April, 24th, 1969
Quan Loi Airfield
Adjusting his olive drab skull cap, he pushed another .38 revolver between his utility belt.
Shouldering the trusty M3 greasegun with its long silencer, he gave a quick tug to the multitude of grenades cinched at various points on his torso. Feeling them secure; he inspected the rest of the teams’ gear as they stepped on the skid and pulled themselves aboard the Huey.
The last on, he listened to the engines begin their low whine, rising in decibels as the blades rotated ever faster until the helicopter’s distinctive chop echoed among the dozens of green buildings and barracks that served as one of S.O.G’s launching pads.
The Huey nudged its way into a gentle hover then rotated to the right, dipping its nose, rising over the perimeter fencing into the morning sky, carrying with it a Special Forces legend who’d ran countless missions as these and defied the odds.
So much and so well, in fact that Radio Hanoi dubbed him ‘Mad Dog.’
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