Vorlon Whispers

“Yes sir?” Jaf replied clicking the little button with his left thumb as he spoke and releasing it as soon as he finished.

“Ask the team chief to come up here and take a look at this LZ (landing zone), I wanna make sure it’s correct.”

So Jaf yelled into the ear of the Special Forces Captain and led him up to the cockpit handing him a spare headset so that he could talk with the pilot-in-command (PIC). The good Captain confirmed the LZ and returned to his seat in the cabin with the other seven members of his team.

“OK guys, this is gonna be tight, I’ll bring it to a hover and we’ll take a look at it from head on and see how we can get these guys in there,” the PIC announced confidently.

The LZ was a small patch of rock surrounded by a thick clump of evergreen trees atop an 8,700-foot mountain. Just as the PIC was going to ask Jaf to get the Captain again to discuss an alternate landing zone, Jaf keyed his mike, “Sir, I think if we slide the ass end around and back her in we can do a “two-wheel” and I can get the ramp lowered enough to get these guys off. They don’t have a lot of heavy shit, should be quick.”

After a momentary pause to think it over, the PIC agreed and swung the large tail of the CH47D around so that only the aft landing gear were hovering directly over the bald spot on the mountain. “OK Jaf, call me in.”

Jaffy lowered the right cabin door, usually only used as an entrance and exit by the crew when on the ground, layed on his stomach, and hung out of the aircraft in such a way that he could see the aft gear as they floated in air some twenty-feet above the ground. He quickly glanced straight down and could see forever into the valley below.

“OK sir, I’ve got the aft gear off twenty,” he began his call. The PIC was on the controls and could see only the next mountain range a dozen miles away and he too could see the valley floor 8,000 plus feet below. Holding this hover was difficult enough without any reference points, now he had to let his flight engineer be his eyes and slowly bring her down onto a patch of earth he trusted Jaf to make sure was there.

“Looking good sir, continue down fifteen…down ten…hold it steady sir, you’re drifting aft, come forward two, down eight…looking good, down five, hold your forward, down three, good...down two, one, aft left wheel contact…looks like a slight slope sir, ease your aft right down one, aft right wheel contact,” Jaf could feel the sweat pooling on his back.

“Looking good sir, how’s it feel?” Jaf asked.

“Good, let’s get ‘em off loaded, quickly,” he replied.

“Go Kevin,” Jaf told his crew chief who had already began lowering the ramp and pumping his arms for the SF team to get moving. They did, jumping off the edge of the ramp in succession until all eight were safely on the mountaintop.

Jaf kept his eyes glued to the aft wheels while their precious cargo disembarked, occasionally giving a word or two of encouragement to his pilot, “hold her steady,” “looking good,” “ right there,” etc.

“PAX (passengers and equipment) are off, ramp’s up,” Kevin announced.

“Let me know when you’re ready Jaf,” the PIC said fighting the urge to lurch into flight.

“Sir, there is a large tree dangerously close to our aft right rotor blades so when you come up veer left a little…we’re ready in the rear,” Jaf said.

The crew felt their stomachs rise to their throats as the large Chinook helicopter lept into flight nearly blowing the soldiers they left behind over with its rotor wash. Jaf looked back as they departed and couldn’t help but wonder, “What the hell those guys were going to do up there for the next week or so?”