Dust. It was always dust. Dust in the eyes, dust in the clothes, dust in your kit, dust in your weapons….worst of all dust in the mechanics of your transportation.
The 6 of us were limping along in a transport chopper late afternoon from a rapid response support operation, part of a larger repression effort on the outskirts of town for Company F 23rd ID.
Fucking dust, I’m so sick of it. I’m tired of this war and I wanna go home. I thought aimlessly.
“ Hey LT you having a personal pity party up there” Alonzo shouted over the grinding roar of the chopper blades. ”You look so triste and rendido!” . Bentz beat me to the punch “ Shut your trap you bandana wearing wetback, of course he is having a pity party.”
We all laughed. Ahh God I love these guys. This is why we do what we do. That’s why I put up with the dust, and blood and worthless dying.
“Alonso boy you better strip that fiddy down right tonight no more jams like today” I said. He looked chagrined. But so he should, good men got hurt today, when Alonso the HWE specialist had jam. Dust. Dust. Dust.
We were almost back to Camp Kilo. Shit hole #5 that I had lived in with these pukes in the last year. Thru the haze I could see the camp coming into view. The engine was grinding like an old woman, please not today, lets get this old bucket back to Kilo then fail.
“RPG RPG RPG” Called Weston. “No,No, No!” I roared. Like that makes frigging difference…..
Our pilots are the best! I was relieved to see the RPG had missed thanks to radical the radical drop in height and crazy ass fishtailing.
What we were not going to survive was the tearing popping noise from the engine housing. The call came over the headset “ we are going in hard gentleman, brace your self, turn all electronics off….whoa shit….here we go.”
In the end the landing was ok, if you call swirling 360’s and a plunge from 20+ feet all right. We were all banged up, there smoke and shit everywhere. But no casualties, its what happened next that was bullshit. Fire from 360 degrees! Dam. Bitches. “ Move move, move; covering fire Alonso. Hey Brown get your ass out of comfy pilot seat Brown , we gotta go!” I shouted urgently over the gunfire and still whining engine. His head lolled forward. “aw shit”. There was no way to retrieve the body with the fire I was taking.
The squad tore it up running for cover. 2 cowards went to Allah, from our fire. Crazy 8 (our demo guy) just threw c4 at window and missed, it tore a jagged hole in the wall, that was covered on the inside in viscera from the arsehole behind it.
“ Get inside quick.” Scanning from the chopper I quickly counted 15-20 Tangos. Not good. The dust and smoke was helping as we gained ingress. I love dust. Especially that swirling masking hide in it kind of dust.
To be continued………