Damn, now I felt even worse. “Sir, the Chicken Coop is family. I’m not going anywhere now,” I said.

“Good. Now when are you taking your extension leave?” he asked.

“I planned to take it in January when my twelve months was up. Mom is back in the States attending the University of Maryland while Dad’s in Saigon, and I was going home to spend it with her.”

“No girlfriend?” he asked.

“No, sir. I’ve gotten some letters from a girl I met two years ago in Morocco, but we never dated and her parents are good friends with mine. Just friends, nothing serious or anything.”

“Well, if you’re going home in January, I need you to get the orientation flights done on any pilot that comes in, and that’s your priority for the next two months. If a newbie walks in, he’s in the air the next morning with you. I’ll notify Ops that you and your crew are devoted to flying with every new pilot we receive, be it their first day in the unit or just getting them up to speed. Any questions?”

“Just one, sir. How come I got the IP position? I’ve never been to the flight schools as an instructor.”

“Flying with you, especially the other day, told me you have the combat experience and know the techniques that these guys need to survive. Flight school taught them the basics. You’re going to take them a step higher along with the other ACs. We’re going to start running into more NVA and less VC. The NVA know how to shoot at helicopters, whereas the VC can’t hit shit unless it’s on the ground right in front of them. Look at how many aircraft we’ve had take hits in the last two months versus the last eight months. Triple the number, and each time was a lot more hits in each aircraft,” he explained.

“Okay, sir, I’ll schedule Mr. Reynolds for first thing in the morning and Mr. Dumas for thirteen hundred. For the new guys, I’ll get with Ops and work out a schedule. Anything else, sir?”

“No, that about covers it,” he said as he held out his hand. We had a real CO, and he was a hard man to turn down. He was leadership that I hadn’t seen in the unit for the first eight months I was in the outfit, and his leadership was making great strides in raising the morale and esprit de corps in the unit. Unit pride was becoming more and more evident.

That night after I got some food in my stomach, I tracked down Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Dumas. Both were in the club. I took a chair at their table and introduced myself to them, although after last night I was sure they knew who I was.

“Mr. Reynolds, you and I will launch at zero nine hundred for your orientation flight. Have you made up a map of the AO yet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. I’m the same rank as you. How about you? Have you put a map together?” I addressed Mr. Dumas.

“Ah, no. Should I?” he responded. Something told me this wasn’t good.

“Well, yeah. You need a map. Go to Flight Ops in the morning and they’ll give you the sheets and show you how to arrange it so it opens easy in the aircraft. Have you been to supply and drawn your chicken plates?”

Both responded in the affirmative.

“Good. I’ll meet you over at Flight Ops tomorrow, then. Thirteen hundred hours for you,” I said, looking at Mr. Dumas.

“One question,” Mr. Reynolds spoke up. “What are we going to be doing tomorrow?”

“Good question. We’ll leave here and go to a dirt strip up north and shoot some autorotations, then fly north and give you an orientation of the area, where th

e major towns are at, where the key firebases are located and how to get clearances through artillery. We’ll stop someplace and refuel and put in about three hours flying time. You might look over the dead man chart in the aircraft operator’s manual, the -10, tonight.” With that, I left them and headed to bed.

At 0500 hours, the damn rooster was raising hell over by the RLO hooch. Better there than next to my bed. He used to crow next to my bed on the sandbags until I hit him one morning with a broom. After that, I started leaving corn over at the RLO hooch, and he moved over there.

At breakfast, I saw Mr. Reynolds, John, and sat with him. He was full of good questions and spent the time picking my brain. I started to wonder if this was me ten months ago. Was I this inquisitive? Had I badgered Lou with questions, attempting to suck him dry of his flight knowledge? Lou was one of the best pilots I had ever flown with. I wished he was here now. Since John and I were both up, we agreed to meet at 0800 hours at Flight Ops and go over a few things before preflight. Specialist Linam was there, and I gave him a heads-up about the change in plans. He said he had no problem with the change of times.

John was right on time and we got to it. I discussed some of the finer points of the preflight inspection and discussed how to get out of the revetment. In flight school, you never hovered the aircraft in such a confined space as a revetment. The first time, it could be a bit nerve-racking. Taking off, we flew to the SF camp on Highway 13 and shot some autorotations, with me demonstrating and then allowing him to execute. He did all right and showed that with some practice he would be even better. We then flew to the northwest and refueled in Tay Ninh. From there, we went on to Quan Loi and Song Be with a return to Lai Khe at 1200 hours. Walking back to Flight Ops, I signed John off as qualified to fly. He was on the board for the next day with me again, but for missions. After chow, I met Mr. Dumas at Flight Ops. There was something about him. He did not ask questions.

As with John, I went over a few things in Ops and then we went out to the aircraft and conducted another preflight, which wasn’t normal, but it was his first flight of the day. Like me when I’d first arrived, he was looking for a written checklist, not only for the preflight but also for start-up. He started the aircraft, and I talked about exiting the revetments, asking if he had any questions. He said no.

“Okay, back us out.”

The crew cleared us, and I said, “Let’s go.” Before I could do anything, we were ten feet in the air and climbing. I grabbed the controls and stopped the ascent.

“What the hell! What are you doing?” I asked, attempting to hide my shock.

“I wanted to be sure to be above the revetment before I came back,” he said with a look of sincerity that really made me wonder.

“Rick—can I call you Rick?”

Tags: Matt Jackson Undaunted Valor War
Source: readsnovelonline.net