A CREWMAN'S LAST FLIGHT

Flying into LZ Heaven on short final, the dust swirled up in that u-shaped, circular fashion, and was sucked back down through the rotor wash, to start its journey again. The grass alongside the active bent and fluttered, like waves coming into shore, but backwards. The tower had given us a straight on approach and we saw other aircraft off in the distance, approaching for their final.

The line shack looked as if most crews were still there, and here came the ¼ ton to give us a lift. Tired and red eyed we were grateful. At the line shack, the old horse trough was full of ice, water, and beer; the old guys throwing the newbies in, an acceptance ceremony filled with laughter.

There stood old friends and new friends, all trusted and closer than brothers. Someone had taken the guns to the armory for us – a task signaling the end of a long, long day. The day was coming to a close. Reds and purples streaked the skies; the edges of clouds were highlighted in pinks and blues. Music played in the background, one of the favorites, CCR's "Run Through the Jungle".

Old friends in the shack – more arriving by the minute; some we hadn't seen in years and years. With a smile on our face, we remembered their names and the times we shared. Family started arriving, welcoming us home with big warm hugs and smiles that lit the room.

The tiredness in our bones lifted, our shoulders lifted without the burden of time pressing down on them. Further up the hill a serene brightness took away shadows, and was warming to the soul to look at. With the whine of L-13 engines shutting down from new arrivals, the whopping of the blades slowly fading, and the ever present company dog yapping in greeting, we walked up the hill.

What was behind us, slowly fading with sounds growing fainter, didn't seem to have the importance of what lay ahead in the warm light. Feeling dirty and gritty from the flight, I wanted to turn towards the showers first. A hand gently lay on my shoulder, a voice saying it will be all right.

Into the light I journeyed. I felt safe, warm, welcomed. Someone sat at the desk, someone I knew but didn't. Command Sergeant St. Peter read his name tag, as he smiled at me. "The "CO" is waiting for you son – make your report"