02-25-2022, 12:33 PM
As the now airborne flight low leveled enroute to the Cambodian L.Z. There wasn't enough time to think about what they had gotten themselves into. There were the practical necessities of avoiding running into another lift bird while maintaining clearance from the triple canopy jungle that passed feet and inches from 915s skids . The radios were still busy with the administrative transmissions which now seemed to be shorter and even more cryptic.
Sky's White flight approached the L.Z. From the same north to south direction just like the previous two times they had entered the L.Z. Sky had his Chicken Plate leaned against his chest and stomach in the event the bad guys started shooting at them again. This time however the two flights of 4 did not take fire as they cleared the tree line that surrounded the edge of the L.Z. …....As a matter of fact there was no shooting anywhere.
Yellow Flight went to the west side of the of the L.Z. And White flight went to the east side as they had been previously briefed. Sky landed as close as possible to the tree line on his left and slightly further left than his normal position directly behind White One. He had just mentally commented to himself, “ I guess they got them all,” meaning the bad guys were either dead or had run away when Sky's conscience world went dark. One moment he had been looking for the friendly troops and the next second he was out cold. To this very day he does not know if it was some type of land detonated mine/bomb or some bad guy with an RPG and a very bad aim that had shot at 915. Whatever had caused the blast had dug a huge hole in the soft mud ( which probably saved their lives) in front of 915's landing area and absolutely covered the forward wind screens in a thick coating of black mud.
When Sky came to he was amazed to find himself still in one piece as he looked down thinking he would see blood squirting through holes in his chicken plate. His first reaction was to check 915s systems via the instrument panel. The engine RPM was down to 6200 from its normal 6600 and the oil pressure gauge was showing zero. Sky hit the standby inverter hoping it might be the primary inverter or the gauge when he realized he could not see out of the front wind screen as it was covered with a thick layer of mud and no telling what else.
The radios came alive with the now familiar of different lift birds declaring, “ We are taking fire!” Over the noise of the radios Sky heard his Crew Chief saying that the troops were on board, and he the Chief was hit.
Sure enough 915 did indeed have six grunts on board.
“Chief can you shoot,” was Sky's question ?
“Yes,” came the reply.
“ Then shoot,” was sky's order.
Sky started pulling pitch as he hit the beep switch for the engine governor; beeping 915's engine to it's max RPM knowing full well if 915 didn't make it out of the L.Z. They were all going to be dead or worse. Not being able to see out of the aircraft except for his left sliding window and the chin bubble was a problem as there were aircraft and trees all around his position. 915's two M-60 machine guns barked and blazed away at any and all perceived enemy locations while the radio chatter continued with warnings on all three radios.
War could be a very noisy place indeed.
Sky started to stick his helmeted head out of his left side window but just as he moved to do so he swore he SAW two rounds go by so close he could hear them them snap by even through his helmet and radios chatter.
915 wallowed fighting her way into translational lift but she could not gain enough speed to pass the transition from a hover to flight. A very risky move was executed by
what is called popping a bird into translational lift; it either works or you will be back on the ground out of pitch pull and ideas. Sky's rapid pitch pull while lowering the noise brought the engine RPM down to 5800 RPM but 915 was through translational lift and flying out of the hover mode which takes much more power to do. Sky milked power back into her drive train by decreasing collective pitch and adding right pedal which did increase the engine RPM back to 6100 but still shy of her normal 6600. Sky did everything he could including pulling up on the cyclic (which could not help at all) trying to get 915 clear the trees at the edge of the L.Z. There was a moment as 915 hung over the edge of the tree line …..as the bad guys shot holes in her belly and blades trying to bring her down.....before she finally decided she could do this and fly away.
In the spirit of a true war machine she carried the 10 souls out of harms way and from the blade of the Grim Reaper on this day.
All three radios were filled with the chatter of war but one transmission seemed to rise above all others.
“Will you look at this they shot my f*cking fingers off, they shot my f*cking fingers off,” which was being said with an almost melodic chant.
As 915 finally got some good air under her she accelerated leaving the bad guys behind to wonder why they didn't have any First Cav troops and pilots in their clutches to abuse and mutilate.
Sky was still having trouble seeing where he was going so he had to alternate between looking through the chin bubble and the two side windows of the aircraft while he did his utmost to get 915 far away from the hot L.Z. Vertigo danced at the edges of his senses, yet, even in her damage state 915 was an extension of Sky's own body. Bobby pointed out 915 now had a maxed out transmission oil temp and a higher than normal engine exhaust gas temp (EGT).
Sky was unaware that during the time he had been knocked out a mortar round had gone off near the left side of the aircraft damaging the engine and transmission plus hitting the Crew Chief in the arm and leg with shrapnel. Sky had thought the Chief had been hit by small arms fire.
Mr. F*cking Fingers was still was still broadcasting over one of the radios about his missing appendages when Sky came up on UHF guard frequency and said, “ Break, break, break, be advised White Three has a maxed out transmission oil temp and EGT; I need a place to set he down!”
This undoubtedly sounded weird to his fellow Air Gods as they were unaware Sky could not see out of 915 as far as any forward vision.
Someone said, “ Pick a place they are everywhere.”
Sky almost asked who the wise a$$ was but thought better of it as he had more pressing problems.
Off the left side of 915 appeared a clear blue (no elephant grass so deep) lake. There appeared to be a one shipper L.Z. On the waters edge and what looked like a three ship L.Z. Just to the left and over some very tall trees. Sky broke left and advised the flight he was going down. Delta 23 came up on VHF radio and said, “ I got you White Three” meaning he would fly down with 915 to provide covering fire if needed.
Sky's White flight approached the L.Z. From the same north to south direction just like the previous two times they had entered the L.Z. Sky had his Chicken Plate leaned against his chest and stomach in the event the bad guys started shooting at them again. This time however the two flights of 4 did not take fire as they cleared the tree line that surrounded the edge of the L.Z. …....As a matter of fact there was no shooting anywhere.
Yellow Flight went to the west side of the of the L.Z. And White flight went to the east side as they had been previously briefed. Sky landed as close as possible to the tree line on his left and slightly further left than his normal position directly behind White One. He had just mentally commented to himself, “ I guess they got them all,” meaning the bad guys were either dead or had run away when Sky's conscience world went dark. One moment he had been looking for the friendly troops and the next second he was out cold. To this very day he does not know if it was some type of land detonated mine/bomb or some bad guy with an RPG and a very bad aim that had shot at 915. Whatever had caused the blast had dug a huge hole in the soft mud ( which probably saved their lives) in front of 915's landing area and absolutely covered the forward wind screens in a thick coating of black mud.
When Sky came to he was amazed to find himself still in one piece as he looked down thinking he would see blood squirting through holes in his chicken plate. His first reaction was to check 915s systems via the instrument panel. The engine RPM was down to 6200 from its normal 6600 and the oil pressure gauge was showing zero. Sky hit the standby inverter hoping it might be the primary inverter or the gauge when he realized he could not see out of the front wind screen as it was covered with a thick layer of mud and no telling what else.
The radios came alive with the now familiar of different lift birds declaring, “ We are taking fire!” Over the noise of the radios Sky heard his Crew Chief saying that the troops were on board, and he the Chief was hit.
Sure enough 915 did indeed have six grunts on board.
“Chief can you shoot,” was Sky's question ?
“Yes,” came the reply.
“ Then shoot,” was sky's order.
Sky started pulling pitch as he hit the beep switch for the engine governor; beeping 915's engine to it's max RPM knowing full well if 915 didn't make it out of the L.Z. They were all going to be dead or worse. Not being able to see out of the aircraft except for his left sliding window and the chin bubble was a problem as there were aircraft and trees all around his position. 915's two M-60 machine guns barked and blazed away at any and all perceived enemy locations while the radio chatter continued with warnings on all three radios.
War could be a very noisy place indeed.
Sky started to stick his helmeted head out of his left side window but just as he moved to do so he swore he SAW two rounds go by so close he could hear them them snap by even through his helmet and radios chatter.
915 wallowed fighting her way into translational lift but she could not gain enough speed to pass the transition from a hover to flight. A very risky move was executed by
what is called popping a bird into translational lift; it either works or you will be back on the ground out of pitch pull and ideas. Sky's rapid pitch pull while lowering the noise brought the engine RPM down to 5800 RPM but 915 was through translational lift and flying out of the hover mode which takes much more power to do. Sky milked power back into her drive train by decreasing collective pitch and adding right pedal which did increase the engine RPM back to 6100 but still shy of her normal 6600. Sky did everything he could including pulling up on the cyclic (which could not help at all) trying to get 915 clear the trees at the edge of the L.Z. There was a moment as 915 hung over the edge of the tree line …..as the bad guys shot holes in her belly and blades trying to bring her down.....before she finally decided she could do this and fly away.
In the spirit of a true war machine she carried the 10 souls out of harms way and from the blade of the Grim Reaper on this day.
All three radios were filled with the chatter of war but one transmission seemed to rise above all others.
“Will you look at this they shot my f*cking fingers off, they shot my f*cking fingers off,” which was being said with an almost melodic chant.
As 915 finally got some good air under her she accelerated leaving the bad guys behind to wonder why they didn't have any First Cav troops and pilots in their clutches to abuse and mutilate.
Sky was still having trouble seeing where he was going so he had to alternate between looking through the chin bubble and the two side windows of the aircraft while he did his utmost to get 915 far away from the hot L.Z. Vertigo danced at the edges of his senses, yet, even in her damage state 915 was an extension of Sky's own body. Bobby pointed out 915 now had a maxed out transmission oil temp and a higher than normal engine exhaust gas temp (EGT).
Sky was unaware that during the time he had been knocked out a mortar round had gone off near the left side of the aircraft damaging the engine and transmission plus hitting the Crew Chief in the arm and leg with shrapnel. Sky had thought the Chief had been hit by small arms fire.
Mr. F*cking Fingers was still was still broadcasting over one of the radios about his missing appendages when Sky came up on UHF guard frequency and said, “ Break, break, break, be advised White Three has a maxed out transmission oil temp and EGT; I need a place to set he down!”
This undoubtedly sounded weird to his fellow Air Gods as they were unaware Sky could not see out of 915 as far as any forward vision.
Someone said, “ Pick a place they are everywhere.”
Sky almost asked who the wise a$$ was but thought better of it as he had more pressing problems.
Off the left side of 915 appeared a clear blue (no elephant grass so deep) lake. There appeared to be a one shipper L.Z. On the waters edge and what looked like a three ship L.Z. Just to the left and over some very tall trees. Sky broke left and advised the flight he was going down. Delta 23 came up on VHF radio and said, “ I got you White Three” meaning he would fly down with 915 to provide covering fire if needed.