Read Online Lesser Gods by Duncan Long - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Duncan Long
Tags: Science fiction novel
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lightning, hinting at the fast-approaching monsoon season.
“We’re nearing the target,” my gunner, “Stan the Man” announced over the comm. “About one click away. You take the rockets and I’ll keep the gun?”
“Sounds good,” I replied, keying in the rockets on the green control panel in front of me. “I’ve armed our weapons systems. You have the 20 mill. I’ll keep the rockets. Ready to rock and roll?”
“Roger that.”
I switched from intercom to radio to warn the grunts that had called for air support. “Little Red, we’re about on top of you. We’re coming in from the north. Please advise on position of the enemy. Over.”
My earphones crackled from the distant lightning and then the voice of the green lieutenant on the ground came through. “We’re reading you, Big Bad. We’re in the valley, gooks on our southeast side along the tree row.”
“You far enough back we won’t crisp you? Over.”
“Roger that, Little Red. We won’t be among the crispy critters. Hit anything in the grove, it’s up to its eyeballs in gooks right now.”
“Can and will, Little Red.” I switched to intercom. “Stan, you got the position of the Cong?”
“Roger,” my gunner replied. “In my sights.”
I pulled upward on the collective pitch lever, lifting us over the palms along the bank of the river to head for the squad that was pinned down. I couldn’t see the Cong, but could hear the pings of small arms bullets glancing from the armor on the chopper’s underbelly.
The armor offered some protection, but I knew it wasn’t complete and had seen one pilot fly back to base with a neat but serious hole in his butt from an AK bullet that had made it through the armor. Any one of the projectiles might easily do some serious damage if we didn’t suppress the fire. I strained my eyes, trying to spot a muzzle flash.
“There’s the squad at six o’clock,” Stan yelled over the intercom as we careened toward the valley. “Right on the money.”
“Rake the tree row while we descend,” I told Stan. “Let’s see if we can scare some suckers into the open.”
“Got ‘em.” Bullets thumped from the 20 mm cannon mounted to the underside of the nose and the deck vibrated under my boots. Stan directed the bursts, tracers from the shells streaking through the hot air before pounding the ground below.
I shoved the column forward, continuing our mad charge earthward.
“There!” Stan yelled over the intercom. “There’s a group heading out the back of the row.”
“Got ‘em,” I said, kicking the right rudder pedal to bring us around. I waited until we were lined up, then thumbed the button on my control stick, sending a rocket hissing out its tube. The projectile rode its plume of fire, leaving a white cloud in its wake before exploding into a cloud of shrapnel that tore three Vietcong into ribbons before they fell to the earth.
“There’s another knot at three o’clock,” Stan warned.
“See ‘em,” I answered, kicking the chopper around again through a giddy turn that made my stomach lurch.
The muzzle flashes of the rifles indicated they were firing at us. The faint pinging of bullets off our armor warned a few were actually hitting their mark. So far we’d lucked out. No red warning lights on my board.
Stan turned his automatic weapon toward the group, blasting them with a string of thumping discharges. The shells smashed into the earth in front of the four, ripping holes and throwing clods that gyrated into the air. Then the shells connected with two of the guerrillas, exploding them into a mist of flesh and bone, casting body parts in every direction.
“Hold your fire a minute so we don’t hit our guys,” I yelled, bringing the chopper back around for another run at the tree row. “I’m going in low so we won’t take so much ground fire.” I kicked his left rudder pedal and climbed above the other trees, then descended on the other side. I got a glimpse of US
“We’re nearing the target,” my gunner, “Stan the Man” announced over the comm. “About one click away. You take the rockets and I’ll keep the gun?”
“Sounds good,” I replied, keying in the rockets on the green control panel in front of me. “I’ve armed our weapons systems. You have the 20 mill. I’ll keep the rockets. Ready to rock and roll?”
“Roger that.”
I switched from intercom to radio to warn the grunts that had called for air support. “Little Red, we’re about on top of you. We’re coming in from the north. Please advise on position of the enemy. Over.”
My earphones crackled from the distant lightning and then the voice of the green lieutenant on the ground came through. “We’re reading you, Big Bad. We’re in the valley, gooks on our southeast side along the tree row.”
“You far enough back we won’t crisp you? Over.”
“Roger that, Little Red. We won’t be among the crispy critters. Hit anything in the grove, it’s up to its eyeballs in gooks right now.”
“Can and will, Little Red.” I switched to intercom. “Stan, you got the position of the Cong?”
“Roger,” my gunner replied. “In my sights.”
I pulled upward on the collective pitch lever, lifting us over the palms along the bank of the river to head for the squad that was pinned down. I couldn’t see the Cong, but could hear the pings of small arms bullets glancing from the armor on the chopper’s underbelly.
The armor offered some protection, but I knew it wasn’t complete and had seen one pilot fly back to base with a neat but serious hole in his butt from an AK bullet that had made it through the armor. Any one of the projectiles might easily do some serious damage if we didn’t suppress the fire. I strained my eyes, trying to spot a muzzle flash.
“There’s the squad at six o’clock,” Stan yelled over the intercom as we careened toward the valley. “Right on the money.”
“Rake the tree row while we descend,” I told Stan. “Let’s see if we can scare some suckers into the open.”
“Got ‘em.” Bullets thumped from the 20 mm cannon mounted to the underside of the nose and the deck vibrated under my boots. Stan directed the bursts, tracers from the shells streaking through the hot air before pounding the ground below.
I shoved the column forward, continuing our mad charge earthward.
“There!” Stan yelled over the intercom. “There’s a group heading out the back of the row.”
“Got ‘em,” I said, kicking the right rudder pedal to bring us around. I waited until we were lined up, then thumbed the button on my control stick, sending a rocket hissing out its tube. The projectile rode its plume of fire, leaving a white cloud in its wake before exploding into a cloud of shrapnel that tore three Vietcong into ribbons before they fell to the earth.
“There’s another knot at three o’clock,” Stan warned.
“See ‘em,” I answered, kicking the chopper around again through a giddy turn that made my stomach lurch.
The muzzle flashes of the rifles indicated they were firing at us. The faint pinging of bullets off our armor warned a few were actually hitting their mark. So far we’d lucked out. No red warning lights on my board.
Stan turned his automatic weapon toward the group, blasting them with a string of thumping discharges. The shells smashed into the earth in front of the four, ripping holes and throwing clods that gyrated into the air. Then the shells connected with two of the guerrillas, exploding them into a mist of flesh and bone, casting body parts in every direction.
“Hold your fire a minute so we don’t hit our guys,” I yelled, bringing the chopper back around for another run at the tree row. “I’m going in low so we won’t take so much ground fire.” I kicked his left rudder pedal and climbed above the other trees, then descended on the other side. I got a glimpse of US
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