“Hey 2, 1 we’re almost bingo man, let’s hit it.”
“Rodg!”
Jackal nosed over and flew us down a street towards central park. Jackal looked over to me and said “Hey man, I’m gonna take us up a little higher out of the buildings, this is Reaverl territo—’
Before he could finish what he was saying tracer rounds erupted all over the aircraft, a few rounds punched through my chin bubble and hit my dashboard displays, shattering them. The aircraft suddenly lurch hard to the right and strait down. I looked over at Jackal who was slumped over the controls, leaning up against his door. I pulled back on the cylic with both hands and hard as I could to get his body weight off of it and correct our soon to be smoking wreck.
“Jackals hit, GET HIM OFF THE CONTROLS!” I yelled. I grunted as hard as I tried to correct the aircraft attitude. Thompson unbuckled and reached up and pulled Jackal’s harness reel and pulled him back into the seat.
Rounds continued to hit the aircraft, the MASTER CAUTION panel lit up yellow, the #1 fire light illuminated and then an enormous loud BANG and concussion wave hit the aircraft inside of the cabin. Blood flew up to the cockpit on the center console.
I looked back, thinking that Thompson has shot the 240 inside the aircraft. In reality, we figured out later, a Rocket Propelled Grenade hit the back of the crew compartment, punching through the rear right cargo door and detonating over the APU accumulator and igniting the fuel line above the #2 engine. “FUCK!! What the fuck was that!” I shouted out.
The aircraft became a lot harder to control. I felt the flight controls get really sloppy. I wiped the blood of of Jackal’s MFD panel and saw that a #1 Hydraulic pump failure, Backup Reservoir low and #1 and #2 tail rotor servo failure and # 1 primary flight control servo failure… In infantry terms, I was all out of magic and smoke to make Miss UH60 Michelle the helicopter fly and I was barely keeping control, and was on fucking fire.
“MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY, VooDoo 41 is hit and going down, in the south east corner of Central Park, 16 people on board…. Will call down and safe!” The radio exploded in chatter on the SATCOM when I broadcast it. I wasn’t listening, I was just trying to keep here strait and level and find a fucking place to land.
“Slim you alive?”
“Yeah I’m alright…. My head is fucking killing me…” he said. “Make the radio calls, talk to chalk 2, Thompson is the Number 2 on fire still?”
“YES SIR flames are at the cargo door now!!!” he said in a terrified voice.” The civilians strapped into the cargo seats were screaming. I felt a wiggling yaw in the rudder pedals, I was 85kts and had no choice, she was starting to yaw to the right a little bit more and more. I reached up with my right pulled the #2 fire handle on the engine which shut the fuel off, popped a fire bottle on engine number 2 saw the engine RPM drop. The cockpit was an array of warning tones and lights now. I dropped the collective and started an Autorotation and begin the emergency landing. If I didn’t we would spiral out of control and crash.
I left the number #1 on in order to maintain a power on auto rotation. I didn’t have single engine capability anyways, not with a full load of passengers. I would try to make it a gentle landing. I pulled back the #2 engine and pointed the aircraft towards and open bluff looking field with only few tree.
My heart was beating out of my fucking chest as the aircraft was barely staying up, the radios were exploding with traffic.
Jim’s UH-60 flew by the front of my aircraft above me and I looked down the ground rushing up towards the cockpit, the radar altimeter read 200ft… The Number 1 engine failed. now this shit was real…. 100ft….
I pulled in a hard decel and felt the aircraft start to sink 30 feet. Come on Michelle don’t fall apart on me baby come on!!!! I pulled in the collective and heard the low rotor horn go off
“HOLD ON GUYS!” I pulled the guts out of it and we hit the ground with a thunderous *CRASH*. My seat stroked down to the floor, the rotor blades flexed and smashed into the ground, and the transmission caved in through the back of the aircraft, my head hit the dashboard and I saw a stars and blacked out for minute. My face had hit top of the foam dash and I was bleeding from a gash under my left cheek bone. The rotors knocked off the tail boom and we spun around in a circle; I saw a HUGE fiery flame spurt around as the aircraft spun 90 degrees to the right… I quickly pulled the #1 engine fire handle and hit the extinguisher. It didn’t work, the fire was still on. We spun to a stop.
Chapter 4
I was alive. The crashed knocked the frigging breath out of me and my neck was burned and bleeding from the seat belt digging into me during the crash sequence. There was shit everywhere, there was brass and smoke grenades, charts and approach plates all over fucking place. Jackals dip bottle had spattered all over his windshield. I came out of the slow motion and entered into freak out crash mode.
“IS EVERYONE ALL RIGHT?” The old man in the back seat with the blue shirt, had already unbuckled, and crawled out Thompson’s window and was dragging Thompson slumped body out of the aircraft. I could feel the heat from the flames, and smoke was starting to obscure the cockpit.
“SLIM! Are you fucking alive?” I shouted as I started to unbuckle myself. A Zombie Jumped on top of my windshield and started to beat on the windshield. FUCK YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!! I pulled out my M9 and emptied half the magazine in its face. I jettisoned my cockpit door, and tried to get up and out of it… I was in fucking pain all over, I was okay, my right knee was really fucking hurting but I powered through it and got out of the helicopter to help Slim, who was stuck in his harness and had blood all over his face. I hopped out, weapon at the ready, did a quick scan, reached in and pulled him out of the widow, his eyes’ were blood shot and he was bleeding from the forehead.
I looked to my right and saw that the fire was consuming almost all of the rear of the aircraft and passenger compartment. The Plexiglas widows were melted, the doors charred and I could feel the intense heat of the JP8 flame, the passengers, were all dead, the business man and two of the women were squished and disfigured from the transmission caving through the cabin ceiling, there was a severed arm and someone’s intestines strewn about on the floor in a pool of blood. One of the men in the hurricane seat was decapitated and the man next to him was burning and split in half. The Asian dude sitting next to Slim had a shard metal sticking out of his neck and was bleeding out, he was alive, but not for much longer, perhaps another minute max; he was clutching his leg that was bleeding profusely from behind the knee where I could see his bone sticking through. He looked over at us and then slumped down in his chair.
I was able to pull out Slim who was hacking and coughing. I ran around to Jackal’s door where I met the geezer pulling off the 240 from the mount. He looked at me and shouted “GET YOUR FUCKING BROTHER CAPTAIN I GOT THIS”.
I opened up Jackal’s door and jettisoned it. He was bleeding from this shoulder and had taken several rounds to his chest plate. I cut away his seatbelts, and started to pull him out of the seat “SLIM GET THE WEAPONS OUT OF THE AIRCRAFT!! I’M OVER HERE PULLING OUT JACKAL”
I got him out and dragged him away about 20 meters and set him up against a tree, where the crazy old guy had put Thompson. Slim came running over to me without weapons in hand the 240 slung around his waist, with a couple ammo cans. I saw Jim still circling overhead. “Pack his wounds, check Thompson and get ready for the Zs.” I sprinted back to the aircraft. It was still ablaze as I plugged into the ICS, and tried to push out on Guard on battery power
“Jim, we’re alive, Jackals hit but coming around, Thompson is critical.” Nothing… what the fuck was I thinking!? The aircraft was on fire and all the antennas are fucking toast. I reached in the back grabbed Jackals and my GO Bag and ran back out to where Slim was working on Jackal and Thompson.