Cinnabar, the One O'clock Fox is the title of perhaps the first book I read as a very young boy. It is about a wily fox who always shows up for the one o'clock hunt. That book, and many other books, movies, schools, friends, and of course parents and family helped define who I was to be in this world and were I fit in.
Then came Vietnam. We were all scared and like millions of other young American men, I had to make unexpected decisions I was loath to make. Some friends left the country and others created elaborate frauds but I couldn't do either. It was not who I wanted to be. Like Cinnabar the One O'clock Fox, I would be there, at the Induction Center, on time, only it would be at six am.
This book starts several years before that day with me as young man in the 60's, growing up with the best of everything. Then traces my military experience from basic training through a year in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot. Coming back, I got lost trying to find the home I left behind. After three lonely years as a university student and four more as a commercial helicopter pilot in foreign countries I finally found my destination. Her name was Maggie.
___________________________________________________________On approach, the Cobras trailed behind us, higher in altitude, providing cover as we descended below 1,000 feet. Once again, we were on our own in the danger zone. The flight engineer released the sling, and Bruce skillfully brought the Chinook into a hover over the downed Huey.
The Cobras unleashed rockets and mini-gun fire into the tree line, but we were still taking heavier and more accurate fire than before. I could hear bullets hitting the aircraft, punctuated by the explosive concussions of the Cobras' rockets. --
Then the master caution light flashed on, signaling we'd lost the utility hydraulic system. Suddenly, a round pierced the cockpit window right next to Bruce's head, shattering it and sending tiny shards of Plexiglas flying everywhere. Bruce's head snapped back, and a stream of bright red blood began seeping from beneath his face shield.
"Oh god," I thought. "Bruce is hit bad."
The aircraft yawed slightly to the left, and the nose dipped. Instinctively, I grabbed the controls. They felt stiff and unresponsive. I quickly glanced at the flight control hydraulic pressure gauges....
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