Hunt The Wind

               *     *     *     *     *      City of Santa Monica, CA, 8.5 cramped square miles to patrol by air.      It was June 14 th , 1971, while sitting quietly in my office at 4 th and Wilshire in Santa Monica, California, that the wheels of fate were set into motion, causing this beautiful woman to crash into my life.      My small, wood-paneled office was at the end of a suite of offices, leased by World Associates on the second floor above a bank.  One of our contracts at that time was with the Santa Monica Police Department – supplying pilots and observers for their city-owned Hughes 300B helicopters.        Originally we trained 8 SMPD Officers in two H-300Bs on floats.       Unfortunately a year later the officers crash one he...

              *     *     *     *     *      It was the day before Halloween, 30 th October 1970, my favorite time of the year, right before the spooks and hobgoblins appear with their infamous battle cry: “Trick or treat!”        One of the towns we patrolled was Half Moon Bay, the pumpkin capitol of the US, which did a bang-up Halloween!           As I recall it must have been nearly 4:30 in the afternoon, when the low sun deepens colors to a breathtaking status, causing the incredible sight spread out before me to inspire a sort of religious awe.  At that moment it hit me how privileged I was to be a helicopter pilot; the average Joe or Jill never being allowed to observe what I was currently witnessing.      I was riding in the right seat of a San ...

    *     *     *     *     *      As I sprinted up to the front door, I jammed on the brakes – abruptly confronting the brutal, true nature of law enforcement.  What I was about to witness would alter me for the rest of my life.      Lying on his back in the entrance – with the glass door held open by his body – was a large Black man, late twenties, who had to be at least Six-foot-five, and weighing in at 250 pounds.  He was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt with jeans and sneakers.  He had also been shot above the left eye by a snub-nosed, .38 caliber, revolver.       And here, dear reader, was where the true horror began.      Although his eyes were closed...the Black man was still alive!  At once finding myself in a macabre nightmare, I observed his mouth open widely - resemblin...