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“Damn, Kelly, that racket is enough. Do you have to add to it?” Mike complained.
“Sir, you should be sitting back here if you think it’s bad up there. I’m right next to this thing. And I even put cigarette filters in my ears before I put on my helmet to cover the sound,” Kelly explained.
“Let me understand this,” Reid said. “You put cigarette filters in your ears to cut the sound. Are they that effective as earplugs?”
“Sir, the ridges on those rubber earplugs we’re issued irritate the crap out of my ears, especially with the helmet on. Cigarette filters are soft, fit nicely in the ear canal and don’t hurt. Got to be careful not to push them in too far, and sometimes you need a pair of needle-nose pliers to get one out, but hey, they work. See, us crew chiefs and door gunners haven’t been issued those fancy helmets that you pilots wear that reduce noise. We have to make do.”
“Hey, Mr. George, the psyops guys are starting to toss the leaflets out. Looks like a pretty good spread too. At least they’re taking them out of the box and tossing them out loose. Oops, spoke too soon. There goes a box,” Conrad said, leaning over and watching the box fall.
“Watch it and see if it opens before it hits the trees,” Mike instructed.
“It just opened at about a thousand feet. That’s going to be a concentrated bunch of leaflets. Chuck’ll have no problem finding something to wipe his ass with tonight.” The aircraft continued to make a wide racetrack over the valley. The hills surrounding the valley were heavily vegetated, but the bottom of the basin appeared to have been cultivated at one time with farmed fields. No current crop production was evident, but it was clear that at one time some farming was done—probably sugar beets, since the fields weren’t laid out as rice paddies generally were. The air was smooth, AFRN was on the radio playing music—all was right with the world.
In the distance somewhere, a banging noise was heard. Conrad and Kelly, who had both been lying back in their seats, started looking around outside.
“Hey, Mr. George, I think someone may have just been shooting at us,” Kelly sounded off, peering down over the side of the aircraft.
Mike flashed a look at the instruments. All appeared well, and he heard no strange noises. “Can you see where it may have come from?” he asked, also looking down. The Vietnamese captain was jabbering frantically to the psyops NCO.
“Mr. George, the captain heard shooting but doesn’t want you to be shooting artillery or the guns,” the NCO said. “Must be suffering from Cory memories,” he chuckled.
“Tell him we aren’t going to do any shooting. Can’t tell where it came from anyway. Somewhere in that valley, but it’s a big valley. How much longer you want to stay out here? We’re starting to run low on fuel,” Mike said.
“You can head back. We’ve dropped everything, and the captain is looking a bit worried.”
“Okay, guys, it’s a wrap. Let’s head back to Bu Gia Map and call it a day.”
The return flight was uneventful, which for a helicopter crew was good. Mike called the TOC and passed on the information about possibly taking fire from a heavy-caliber weapon as the psyops team unloaded their speakers and equipment. Once everything was unloaded and they were released from mission, Mike moved the aircraft to the refuel point.
“When Kelly gets done refueling, let’s get him in the right seat and you get on his gun, okay?” he instructed Reid.
“You bet.” And Reid enthusiastically got out of the right seat, approaching Kelly and pointing to the right seat. Conversation with flight helmets on and the engine running was impossible to hear, even if you yelled, unless both parties were plugged into the intercom system, which they were not. Kelly got the idea quickly and moved up to the door. As soon as Mike saw him, he waved Kelly in and pointed at the right seat. Some seat adjustments were required as Kelly was six foot three and Reid was five foot eight. As Kelly settled in, he plugged his helmet into the intercom system.
“You hear me okay?” Mike asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, today is your first flying lesson. Want to get you to flying st
raight and level, holding altitude and making a slow, controlled descent. Any questions?”
“A million, but I can wait,” Kelly responded.
“Okay, put your feet on the pedals and hands on the controls. Initially you’re just going to get the feel of the controls as I fly the aircraft, so you should only be holding them lightly. At some point, I’ll turn it over to you. Good to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kelly already knew what each control did in controlling the aircraft, so they didn’t need to have a discussion on those points. Having Kelly lightly on the controls as Mike flew would provide Kelly with a sense of just how gently you needed to hold the controls to fly the aircraft smoothly. A light touch was all that was needed. Mike had no intention of trying to teach hovering to Kelly. That was the hardest part of flying a helicopter, and Kelly had no need for that.
Mike received clearance from the tower for departure and brought the aircraft out of the refuel point, hovering to the runway and making a slow climb-out departure, increasing airspeed and altitude to ninety knots and twenty-five hundred feet. Kelly was keeping a light touch on the controls and following Mike’s movements.
“How do you feel?” Mike asked, noting the ear-to-ear grin on Kelly’s face.
“Good, sir.”
“Okay, we’re going to talk about a couple of the instruments that you should understand. Forget the engine and transmission instruments. For you, they’re not important at this point. Note the altimeter, the vertical speed indicator, the air speed indicator as well as the artificial horizon and RMI.” As Mike addressed each instrument he pointed at it with his pencil serving as a pointer. Continuing, “Those are the only ones to concern yourself with. The altimeter is going to show how high you are. The vertical speed indicator shows how rapid a descent or climb you’re making, and the airspeed indicator shows how fast you’re going. Got it?”
“I’m with you, sir.”
