A Hot Lz At Night

A HOT LZ AT NIGHT Rotors swimming in the air, my feet towards the skids; flying fast in darkness. Pack tight against my body, one hand for the bird, one hand for the rifle. Tracers lazily float upward feeling the sky for prey, our sound their only target. These deadly green fireflies, green streaks when they pass, silent in our windy passage. Darkness hides the bird from these crisscrossing tracers hungrily searching our sound. Charles also has this darkness and he will use it to catch us if we can’t quickly slip away. In this game of hide and seek to be tagged by the enemy is a touch of deadly force. The bird rocks and rotors flair signalling a leap from the skids; feet to hit dark unfriendly ground The darkness our only sanction, the unseen ground our uncertainty, unless we can run fast and far. If they sit quietly and hold the LZ green tracers will blossom brightly their sudden much unwanted welcome. If hit the bird may never lift away our option stay with the crew; all this makes for a short patrol. I often live this nightly madness, watching buoyantly rising tracers, playing the odds in our year of fate.