. Bruce.
In the fall of 1959, my 16-year old brother Garry brought home a new friend - a classic "tall, blonde, and handsome" young man, with an infectious grin and an engaging friendliness, named Jerry. I never suspected, by his manner, that his father was vice-president of the largest bank in Rocky Mount, our home town. It would not be an understatement to say that I fell in love with him at first sight; even though I was only twelve years old at the time, I knew, without doubt, that this was who I wanted to spend my life with. He was funny, not just bright but clever, sensitive, thoughtful, all the things that women have always looked for in a man. But he was much more than these things; there was an animation in Jerry that made any room he entered seem like a special place to be. When he smiled, you could see everything about him that mattered; there wasn't one phony, calculating bone in his body. The essential goodness and sweetness of his character, and his integrity, were clear in his eyes. He put his entire focus and energy into the person or event that had his attention; I wanted to be that person, and had not the slightest doubt that fate would make it so someday.
That conviction never wavered throughout the next few years, as he and Garry became best friends, formed a band, practiced self-taught karate in our backyard, and destroyed a few rose bushes throwing a "discus" which looked strangely like a 10-pound barbell weight. They invented stupid contests whose rules changed as they went along, depending on who was winning, engaged in endless philosophical and existential discussions, and did all the things that teenage boys do to amuse themselves. I was constantly hanging around, an admiring audience, but Jerry always had time for the annoying little sister during the years while I was waiting to grow up enough to close the gap in our ages. We came close to that time when I was 16 and he was 20, flirted with each other, even went on a date to the bowling alley, (I made an impossible spare because he said he would hug me if I did, a miracle, because I'm a terrible bowler.) But he was a "college man," and I was still a little too young. I did receive three letters from him that I kept under my pillow and reread every night before bed. Meanwhile, we were having lengthy, intense, but frustratingly platonic long-distance conversations. On one memorable occasion, he took me out rowing, during a family vacation at our cottage on the Pamlico River. Almost shyly, he said that a girl had told him once that he would be easy to love. I was young, even more shy, and didn't tell him that I had already loved him for years.
When they were both home on weekends and Jerry came over to see my brother, he gradually began dividing his time between us. Garry, understandably, wasn't too happy about this change in the relationship between his best friend and his "little" (17 by now) sister. He made his feelings known, and Jerry respected them. I continued to bide my time, with an almost superstitious belief that he had to make the first move, even though we saw less and less of each other as time passed. I was certain that he would really see me someday, the day I had imagined for so many years. When he became engaged, I almost wrote to tell him how I felt, but this was 1965, and nice young women didn't do those sorts of things. So, eventually we both married other people and life went on. In February of 1969, Jerry called me. His marriage had broken up, and he was back in Rocky Mount to see his family and friends before leaving for Vietnam. Although we hadn't seen each other for a couple of years, I fell into one or both of those categories, and he came over to say good-bye to me. Jerry had to go through a lot of red tape, special exemptions, and medical examinations, to enlist in the Army; he had a heart condition called tachycardia which would otherwise have kept him out. This was during a time when draft-eligible young men were demonstrating, burning their draft cards, and going to Canada to avoid the war; anti-war songs and protests were the order of the day. When I questioned his decision, worried about him, he recited lyrics from "The Impossible Dream," and said he felt strongly about going to fight for his country, no matter what sacrifice was required of him. He said, in fact, that he intended to stay for more than one tour of duty; that was the way he did things, with his whole heart. He wanted his father to be proud of him.
We spent several hours, reminiscing about "the old days." He insisted on going to a local record store, buying me a copy of a Glen Campbell album, then listening together to the song "Gentle on My Mind." It was a message to me, graceful and tender. I told him I'd kept his letters under my pillow, but not why. He said he was glad that I might be pregnant with my first child (something I had not told anyone else), because he wanted the people he cared about to be well and happy. As he backed out of the driveway that day, as I stood in the yard with tears in my eyes, he stopped, rolling down the window, and sang along with Kenny Rogers on the radio, "But you know I love you, I love you, I love you." I had waited nine years to hear him say those words. He smiled at me, that smile that lit up his whole face, continued backing out, and drove away. Three months later, he was dead. The Medevac helicopter he was piloting had been shot down while airlifting a wounded soldier. We learned later that he didn't try to take any sort of evasive action, because that would have jeopardized the man he was trying to rescue. That is the sort of man Jerry Tyrus Lee was, kind, compassionate, believing that doing the right thing was more important than doing the easy or self-serving thing. He had planned to become a doctor after the war. I named my second child after the man who will always be young, smiling, full of life in my mind. I still dream sometimes that I find him again, that it was all a mistake. In my dreams, we are both waiting for the time to be right, knowing that we are meant to be together forever. Sometimes, waking up with tears on my face, I believe that we still are. When he died, he had a picture of me in his wallet. Ross Garris Raphael, P.h.D, 46 Diana Del Silva Court, Chapel Hill, NC 27516, [email protected].
During the Tet Offensive of 1968 the NVA had staged an entire NVA division and other VC forces through the A Shau Valley for its massive attacks on Hue and Da Nang. Although Tet '68 turned out to be a military disaster (but a political victory) for the NVA and VC, by early 1969 it was becoming apparent that A Shau Valley was once again an area of high NVA activity, logistically and strategically, and an important terminus for the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In May of 1969 the American command planned to clear out the A Shau Valley using ten battalions of infantry, including the 9th Marine Regiment, the 3d ARVN Regiment, the 3/5th Cavalry, and three air assault battalions: 1/506th, 2/501st, and 3/187th. The overall plan of attack called for the Marines and the 3/5th Cavalry to combat-assault into the valley and move toward the Laotian border while the ARVN units cut the highway through the base of the valley. The 2/501st and the 1/506th were to destroy the enemy in their own operating areas and block escape routes into Laos. The "Rakkasans" of the 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry, drew what turned out to be the toughest part of the operation: Clear and occupy Dong Ap Bia, a mountain that rose to 970 meters at its highest point with ridgelines at 800, 900, 916, and 937 meters high. The terrain in the area favored the defenders. The mountains they were to defend and their ridges were along the Trung Pham River on the Laotian border. The area was covered with a tropical, double- and triple-canopied jungle. The land beneath the trees was a tangled mass of saw-toothed elephant grass, thick stands of bamboo, and other foliage that inhibited foot movement, even without an enemy presence. The hills gave way to ridgelines, cut with deep ravines, saddles, draws, and smaller hills. It was an area long occupied by the NVA and fortified with bunkers, spider holes, deep tunnels, trenches, and underground shelters for aid stations, command posts, and storage depots. And this time the NVA intended to stay their ground.
Operations began on 10 May 1969 when the lead companies of 1/506th and 3/187th Infantry were inserted by air and began movements toward their assigned objectives. Although the initial landings were not opposed, by mid-afternoon Bravo 3/187 was in contact. 3/187 went into a night defensive position at dusk on 10 May and continued movement toward Dong Ap Bia's peaks at daybreak on 11 May. Contact increased during the day, and captured documents indicated 29th NVA Regiment, with a strength of between twelve and eighteen hundred men, was defending the hill complex. 12 May was a battle of inches, with 3/187's rifle companies assaulting up-hill against a well-entrenched enemy force. D Company, 3/187, was tasked with clearing a ravine and then assaulting up-hill along the ravine's sides. While some progress was made, nightfall found 3/187 still on the hillsides with more work to be done on the 12th. At daybreak, D/3/187 continued movement up the ravine, encountering increasingly heavy enemy fire: "Delta Company, with platoons on both banks of the ravine, returned the fire with every available weapon and called for gunships. They also called for a MedEvac helicopter, which arrived on the scene at 1510 hours. As the Rakkasans were hoisting the wounded into the hovering helicopter, an RPG slammed into it. It slammed to the ground. The helicopter, UH-1H tail number 67-17844, was from the 326th Medical Battalion. Only the pilot survived; the other three crewmen did not: 1LT Jerry T. Lee, Rocky Mount, NC, copilot, was one of them.
He was the Son of Mr and Mrs Joel T Lee, 625 Gleen Avenue, Rocky Mount, NC.
He served with Headquarters and Service Company, 326th Medical Battalion, 101st Airborne Division, "Screaming Eagles", USARV.
He was awarded The Silver Star Medal for Gallantry, The Bronze Star for Meritorious Service, The Purple Heart Medal for his combat related wounds, the Vietnam Service Medal, The Republic of Vietnam Campaign Service Medal, The National Defense Service Medal and The Air Medal with Two Oak Leaf Clusters.
First Lieutenant Jerry Tyrus Lee was a casualty of the Vietnam War. As a member of the Army Reserve, 1LT Lee served our country until May 13th, 1969 in Thua Thien, South Vietnam. He was 25 years old and was not married. It was reported that Jerry died when his helicopter crashed. His body was recovered. Jerry was born on August 1st, 1943 at Rex Hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina. 1LT Lee is on panel 25W, line 095 of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. He served our country for one year.
I only knew Jerry for a year in high school. He had a great sense of humor, very intellight (Davidson scholarship), played the string bass jazz style, lived in Ahoskie before Rocky Mount. "Tell us about Ahoskie, Lee." It's been almost 32 years. I wonder what you might have been and done. Bruce.
In the fall of 1959, my 16-year old brother Garry brought home a new friend - a classic "tall, blonde, and handsome" young man, with an infectious grin and an engaging friendliness, named Jerry. I never suspected, by his manner, that his father was vice-president of the largest bank in Rocky Mount, our home town. It would not be an understatement to say that I fell in love with him at first sight; even though I was only twelve years old at the time, I knew, without doubt, that this was who I wanted to spend my life with. He was funny, not just bright but clever, sensitive, thoughtful, all the things that women have always looked for in a man. But he was much more than these things; there was an animation in Jerry that made any room he entered seem like a special place to be. When he smiled, you could see everything about him that mattered; there wasn't one phony, calculating bone in his body. The essential goodness and sweetness of his character, and his integrity, were clear in his eyes. He put his entire focus and energy into the person or event that had his attention; I wanted to be that person, and had not the slightest doubt that fate would make it so someday.
That conviction never wavered throughout the next few years, as he and Garry became best friends, formed a band, practiced self-taught karate in our backyard, and destroyed a few rose bushes throwing a "discus" which looked strangely like a 10-pound barbell weight. They invented stupid contests whose rules changed as they went along, depending on who was winning, engaged in endless philosophical and existential discussions, and did all the things that teenage boys do to amuse themselves. I was constantly hanging around, an admiring audience, but Jerry always had time for the annoying little sister during the years while I was waiting to grow up enough to close the gap in our ages. We came close to that time when I was 16 and he was 20, flirted with each other, even went on a date to the bowling alley, (I made an impossible spare because he said he would hug me if I did, a miracle, because I'm a terrible bowler.) But he was a "college man," and I was still a little too young. I did receive three letters from him that I kept under my pillow and reread every night before bed. Meanwhile, we were having lengthy, intense, but frustratingly platonic long-distance conversations. On one memorable occasion, he took me out rowing, during a family vacation at our cottage on the Pamlico River. Almost shyly, he said that a girl had told him once that he would be easy to love. I was young, even more shy, and didn't tell him that I had already loved him for years.
When they were both home on weekends and Jerry came over to see my brother, he gradually began dividing his time between us. Garry, understandably, wasn't too happy about this change in the relationship between his best friend and his "little" (17 by now) sister. He made his feelings known, and Jerry respected them. I continued to bide my time, with an almost superstitious belief that he had to make the first move, even though we saw less and less of each other as time passed. I was certain that he would really see me someday, the day I had imagined for so many years. When he became engaged, I almost wrote to tell him how I felt, but this was 1965, and nice young women didn't do those sorts of things. So, eventually we both married other people and life went on. In February of 1969, Jerry called me. His marriage had broken up, and he was back in Rocky Mount to see his family and friends before leaving for Vietnam. Although we hadn't seen each other for a couple of years, I fell into one or both of those categories, and he came over to say good-bye to me. Jerry had to go through a lot of red tape, special exemptions, and medical examinations, to enlist in the Army; he had a heart condition called tachycardia which would otherwise have kept him out. This was during a time when draft-eligible young men were demonstrating, burning their draft cards, and going to Canada to avoid the war; anti-war songs and protests were the order of the day. When I questioned his decision, worried about him, he recited lyrics from "The Impossible Dream," and said he felt strongly about going to fight for his country, no matter what sacrifice was required of him. He said, in fact, that he intended to stay for more than one tour of duty; that was the way he did things, with his whole heart. He wanted his father to be proud of him.
We spent several hours, reminiscing about "the old days." He insisted on going to a local record store, buying me a copy of a Glen Campbell album, then listening together to the song "Gentle on My Mind." It was a message to me, graceful and tender. I told him I'd kept his letters under my pillow, but not why. He said he was glad that I might be pregnant with my first child (something I had not told anyone else), because he wanted the people he cared about to be well and happy. As he backed out of the driveway that day, as I stood in the yard with tears in my eyes, he stopped, rolling down the window, and sang along with Kenny Rogers on the radio, "But you know I love you, I love you, I love you." I had waited nine years to hear him say those words. He smiled at me, that smile that lit up his whole face, continued backing out, and drove away. Three months later, he was dead. The Medevac helicopter he was piloting had been shot down while airlifting a wounded soldier. We learned later that he didn't try to take any sort of evasive action, because that would have jeopardized the man he was trying to rescue. That is the sort of man Jerry Tyrus Lee was, kind, compassionate, believing that doing the right thing was more important than doing the easy or self-serving thing. He had planned to become a doctor after the war. I named my second child after the man who will always be young, smiling, full of life in my mind. I still dream sometimes that I find him again, that it was all a mistake. In my dreams, we are both waiting for the time to be right, knowing that we are meant to be together forever. Sometimes, waking up with tears on my face, I believe that we still are. When he died, he had a picture of me in his wallet. Ross Garris Raphael, P.h.D, 46 Diana Del Silva Court, Chapel Hill, NC 27516, [email protected].
During the Tet Offensive of 1968 the NVA had staged an entire NVA division and other VC forces through the A Shau Valley for its massive attacks on Hue and Da Nang. Although Tet '68 turned out to be a military disaster (but a political victory) for the NVA and VC, by early 1969 it was becoming apparent that A Shau Valley was once again an area of high NVA activity, logistically and strategically, and an important terminus for the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In May of 1969 the American command planned to clear out the A Shau Valley using ten battalions of infantry, including the 9th Marine Regiment, the 3d ARVN Regiment, the 3/5th Cavalry, and three air assault battalions: 1/506th, 2/501st, and 3/187th. The overall plan of attack called for the Marines and the 3/5th Cavalry to combat-assault into the valley and move toward the Laotian border while the ARVN units cut the highway through the base of the valley. The 2/501st and the 1/506th were to destroy the enemy in their own operating areas and block escape routes into Laos. The "Rakkasans" of the 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry, drew what turned out to be the toughest part of the operation: Clear and occupy Dong Ap Bia, a mountain that rose to 970 meters at its highest point with ridgelines at 800, 900, 916, and 937 meters high. The terrain in the area favored the defenders. The mountains they were to defend and their ridges were along the Trung Pham River on the Laotian border. The area was covered with a tropical, double- and triple-canopied jungle. The land beneath the trees was a tangled mass of saw-toothed elephant grass, thick stands of bamboo, and other foliage that inhibited foot movement, even without an enemy presence. The hills gave way to ridgelines, cut with deep ravines, saddles, draws, and smaller hills. It was an area long occupied by the NVA and fortified with bunkers, spider holes, deep tunnels, trenches, and underground shelters for aid stations, command posts, and storage depots. And this time the NVA intended to stay their ground.
Operations began on 10 May 1969 when the lead companies of 1/506th and 3/187th Infantry were inserted by air and began movements toward their assigned objectives. Although the initial landings were not opposed, by mid-afternoon Bravo 3/187 was in contact. 3/187 went into a night defensive position at dusk on 10 May and continued movement toward Dong Ap Bia's peaks at daybreak on 11 May. Contact increased during the day, and captured documents indicated 29th NVA Regiment, with a strength of between twelve and eighteen hundred men, was defending the hill complex. 12 May was a battle of inches, with 3/187's rifle companies assaulting up-hill against a well-entrenched enemy force. D Company, 3/187, was tasked with clearing a ravine and then assaulting up-hill along the ravine's sides. While some progress was made, nightfall found 3/187 still on the hillsides with more work to be done on the 12th. At daybreak, D/3/187 continued movement up the ravine, encountering increasingly heavy enemy fire: "Delta Company, with platoons on both banks of the ravine, returned the fire with every available weapon and called for gunships. They also called for a MedEvac helicopter, which arrived on the scene at 1510 hours. As the Rakkasans were hoisting the wounded into the hovering helicopter, an RPG slammed into it. It slammed to the ground. The helicopter, UH-1H tail number 67-17844, was from the 326th Medical Battalion. Only the pilot survived; the other three crewmen did not: 1LT Jerry T. Lee, Rocky Mount, NC, copilot, was one of them.
He was the Son of Mr and Mrs Joel T Lee, 625 Gleen Avenue, Rocky Mount, NC.
He served with Headquarters and Service Company, 326th Medical Battalion, 101st Airborne Division, "Screaming Eagles", USARV.
He was awarded The Silver Star Medal for Gallantry, The Bronze Star for Meritorious Service, The Purple Heart Medal for his combat related wounds, the Vietnam Service Medal, The Republic of Vietnam Campaign Service Medal, The National Defense Service Medal and The Air Medal with Two Oak Leaf Clusters.
1LT Jerry Tyrus Lee, Vietnam Veteran, Native of Rocky Mount, NC.
First Lieutenant Jerry Tyrus Lee was a casualty of the Vietnam War. As a member of the Army Reserve, 1LT Lee served our country until May 13th, 1969 in Thua Thien, South Vietnam. He was 25 years old and was not married. It was reported that Jerry died when his helicopter crashed. His body was recovered. Jerry was born on August 1st, 1943 at Rex Hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina. 1LT Lee is on panel 25W, line 095 of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. He served our country for one year.
I only knew Jerry for a year in high school. He had a great sense of humor, very intellight (Davidson scholarship), played the string bass jazz style, lived in Ahoskie before Rocky Mount. "Tell us about Ahoskie, Lee." It's been almost 32 years. I wonder what you might have been and done. Bruce.
In the fall of 1959, my 16-year old brother Garry brought home a new friend - a classic "tall, blonde, and handsome" young man, with an infectious grin and an engaging friendliness, named Jerry. I never suspected, by his manner, that his father was vice-president of the largest bank in Rocky Mount, our home town. It would not be an understatement to say that I fell in love with him at first sight; even though I was only twelve years old at the time, I knew, without doubt, that this was who I wanted to spend my life with. He was funny, not just bright but clever, sensitive, thoughtful, all the things that women have always looked for in a man. But he was much more than these things; there was an animation in Jerry that made any room he entered seem like a special place to be. When he smiled, you could see everything about him that mattered; there wasn't one phony, calculating bone in his body. The essential goodness and sweetness of his character, and his integrity, were clear in his eyes. He put his entire focus and energy into the person or event that had his attention; I wanted to be that person, and had not the slightest doubt that fate would make it so someday.
That conviction never wavered throughout the next few years, as he and Garry became best friends, formed a band, practiced self-taught karate in our backyard, and destroyed a few rose bushes throwing a "discus" which looked strangely like a 10-pound barbell weight. They invented stupid contests whose rules changed as they went along, depending on who was winning, engaged in endless philosophical and existential discussions, and did all the things that teenage boys do to amuse themselves. I was constantly hanging around, an admiring audience, but Jerry always had time for the annoying little sister during the years while I was waiting to grow up enough to close the gap in our ages. We came close to that time when I was 16 and he was 20, flirted with each other, even went on a date to the bowling alley, (I made an impossible spare because he said he would hug me if I did, a miracle, because I'm a terrible bowler.) But he was a "college man," and I was still a little too young. I did receive three letters from him that I kept under my pillow and reread every night before bed. Meanwhile, we were having lengthy, intense, but frustratingly platonic long-distance conversations. On one memorable occasion, he took me out rowing, during a family vacation at our cottage on the Pamlico River. Almost shyly, he said that a girl had told him once that he would be easy to love. I was young, even more shy, and didn't tell him that I had already loved him for years.
When they were both home on weekends and Jerry came over to see my brother, he gradually began dividing his time between us. Garry, understandably, wasn't too happy about this change in the relationship between his best friend and his "little" (17 by now) sister. He made his feelings known, and Jerry respected them. I continued to bide my time, with an almost superstitious belief that he had to make the first move, even though we saw less and less of each other as time passed. I was certain that he would really see me someday, the day I had imagined for so many years. When he became engaged, I almost wrote to tell him how I felt, but this was 1965, and nice young women didn't do those sorts of things. So, eventually we both married other people and life went on. In February of 1969, Jerry called me. His marriage had broken up, and he was back in Rocky Mount to see his family and friends before leaving for Vietnam. Although we hadn't seen each other for a couple of years, I fell into one or both of those categories, and he came over to say good-bye to me. Jerry had to go through a lot of red tape, special exemptions, and medical examinations, to enlist in the Army; he had a heart condition called tachycardia which would otherwise have kept him out. This was during a time when draft-eligible young men were demonstrating, burning their draft cards, and going to Canada to avoid the war; anti-war songs and protests were the order of the day. When I questioned his decision, worried about him, he recited lyrics from "The Impossible Dream," and said he felt strongly about going to fight for his country, no matter what sacrifice was required of him. He said, in fact, that he intended to stay for more than one tour of duty; that was the way he did things, with his whole heart. He wanted his father to be proud of him.
We spent several hours, reminiscing about "the old days." He insisted on going to a local record store, buying me a copy of a Glen Campbell album, then listening together to the song "Gentle on My Mind." It was a message to me, graceful and tender. I told him I'd kept his letters under my pillow, but not why. He said he was glad that I might be pregnant with my first child (something I had not told anyone else), because he wanted the people he cared about to be well and happy. As he backed out of the driveway that day, as I stood in the yard with tears in my eyes, he stopped, rolling down the window, and sang along with Kenny Rogers on the radio, "But you know I love you, I love you, I love you." I had waited nine years to hear him say those words. He smiled at me, that smile that lit up his whole face, continued backing out, and drove away. Three months later, he was dead. The Medevac helicopter he was piloting had been shot down while airlifting a wounded soldier. We learned later that he didn't try to take any sort of evasive action, because that would have jeopardized the man he was trying to rescue. That is the sort of man Jerry Tyrus Lee was, kind, compassionate, believing that doing the right thing was more important than doing the easy or self-serving thing. He had planned to become a doctor after the war. I named my second child after the man who will always be young, smiling, full of life in my mind. I still dream sometimes that I find him again, that it was all a mistake. In my dreams, we are both waiting for the time to be right, knowing that we are meant to be together forever. Sometimes, waking up with tears on my face, I believe that we still are. When he died, he had a picture of me in his wallet. Ross Garris Raphael, P.h.D, 46 Diana Del Silva Court, Chapel Hill, NC 27516, [email protected].
During the Tet Offensive of 1968 the NVA had staged an entire NVA division and other VC forces through the A Shau Valley for its massive attacks on Hue and Da Nang. Although Tet '68 turned out to be a military disaster (but a political victory) for the NVA and VC, by early 1969 it was becoming apparent that A Shau Valley was once again an area of high NVA activity, logistically and strategically, and an important terminus for the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In May of 1969 the American command planned to clear out the A Shau Valley using ten battalions of infantry, including the 9th Marine Regiment, the 3d ARVN Regiment, the 3/5th Cavalry, and three air assault battalions: 1/506th, 2/501st, and 3/187th. The overall plan of attack called for the Marines and the 3/5th Cavalry to combat-assault into the valley and move toward the Laotian border while the ARVN units cut the highway through the base of the valley. The 2/501st and the 1/506th were to destroy the enemy in their own operating areas and block escape routes into Laos. The "Rakkasans" of the 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry, drew what turned out to be the toughest part of the operation: Clear and occupy Dong Ap Bia, a mountain that rose to 970 meters at its highest point with ridgelines at 800, 900, 916, and 937 meters high. The terrain in the area favored the defenders. The mountains they were to defend and their ridges were along the Trung Pham River on the Laotian border. The area was covered with a tropical, double- and triple-canopied jungle. The land beneath the trees was a tangled mass of saw-toothed elephant grass, thick stands of bamboo, and other foliage that inhibited foot movement, even without an enemy presence. The hills gave way to ridgelines, cut with deep ravines, saddles, draws, and smaller hills. It was an area long occupied by the NVA and fortified with bunkers, spider holes, deep tunnels, trenches, and underground shelters for aid stations, command posts, and storage depots. And this time the NVA intended to stay their ground.
Operations began on 10 May 1969 when the lead companies of 1/506th and 3/187th Infantry were inserted by air and began movements toward their assigned objectives. Although the initial landings were not opposed, by mid-afternoon Bravo 3/187 was in contact. 3/187 went into a night defensive position at dusk on 10 May and continued movement toward Dong Ap Bia's peaks at daybreak on 11 May. Contact increased during the day, and captured documents indicated 29th NVA Regiment, with a strength of between twelve and eighteen hundred men, was defending the hill complex. 12 May was a battle of inches, with 3/187's rifle companies assaulting up-hill against a well-entrenched enemy force. D Company, 3/187, was tasked with clearing a ravine and then assaulting up-hill along the ravine's sides. While some progress was made, nightfall found 3/187 still on the hillsides with more work to be done on the 12th. At daybreak, D/3/187 continued movement up the ravine, encountering increasingly heavy enemy fire: "Delta Company, with platoons on both banks of the ravine, returned the fire with every available weapon and called for gunships. They also called for a MedEvac helicopter, which arrived on the scene at 1510 hours. As the Rakkasans were hoisting the wounded into the hovering helicopter, an RPG slammed into it. It slammed to the ground. The helicopter, UH-1H tail number 67-17844, was from the 326th Medical Battalion. Only the pilot survived; the other three crewmen did not: 1LT Jerry T. Lee, Rocky Mount, NC, copilot, was one of them.
He was the Son of Mr and Mrs Joel T Lee, 625 Gleen Avenue, Rocky Mount, NC.
He served with Headquarters and Service Company, 326th Medical Battalion, 101st Airborne Division, "Screaming Eagles", USARV.
He was awarded The Silver Star Medal for Gallantry, The Bronze Star for Meritorious Service, The Purple Heart Medal for his combat related wounds, the Vietnam Service Medal, The Republic of Vietnam Campaign Service Medal, The National Defense Service Medal and The Air Medal with Two Oak Leaf Clusters.
First Lieutenant Jerry Tyrus Lee was a casualty of the Vietnam War. As a member of the Army Reserve, 1LT Lee served our country until May 13th, 1969 in Thua Thien, South Vietnam. He was 25 years old and was not married. It was reported that Jerry died when his helicopter crashed. His body was recovered. Jerry was born on August 1st, 1943 at Rex Hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina. 1LT Lee is on panel 25W, line 095 of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. He served our country for one year.
I only knew Jerry for a year in high school. He had a great sense of humor, very intellight (Davidson scholarship), played the string bass jazz style, lived in Ahoskie before Rocky Mount. "Tell us about Ahoskie, Lee." It's been almost 32 years. I wonder what you might have been and done. Bruce.
In the fall of 1959, my 16-year old brother Garry brought home a new friend - a classic "tall, blonde, and handsome" young man, with an infectious grin and an engaging friendliness, named Jerry. I never suspected, by his manner, that his father was vice-president of the largest bank in Rocky Mount, our home town. It would not be an understatement to say that I fell in love with him at first sight; even though I was only twelve years old at the time, I knew, without doubt, that this was who I wanted to spend my life with. He was funny, not just bright but clever, sensitive, thoughtful, all the things that women have always looked for in a man. But he was much more than these things; there was an animation in Jerry that made any room he entered seem like a special place to be. When he smiled, you could see everything about him that mattered; there wasn't one phony, calculating bone in his body. The essential goodness and sweetness of his character, and his integrity, were clear in his eyes. He put his entire focus and energy into the person or event that had his attention; I wanted to be that person, and had not the slightest doubt that fate would make it so someday.
That conviction never wavered throughout the next few years, as he and Garry became best friends, formed a band, practiced self-taught karate in our backyard, and destroyed a few rose bushes throwing a "discus" which looked strangely like a 10-pound barbell weight. They invented stupid contests whose rules changed as they went along, depending on who was winning, engaged in endless philosophical and existential discussions, and did all the things that teenage boys do to amuse themselves. I was constantly hanging around, an admiring audience, but Jerry always had time for the annoying little sister during the years while I was waiting to grow up enough to close the gap in our ages. We came close to that time when I was 16 and he was 20, flirted with each other, even went on a date to the bowling alley, (I made an impossible spare because he said he would hug me if I did, a miracle, because I'm a terrible bowler.) But he was a "college man," and I was still a little too young. I did receive three letters from him that I kept under my pillow and reread every night before bed. Meanwhile, we were having lengthy, intense, but frustratingly platonic long-distance conversations. On one memorable occasion, he took me out rowing, during a family vacation at our cottage on the Pamlico River. Almost shyly, he said that a girl had told him once that he would be easy to love. I was young, even more shy, and didn't tell him that I had already loved him for years.
When they were both home on weekends and Jerry came over to see my brother, he gradually began dividing his time between us. Garry, understandably, wasn't too happy about this change in the relationship between his best friend and his "little" (17 by now) sister. He made his feelings known, and Jerry respected them. I continued to bide my time, with an almost superstitious belief that he had to make the first move, even though we saw less and less of each other as time passed. I was certain that he would really see me someday, the day I had imagined for so many years. When he became engaged, I almost wrote to tell him how I felt, but this was 1965, and nice young women didn't do those sorts of things. So, eventually we both married other people and life went on. In February of 1969, Jerry called me. His marriage had broken up, and he was back in Rocky Mount to see his family and friends before leaving for Vietnam. Although we hadn't seen each other for a couple of years, I fell into one or both of those categories, and he came over to say good-bye to me. Jerry had to go through a lot of red tape, special exemptions, and medical examinations, to enlist in the Army; he had a heart condition called tachycardia which would otherwise have kept him out. This was during a time when draft-eligible young men were demonstrating, burning their draft cards, and going to Canada to avoid the war; anti-war songs and protests were the order of the day. When I questioned his decision, worried about him, he recited lyrics from "The Impossible Dream," and said he felt strongly about going to fight for his country, no matter what sacrifice was required of him. He said, in fact, that he intended to stay for more than one tour of duty; that was the way he did things, with his whole heart. He wanted his father to be proud of him.
We spent several hours, reminiscing about "the old days." He insisted on going to a local record store, buying me a copy of a Glen Campbell album, then listening together to the song "Gentle on My Mind." It was a message to me, graceful and tender. I told him I'd kept his letters under my pillow, but not why. He said he was glad that I might be pregnant with my first child (something I had not told anyone else), because he wanted the people he cared about to be well and happy. As he backed out of the driveway that day, as I stood in the yard with tears in my eyes, he stopped, rolling down the window, and sang along with Kenny Rogers on the radio, "But you know I love you, I love you, I love you." I had waited nine years to hear him say those words. He smiled at me, that smile that lit up his whole face, continued backing out, and drove away. Three months later, he was dead. The Medevac helicopter he was piloting had been shot down while airlifting a wounded soldier. We learned later that he didn't try to take any sort of evasive action, because that would have jeopardized the man he was trying to rescue. That is the sort of man Jerry Tyrus Lee was, kind, compassionate, believing that doing the right thing was more important than doing the easy or self-serving thing. He had planned to become a doctor after the war. I named my second child after the man who will always be young, smiling, full of life in my mind. I still dream sometimes that I find him again, that it was all a mistake. In my dreams, we are both waiting for the time to be right, knowing that we are meant to be together forever. Sometimes, waking up with tears on my face, I believe that we still are. When he died, he had a picture of me in his wallet. Ross Garris Raphael, P.h.D, 46 Diana Del Silva Court, Chapel Hill, NC 27516, [email protected].
During the Tet Offensive of 1968 the NVA had staged an entire NVA division and other VC forces through the A Shau Valley for its massive attacks on Hue and Da Nang. Although Tet '68 turned out to be a military disaster (but a political victory) for the NVA and VC, by early 1969 it was becoming apparent that A Shau Valley was once again an area of high NVA activity, logistically and strategically, and an important terminus for the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In May of 1969 the American command planned to clear out the A Shau Valley using ten battalions of infantry, including the 9th Marine Regiment, the 3d ARVN Regiment, the 3/5th Cavalry, and three air assault battalions: 1/506th, 2/501st, and 3/187th. The overall plan of attack called for the Marines and the 3/5th Cavalry to combat-assault into the valley and move toward the Laotian border while the ARVN units cut the highway through the base of the valley. The 2/501st and the 1/506th were to destroy the enemy in their own operating areas and block escape routes into Laos. The "Rakkasans" of the 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry, drew what turned out to be the toughest part of the operation: Clear and occupy Dong Ap Bia, a mountain that rose to 970 meters at its highest point with ridgelines at 800, 900, 916, and 937 meters high. The terrain in the area favored the defenders. The mountains they were to defend and their ridges were along the Trung Pham River on the Laotian border. The area was covered with a tropical, double- and triple-canopied jungle. The land beneath the trees was a tangled mass of saw-toothed elephant grass, thick stands of bamboo, and other foliage that inhibited foot movement, even without an enemy presence. The hills gave way to ridgelines, cut with deep ravines, saddles, draws, and smaller hills. It was an area long occupied by the NVA and fortified with bunkers, spider holes, deep tunnels, trenches, and underground shelters for aid stations, command posts, and storage depots. And this time the NVA intended to stay their ground.
Operations began on 10 May 1969 when the lead companies of 1/506th and 3/187th Infantry were inserted by air and began movements toward their assigned objectives. Although the initial landings were not opposed, by mid-afternoon Bravo 3/187 was in contact. 3/187 went into a night defensive position at dusk on 10 May and continued movement toward Dong Ap Bia's peaks at daybreak on 11 May. Contact increased during the day, and captured documents indicated 29th NVA Regiment, with a strength of between twelve and eighteen hundred men, was defending the hill complex. 12 May was a battle of inches, with 3/187's rifle companies assaulting up-hill against a well-entrenched enemy force. D Company, 3/187, was tasked with clearing a ravine and then assaulting up-hill along the ravine's sides. While some progress was made, nightfall found 3/187 still on the hillsides with more work to be done on the 12th. At daybreak, D/3/187 continued movement up the ravine, encountering increasingly heavy enemy fire: "Delta Company, with platoons on both banks of the ravine, returned the fire with every available weapon and called for gunships. They also called for a MedEvac helicopter, which arrived on the scene at 1510 hours. As the Rakkasans were hoisting the wounded into the hovering helicopter, an RPG slammed into it. It slammed to the ground. The helicopter, UH-1H tail number 67-17844, was from the 326th Medical Battalion. Only the pilot survived; the other three crewmen did not: 1LT Jerry T. Lee, Rocky Mount, NC, copilot, was one of them.
He was the Son of Mr and Mrs Joel T Lee, 625 Gleen Avenue, Rocky Mount, NC.
He served with Headquarters and Service Company, 326th Medical Battalion, 101st Airborne Division, "Screaming Eagles", USARV.
He was awarded The Silver Star Medal for Gallantry, The Bronze Star for Meritorious Service, The Purple Heart Medal for his combat related wounds, the Vietnam Service Medal, The Republic of Vietnam Campaign Service Medal, The National Defense Service Medal and The Air Medal with Two Oak Leaf Clusters.
