THE WALL OF FACES

It is said a man hasn't died as long as he is remembered. This prayer is a way for families, friends and fellow veterans to remember our fallen brothers and sisters. Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift, uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die

Hi! I am writing this in order to thank you for the sacrifice you made to our country. I know how hard it must have been and I know that many people could not have done what you did. You definitely were a courageous person. I know that you are greatly missed, but you will never be forgotten. I am saying this to you from everyone in Gridley, Illinois. R.I.P Crystal Alvey

Gridley High School Posting Project

Jerry was my only brother. We were both captains in the Air Force in 1963 when Jerry was killed.

Jerry was a tactical air command officer on deployment with the USAF special Air Warfare Center's
Air Commando Group, Det. 2A. While serving on a combat mission as the co-pilot/navigator, his
B-26 plane was shot down inbound to target approximately 33 N.M., north, northwest of Pleiku
in South Vietnam. Both he and the pilot, Capt. Andrew C. Mitchell III, died instantly when the
left wing came off and the aircraft crashed and burned.

Campaigne Street at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, was named for Jerry shortly after his death, and
he received the purple heart and the distinguished flying cross. Burial was in Lawncrest Memorial
Park, Redding, California.

He left a wife and four year old son. Our dad died when Jerry was also almost four years old.
Jerry had a jovial personality and was loved and respected by all who knew him.
He loved the Air Force, he loved to fly, he loved life and he was a heck of a ball player.

Jerry was my dad's brother. I was almost eight years old when our family received the news that
Jerry's plane had been shot down on April 8, 1963 in Vietnam. My mother's brother had died in a
terrible car accident just a few months earlier so the family had a lot of heartache within a short
period of time. Though loss is great, love is strong and keeps the memory of our brave ones alive.

This picture was taken of Jerry when he was a cadet.

Not only a friend but mentor. We flew together at Shaw AFB. Gone but never forgotten my friend.