The date was April 02, 1971 and we’d just gotten shot down by the North Vietnamese Army somewhere by the Phu Cat Mountains in South Vietnam. Our helicopter gunship had been hit with several small arms fire (AK-47s etc.), but what took us down was a Chinese 51 Caliber machine gun round. For an instant it felt as if our helicopter had halted in mid-air for eternity but it was only for a split instant. The 51 calibers’ round hit our gunship by the pilot’s door, missing his head by an inch or two. The round continued its course through our cabin and hit by the turbine area and tore up all the hydraulic hoses and damaged our turbine. Our engine shut off and we had no turbine power, an unconscious pilot, my Crew-Chief couldn’t fire his M-60 because he was trying to lift our pilot off his control stick while our co-pilot was struggling to take control of his stick to try to auto-rotate us away from the fast-approaching mountain side. To make it worse he couldn’t fire his mini-guns. I was firing like a madman trying to keep the enemy pinned down while our co-pilot continued to fight with his control stick, which was jammed because our unconscious pilot was still laying over his control stick and finally our crew-chief was able to pull our pilot up and back and somehow, he managed to strap him to the seat. The mountain side kept rushing towards us and bullets kept flying and tracers were coming from everywhere towards us. Then magically our co-pilot broke us away from the mountain side and down towards a valley and made a running type auto-rotate landing, rough to say the least, all in a matter of seconds, or a minute or so. Our sister-ship had put out a Mayday call and kept flying circles around us as they searched for enemy in the area. We were rescued by a Medevac helicopter crew 10 or 15 very long minutes later whom flew us to a mash unit near Quy Nhon, South Vietnam for treatment. As the Medics finished treating our wounds a group of 26 wounded Vietnamese villagers were brought in to the mash unit we were in. I clearly remember the number 26, there was a lot of shouting, crying and pain was everywhere except for one lady, who was staring at me as she stood quietly to my left. She seemed to have yellowish or very light brown eyes. As we began to walk out of the Mash Unit she turned as I walked past her and I noticed then that the left side of her face had been blown away. She was in shock, lost and terrified. Her look seemed to ask me, “How am I going to eat, how will I drink water, can you save me”? Her look had so many questions and I had no answer, I was only a 20-year-old soldier. We were on a mission, they stayed as we walked out. That night, after stripping our sister-ship of everything except for two door-guns all eight of us flew back to our home base in silence. I still see the small camp fires of the villages below. I still see the lady’s eyes. When I least expect I wake up and she is looking at me. She doesn’t scare me nor says a word. I silently say a prayer for her and go back to sleep. GOD bless and forgive us all.