UNUSUAL ATTITUDES by Wayne R. "Crash" Coe
	As I passed over the Landing Zone, I could see the smoke from the Grunts going straight up. I thought to myself, great no wind to move the fog around. The radiation fog was already covering the rivers and the entire area was so hazy we figured it would be our last trip in and out for the day. My Peter Pilot WO Steve Hartman was one hell of a pilot, and as we brought the engine down to an idle he made the comment that we would have to make an instrument departure if we did not leave in just a few minutes. We had just dropped a load of ammo and were waiting for the several men we were going to take back to base camp to come in from the perimeter defense. The Sargent in charge of the landing zone climbed up on the skid and told us that one of the men we wanted to take back was out on a listening post and it would be a few minutes before he could be retrieved if we wanted to shut down. I looked at Steve and we laughed, no way, we did not mind idling for a few minutes but shutting down was out of the question. One by one the men climbed on the helicopter as the Sargent checked off the list. The last man was puffing hard from the exertion of running back to make the ride out of the field. By now it was so foggy I could not see even straight up. "How is your instrument flying Steve?" He looked at me with a smile and said "pretty good." I got the helicopter light on the skids and started to pull pitch. I thought the fog was very thin and I could pop up on top very fast, but as we started to climb out it seemed to get thicker. The sweat was running down my neck and getting into my eyes, I was working as hard as I ever had to keep that big thrashing machine going in a straight line. Steve called the Radar guys for a vector and they gave us a number to squawk, and we waited for them to see us on their radar screen. The radar guys had us turn first right, and then left, and then I lost it. Needle ball airspeed, the cross check looked OK, but my brain was telling me I was falling out of the sky. "Steve I am getting vertigo bad, you have it." And Steve was on the controls in a flash with a quick "I've got it" and the old D model calmed right down. I looked in the back at my passengers; they did not like flying in the clouds it was plain to see on their faces. We flew into clear air in only a few minutes and my heart started to slow down to something under the 200 beats per minute it had been racing along at. There was a tremendous feeling of relief to have a horizon and I commented to Steve about how nice it was to have a truly great Peter Pilot. After that scare I practiced my instrument flying as often as I could. I have felt the vertigo creep in the edges of my consciousness while flying other aircraft in other conditions, but the only time I ever lost it was in Viet Nam, where I had the best Peter Pilot in the world. Steve Hartman and I still talk on the telephone about the great times we had flying together. It is easy to stay in contact with a man that saved your life. Wayne R. "Crash" Coe