Into Afghanistan: Taking flight with an Osprey

When I arrived to Afghanistan this past May, I didn’t realize that vertical take off and landing aircraft — essentially an airplane and a helicopter all wrapped into one, actually existed.

So when I was told by some fellow journalists that’s the way I would fly into Helmand Province with the U.S. Marines, I was a bit stunned.

“Hold onto your gear if you sit in the back seats, man,” said one journalist. “They leave the back door open for the gunner, so it can seriously fall out. In fact, buckle your seat belt, because YOU can fall out!”

I didn’t understand what they meant until I arrived at Camp Dwyer, one of the big dusty Marine bases south of Marjah, to wait for our flight.

One of the Marines there said he hated riding in the Ospreys.

“It’s like a Rollercoaster,” he told me.

I hate rollercoasters.

We’re standing on the flight line bundled up in body armor and towing our luggage. Two Ospreys descend from the sky with their oversized propellers angled at about 45 degrees. The edges of the propellers are lit by some kind of green glow and it makes green circles in the air above the aircraft in the dark night.

We climb aboard. The cabin is narrower than most helicopters I’ve been on. But I dutifully buckle my seat belt and we taxi for take off.

Then, suddenly, we accelerate at a 45 degree angle, in half helicopter-mode, half airplane-mode. We are pressed into our seats by the G-Force. And I understand now why my friends had made their recommendation. The aircraft is pitched at a essentially a 45 degree angle and the door is wide open. I hold on as we begin to transition to airplane-mode and fly forward. It’s a noisy flight and the pilots keep accelerating and decelerating, I’m guessing out of boredom. They must do these taxi runs every night.

As we land, the aircraft shakes and rattles as it transitions from airplane-mode back into a helicopter. We make a steep descent onto a landing pad in Marjah. The big propellers spin their green tips like kids spinning glow sticks at a rave. Except I’m in Marjah. The birds take off and the rest of the Marines and I walk off the landing pad and into the moon dust as a million stars shine in the sky above us.