"If you fear something, it's gonna happen," the Captain said.
We all stared, silently.
"And when it happens, things go wrong," the Captain added.
We continued to stare.
"That's why this ain't gonna happen to my outfit," the Captain intoned.
We all filed out of the tent mess hall to return to the compound. We didn't feel warlike and we didn't want to fly out at 1400.
The helos though were there, rotors making the air swirl, whipping up tons of dust, as we trotted out dutifully, loaded down with an average 80 pounds of gear each.
We took off and headed east. Map said this was going to be a short flight.
"Short" though can have various meanings in war. Not five minutes out of base and we suddenly saw a trail of white smoke rising from the green canopy down below and heading straight for the helo the Captain and five troopers rode at 2 o'clock from where we watched.
The explosion was huge, painted with hues of bright red and yellow. I don't think the Captain or any of the rest knew what had happened to them as the helo disintegrated into fiery debris.
"C'tain is down, down..." the frantic call came over the radio, the Lieutenant's voice clearly identifiable for all the crackling of the transmission ...
If you fear something, it's gonna happen.