By C.W. GUSEWELLE
The Kansas City Star
December 25, 2008
Maximum capacity of the small plane was six, but on this flight there were only three aboard besides the pilot. One of them, a colonel, was on the division headquarters staff. Another was an old master sergeant, a veteran of two of the unit's four World War II parachute jumps.
The third, a lieutenant like the young pilot, was an infantryman, qualified by rank and training to lead a platoon. But before military service he'd spent a year as a beginning journalist, so it would be his duty to write a report on their uncommon mission.
The third, a lieutenant like the young pilot, was an infantryman, qualified by rank and training to lead a platoon. But before military service he'd spent a year as a beginning journalist, so it would be his duty to write a report on their uncommon mission.
The turbulence was worse now. Lightning snaked through the tumult outside the blurred windows.
"How much longer?" the colonel called out to the pilot in a thin voice.
And at exactly that instant the whole interior of the plane filled with a sudden blinding brilliance. It was only for the space of a heartbeat. Afterward, the growl of the engine was unchanged. There was no sense of sudden falling.
"How much longer?" the colonel called out to the pilot in a thin voice.
And at exactly that instant the whole interior of the plane filled with a sudden blinding brilliance. It was only for the space of a heartbeat. Afterward, the growl of the engine was unchanged. There was no sense of sudden falling.
We've got a problem. That lightning hit took out some instruments. We've lost the altimeter and the artificial horizon."
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