** A turkey dinner fit for a king. **

It must have been early 1969 ... I don't think it was Christmas 68, anyway. We were delivering a hot meal to some 4ID hilltop position. I got out and was standing next to the ship pulling mermite cans out and passing them to the pad guys when, just as I turned to pass a can to one of them, a mortar round landed just outside our rotor disk. Yikes.

The pad guys exited left and right, and I dove into the ship as we pulled pitch with half the load still on board. Banged the hell out of my shin on the way in.

We're circling around deciding what to do next when I reach down to rub my shin and my hand comes back red, wet with blood. I look down, my pantleg is soaked and the deck is pooled up red, blood everywhere under my feet. I go down on the deck jabbering into the intercom about I'm hit yadada yadada oh damn I'm hit. Gunner comes over, cuts my wet pantleg up to the knee, looking to plug the hole. Everybody's jabbering at once on the intercom.

He looks, feels around, then I'm looking, feeling around ... nothing. Where's all that blood coming from?

Mortar fragment had pierced the end of one of the mermite cans that was still on the ship. The one next to my right leg that had a container of hot beets in it. It was leaking and spraying warm beet juice up onto my pantleg.

Shoulda heard the crap for the rest of that day. We'll put you in for a "Purple Beet" how 'bout a "Mermite Heart" maybe an "Air Medal with B Device" ...

Sheesh.