The Quest

He was already considering his options. If he made a sudden dive left or right, one or the other door gunners could easily blow them out of the sky. If he climbed, he could possibly pass over the helicopter, and if he kept directly in front of him and got some distance, the door gunners might not be able to swivel their guns that far to the front-but the helicopter pilot only had to swivel his aircraft to give one or the other of his gunners an easy shot at the retreating Navion.

His only chance was to go into a dive-to get into the blind spot below the pilot and the door gunners. He’d have the dive speed he needed to possibly get beyond the accurate range of the machine guns before the helicopter pilot could position his aircraft to give one of his gunners a shot.

Vivian put her hand on his shoulder. “Frank?”

He asked Mercado, “Have you come to a decision, Henry? Run or follow this asshole to Gondar?”

Again, Mercado did not reply.

Purcell looked at the distant horizon. Lake Tana was coming up, and so was Gondar. It was possible, he thought, that the Ethiopian Air Force had already scrambled fighters or more helicopters to make sure they didn’t lose them. He was a few minutes away from having no options left.

Mercado said, “Run.”

“Okay…” He looked at his airspeed and altimeter and considered what to do, and how best to do it. His rate of descent in a dive would be greater than the Huey’s, and his airspeed, too, would be greater. But, as he said, he couldn’t outrun a bullet.

The helicopter was nearly hovering now, about three hundred yards away, and he saw the left door gunner making a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating that the Navion should pass and get in front of the helicopter on the approach into Gondar.

That was not what Purcell wanted to do, and it suddenly became clear to him what he needed to do. And he’d known this almost from the beginning.

He reached up and moved the plastic aiming disc on its flexible arm so that it was in front of his face.

Mercado asked in a forcibly controlled voice, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Are you insane?”

Purcell moved the switch under the instrument panel to the “Fire” position.

Vivian watched him, but said nothing.

The helicopter was less than two hundred yards away, and the door gunner kept waving his arm for the Navion to pass.

Purcell dipped his right wing as though he were going to bank right, and the helicopter pilot, who’d either seen this or heard from his left door gunner, slid his helicopter to the right to keep the Navion on his left.

Purcell pushed forward on the throttle and shoved his rudder hard right, causing the Navion to yaw right, with its nose now pointed at the helicopter. He lined up the helicopter in the red concentric circles of the plastic disc and pushed the firing button, praying that the electrical connection to the rocket pod was working.

The rocket shot out of the pod with a rushing sound and trailed a white smoke stream toward the Huey, less than two hundred yards away now.

Vivian let out a startled sound and Mercado shouted, “Oh God!”

The rocket went high over the helicopter, just missing the rotor shaft.

The door gunner seemed frozen behind his machine gun.

Purcell fired the second rocket, which went low, passing between the landing skids and the cabin, right under the door gunner’s feet.

The door gunner fired a long burst of rounds at the Navion and the tracers streaked over the Plexiglas canopy. Vivian screamed and dove onto the floor.

The helicopter pilot made the instinctive mistake of taking evasive action, which threw off the aim of his gunner and gave Purcell a better shot at the Huey as it tilted away from him and slipped sideways and downward. Purcell again kicked the rudder to yaw farther right, and pushed hard on the control wheel to lower the Navion’s nose. He kept looking through the plastic disc as the Huey again passed into the concentric circles. The door gunner fired again, and Purcell heard the unmistakable sound of a round impacting the aircraft. He pushed the red button once, then again, firing his last two rockets.

The first smoke rocket sailed through the open cabin, past the head of the door gunner, and the second rocket hit the Plexiglas bubble and burst inside the cockpit. Billows of white smoke poured out the hole in the bubble and through the open doors of the Huey.

The pilots were either injured or blinded by smoke, or something critical was damaged in the cockpit, and the Huey’s tail boom began swinging left and right.

Purcell did not change course and continued to fly straight at the unstable helicopter. He could see the door gunner through the billowing smoke, but the man, undoubtedly terrified, had let go of his machine gun and the barrel was hanging loose.