It's 2330 hours. No moon. Overcast. Darker than the inside of a cow.
"Your patient is a 32 year old male victim of a helicopter accident. He has severe trauma to the head and body. Meet the ambulance at **LZ4-3."
Before we launched our dispatcher told us he's a cop. What/why/how? We don't know.
We see the flashing lights from 20 miles away...
"Holy smokes! Look at that!"
In addition to the ambulance, there must be 20 Police cars from various agencies in and around the LZ... most of 'em with their emergency lights on.
My crew brings him out of the ambulance on their stretcher and load him onto ours. His head is covered with dressings, but blood is everywhere. This is a SERIOUS head injury.
We load him and I point the helicopter toward the Trauma Center. My crew fills in some of the blanks-
He's the observer from the helicopter. The pilot is dead on the scene. They were doing a surveillance on a drug bust, and apparently lost situational awareness while paying more attention to the scene on an infra-red CRT screen than to the heading, altitude, and airspeed of the helicopter. Out of control and heading to the ground, the aircraft ran into an electrical high-tension line and is totally destroyed.
The left side of his skull and much of his brain... gone.
We arrive at the Trauma Center and get him on the way to the Operating Room. I take off to refuel the helicopter and when I return, my crew informs me he's dead.
Another casualty in the war on drugs.
Two more heroes lost in that war.
Do we ever learn anything from history?
Didn't we declare war on another drug years ago... from 1920 to 1933?
How'd that war turn out?
How many died?
Think this one will turn out differently?