Jeffrey Allen Lucas Electronics Technician First Class (SEAL)

Electronics Technician 1st Class (SEAL) Jeffrey A. Lucas was born on 17 September 1971. He grew up in Corhett, Oregon. Jeff chose his career path early in fourth grade when he wrote a paper about all the Special Forces, Green Berets, Army Rangers, Marine Recon, and Navy SEALs, but said one day he wanted to be a Navy SEAL because they were the best. Upon graduating
high school in 1989, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy. After graduating recruit training and Electronics Technician "A' school, he transferred to Naval Submarine Training Center Pacific, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. After Hawaii he transferred to the Branch Medical Clinic, San Diego, California, from May 1991 to June 1993.

He entered Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL in June 1993, graduating with class 191 in January 1994. After graduation, he reported to SEAL Team ONE, San Diego, California, from 1994 to 1999. Jeff came to the East Coast in 1999 and was assigned to Naval Special Warfare Development Group, Dam Neck for a year. Later he transferred to SEAL Team EIGHT for a year before coming to SEAL Team TEN in March 2002.

As a Leading Petty Officer, Jeff was known for his leadership. His enthusiasm and quick wit was portrayed in everything he did. He was considered a very funny man who was guaranteed to put a smile on the face of all in his presence. His ten years as a Navy SEAL has allowed him to create a laundry list of qualifications; such as sniper, sniper instructor, and military freefall parachutist to name a few. Jeff was an expert in every qualification and was known for his innovation and constant tinkering with his gear.

His medals include a Bronze Star (with "V" for Valor), Purple Heart, Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal (4 awards), Combat Action Ribbon, National Defense Service Medal (2 awards), Armed Forces Service Medal, Kosovo Campaign Medal, Afghanistan Campaign Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, Humanitarian Service Medal, Sea Service Deployment Medal (4 awards), NATO Medal, Rifle Expert, and Expert Pistol.

Jeff is survived by his wife Rhonda and his four-year-old son Seth.

33, of Corbett, Ore.; assigned to SEAL Team 10, Virginia Beach, Va.; killed June 28 when an MH-47 Chinook helicopter crashed while ferrying personnel to a battle against militants in eastern Afghanistan.Wife of SEAL killed in Afghan crash struggles with his death

By Louis Hansen

The Virginian-Pilot

VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. — Their plans were set.

Rhonda and Jeff Lucas were to meet in Germany. They would spend 10 days together while family watched their 4-year-old son, Seth, back home.

Then Rhonda would wait until October when Jeff’s fifth deployment would be over. He needed a little more than three years to reach his Navy retirement.

Jeff Lucas, 33, joked that he’d become a professional golfer with his GI Bill. Maybe Rhonda, also 33, would go back to school and become a dental hygienist. They always had plans.

Three weeks ago, a pair of Navy officers knocked on her door. Petty Officer 1st Class Jeffrey A. Lucas husband, father, confidant, prankster and Navy SEAL was missing in action, presumed dead somewhere in Afghanistan.

A helicopter crash had killed 16 members of the special operations forces, including eight SEALs. It was the worst loss for elite Navy forces since World War II.

Rhonda Lucas sat on a leather chair in her living room and replayed her recent days of loss and pain. Seth sat on her lap and hugged her.

The signature tools of a Navy commando’s life — swim fins, a K-Bar combat knife, and dive mask — were temporarily kept on the table in the neat dining room.

“My life has been Jeff’s life,” she said softly. “Now I have to figure out what my life is.”

Rhonda and Jeff Lucas met at a friend’s party near Portland, Ore., when they were 19. She grew up in the Northwest, her family living in Oregon, Washington and Alaska, where her father worked on a commercial fishing rig.

Jeff was from rural Oregon, a town named Corbett, with nurseries, berry farms and logging trails, and only 600 children in its public school system.

Soon, he introduced her to his younger brother, Jamie. “Hey, this is my girlfriend, Rhonda.” A year later, he brought her around to his family again. “Hey, this is my wife, Rhonda.”

They both had plans. She wanted to be a dental hygienist. He wanted to be a Navy SEAL.

Pat Lucas always knew her oldest son would follow other men in the family and go into the service. At birth, his mother said, “he came out screaming.”

In fourth grade, Jeff wrote an essay about military special forces, explaining that the best were Navy SEALs.

In the basement of the family’s rented home, young Jeff watched mice crawl along a ledge under the floorboards. He sat in an old chair, aimed his BB gun, and dropped mouse after mouse.

He starred at Corbett High School in football, basketball, baseball and track. He’s a local legend, as much for being a 150-pound all-state tailback as for being a SEAL.

Jamie Lucas remembers the high school basketball game when his 5-foot-8 point-guard brother led his team against another that had no player shorter than 6-foot-1.

Lucas torched them for 32 points, his brother recalled. “The bigger the challenge, the better he responded,” Jamie said.

He graduated from high school in June 1989 and enlisted eight weeks later.

Rhonda knew Jeff wanted to be a SEAL but “I wasn’t quite excited about that,” she said. They put his career first.

He entered Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL school, where just one in five men complete the brutal training. The school starts the transformation of top young sailors into highly skilled amphibious warriors.

Jeff graduated from Class 191. From the SEAL base in Coronado, Calif., he deployed regularly around the globe — Sri Lanka, Philippines and Kosovo.

Deployment often came with little notice. She heard brief sketches of perilous operations and training. He shrugged off the danger.

When a helicopter Jeff was in crashed into a ship during training, his brother remembers Jeff’s reaction: “Aw, it was just a hard landing.”

He was rarely home. Rhonda learned to stifle her concerns.

“It’s hard to comprehend what your husband’s doing,” she said.

Six years ago, they moved to the East Coast. Soon, the family settled in a comfortable home near the Chesapeake Bay. The neighborhood’s thick pine canopy reminded the couple of the Northwest. Rhonda kept the finances, paid the bills, scheduled the family vacations. She runs her own pet-sitting business.

She built the scrapbooks: Jeff diving on a tropical island vacation, wearing a thong and fins as a prank. On the ground at night in Kosovo, behind his rifle, with a small mutt perched on his back. In front of a helicopter with buddies. At the hospital, cradling his newborn son.

He shielded her from his work, she said. He liked her to take on responsibilities. “Jeff needed me to be an independent woman,” she said.

If she allowed her fear to rise, she said, “I wouldn’t sleep at night. I wouldn’t be able to pick up my child at day care.”

Jeff’s work mounted with the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Deployment pace was intense six months on, six months off, Rhonda said. Even when Jeff was stateside, he usually was training somewhere around the country.

Jeff tried out for a particular SEAL team based at Dam Neck in Virginia Beach, Rhonda said. He collapsed during summer drills. His body temperature rose to 105 degrees. He fell into a coma for three days. It was the most serious incident in his SEAL career. Until June 28.

He was golfing on a clear day in early April when the Navy ordered him overseas. He and the other SEALs had two days to get ready and go.

The deployment would last until October. Part would be spent in Afghanistan, part in Germany. It was Jeff’s first deployment to the Middle East.

“He was ready to go,” Rhonda said. “He could not wait to get over there and fight the fight.”

Jeff called his wife several times in the days leading up to the last mission. Enough, she finally told him. She had work to do.

On a Tuesday night, Rhonda got a call from a close friend, another SEAL wife. The friend heard that a helicopter went down in Afghanistan. The news ricocheted around the insular SEAL community.

The next day, the phones crackled with facts and rumors. Her husband did not call. Rhonda cried all day.

That afternoon, casualty officers began to visit homes. Rhonda waited. By 5 p.m., they reached her door.

“It was like watching somebody else’s movie. Officers in dress blues — I still don’t believe “

She paused. “Sometimes I think he’s going to come out,” she said.

Family flew in from across the country. Her estranged father and half-brother called. The governor left two phone messages.

Seth asked questions: Why didn’t he jump? Did other daddies die? How long will he be dead?

Family members said they were told the battle was heavy and bloody.

Sixteen special operations forces, including the eight SEALs, had volunteered to fly in broad daylight to rescue four SEALs who were on a reconnaissance mission. The four men were pinned down by Taliban and al-Qaida fighters.

The helicopter flew high into the rugged terrain. Enemy fire, possibly a rocket-propelled grenade, brought the aircraft down, killing everyone on board. The dead included six SEALs based in Hampton Roads. One SEAL on the ground survived.

Pat Lucas believes her son dropped more than his share of enemy fighters before he died. “This was the end,” she said. “God called him home.”

A week after a memorial ceremony at Little Creek, the Lucas home was still filled with family. A small box of tissues sat on the coffee table.

Rhonda thought about her husband, and looked into space. She swore at him. Hard. Then she smiled. Shook her head.

“You think you’ve got it all planned,” Rhonda said. “You don’t.”

Jeff Lucas left these instructions in case he died: Cremate my body. Bury me at Arlington. No (expletive) bagpipes at my funeral.

The rest, he wrote, my wife knows.

'No way he wasn't going to reach his dream'
The family of Jeffrey Lucas, a Navy SEAL who died in a crash in Afghanistan, says he was destined for the military
Saturday, July 2, 2005
Jeffrey Lucas was destined to be in the military.

Since he was a child, the country boy from Corbett wanted to be a Navy SEAL. The specialized, elite combat force was -- in the words of a report Lucas wrote in the third grade -- "the best."

When he was young, Lucas used to sneak up on people dressed in camouflage that he made from brush. He used to practice target shooting at long distances. And he built traps to capture rodents in the yard.

"He could surprise anyone," says Jamie Lucas, 32, Jeffrey's younger brother. "He was always so fast, so smart and so sure of himself. There was no way he wasn't going to reach his dream."

Today, Jamie Lucas and his family are in mourning. Jeffrey Alan Lucas, 33, died earlier this week in eastern Afghanistan after the MH-47 Chinook helicopter he was aboard was shot down, apparently by a rocket-propelled grenade. He leaves behind a wife and 4-year-old son.

Lucas, along with 15 other sailors and soldiers, died in the crash. The dead included eight Navy SEALs and eight U.S. Army air crew members. The SEAL unit had been called up for duty in Afghanistan in April.

Jeffrey Lucas was a 1989 graduate of Corbett High School. His destiny was set long before he enlisted at age 17. His skills, family members say, made him a natural for the military.

Jamie Lucas was in awe of his brother's abilities as a tactician and a sharpshooter.

The younger Lucas remembers waking up from the couch one night after hearing a noise in the basement of the family's Corbett home. He walked downstairs to find Jeffrey Lucas with a BB gun. He was picking off mice as they walked across a beam on the other side of the basement.

"I guess I shouldn't say this in front of my family, but we'd mostly shoot at each other with BB guns," Jamie Lucas recalls. "We'd throw rocks, break windows, stuff like that. We were just kids living in the country, and we had a lot of fun."

Other than riding dirt motorbikes, snowmobiling and fishing, Jeffrey Lucas liked to practice for his future in the military.

Jamie Lucas says his brother would hop on a motorbike and ride the back trails to a nearby Bible camp. He'd sneak into the camp, crawl across a creek on his belly and climb underneath some of the structures where the participants gathered.

Once he knew where everyone was, Jeffrey Lucas sneaked into the cabins and took candy from the campers, his brother says. "I went with him once, but I got caught by a dog," Jamie Lucas recalls. "He was mad because I blew his cover. He wouldn't let me go anymore. He honed his skills at that Bible camp."

Later, when Jeffrey Lucas became a SEAL, he told his younger brother about the time four years ago that he shot an antelope in Wyoming at 960 yards.

"It was part of his regular training," Jamie Lucas says. "He was with his spotter, and he asked how far away this pair of antelope was. When the spotter told him, 'Oh, about 640 yards,' my brother said he wanted the distance on the farther one. He took it in one shot."

Linda Traxler, Jeffrey's aunt, says she saw a lot of the rugged youngster as a child. Her three children were younger than the Lucas boys, but they always played together.

"Living in the country, the boys always had time to get into everything," she remembers. "They were all good boys, but every one of them looked up to Jeffrey. He was a leader and a mentor."

On Tuesday, Jamie Lucas was on his way to the veterinarian, taking a horse with an eye problem in for an exam. His brother's wife had called from her home in Virginia Beach, Vairginia. When he returned home, he learned that the copter carrying his brother had gone down.

"No way, no way, no way," he remembers thinking. "I told her that can't be. He'd been in lots of close calls before, but Jeff would always say that those were just hard landings."

Now Jamie Lucas fights back tears. His older brother, his guide, his friend is gone.

"I want to think that he was too smart, too fast to be dead," he says, crying. "There's no way it'd be him out there. He's always the best at everything, so he could survive.

"But it's sunk in now. They might as well just take half of me away. I lost my brother and my best friend. With him, it was always easy because he'd set the bar, and you'd know where to set the bar to measure greatness."

LUCAS, JEFFERY ALAN
ET1 US NAVY
DATE OF BIRTH: 09/17/1971
DATE OF DEATH: 06/28/2005
BURIED AT: SECTION 60 SITE 8229
ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY