Dear Mom: I haven't been doing anything special, just flying a lot and doing a lot of letter writing. I have flown over 200 combat hours now, as much time as I got all through flight school. I don't have much to say. I just wanted to write and tell you I'm fine.
I felt we were like a huge, green clay pigeon suspended in the air inviting someone to take a pot shot at us. Charlie must have had the same idea. At two hundred feet on final approach, the ridge line on my side of the aircraft lit up with green tracer rounds flying in our direction. The crew chief began firing his M-60. Several grunts in the back began firing their weapons too. Bernie threw the aircraft hard left and dove at the trees but not before we took several hits. I scrunched down, waiting for one of the bullets to rip into my body...
By RANDOLPH P. MAINS
Randolph P. Mains on Smashwords
Dear Mom I’m Alive
Copyright © 2012 by Randolph P. Mains
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