Lift Off

Rye called out to his Gun Six sergeant, “Snyder, Get your man up there” as the Crane took aim and swung in toward the gun.

Snyder signaled to his man, who climbed up on top of the gun housing, above the breech, the barrel, and then balanced with a foot on top of each of the gun trails.

Prompted by Rye’s hand signals, the Crane attempted to glide in.

Tilting left, right, its huge feet within inches of taking out the gun and Snyder’s man. Its huge blade slicing through the air driving dirt up from the ground, peppering Snyder's man braced and balancing against the force of the manmade hurricane.

Snyder shouted. “Take the sling. Hook the ring on her. See the hook there…hanging down…yeah, there.”

CLINK! The ring holding eight straps tied to the gun had found the Crane’s hook.

The straps jerked tight. Snyder’s man leaped off.

Rye turned his palms up and raised his arms.  The Crane’s engine roared.

The gun began to move, lift-off, out of balance--the left tire off the ground, the end of the left trail scraped the ground, over to the right tire, to the end of the right trail...the 6½ tons broke free of the ground.

Trying to gain altitude the Crane coughed. 
Its structure vibrating, it gave off a piercing whine. 
Its rotor blades bent toward the ground as if to snap. Was it too much to ask?

Straining to lift the bulging net filled with hundred-pound projectiles, powder canisters, and boxes of fuses, the straps made snapping sounds as it tore loose from the ground and swung out away from them.

Gaining in altitude, the net swung in a deadly arc, further destabilizing the Crane.

Jimmie yelled above the din and flying debris. “That damn tail’s waggin' the dog!”

The Crane engine in full throttle finally gained enough altitude and turned west toward Khe Sanh.

“Goddamn, Jimmie, no way we were going to get the first one off.”

“Like one of those French guillotines. Coulda chopped our heads…”