Last Chopper Into Saigon

Saigon IZ | Airspace En Route to Saito Tower | September 5, 1998 | 9:05 JST (2hrs ahead) | Kente Watanabe

The Metal Ladder was slick from the pouring rain, the chopper above me churned air and water into a funnel all around me. Below me less than three stories down was the flesh covered streets of protestors. The Saigon International Zone was a big city, and it seems they were all here to burn the airport down.

This wasn’t my first “extraction” but it was for several years. And was made harder by these mesh metal bags holding my MH and gun. The smoke wafting in and blending with the smog did not help either. The endless torrent of rain didn't put out the burning tires and collapsing buildings so much as they made them smolder. Slowly I managed to climb the ladder while the city burned beneath my feet. The Chopper was flying low, with no headlight. I climbed another step and looked down.

At least one high rise was ablaze as foreign restaurants and business around the airport were torched. The mobs abandoned their picket signs in favor of weapons From up here they looked just like swarms of ants, as they flooded through the streets and now through the airport. I finally scrambled onto the helicopter.

“Oh Lord, I could believe that you would raise the dead.”

As I reached the top I saw a gloved hand extended to help me up The grip feminine yet firm. I knew from the chopper Kristy Li was likely ex-military – which one didn’t matter. They all come from the “Singapore Sorority.” I pulled myself up and saw the Patch on her Shoulder that confirmed my suspicions. “King Edward’s Academy for Girls: Class of 1988.” My pilot was part of Britain’s accidental experiment in creating a tribe of Amazon hellipilots. The kind of woman who sees their old PT regimen as a substitute for yoga, plans their honeymoons in Paris and their retirement in The Marianas Trench. By entering this helicopter, I was effectively entering a foreign country.

“Oh Lord, I could believe that you could walk on water”

I sat in the pull-down seat and strapped myself in. Tech nested safely on my lap, both as a gesture of deference and insurance against theft. The wall separating the cargo hold from the cockpit was removed as was the seat across from the pilot. In its place was some custom electronic equipment, a remote-controlled turret and a sticker: “Jesus is my Co-Pilot.”

“Oh Lord, I could believe, that you could feed a crowd.”

She mouths something I couldn’t hear between the choppers and the Christian Rock that blared from the speakers. She slid a helmet from a crate connected to a bungie, which I then put on. The same chipper voice hoarse from a life of screaming rang though.

“Oh Lord I could believe you make the blind man see.”

“Welcome to the SAZ, Mr Kente. Since the riots took off, something's been causing all this advanced technology to mess up. I didn’t want your toys to make my baby dip into the River Saigon river, lah. Now sit back and enjoy the show."

I watched as the swarms of protestors broke through Saigon City forces and poured into the airport. Only to see them scramble back and trample each other as APCs broke out of the Airport glass.

Kristy Le’s singalong rang in the coms as the chopper jumped and leaned. I could feel my ears pop and was reminded why I never ate until after flying.

“How could I doubt the wonders that you’ve done before,
If you could save a soul like MEEEE”

"You picked kind of the wrong time to come here, but I suspect that's why you're here." I nodded, as the chopper peeled away from the airport before swerving to move between a news chopper and a large building.

“I believe. Oh Lord. In the wonders of your love.”

The refrain ended, so the pilot started speaking again.

"Well, you got your man have paid me enough, so I might as well give you the full tour of some of the tour of the city.

“We just left Tan Binh District, now entering Phu Nhanh. This area is “Little HICE” and its where the Empire keeps tabs on the city. So you know things are bad when this space gets occupied. “

Fireworks shot up from the ground, up front the window showed nothing more than rain and darkness. The Fireworks briefly illuminated the damaged streetlamps, as destroyed Saito APCs a third floor building had a crashed Saito Corp Helicopter lodged inside. Pulled apart by the scavengers like ants to dead vermin.

“Since then been working around various odd jobs, including with your company, Mr. Watanabe. Yeah, I know they like to talk a big game about all their advanced tech, but not to boast or anything, but it seems like whenever they actually need something done, they call little old me. Can't blame them when they need a high-profile executive smuggled into Jakarta or prototypes to leave a laboratory.”

“When I think about all the wonders you have done”

Some of the scavengers pointed towards the chopper, and firing their small arms at the plane.

“I'm the gal for that. Not one of their employees. No, sir. Those silly Saito Drones, and the Lobos that pretend to pilot them -”

Sparks flew as a few of the pistols managed to hit the armored craft. I felt my stomach and heart touch as Kristy yanked the controls and we ascended.

“- don’t know how to fly, just a bunch of pimply tech boys who just turn on a button and then flirt with Haiku flying the plane. No sir, that’s not natural. That’s not right. That's the customer's job." She turned back to give her best at a winning smile, proudly displaying a gold tooth. Framed by her tan and blond hair poking out of the helmet.

“What wonders have I yet to see?”

The Music seemed to slow to a single guitar strumming and harmonica. I grasped the handle bar above me and tried to look away from the open side door. The Rest of the Cockpit was a eclectic mix of photographs, printouts, and souvenirs. Inspirational quotes hung between family photographs, newspaper clipouts, and couple’s photos with a bullethole where her partner’s head was. Equal parts war memorial, personal shrine, and scrapbook.

“Lord works in mysterious ways doesn’t he, Mr Kente? I was so pissed at you all earlier. Excited for pak tor on Bu Vien tonight. Atas Doctor. Very siok yandao. But The Lord came through with this contract.”

I tried my best to look attentive, though I could feel the nausea overcoming me.

“Don’t get green on me Mr Kente, la. Saito pays me top dollar to get you to the tower safely.” She fished into one of the leg pockets of her jumpsuit and pulled out what looks like a wrapped candy. “Here, cheers! Don’t vomit on baby, lah.” I accepted the greasy wrapped ginger chew like it was a gift from the khan.

“Saito wants you at The Tower and I want to take my Neice to California Magic Kingdom, so help each other out, hor?”

I nodded, for what else was there to do. The chopper dipped again, I looked over to the side. And could see low high rises and Pagoda towers.

“Now approaching District 3. Lots of Buddhists here. Big pagodas if your into that sort of thing, and the papists have a pink church. Maybe you can go see them, ma? Assuming they haven’t burnt them all down. Here’ lets go see!”

My intestines rose again, and I gripped my tech as the plane tilted to see a French style church with a large steeple. Surrounded by large buildings.

“Well I guess you can’t see the Pink here. Oh well. The Steeple makes it easier to navigate through all the rain.”

The Large domiciles were covered in banners. One high rise covered in catholic prayers to St Michael, the other covered in quotes from SR Vietnam’s ‘Living Boddhisattva’ Duc Phat Manh.

"So what about you, Mr. Watanabe? Why do you know English?"

"I went to school in America. Wharton."

"Fancy Business school. You're quite the investment, then. Yeah, I knew there was something special about -- ”

Jeering rioters tossed rocks and fruit at the chopper. Chopsticks and silverware clattered from the balcony.

“Alamak! Sabo my Bird can!”

A few cracks from a pistol. A building snuck up to my right, and I could almost see the snarls of the men from the rooftops. A roman candle landed in the passenger bay, which I immediately kicked out to the overturned police cars with dying sirens below.

“Walao Fight what? Fight can!”

Kristy switched on some dials above her and to the turret. She moved one hand to a joystick on her side.”

“Teach you East Timor Tango, ah! Good Teach, very messy. Count me, accountant!”

I dutifully clicked my watch timer even as I held my metal-mesh bags to my stomach.

The helicopter remained in the same place while rotating 180 degrees. I could feel my stomach dip with the chopper as it dropped.

The whirr of the turret heated up as bullets shot out and chewed up one side of the building. Railings collapsed banners tattered, as the entire French yellow façade came crumbling down.

I felt the chopper stop again. Another swing, the other way. The scenery changed from the destroyed and tattered Catholic Building to the pristine Buddhist one. I felt my stomach desperately searched for something to throw up. Fortunately, I gave it nothing.

The helicopter climbed up while the turret ate through the building on the opposite side. Screams and terror as the glass and concrete gave way to what were likely anti-armor rounds. The chopper left the now silent two buildings with matching ruined facades one final swing of the hellicopter before plowed on ahead.