Lt. Dick Sandheger was commander of the Arizona Department of Public Safety's Helicopter Division.
One night a call came through asking assistance in transporitng a mountain rescue team into a wilderness areas where a man had fallen into a canyon.
Dick, a fixed wing commercial pilot but not rated in helicopters, took the left, or copilot's seat. His duties were to navigate and operate the Night Sun floodlight affixed beneath the fuselage.
Beyond the city total darkness surrounded the aircraft. No moon, no lights on the ground, no visible horizon. Mountains extended above their flight level on both sides. He and the pilot searched ahead looking for any indication of rising terrain--a star suddenly disappearing--any change in the blackness ahead. Even a small navigational error could be fatal.
Dick kept double checking the course plotted on his navigation chart against the gyrocompass heading. He didn't doubt the abilities of the pilot, a Vietnam veteran, but two sets of eyes were better than one.
Neither man spoke. Dick felt droplets of moisture running from his armpits. Tension tightened his muscles.
In the back seat the rescue crew chatted and joked, enjoying the ride, oblivious to the danger they faced.
Upon detecting a movement in his peripheral vision, Dick turned his head and watched the pilot rub the palm of his hand on the leg of his flight suit, then switch hands on the cyclic control and rub the other hand.
"What's the matter?" Dick asked, breaking the ominous silence within their headsets. "Getting nervous?"
"Nope," the pilot answered. "Just getting rope burns from my rosary beads."