The MH-47 helicopters screamed through the night, the dull black finish on their fuselage blending seamlessly with the dark skyline.
The twin rotor blades cut through the air as they flew nap of the earth following the contour lines of the mountains as they rose and fell just a dozen meters over the surface, the pilots flying by instrument and night vision goggles.
In the belly of the six rotary wing aircraft the passengers sat on the cold floor front to back loaded down with rifles, machine guns, ammunition, and grenades. The aircraft were completely blacked out, no one dosing off due to a combination of pre-combat jitters and motion sickness as the helicopters rocked up and down.
The flight to the first combat outpost for refueling had been uneventful; now they were in a combat zone where pilots were subject to fire from surface to air weapons and ground troops found themselves in constant contact with enemy guerrilla fighters from a dozen different factions vying for control of the rugged landscape below.
Two new chapters up today. I’ll try to have six up tomorrow.
Reflexive Fire 