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“Dan, I heard you were in the unit before. How many hours have you got?” Frank asked.
“I have about two thousand hours in-country and spent eighteen months here in Chicken-man before I went back to the States to attend the Infantry Officers’ Basic Course. I even taught this guy how to fly,” he said, indicating Sinkey.
“All he did was scare the living shit out of me. Get him to show you one of his autorotations where he first gets to one thousand feet at eighty knots, then closes the throttle and zero outs the airspeed. Now the fun starts. He then does a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree pedal turn, and coming out of the pedal turn, he shoves the nose over into a dive, filling the windshield with Mother Earth to build rotor rpm, and then sets it down like a flight school autorotation. Be sure and take a dump before you do,” Sinkey added with a smile.
“I haven’t done one of those in four months. Come to think of it, I haven’t done an autorotation in four months. Can we get a couple in today?” Cory asked Sinkey. Before Sinkey could answer, three distinct sounds could be heard in the distance. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.
“Incoming!” someone shouted, and everyone was throwing themselves on the floor.
KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM. Three 122 mm mortar rounds slammed into the company area, throwing dirt and rocks into the sides of buildings but doing little damage except maybe punching a hole in a screen and waking everyone up. Then it was all quiet, but no one was moving, waiting for more rounds. There were no calls for medics. After a minute, everyone got up and finished their breakfast as if nothing had happened.
“Some things just don’t change,” Cory said as he sipped his coffee. Just another morning in Vietnam.
Chapter 22
Back in the Saddle
“I’m bringing a hood so I can get some instrument time, if that’s okay,” Cory said as he and Sinkey walked out to the aircraft after retrieving their flight gear. Flight helmet, leather gloves, knee board, maps, sidearm with extra bullets and Ka-Bar knife. Chicken plate was worn over their Nomex two-piece flight suits as that was easier than carrying it. Stopping by Flight Operations on the way to the aircraft, Sinkey picked up their mission sheet, which had all the information about their mission for the day. This was something new to Cory. The mission sheet had the mission number, aircraft tail number, crew’s names, contact information for the unit you would be flying for, and the location to meet those you would be supporting. Also any follow-on missions for the day, such as if you would have a combat assault to fly later with another unit. Cory’s experience in the past was that you contacted Flight Ops when you started the aircraft, and then you received a call sign, frequency and location to fly to for your first mission. It was discovered in Cambodia that the NVA had a more sophisticated communications monitoring capability than anticipated and had been listening to aircraft mission assignments. This would cut that capability significantly.
Arriving at the aircraft, Cory placed his gear in the right seat and Sinkey put his in the left. As the steps to the rotor head were on the right side of the aircraft, Cory started climbing up to inspect the rotor head. Sinkey walked around the front of the aircraft, holding what appeared to be a laminated checklist.
“Dan, you check and I’ll read off the checklist,” Sinkey indicated.
“What? I’ll just knock it out,” Cory said, looking over his shoulder as he reached for the last rung.
“Nope. We have to use a checklist now.”
“You’re shitting me, right?”
“Nope, major’s orders. He wants checklists used whenever they’re available, and each aircraft has one now.”
“Okay, if that’s what he wants. Seems like a waste of time to me, but, hey, I’m not in charge.”
“Man, they made you an RLO and you got real smart,” Sinkey said, giving Cory a smile.
“Real smart, sir,” Cory responded with a grin. “Start reading and I’ll do the checking.” Cory climbed up to the top of the aircraft and positioned himself at the rotor head. After fifteen minutes, Cory and Sinkey strapped in and went through the start-up checklist. Finally, in Cory’s mind, they actually started the aircraft.
“When’s the last time you flew?” Sinkey asked.
“July twenty-seventh, when Copenhaver crashed.”
“That was your last flight?” Sinkey asked with a bit of a surprise.
“Yeah, been in school since then. You want to take it out or are you brave enough to let me do it?” Cory asked.
“Do you still remember how to do it?” Sinkey responded with bit of laughter. “Yeah, you can take us out. Hang on, guys,” he added for the benefit of the crew, “the RLO is taking us out.”
“Oh shit,” someone said over the intercom, along with the first line from the “Hail Mary” prayer.
Taking the runway, Cory pulled in the power and headed north. As they climbed out to twenty-five hundred feet, Sinkey made the call to Lai Khe Arty for clearance north up Highway 13 to An Loc. Cory liked the feel of the aircraft after being away for so long. The air was smooth, with some cloud buildup. Probably get some rain this afternoon as things heat up. The aircraft was flying just right and responsive to his touch. The sounds were all in harmony as they should be.
“So what we got today at An Loc, Mr. Sinkey?” O’Donnell, the crew chief, asked.
“Not sure. We’re to contact the US advisor up there and he’ll be coordinating our missions today with the Vietnamese. That’s all I’ve been told.”
“With the Vietnamese, we could be hauling anything and everything. Just hope it isn’t any of the damn pigs. They always manage to shit on the floor,” O’Donnell complained.
“Well, if we do haul pigs and if they shit on the deck, I’ll get us back to Quan Loi to refuel and get some running water to hose the deck off before it dries,” Sinkey assured him.
