I had just sat down to begin my devotions a bit early last night when on the far side of the mountain came the rhythmic thunder of low-flying rotary-wing aircraft.
Really low, coming really fast.
Then the first of three Apaches was roaring overhead, at not more than a thousand feet, and going like his hair was on fire. Second one, similar height and similar speed.
I grabbed the phone and made a photo, just in time to catch the third one, blasting along behind. Guess my news-shooter instincts are still good:
You can just see the leader and the second in the flight in this shot.
Oddly enough, it was almost 27 years ago, when we were building this house and I was outside one afternoon doing cleanup, when a similar thing happened.
The trees on the mountain weren’t as tall, and you could easily see the top of the mountain. Ours was one of just a very few houses, and in the evenings, you could see the huge herd of deer making their way across the ridges and the mountain.
I heard something coming, and turned to look. The deer began to scatter, and suddenly an Apache pops up over the mountain, they’re flying nap-of-the-Earth. The guy is no higher than 300 feet, and he’s coming like a freight train.
With a full war load. Rocket canisters, missiles, nothing’s missing.
And just by coincidence, he’s flying straight at me.
Yeah, it took me a couple minutes to catch my breath.