Clear By Fire
“The Russian helicopter was a relic of the Soviet invasion and until recently had been used to ferry supplies from Kandahar to coalition outposts. A cracked manifold had sent it to the scrap yard, but after a new coat of paint and fresh Afghan army markings, the old warhorse was once again carrying troops into battle.
While the Serbian pilot focused on keeping the ancient helicopter in the air, his copilot kept an eye on the oil gauge. The instrument panel was faded from constant exposure to the... Afghan sun, and the glass over the dials was covered with a thick film that partially obscured the white needle inside.
The crew chief’s sweaty coveralls smelled of stale vodka as he squeezed past the soldiers lining the thin skin of the helicopter and made his way to the surprisingly neat row of oil cans bungee-corded below the gearbox. A metal can opener hung from a length of grime-coated rope, where it swung gently in front of Colonel Barnes’s head. The man grabbed the silver tool in an oil-soaked fist and held it tight against the lid of one of the cans.MoreLess
While the Serbian pilot focused on keeping the ancient helicopter in the air, his copilot kept an eye on the oil gauge. The instrument panel was faded from constant exposure to the... Afghan sun, and the glass over the dials was covered with a thick film that partially obscured the white needle inside.
The crew chief’s sweaty coveralls smelled of stale vodka as he squeezed past the soldiers lining the thin skin of the helicopter and made his way to the surprisingly neat row of oil cans bungee-corded below the gearbox. A metal can opener hung from a length of grime-coated rope, where it swung gently in front of Colonel Barnes’s head. The man grabbed the silver tool in an oil-soaked fist and held it tight against the lid of one of the cans.MoreLess
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