Rush High on Adrenaline

Hal Steinman

Steady beat of chopper blades
Felt through all your senses
Gear – your tools – your life
Rucksack, helmet, LBE, weapon and ammo
‘Shit, this is heavy today
Damn, I hope I have enough ammo’
Fucking rotor-head pilot
joyous flying low
Strung out on a heavy right

Constantly, ever present thoughts:
‘Don’t screw up
Keep your composure
Use your mind, control the adrenaline flow
Use your fear as a tool, don’t let it control you
Focus on the mission
Watch the kids faces
I hope they can’t see my stomach full of butterflies the size
of eagles
Clear your throat, swallow
Clear your mind’

Signal from the crew chief
‘Here the fuck we go!’
“Alright people, final gear check. Stay low, fan out, wait till
the choppers clear the LZ then rally on me.”
Fear on some faces
The beat changes
The nose rears as the chopper flares
Go, Go, Go!
Fuck me,
. .     . . what a rush!


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