At the LZ, our officer ordered me, as the corporal in our squad, to search the advisor. I had been trained to get the person I was searching into a push up position on the ground to empty his pockets. I told the advisor to adopt the position. He was a tall, blonde heavy-set guy. He answered me in French, although I was sure he was not French. I said, don't be a smart ass, adopt the position. He answered in French again. I had my orders. I stepped to the side, put one foot in front of his and elbowed him in the back. He went down and angrily started to get up. I repeated for him to adopt the position. He relented.
I went through his pockets quickly, removed everything and put it all on the hood of the truck so my officer could examine the items. After he was done, I returned the personal items to the prisoner, while the officer kept his notebook and a folded map. The officer ordered us to clear the landing area as the chopper was inbound.
We formed two lines, as at the parade square earlier, now with the the advisor as a plus-one. Four in each line. I could hear the whop-whop of the Huey getting louder as it got closer. The lieutenant tossed a smoke grenade into the landing area. It erupted in yellow, voluminous clouds of smoke. The chopper arched toward the LZ from in front of us. As it got closer there was a windstorm of sand and sound from its engines and whirling blades. Brush near the edge of the LZ was flattened backwards and the smoke swirled away rapidly in low clouds.
The chopper landed and both side doors slid open. We moved forward, each line to an opposite side of the helicopter and scrambled inside, one at a time. The advisor seemed to be observing us but followed directions without hesitation. Again, I was seated in a side seat with my rifle barrel on the floor of the chopper. This time I noticed the tightness in my chest and tried to take a deep breath. The anxiety had returned as the Huey got closer to us. Onboard again, I tried to calm myself. The air inside the helicopter was stale and smelled of oil, sweat, and canvas. The crew chief slammed both doors and the engines revved.
For a moment, I could see nothing through the cloud of sand outside the window. When it cleared, the dunes and the scrubby looking vegetation were falling away again. That vibration in the floor of the helicopter was back and this time I felt it not only in the soles of my feet but up to the calves at the back of my legs. I couldn't hear anything except the motor. No one tried to speak.
The Ipperwash barracks appeared in the distance and low in my field of view. The pilot began his landing arch and gradually the buildings grew larger, and the parade square opened beneath us. We settled gently onto the centre of the square, and the chief snapped the side doors open with practised ease. When the pilot gave us the thumbs up, we disembarked one at a time, filed away from the chopper and assembled in one line at the edge of the parade square.
