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You're sitting in the door of a Huey, hanging on to the butterflies of your pedestal mounted M-60,  heart pounding to the whop whop beat of the blades.  AFVN Radio turned up to drown out the scream of the turbines above your head, and quiet possibly from yourself. Leaning out to scan 180 degrees for tracers coming up.

Approaching the LZ you swing the 60 against the forward stops, firing ahead in burst only long enough to see where you're walking the tracers, to save the barrel.  You use a can of peaches instead of the ammo belt chute, so you can grab the belt and break it back if the barrel does get hot enough to cook off rounds without the triggers pulled, switching ammo boxes is a lot quicker, and you get a hot peach snack later too.

You're not looking for people in the triple canopy or elephant grass.  You're not even shooting at anyone. Just walking the tracers in front and below the point where the closest tracer streams originate to use enfilade and ricochet.  When the tracers stop coming, you move on to the next closest stream.  If there's friendlies nearby, the tracers are usually skirting the ground, not coming up. 

Ahead and below are the priority targets because the pilots' armored seats don't protect them from rounds entering through the Plexiglas nose bubble at their feet.  That's your responsibility, protecting them and the grunts.

Your armor is a ceramic composite plate front and back just big enough to cover vital organs.  It shatters to absorb the impact of the first round, and you know that if a round enters through your side it just might deflect off the back plate and enter your vitals anyway.  You and the other gunner split an extra vest to sit on.  Being lighter than sand bags under the seats means more grunts, ammo, or other supplies.

If Sir Charles is better at leading tracers than you are at trailing them, you've only got your gun mount to hide behind.  It's an aluminum post about and inch and a half in diameter. Since most rounds that don't hit the transmission or gearboxes go right through, you're thankful that Hueys have redundant vital systems.  The fuel cells are double walled with sealant between.  The cell collapses as fuel is used to keep oxygen out so tracers don't ignite fuel vapors.

Maybe you won't have to fire a shot this time.  In some ways that's worse.  Anxiety, imagination, fear, anticipation, and boredom can be rougher than actually getting it on.  While the reality is worse than you could  have ever imagined, if none of the good guys get hurt, coming out the other side is as exhilarating as love wishes to be.  You're a warrior that danced with the elephant without letting him step on your toes.  You're immortal, lucky, victorious, ALIVE!; with an intensity that leaves withdrawals and depression in it's wake. 

If you get back to base alive, you'll probably deaden or evade the contradictory feelings with booze, dope, or religious zeal.