There is a time and place for breaking the rules. Just don't tell my kids.
The British patrol had somehow driven into a minefield. That meant my landing had to be precise. On short final, I decelerated a little too much and the dust cloud caught up with me. I already felt my tail wheel contact the ground, so I had to commit and land the bird. When the dust settled, I was a good 30 yards short of the marking on the LZ, and had no idea how far out they had cleared for the landing. The pick up was quick other than the litter-bearers having to carry the guy a bit farther. After takeoff, the British Apache that was our armed escort was compelled to stay on station and provide security for the stranded patrol, identifying and deterring suspicious vehicles that approached. Some could correctly speculate that he was out looking for a fight. No gunship pilot enjoys escorting our MEDEVACs. Our policy is to maneuver out of the area when the shooting starts. They want to stay and fight. I can't blame them. We hung out with him for about 10 minutes, but figured we had drawn enough attention to ourselves. We wanted to get the casualty to the hospital, but are restricted from flying ANYWHERE by ourselves. I don't control the Brits, so we agreed that he'd stay and I'd risk it. AND of course, I would have to avoid the most dangerous populated area of our sector, so I nosed her over to 150kts and climbed to 2000 ft. That was my best bet for staying safe.
Will I get in trouble? The world may never know. But we draw encouragement from our peers as we each tell our own stories of putting the mission first and politics and rules second.
There is the story of our pilot turning off the radio when the Battle Captain (a guy at a desk, 2.5 hr flight away and in a completely different region) told him to cancel the mission, but remained on station until fuel critical, to give them time to get the casualties out. But, it's not my story to tell...