Just in Case

CCO

I remember a lot of your “just in case” stories from the war. Sitting just outside of the cockpit on the C-7 Caribou rather than in the co-pilot’s seat so you could aim the .12 gauge at the row of ARVN sitting there just in case they tried to stuff a live grenade between the seats before they left the plane.

And when you would land on the makeshift dirt runways in the jungle the Caribou would slow down to 25 mph, but never stop, just in case, even as you pushed the ARVNs out the ass end of the plane. A prop blast to so spin the plane around at the end of the runway and zoom, back in to the air as fast as possible. “Fuck ’em if they don’t get outta the way,” the pilot from the Bronx always yelled as the C-7 roared back into the sky.

On the .50 Caliber you would spray the jungle behind you ripping to shreds everything that got caught in your deadly hosing before the plane cleared the massive Dipterocarp trees at the end of the runway. Suppressing potential fire from the Viet Cong or ARVN units gone bad was an absolutely necessary just in case.

The “just in case” that really got to you though were the hand grenades stuffed in beer mugs and packed in crates webbed securely to the deck that lined the back end of the cargo hold. You and the pilot would spend an hour before each flight pulling the pins, holding the levers tight, and jamming the grenades into the beer mugs. The snug interior of the mugs would prevent the grenades from exploding until they were tossed out the back of the plane by you to break and explode in some unsuspecting village that might have otherwise shot your plane to hell as you flew over.

shrapnel and napalm
reach the jungle towns
long before Coca Cola

Just in Case was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.