It was like any other mission. A simple insertion. Standard affair; in and out. It was like any other mission. Or so I thought.

The engines droned on and on, the propellers in the wings of our UH-94 Cinereous rapidly chopping the air. I’m told in the past, the blades were mounted directly above the center of many VTOL aircraft, and the distinct noise they made led to the nickname ‘choppers’. Not that any of the CEF history training mattered on these missions. A waste of time, most of us called it. I kept my eyes on the light blue waters as they raced along beneath us, knowing that soon they would change to the green of the forests that were our destination.

As a door gunner, I sat with a large M240 belt fed gun pointed out the door. It was mounted to a large articulating arm, which held its weight, absorbed the recoil and fed a continuous supply of ammunition to the weapon. I was charged with suppressing fire from just before landing to just after takeoff. We were unlikely to face any threats on this mission however; our destination was a common and safe drop point.

“Hey Julie!” It was one of the junior NCOs of the ground forces. He was a bit of a self-absorbed type; thought he was better than most, especially in my case. I wanted to ignore him, but after a moment's hesitation I knew it would just be smarter to let him mouth off now when others were around to curb his tongue.

“What do you want, Niko?” I spat back over the voice comms.

“Woah woah, no need for all the vitrol is there? I was just making sure you hadn’t lost control of such a large gun.” The sneer was as apparent in his voice as it was on his face.

“Nice word, who told you to use that one?” It took everything I had to keep myself in line.

“Are you suggesting I’m stupid Private? You shouldn’t talk to your superiors like that. You never know what might go on your next eval,” his grin grew as he watched me. I knew I wasn’t hiding my frustration well. He was infuriating.

“I’m only suggesting that you might not know the meaning of that word. But since you clearly do, why not share with those that don’t?” the smile on his face faltered, and the rage he usually had crept into his eyes. He had gone from enjoying his feeling of power over me, to the anger known only to those made a fool of in front of their peers.

“It means, like, anger or hate,” he said with enough conviction he might have tricked less intelligent men.

“Nice try sergeant, but it means harsh language. Also it’s pronounced vitriol,” the platoon sergeant first class cut across. He was a hard man in drills, but a kind soul that always looked out for his men. He even tended to look out for the men of other platoons that worked directly with his own, like myself. That was probably the reason he stepped in to help me.

“Clear comms. We’re approaching the water line.” Captain Burges leaned forward, looking over my shoulder at the cliffs approaching us. I glared at Niko for a moment, a snarl pulling at my face. I wanted to punch him. Or throw him out of the bird, see if he let out a scream like in the old movies they played at times in the mess hall.

But the Captain placed a hand on the back of my shoulder, and I could faintly hear him yelling to calm down over the roar of the air around us. He hadn’t used comms, it was meant only for me. I ripped my eyes off the pig of an NCO and focused again on my job. The foliage beneath us would soon turn a deep green as we left the immediate coastal area, and it was there we had to stay on high alert.

Any sign of danger in the vicinity, and we would have to find a different landing zone. This was also part of my job, to spot out any threat and avoid a hot landing zone. As with all door and rear gunners, I had incredible eyesight, and had excelled at spotting out problems in all training simulations. Despite this skill, I had thankfully never had to use it. As a consequence, I had never fired my gun during a live mission. I prayed I never would.

“Touch and go in one hundred twenty!” The pilot came over the general comms nearly twenty minutes after we had made landfall. My heart jumped, and my adrenaline amped all my senses. It was only my fourth mission beyond the coastal wire. I hoped I would adjust to this and it wouldn’t rattle me so hard on later outings. In my left ear, indicating to me only myself and the other gunners could hear it, I heard my first sergeant call out.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Eyes open now, call anything that smells even remotely of trouble.” I took a deep, shaky breath to steady my hands and began scanning everything below us.

“Sixty!” the co pilot called. The engines changed their sound as they shifted to prepare for hovering and landing maneuvers.

“OUT AND IN! OUT AND IN!” my first sergeant called, having to yell into the mic to be heard over the increasing volume of the engines. I forced myself to follow my training, pushing my eyes up. Start out several hundred meters from the landing zone, and begin to scan left to right. Broken branches, ripped up trees, a strange parting in the grass. Anything that might indicate movement through the woods. Bring your sight in as you begin to descend, scanning the edges of whatever clearing had been chosen.

“FORTY!”

“BEGIN LANDING PROTOCOL!” the pilot called.

“REPORT!” The first sergeant ordered in our gunners comms. The gunner opposite me called out first.

“STARBOARD CLEAR!”

“AFT CLEAR!”

“PORT CLEAR!” I bellowed into my headset, doing my best to deepen my voice.

“BOW CLEAR! KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED AND YOUR HEAD ON A SWIVEL!” The first sergeant ended our initial callouts. Swapping to the general comms he continued “INITIAL SCAN ALL CLEAR!”

“ALL CLEAR AYE!” the pilot responded. My stomach lurched as the craft began to descend. We were still several hundred meters up, but I knew we would soon be on the ground. My heart quickened. I continued to scan the forest, slowly pulling my sweep radius in.

“TWENTY!”

“REPORT!” again the gunners called all clear. The craft jolted from side to side, buffeted by its own draft.

“FIFTEEN!”

“WATCH THOSE TREE LINES! REPORT!”

“TEN!”

“ALL GUNS CLEAR! YOU ARE FREE TO LAND SIR!” The first sergeant made his final call out to the pilot, even as the co-pilot began his final countdown. I knew the ground team were prepping all their weapon platforms, unclipping their harnesses and beginning to line up behind me. I shifted my gun out of the way, making room for them to quickly disembark.

“FIVE...FOUR...THREE...TWO...ONE!” The bird landed on the ground, the tall grass in the clearing flattened by the air being spat at it. Even as we touched down, the ground team quickly disembarked, spreading out in a half circle in front of my door, weapons raised and ready. I knew a similar scene was playing out on the other side of the vehicle.

“ALL CLEAR!” the starboard gunner called. I felt two taps on my shoulder, and watched Captain Burges exit.

“ALL CLEAR!” I called out.

“GET US UP SIR!” The first sergeant called the pilot. The bird began to lift off the ground, quickly gaining air. It happened when we reached twenty-five to thirty yards up, right as I was beginning to feel we were safe again. I saw a flash from the corner of my eye, around eight o'clock from the front of the vessel. Something slammed into the wing just above me, and the sound of metal being wrenched and split filled the air.

A long tear had been punched through the wing above me, and the flap had been pulled clear off the craft. Destabilized by the impact, we tilted wildly to port, and my weight was thrust against my harness. I could see the wing bouncing wildly on what still remained to hold it in place, and the large ring that housed the propeller warped menacingly.

“MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! O-T-DUB-ONE-ONE HIT! UNKNOWN DAMAGE TO PORT CONTROL SURFACES! I REPEAT!” The pilot's frantic calls were broadcast over all available frequencies. He must have fought wildly, for we reached the edge of the cliff next to the landing zone and pulled away from it, giving himself room to wrestle the craft under his control. However, lady luck had a different plan for us.

The propeller above me caught on something and the blades ripped free of the rotor. The thin strips of metal flew out, one embedding itself in the fuselage directly next to me, another ripping into the already destabilized wing. Even as the wing bent up and the bird began to tumble I could hear the co-pilot calling out over all frequencies.

“MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY, OTDUB-ONE-ONE FULL LOSS OF CONTROL!”

I struggled to keep my head upright, the force of our uncontrolled spin pushing it back. I could see the ground approaching rapidly. I couldn’t keep my thoughts together. We were going to hit. Hard.

“BRACE!” my first sergeant screamed. But it was too late.

I heard the crunch of metal as I was looking at the sky, before everything went dark.