THE RULES HAVE CHANGED

J. W. popped the chopper over a tree line.  There was a village on the right.   Suddenly, the sporadic sound of an AK-47 erupted from the village; tracers drifted out toward the aircraft.          He looked at the gunner on the right; the gunner was looking at him.  He keyed the mike, “Fire, damn it!”  A bullet went through the windshield and through the window on J.W.’s side.  Stan was talking to someone on the phone, “Can’t get authorization!”

“Authorization, shit, fire that weapon; that’s an order!”  J. W. glared at the gunner just to make sure he was paying attention.

“Yes, Sir!”  The M-60 returned the fire, tracers drifting into the huts; one caught fire.  The fire of the AK-47 ceased.  The rest of the trip was uneventful.

Stan keyed, “The shit’s going to hit the fan when we get back”.  Earlier in the week the officers were called together to talk about the “authorization” to shoot so “friendlies” wouldn’t get hurt.  J. W. thought that was a crock of ‘shit’.

When J.W. called in about their approach, he was asked who the pilot was.  He looked at Stan, “You want to be pilot?”; Stan just looked away.  J. W. identified himself to the radio operator.

There was some static on the radio, then, “You’ve got a bird colonel waiting for you.  Maybe you ought to surrender to the V.C.; they’d be more sympathetic.”

“Thanks for warning me, but it doesn’t change anything.”  J.W. thought, this is like going to a knife fight without a knife.  He got a little altitude to miss the buildings, radio towers, etc. “Damn, that’s a good looking sunset.” Surprised at the statement, Stan looked at J. W., and broke into a smile.  As the runway came into sight, they could see a jeep parked near the landing zone of the 229^th.

Stan keyed, “Damn!”  He started to curse under his breath.

J. W. answered, “Stay out of this, you’re regular army.  Just go on back to the company.” He could see the look of thanks on Stan’s face.  He then instructed the gunner and the crew chief to do the same.

The Colonel, he learned later was Colonel Jacob Masters, Battalion Commander, “attacked”, bending down to get below the blades.  He was almost to the helicopter before it touched the ground.  His hat blew off and the Lieutenant accompanying him went running after it.  The Colonel opened the door and starting yelling, even though J. W. could not hear him, because of the chopper engine and he still had on his helmet.  Taking his time he went through the shut down procedure. The Colonel continued to shout unheard.   J. W. took off his helmet and slid out of the chopper, putting his hand on the Colonel’s chest and pushing he, and his red face, back out of the way.

The wind was blowing and he had to hold the door open while he got his dressing down.  “What in the hell’s going on Captain?  Have you gone crazy?  Didn’t you attend the officers meeting last week?  Blah, blah, blah, blah.”  By the time he had finished the blades had stopped.  Stan and the two gunners had slipped off unnoticed.  J. W. could hear some country and western music coming from one of the tents closest to the helipad.   “Now, Captain, what do you have to say for yourself?  You went against procedures-you could have killed some friendlies.”

J. W. had kept his eyes lowered during the Colonel’s long tirade.  Damn it was hot-the sweat poured.  He took off his bulletproof vest; whew, that felt better.  He looked up, his eyes flashed, and his voice was stern.  “Sir, with all respect, Sir, your procedure stinks.”  The lieutenant accompanying Masters stood with the colonel’s hat that had blown off.  Colonel Masters took it and pulled it way down on his head to keep it from blowing off again.  J. W. went on, “Friendly forces do not shoot at us, and enemy forces do.  There’s no mistake; we’re the only ones with helicopters with the yellow shield with a horse head on it.  Those people knew whom they were shooting at.  People who shoot at you are not your friends.  I returned fire as expediently as possible.  The fire stopped those “friends” from shooting at us.”

“You…ah….ah…ah…broke procedures,”  Masters stuttered.

“Sir, I’m not complaining about being here; it’s my responsibility as an American citizen.  However, Sir, this is a war zone, and I will defend my men and myself.  I’ll not make excuses for that, now or ever.  As long as I’m here that will not change.  Fire me, court martial me, reassign me, whatever; but whenever I get f