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Issue Nine: Humor
The moon shone brightly on the horizon without a cloud to question its reign. The tree canopy glistened with moonlight a hundred feet below me and the rotor blades of the helicopter beat out a deafening cacophony just a few feet above my head. This beautiful, surreal image was imbedded in my mind as I felt myself slide those few precious inches toward and then out the open door. If it wasn’t for the safety strap stopping my initial fall and the men on either side of me putting their own lives at risk, I would surely have dropped to my death. Two years earlier I met the two men who saved me as they completed their basic military training. We had been sent down as observers to see these soldiers in action before they were shipped out and indoctrinated into our unit. To be honest, I wasn’t overly impressed with these men—they seemed eager enough, but were more intent on seeking personal gains and chasing ideals than seeking those ideals meant to instill unit cohesiveness like loyalty, selflessness trust.
Throughout the next year-and-a-half the training these men received revolved around the tasks that needed to be performed as a team rather than as individuals. Slowly they came to understand that in many of the given scenarios for their job description they needed to be able to turn their backs to possible danger and rely on others to cover it which isn’t easy to do, especially considering human nature screams against it.
So, on this particularly scenic evening, I found myself having to rely on them to save my life. This was the second mission of the evening and I was extremely tired. For both missions we relied on the same type of helicopter, the UH-60 Blackhawk, to transport us to a rally point where we would disperse and link up with other units deep in the jungle. We had used the Blackhawk for many missions in the past but those were only training missions. During those missions all of the seats were installed and we were required to physically strap in with four point harnesses. The military, being economically minded, decided that with the seats out they could double the payload. The problem was, we had never trained at night, loading into this particular helicopter, with no seats. So we quickly loaded trying to get everyone and everything on with us. Luck of the draw had me loading first, near the front, with the other nineteen piling all around me along with their gear. Long before we reached our destination my legs lost all feeling. As I began noticing this discomfort I announced it loudly to anyone that would listen but quickly found that there was nothing to be done but wait it out. After a particularly rough landing I had to be physically pulled from the aircraft and dragged into the brush. It was embarrassing and time consuming all in one; I wasn’t happy.
The moon had risen during our foray into the woods although we didn’t realize it until we emerged into our pick up zone and waited for the birds to pick us up. We only had a few minutes to admire the scenery from the ground before they arrived. Then six of them swept in over the top of us and lighted gently on to the ground.
We rushed from both sides, and in a much more orderly fashion, loaded up quickly and intelligently. Those loading first removed their rucksacks before boarding and positioned them on the floor to be used as seats. This worked well for everyone except for those of us that actually sat in the open doorways, three on each side. We had to leave the rucksacks on our backs to better maintain balance. The aircraft crew chief made his final head count and pulled the safety strap across the door opening, cinched it tight and climbed into his position as the side door gunner.
The six helicopters took off in unison with a nose down attitude as they quickly gained altitude. They leveled off at around 100 feet or so just skimming the trees but with enough margin to prevent hitting taller trees that stuck up above the rest. From my vantage point in the door, the view was spectacular with the moon above and slightly ahead of us and the sea of deep green ranging to black laid out below us. The men to either side of me had the advantage of being able to hold on to the doorframe as we sat with our legs dangling out of the helicopter. I, on the other hand, had to hold on to the safety strap and maintain backpressure against it to keep my position. Not only did I have to worry about sliding forward and back, but also keeping myself firmly planted on the floor with the chopper rising and falling, sometimes fast enough to make my stomach heave.
The first ten minutes of flight were fine, but then the pilot began to make erratic altitude and direction changes. I don't know if the maneuvers were in the mission scenario or not, but I soon found it difficult to maintain contact with the floor. Finally, when the aircraft lifted rapidly and slewed to one side without banking, I found myself physically thrown out the door. The safety strap stopped my initial fall but I was already out the door with the strap tucked under my arms and chin. The weight of my rucksack was pulling down on me, and the helicopter, with the pilot unaware, was still making violent undulations. Without any regard for their own safety, the two soldiers on either side of me quickly reached out and grabbed onto my rucksack. I was safe, as long as the strap held, until I could push off of the strap and back into the cabin. After what seemed like long minutes, when in truth this entire encounter lasted less than 60 seconds, my chance came when the pilot banked and turned in the opposite direction. I was catapulted back into my seat as if I'd never left. Truth be told, if it weren’t for the three witnesses (the crew chief of the helicopter was able to see everything, but could do nothing to help), I don't think I could have sold this story to the rest of the helicopter occupants, let alone anyone else.
The point of this whole experience is this; I knew in my heart that these two men would do whatever it took to get me back in, even if it meant they might sacrifice themselves. I would have done the same for them. Loyalty and trust are two of the strongest binders of camaraderie and friendship.
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