The scene was ripe for Walter Mitty. Off the portside of the Army UH-1D ("Huey") helicopter was a sweeping view of a Viet Nam valley. The air crackled with messages from pilot to gunner reporting enemy fire from thatched huts in the village below. The gunner, a young towheaded boy with bubble gum bulging his cheeks, swiveled the M-60 machine gun into position and squeezed off a perfect burst into one of the huts. "That's the way, Jeff!" cheered the lad's buddy, above the whoppa-whoppa-whoppa din of the rotor blades. "Now hit...
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