Soldier
Soldier
10
10
0
More from my Time in Service: It only takes a second.
My advice: You should stay inside the Chopper.
Fear.
Scared.
Shock.
Surprise.
Life sprinkles a few of those absolute sphincter clenching, desert mouth, wide eyed moments of inability to do much more than gather the
power to scream... in everyone's life. Scary seconds that are terrifying.
Everything around you slows down, your life flashes before your eyes like a movie played at high speed, yet somehow...you have a few
moments to yourself to think, regard your short future, and make amends in your mind to those you wronged...and yourself.
At least that is what happened to me on a routine Chopper Flight over some mountains in Hawaii. A simple mistake is all it took to change
my day. Don't most really stupid things that turn sour start with a "simple mistake?"
So here is my few seconds where outright fear met terrifying moment.
We had all our gear on, TA 50, backpacks (Not full rucks), full canteens, ammo pouches and, of course, our trusty weapons. We boarded
the Huey as squads. This particular configuration had us facing outwards on bench seats made out of canvas. With all your gear on- you
actually hung over the lip of the Huey, with just a bit of your boots pushing you back into the seat.
You could see almost straight down between the skid and the body of the Chopper. I am afraid of heights, and of flying (two distinct fears
that seem to work well together). I also had a horrible memory from a Chinook Crash in Germany. I wasn't in that crash- but saw the
aftermath and lost some friends.
So Choppers weren't my favorite form of transportation by any means.
We load up. Hook up our seatbelts, which were just a "D ring" and a loop link.
I hooked up and off we went. When the pilots hit the ridge line of the mountains the wind was howling. The turbulence -we find out later-
was listed as Severe. We were bouncing around like popcorn in a popper. A popper chopper. LOL
The pilot climbed to get "over the turbulence"...that didn't help. It got worse. We were slamming into each other. Weightless for a moment,
then heavy, then repeat. The guy two seats over threw up. The guy at the end watched his helmet fly off, tumbling and twisting to the
ground several thousand feet below. We all watched it go in fascination. Another giant lurch.
I was thrown upwards, spun around and tossed out of my seat by the next big jolt. Time froze. Fear took over. I was well beyond scared. I
was terrified.
Why?
Because I was looking back into the Huey. Five guys were staring at me. I was staring back. I still remember all those looks just before
tunnel vision set in. When my vision narrowed, my hearing blocked out all sound except for the "thump, thump, thump" of the blades
whacking the stubborn air.
I saw a thick tattooed arm flick out like a striking snake. The hand at the end grabbed my TA 50 and a handful of uniform and jerked me with
all its might back into the Huey. The Crew Chief reached over the top of the soldier pulling me in, and he used both hands to grab my pack
and pull me into the Huey.
Both had adrenaline to spare, I was pulled in like a worn out pike. Flailing, flopping, and finished. All the Choppers turned and flew to the
beach, and then around the ridge line...instead of their dogged straight over the ridge track. The air got smoother, I got settled in a seat. I
don't remember if I was back in the little canvas rack bench or in the interior of the Huey- I just knew I was safe.
I started laughing. So did the Crew Chief. So did the guy who saved me by pulling me back into the Chopper. Everyone else stared at us
like we were a pack of laughing hyenas. It was just the adrenaline, fear, and relief flowing out of our bodies.
I don't know if you have ever ridden in a chopper, then (while still thousands of feet in the air) thrown out of it so that you are outside looking
back in...but I can tell you it is one freaky feeling.
It turns out I had hooked my D ring to my TA 50 and not to the loop of the seat belt. So when we got bounced around, it was just long
enough to let me fly out of my seat, spin, and hold me a few feet over the skid.
Luckily, the biggest, strongest, and fastest guy in our Platoon was the guy who's arm shot out to pull me back in. I have had a soft spot in
my Heart for Samoans ever since.
I don't know if that one side of the seat belt that was attached to my Web Gear would have been enough to hold me in the propwash. It
might have just torn my TA 50 off and let me tumble past the skid on my way down to Mother Earth at high speed.
I will never know. The quick hands and reactions of both my Squad mate and the Crew Chief saved me from knowing the answer.
Nobody got a Medal. Although I believe both the guy who snatched me out of thin air, and the Crew Chief should have gotten the Soldier's
Medal, or at least an Army Commendation Medal. But sadly, it was just a training incident that didn't even get written up.
The Army didn't write it up, but it is embossed in gold letters in my mind.
Fear.
I have felt it.
My advice: You should stay inside the Chopper.
Fear.
Scared.
Shock.
Surprise.
Life sprinkles a few of those absolute sphincter clenching, desert mouth, wide eyed moments of inability to do much more than gather the
power to scream... in everyone's life. Scary seconds that are terrifying.
Everything around you slows down, your life flashes before your eyes like a movie played at high speed, yet somehow...you have a few
moments to yourself to think, regard your short future, and make amends in your mind to those you wronged...and yourself.
At least that is what happened to me on a routine Chopper Flight over some mountains in Hawaii. A simple mistake is all it took to change
my day. Don't most really stupid things that turn sour start with a "simple mistake?"
So here is my few seconds where outright fear met terrifying moment.
We had all our gear on, TA 50, backpacks (Not full rucks), full canteens, ammo pouches and, of course, our trusty weapons. We boarded
the Huey as squads. This particular configuration had us facing outwards on bench seats made out of canvas. With all your gear on- you
actually hung over the lip of the Huey, with just a bit of your boots pushing you back into the seat.
You could see almost straight down between the skid and the body of the Chopper. I am afraid of heights, and of flying (two distinct fears
that seem to work well together). I also had a horrible memory from a Chinook Crash in Germany. I wasn't in that crash- but saw the
aftermath and lost some friends.
So Choppers weren't my favorite form of transportation by any means.
We load up. Hook up our seatbelts, which were just a "D ring" and a loop link.
I hooked up and off we went. When the pilots hit the ridge line of the mountains the wind was howling. The turbulence -we find out later-
was listed as Severe. We were bouncing around like popcorn in a popper. A popper chopper. LOL
The pilot climbed to get "over the turbulence"...that didn't help. It got worse. We were slamming into each other. Weightless for a moment,
then heavy, then repeat. The guy two seats over threw up. The guy at the end watched his helmet fly off, tumbling and twisting to the
ground several thousand feet below. We all watched it go in fascination. Another giant lurch.
I was thrown upwards, spun around and tossed out of my seat by the next big jolt. Time froze. Fear took over. I was well beyond scared. I
was terrified.
Why?
Because I was looking back into the Huey. Five guys were staring at me. I was staring back. I still remember all those looks just before
tunnel vision set in. When my vision narrowed, my hearing blocked out all sound except for the "thump, thump, thump" of the blades
whacking the stubborn air.
I saw a thick tattooed arm flick out like a striking snake. The hand at the end grabbed my TA 50 and a handful of uniform and jerked me with
all its might back into the Huey. The Crew Chief reached over the top of the soldier pulling me in, and he used both hands to grab my pack
and pull me into the Huey.
Both had adrenaline to spare, I was pulled in like a worn out pike. Flailing, flopping, and finished. All the Choppers turned and flew to the
beach, and then around the ridge line...instead of their dogged straight over the ridge track. The air got smoother, I got settled in a seat. I
don't remember if I was back in the little canvas rack bench or in the interior of the Huey- I just knew I was safe.
I started laughing. So did the Crew Chief. So did the guy who saved me by pulling me back into the Chopper. Everyone else stared at us
like we were a pack of laughing hyenas. It was just the adrenaline, fear, and relief flowing out of our bodies.
I don't know if you have ever ridden in a chopper, then (while still thousands of feet in the air) thrown out of it so that you are outside looking
back in...but I can tell you it is one freaky feeling.
It turns out I had hooked my D ring to my TA 50 and not to the loop of the seat belt. So when we got bounced around, it was just long
enough to let me fly out of my seat, spin, and hold me a few feet over the skid.
Luckily, the biggest, strongest, and fastest guy in our Platoon was the guy who's arm shot out to pull me back in. I have had a soft spot in
my Heart for Samoans ever since.
I don't know if that one side of the seat belt that was attached to my Web Gear would have been enough to hold me in the propwash. It
might have just torn my TA 50 off and let me tumble past the skid on my way down to Mother Earth at high speed.
I will never know. The quick hands and reactions of both my Squad mate and the Crew Chief saved me from knowing the answer.
Nobody got a Medal. Although I believe both the guy who snatched me out of thin air, and the Crew Chief should have gotten the Soldier's
Medal, or at least an Army Commendation Medal. But sadly, it was just a training incident that didn't even get written up.
The Army didn't write it up, but it is embossed in gold letters in my mind.
Fear.
I have felt it.
Training
Fear
Soldier
Posted 13 d ago
Responses: 2
4
4
0
@kevin Hughes am I looking at a pair of legs hanging out of a flying machine.
(4)
(0)
PO3 Phyllis Maynard
SGT Carl Blas I am 2 hours from Fort Bragg. I am glad the name Fort Bragg was restored. It has been a North Carolina thing for as long as I can remember.
(2)
(0)
(3)
(0)
SGT Kevin Hughes
SGT Carl Blas - The good old EIB, I set the record for maxing that doggone thing, including the record for the ten mile march. only to fail the Map Course - twice. Never tried again after that.
(2)
(0)
PO3 Phyllis Maynard
SGT Carl Blas wow! Although, I have never met you, I feel really fuzzy that you served at Fort Bragg, in my state when I was 12 years old until I was 15 years old.
(2)
(0)
2
2
0
Kevin,I’ve been on a few chopper rides mostly Hueys,couple of Chinooks( ,didn’t like them much too enclosed, very loud,bumpy,odd smells etc,) we never buckled in,had to unass the “Bird” on short notice with of course the gentle urging of a screaming crew chief calling for that exact thing “Unass my Bird” sometimes jumping the last four feet in a hover, some of those insertions not contested,some were,But reading your first two paragraphs brought back memories of ALL of them, Welcome Home Brothers.
(2)
(0)
SGT Philip Roncari
Kevin, I enjoy reading your posts especially those of the military vein,you are definitely a better story teller than this old grunt,I’ve always said ,once you take the Oath and wear the uniform our mission is the same ,combat,training for combat ,equal risks ,most others care not to,kinda sets us apart I think,Be well Brother, Phil.
(2)
(0)
SGT Kevin Hughes
SGT Philip Roncari - I agree Phillip...the guys that trained me, trained me to the best of their standards. And their standards were high. Everyone at Tigerland was a Combat Veteran...and they wanted to give us at least a fighting chance. They wanted us to come home. So they never slacked off. I think most of us were as trained as we could be ...just not tested. Orders made all the Difference in deployments, but the Training was basically the same.
(2)
(0)
SGT Philip Roncari
SGT Kevin Hughes- As you know I was one of those combat vets as an instructor at Ft.Polk from late summer 1967 to November 1968,though not at Tigerland (sometimes did assist at their ranges ,escape and evasion,quick fire,aggressor forces etc) mostly at North fort on the patrolling range,what I did find years after was a sense of guilt,did I really train to a high level.did I impart the most important levels of my own experiences.? all thoughts of a former grunt sitting in a bar stool years later,hope I made a difference to some ,hope so, Welcome Home Brothers.
(2)
(0)
SGT Kevin Hughes
SGT Philip Roncari - I can attest that you did. My guys that went over were all thankful that you , and your brothers, cared enough to push them. SALUTE.
(2)
(0)
Read This Next
Continue with Facebook 
Continue with Google