02-24-2022, 04:28 AM
Well that did it ! Sky was awake now so he decided to get out of the oven that 915 had become in the last 40 minutes and walk the flight line. He was thinking he might see someone else he might know or failing that look at the shot up birds in the flight.
He had not gone 30 feet from 915 when someone shouted his name. He turned in the direction of the voice and beheld an old flight school buddy called Weaver he had not seen for almost a year. They shook hands exchanging rude crude pleasantries while they looked for some shade to get caught up on what had been happening since flight school.
Sky's flight school buddy had been flying the flare bird at L.Z. Moe the night it had almost gotten overrun. The weather had been bad that night with low ceilings so Weaver had elected to fly the flare bird from the right seat (better instruments for flying in the clouds) than from the left seat. So, there they were in and out of the clouds at 3000 feet dropping flares around L.Z. Moe as many bad guys tried to overrun the fire support base. One of his dropped flares popped prematurely which jettisoned the chute early which got caught on the aircraft's skid skid. This caused many big problems ! The crew thought the flare was going to flop around and burn through their helicopter while Weaver who was flying was blinded by what seemed to be the ten billion million trillion candle watt power of the flare.
The bad guys looked up and decided even they could shoot such a well lighted target as Old Flight School Buddy Weaver's bird.
Beautiful green arcs of light danced toward Weaver's aircraft and where they touched the fragile bird, sparks flew and metal screamed in the agony as there were holes being punched where none were needed or wanted. It sounded like a popcorn machine as much as anything with the Ping, Ping, thump, Ping, Ping, Whack, as the engine quits and a moment later another big whack as the transmission is hit and starts to pump all its' life's blood of transmission fluid out the hell hole in the bottom of the aircraft. Without fluid the transmission can and will seize and as the rotor blades stop turning your bird turns into a falling brick of metal.
Weaver is in deep $shit and he knows it. He had entered an autorotation when the engine quit out of pure reaction and training. He was trying to find and land as close to L.Z Moe as possible but was having a difficult time seeing anything until his crew finally cut away the hanging flare. As the zillion watt brightness of the flare fizzled and fell away from the aircraft Weaver was once again almost totally blind because his night vision had been destroyed. They say blind people have heightened other senses and this was evidently the case as Weaver swore he could hear the helicopter transmission making terrible grinding sounds that did not bode well for a successful termination of this autorotation. Weaver was trying to make himself as small as possible while the bad guys continued to put large quantities of lead into the air and through his crippled flying machine. He turned on his landing lights hoping to see something but nothing happened as they had both been shot out. His vision had improved enough that he could detect the tracer rounds coming off of L.Z. Moe so he headed that way. Except for the tracers the ground was pitch black but he could barely make out the trees in the treeline surrounding Moe which he figured were around 100 feet tall. As the bird descended rapidly below the perceived treeline Weaver waited the brief second while he estimated he was around 75 feet above the invisible ground so he could start to flare and slow his forward momentum down. His airspeed indicator was still working so he watched his airspeed decrease and when everything seemed about right after guesstimating his height above the 'still no can see ground' he made his initial pitch pull to slow and break his decent. He leveled the aircraft and continued to cushion the aircraft onto the landing area by applying more pitch with the collective. At the very time Weaver thought he should be touching down he reached Max collective and or pitch which should have resulted in a perfect autorotation to a gentile touchdown...except there was no ground! The first thought was, “On $hit!”
Still no ground and another, “Oh $hit!”
He tried to sit straighter to protect his back forgetting the small arms fire that still punched many holes in his aircraft's skin.
“OH SHIT!!!!!” And then the bird impacted in a level attitude with a force that buckled and broke the skids of the airframe as the bird came to rest on its' belly; which was not to bad considering it was a three “Oh $hit “ landing.
Weaver was on the side facing the fire support base and once he figured out he was still alive he jumped clear of his broken bird right into the middle of the razor sharp concertina wire which surrounded the perimeter of L.Z. Moe. Weaver turned his head just in time to see his New Guy right seater exit the aircraft on the bad guy side and start to run almost standing straight up. The noise of all the weapons and mayhem of war blocked out Weaver's voice as he screamed at his new guy to watch out for the rotor blade; but alas it was to late. The blade while still moving at close to 40 rpm or greater contacted the new guy just between the flight helmet and his shoulder which resulted in the helmet and head being removed from the body. The body took a step and then tripped and fell thrashing on the ground like most things do when their heads are removed. Weaver had never seen such a sight and was extremely impressed by the amount of pressure that is contained withing the human cardiovascular system as blood seemed to squirt a couple of yards from the now headless body.
Weaver had the helicopter between himself and the bad guys yet was hopelessly tangled up in the concertina wire and unable to do anything but lay low and work slowly to untangle himself. He just hoped the bird would not catch on fire because he knew he would be roasted like a hot dog on a coat hanger if it did. The remainder of the night was long and the battle was fierce but the bad guys never made it to the wire of L.Z. Moe. Weaver had survived that night to fly again and see Sky at L.Z. Bu Dop.
Sky had heard about the flare bird being shot down at L.Z. Moe but as Weaver was in a different company he had not know it was Weaver who was the A.C. On that ill fated mission. The New Guy who had been beheaded had only been in country a short time.
“War's Hell on earth for the unlucky.”
They talked for awhile longer and Sky found out that Weavers was going back to his home base. The bird he was flying today had taken some rounds in the instrument panel which had shot out his torque gauge and EGT gauge making the bird nonoperational for the extraction of the troops. He was quite pleased and thanked the NVA that he would not have to go back to that POS Cambodian L.Z. And get his butt shot off ! Weaver actually smiled and assured Sky this was one combat assault he was happy to miss even after Sky jokingly offer 915 to Weaver to fly the mission. They parted good friend to never see each other again. It really had been good seeing someone from flight school still alive and smiling as Sky watched Weaver walk back to his damaged bird.
He had not gone 30 feet from 915 when someone shouted his name. He turned in the direction of the voice and beheld an old flight school buddy called Weaver he had not seen for almost a year. They shook hands exchanging rude crude pleasantries while they looked for some shade to get caught up on what had been happening since flight school.
Sky's flight school buddy had been flying the flare bird at L.Z. Moe the night it had almost gotten overrun. The weather had been bad that night with low ceilings so Weaver had elected to fly the flare bird from the right seat (better instruments for flying in the clouds) than from the left seat. So, there they were in and out of the clouds at 3000 feet dropping flares around L.Z. Moe as many bad guys tried to overrun the fire support base. One of his dropped flares popped prematurely which jettisoned the chute early which got caught on the aircraft's skid skid. This caused many big problems ! The crew thought the flare was going to flop around and burn through their helicopter while Weaver who was flying was blinded by what seemed to be the ten billion million trillion candle watt power of the flare.
The bad guys looked up and decided even they could shoot such a well lighted target as Old Flight School Buddy Weaver's bird.
Beautiful green arcs of light danced toward Weaver's aircraft and where they touched the fragile bird, sparks flew and metal screamed in the agony as there were holes being punched where none were needed or wanted. It sounded like a popcorn machine as much as anything with the Ping, Ping, thump, Ping, Ping, Whack, as the engine quits and a moment later another big whack as the transmission is hit and starts to pump all its' life's blood of transmission fluid out the hell hole in the bottom of the aircraft. Without fluid the transmission can and will seize and as the rotor blades stop turning your bird turns into a falling brick of metal.
Weaver is in deep $shit and he knows it. He had entered an autorotation when the engine quit out of pure reaction and training. He was trying to find and land as close to L.Z Moe as possible but was having a difficult time seeing anything until his crew finally cut away the hanging flare. As the zillion watt brightness of the flare fizzled and fell away from the aircraft Weaver was once again almost totally blind because his night vision had been destroyed. They say blind people have heightened other senses and this was evidently the case as Weaver swore he could hear the helicopter transmission making terrible grinding sounds that did not bode well for a successful termination of this autorotation. Weaver was trying to make himself as small as possible while the bad guys continued to put large quantities of lead into the air and through his crippled flying machine. He turned on his landing lights hoping to see something but nothing happened as they had both been shot out. His vision had improved enough that he could detect the tracer rounds coming off of L.Z. Moe so he headed that way. Except for the tracers the ground was pitch black but he could barely make out the trees in the treeline surrounding Moe which he figured were around 100 feet tall. As the bird descended rapidly below the perceived treeline Weaver waited the brief second while he estimated he was around 75 feet above the invisible ground so he could start to flare and slow his forward momentum down. His airspeed indicator was still working so he watched his airspeed decrease and when everything seemed about right after guesstimating his height above the 'still no can see ground' he made his initial pitch pull to slow and break his decent. He leveled the aircraft and continued to cushion the aircraft onto the landing area by applying more pitch with the collective. At the very time Weaver thought he should be touching down he reached Max collective and or pitch which should have resulted in a perfect autorotation to a gentile touchdown...except there was no ground! The first thought was, “On $hit!”
Still no ground and another, “Oh $hit!”
He tried to sit straighter to protect his back forgetting the small arms fire that still punched many holes in his aircraft's skin.
“OH SHIT!!!!!” And then the bird impacted in a level attitude with a force that buckled and broke the skids of the airframe as the bird came to rest on its' belly; which was not to bad considering it was a three “Oh $hit “ landing.
Weaver was on the side facing the fire support base and once he figured out he was still alive he jumped clear of his broken bird right into the middle of the razor sharp concertina wire which surrounded the perimeter of L.Z. Moe. Weaver turned his head just in time to see his New Guy right seater exit the aircraft on the bad guy side and start to run almost standing straight up. The noise of all the weapons and mayhem of war blocked out Weaver's voice as he screamed at his new guy to watch out for the rotor blade; but alas it was to late. The blade while still moving at close to 40 rpm or greater contacted the new guy just between the flight helmet and his shoulder which resulted in the helmet and head being removed from the body. The body took a step and then tripped and fell thrashing on the ground like most things do when their heads are removed. Weaver had never seen such a sight and was extremely impressed by the amount of pressure that is contained withing the human cardiovascular system as blood seemed to squirt a couple of yards from the now headless body.
Weaver had the helicopter between himself and the bad guys yet was hopelessly tangled up in the concertina wire and unable to do anything but lay low and work slowly to untangle himself. He just hoped the bird would not catch on fire because he knew he would be roasted like a hot dog on a coat hanger if it did. The remainder of the night was long and the battle was fierce but the bad guys never made it to the wire of L.Z. Moe. Weaver had survived that night to fly again and see Sky at L.Z. Bu Dop.
Sky had heard about the flare bird being shot down at L.Z. Moe but as Weaver was in a different company he had not know it was Weaver who was the A.C. On that ill fated mission. The New Guy who had been beheaded had only been in country a short time.
“War's Hell on earth for the unlucky.”
They talked for awhile longer and Sky found out that Weavers was going back to his home base. The bird he was flying today had taken some rounds in the instrument panel which had shot out his torque gauge and EGT gauge making the bird nonoperational for the extraction of the troops. He was quite pleased and thanked the NVA that he would not have to go back to that POS Cambodian L.Z. And get his butt shot off ! Weaver actually smiled and assured Sky this was one combat assault he was happy to miss even after Sky jokingly offer 915 to Weaver to fly the mission. They parted good friend to never see each other again. It really had been good seeing someone from flight school still alive and smiling as Sky watched Weaver walk back to his damaged bird.