Parables from Combat - Funtanilla, Tony
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In the distance, I hear explosions from our artillery support prepping the wooded area surrounding our landing zone. This tactic seems great in theory but confirms to the enemy exactly where we're going to set down. It's hot and very humid. The doors of the chopper have been removed, allowing wind to rush in, soothing our jagged nerves and evaporating the top layer of sweat. We're sitting on the floor because the seats were removed to give us more room for the 60-80 pounds of gear we're packing. But mostly so we can ingress or egress quickly from the choppers. The crew chief alerts me that…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
In the distance, I hear explosions from our artillery support prepping the wooded area surrounding our landing zone. This tactic seems great in theory but confirms to the enemy exactly where we're going to set down. It's hot and very humid. The doors of the chopper have been removed, allowing wind to rush in, soothing our jagged nerves and evaporating the top layer of sweat. We're sitting on the floor because the seats were removed to give us more room for the 60-80 pounds of gear we're packing. But mostly so we can ingress or egress quickly from the choppers. The crew chief alerts me that we're two minutes out from our LZ, so I shout the command to my squad, ... "Two Mikes, Lock and Load, GET READY." As the Huey starts to descend, I hear the dreadful tink tink tink of enemy bullets hitting our chopper. The pilot frantically yells, "LZ IS HOT, LZ IS HOT!" Both door gunners fire their machine guns into the tree lines. I smell the cordite and see spent cartridges cascading from the sides of their guns. My mouth is dry and it's hard to swallow. Experience tells me that in a hot LZ, we'll have to jump out while the chopper hovers five to ten feet above the rice paddy to make a quick exit. All too suddenly, the chopper flares to a hover, and the paddy water sprays everywhere from the prop wash of the rotors. The co-pilot yells, "Go, go, GO!" Leaping desperately from the floor of the chopper, my heart pounds in my throat so loud I can hear it above the blasting M60s of the door gunners. I pray at 100 miles per hour before I splash into the water and mud below. "God, help me be brave. Help me to do good. Don't let me die. GOD, HELP ME!"
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Autorenporträt
Tony Funtanilla fought in Vietnam with 1st Squad 3rd Platoon Charlie Company 1988th Infantry Brigade American Division in 1967 and 1968. His hope and prayer is that this little labor of love will help, inspire, enlighten, or even bring peace to someone who happens to read it. Even if God uses it to affect just one person's spiritual walk, then he considers all of his experiences from the war "have not come back void." Tony currently resides in the Forth Worth, TX area.