Chapter Eight - "Cantonese Chicken and High Ground".

Fun JAG fact – Do you know the reason why Harm's mother's home was in La Jolla, California?The JAG technical advisor was Rear Admiral Paul Gillchrist – in Chapter 29 of his book Feet Wet: Reflections of a Carrier Pilot; he and his wife Nancy's home was in La Jolla as an O-5 stationed with VF-53 – his XO tour was with that squadron. That was Don's nod to the technical advisor on his show. Secondary fact: VF-53, back when he was flying, flew F-8E Crusaders and the callsign the squadron used was "Firefighter". Familiar callsign on the show…used for Harm's VF-241 Howlers squadron? Tertiary Fact: The Badman callsign used for the VF-161 Raptors; was a callsign used by an attack squadron onboard the USS Hancock. Their CAG Dutch Netherland was shot down over Do San in Vietnam in '67 flying an A-4C Skyhawk; the mount used by that squadron. Note that there are two locations, The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in DC and the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center-National Air and Space Museum. near Washington-Dulles Airport. The one Animal is going to is the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center where the F-14 is located and the real F-14 at the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center (Jeez, they make it hard to write it out...don't they?) is from the VF-31 Tomcatters and it's an F-14D. Chapter Eight – Cantonese Chicken and High Ground National Air and Space Museum; Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center-National Air and Space Museum, Fairfax County, Virginia; September 29, 1994; 1045hrs So Meg had to go down to Norfolk. Animal thought to himself as he wandered the expansive hangar like building that housed the National Air and Space Museum. It was quite the exhibit of all the different aircraft that had made front page news. and Animal wondered if Alan Shepard's capsule was also in the display area; the very first man to reach space from the United States, even if it was a ballistic trajectory that put him into space for a brief moment – even if it was a Marine that went into orbit; the Navy got there first – that probably chafed the Air Force's asses. Animal was pretty certain that General of the Air Force Curtis LeMay was probably furious as hell that an Air Force pilot wasn't selected to be the first man in space or even the first man to orbit earth – but at the time, the USAF was just a baby service broken off from the United States Army. During the big Two, the United States didn't have a so-called air force. It was an aviation section under the governance of the United States Army: The United States Army Air Force. The National Air and Space Museum had an extensive collection of aerial vehicles even a space shuttle had been squeezed into the complex. Animal had managed to take a look at Chuck Yeager's Bell X-1; the rocket powered plane that had been the first to break the sound barrier in level flight – there were crowds from all over looking at it. And of course, he had to go see the F-14A Tomcat that was exhibited there. Of course one of the highest hour airframes were the first to be decommissioned for use as an exhibit. It wasn't his own, but he figured, why not take a look at her? As typical it was a VF-84 airframe – they had the fancy schmancy yellow black and white glitzy red-carpet Hollywood glamour – the pirate scheme with the skull and crossbones. The Jolly Rogers got all the glory, it seemed. But he was with the squadron that first blooded the Tomcat; the less glamorous VF-41 Black Aces squadron whose squadron symbol was the black rimmed, white playing card with a scarlet line intersecting the ace of spades in the middle – in fact the Black Aces were the ones that got the kills in the Gulf of Sidra blooding the Tomcat for the first time in US service. He was definitely certain that the VF-84 CO was pretty hot under the collar about not having been the ones up on that hop. Hank had always had that grin about him when he referred to the incident, at having put one over on the Hollywood Rogers. Yeah, the VF-84 were a storied squadron getting kills out the wazoo in the Big Two in air battles in the Pacific, but you couldn't ride your past feats and sit on your laurels for the rest of your squadron's existence and well, VF-41 was up there when it counted; they got the kills that counted to blood the Tomcat, as well as another two when Animal shot down the F-15J during their spat with Japan just nine years later and Harm got his F-2A. Just like the Howlers also blooded the Tomcat when Animal and Harm got their combined three kills in Desert Storm. One MiG 29 (his), one Su-27 (his) and one MiG 27 (Rabb's); all were now smoking wreckage in the Iraqi desert. Well, evidently the VF-84 F-14s in The Final Countdown got two Zeros. That oughta count for at least something, Animal grinned. Ah, Hollywood and their far-out fantasies. He wasn't wearing a uniform, just a white t-shirt, jeans and a pair of Nike sneakers and he wore a CWU-36 with the nameplate of the VF-41 and the authentic black rimmed red-slashed white playing card bearing an ace of spades with the number 41 inside. His nameplate still read LCDR because he hadn't gotten around to getting a new nameplate made up for his jacket. He figured he'd better do it soon; maybe he might stop by the NEX on the way home to see if he could get one made up with his proper rank. The nameplate was embroidered rather than black leather with gold embossing – the leather nameplate had to be redone on a regular basis as the gold embossing would generally wear away eventually; he actually preferred the embroidered ones. His read on the first line, "TOSHIO NAKAMURA"; the second his callsign centered and the third line, "LCDR" with a long space between it and "USN". He had his RayBans hooked to his t-shirt by the earpiece, and he looked the part of a fighter jock with his hair trimmed neatly and extremely short. "So…you lookin' at the Tomcat?" A guy with his own CWU-36 light weight flight jacket looked over at Animal. "So…you the official deal?" he asked lookin' over at Animal's nameplate. "Yeah…thirteen ten off the TR…Black Aces" Animal informed him. "Ah…thirteen eleven off Carl Vinson…Jolly Rogers" the man told him; evidently the feller was a RIO, he looked over at the guy's nameplate. Yeah. Naval Flight Officer's wings – legit. If you couldn't call up your designator code when asked, you weren't the real deal. "You look like you're old enough to have been in the Navy when we were sister squadron to yours on the Nimitz." "Yeah…had my nugget cruise in October 83; out to the Med, I think we were still with you guys in 83 with Eight." Animal replied indicating their Air Wing at the time, the man noted his accuracy of that assessment with a nod. "You were more than likely a JG on your nugget cruise." That was also correct. Animal had his nugget cruise the second year that he was in-squadron and was promoted to O-3 in his last year with the squadron before he went to teach at RAG. "So…you still an O-4?" the man asked him. "My nameplate says so, but I just got battlefield promoted to O-5…just haven't had time to change over my nameplate, yet; convalescing from getting in the way of a couple NK fired Chicom seven point six twos." Animal informed him indicating the lumpy bandages underneath his t-shirt with a casual glance to the side. "Shit…that's gotta suck. You going for rehab…Congratulations on making Commander by the way. Just got my eagles.." "As soon as the wounds heal up; gonna head in, do rehab until my shoulder is strong enough to take what gets dished out in the office then it's back to RAG for refresher training in type. Congratulations on your promotion too, sir." Animal nodded. "You got shore-duty?" "Yeah…they put me in the five-sided shithouse as an aide to an admiral." Animal nodded at the derogatory reference to the Pentagon; he wanted to stay far away from the Pentagon for the long haul if he could manage it. He was hoping that he'd get assigned to War College to pick up some post-graduate education in the art of war and senior fleet management. "Hey…Nakamura…" the captain looked over at his nametag again, a little closer "…aren't you the guy that's been touted for the blue-button?" "There's scuttlebutt crawling around to that effect. Not sure though. Investigators from JAG came down…talked to a bunch of people…" Animal looked over at him. "You stuck in BuPers as shore duty? Sir?" The man grinned, "Yeah…guilty as charged…" Vice Admiral Wynnick was a staff officer, but he was a ball-buster and he'd come up from JAG and switched over to Bureau of Personnel. "When I'm not lining the Admiral's in-box with papers…he needs to sign, I'm down helping deal with Awards and Decorations. That was one helluva way to get nominated." "Just lucky, sir, it could have easily went the other way." Meaning that he could have gotten killed rather than get an award. Animal looked over at the man, "So, you have CAG tour or carrier command tour after this shore-duty? Sir?" "I'm hoping for CAG tour…hate sitting around on my hands with my thumb up my ass. At least CAG post will let me get up and fly for a bit. I take it you're in line for XO tour?" "Well, if I can make it back in the saddle, sir. I'm hoping that my next cruise out will be as XO…then hopefully I get a command tour with the squadron. Got an F-15J too during that spitball-fight with the Japanese with VF-41. I spent three years as a Howler where I got my kills over the Sandbox but after that it was back to the Aces. " The man looked at him with awe as he knew darned well that Animal was Japanese-American and going up against Japan had to be tough on him. "I'm getting a bit dry. Shall we hit the cafeteria here and grab a soda?" The man suggested. "Sounds like a plan, sir." The two men headed for the cafeteria. It was about 1400hrs when Animal said, "Sir, I gotta start heading back; gotta make sure that I'm home to cook dinner before my girlfriend gets home. She's down in Norfolk doing an investigation." "So your girlfriend's Navy too?" the captain asked. "Yeah, she's a JAG…" Animal grinned. "We started dating…and well, gotta make a good first impression…so gotta have that dinner all nice and ready by the time she gets home." "Well, it was good meeting you, Animal." The captain stated. "Good luck on your rehab…and hope you get back into the office quickly." "Good to meet you too, Woz." The man was Captain Benjamin Woskowitz; Animal also had noted the name and call-sign on the man's nametag. "Hope to see you in the fleet…maybe with any luck; my squadron might get posted to your Air Wing." "Fair Winds…" "Following Seas…" Animal headed out the door of the museum and headed to the parking lot. Naval Station Norfolk; Norfolk VA, September 29, 1994; 1630hrs It was at about 1430 that Meg realized that she'd made a major miscalculation on the amount of time that it took to get back. With the interviews, she realized that she was going to have to add at least three hours to that time and she might end up having to eat out before she reached home or it was going to be a very annoyed stomach by the time she got home if she didn't feed it at some point during the day so after the last interview at 1600hrs, before they hopped in the car, Meg said to Harm, "If we don't grab a bite to eat, sir, at some point on the way home, my stomach lining is probably going to eat itself." "That a request? Lieutenant?" Harm grinned at her. "I can stop by a Beltway Burgers…if you want to…" "Anything, sir…that will tide me over till I get home…and can get to the chicken." She picked up the phone and dialed Animal's cell phone. He didn't pick up…evidently he was still on the road and Meg knew to leave a message on Animal's phone. "Hey hon, if you can…wait on putting in the chicken in the oven. I miscalculated and I won't be home till after 2230hrs. So if you could pop it in around 2130hrs, it should be done cooking and still be warm by the time I get home? Love you lots, sweetie…" Harm did another eye-roll. "Problem, sir?" she asked with a knowing grin. "No problem…" Harm muttered… "The endearments are cute…it's just turning my appetite off…" he finished while Meg grinned at him. She knew that the endearments to her boyfriend were turning Harm's stomach. But Harm also knew that he didn't own Meg Austin; that she was her own woman and that she could very well make her own choices as to who she dated. I'll just have to deal with it by myself, Harm thought. But that doesn't mean that I can't tease her about it at least when it came to the lovey-dovey proclamations. Of course he remembered that she was in a relationship with someone who was senior in rank to him, so there was that to consider as well, though he knew very well, that Animal would never pull rank on him when it came to private matters. Animal wasn't big on rank; except when deferring to his superiors. He never liked pulling rank on anyone and only did it if the person responsible for his having to pull rank was officious enough to deserve it. There was no sorry from Meg; there really was no need of it. Her relationship was just that…it didn't require any explanation on her part or any apologies for getting into one. She didn't need his approval. "So…how is his wound healing up…any chance that he'll get into rehab before the end of the year?" Harm asked her. "It's a waiting game, sir. I've been applying the antibiotic for his wound…and he's been changing the bandages judiciously. But it all depends on when the wound closes up firmly so that it doesn't come open again. The stitches on the Mercy helped, but it still needs some administering of antibiotic on a regular basis at every bandage change so that the wound doesn't get infected and heals properly." Meg informed him. "The doctor said about the first week of January is when they suspect that it will be healed enough that he can start working on getting his strength back in his arm…then it's over to his fleet air replacement group to refresh his aviation training." "Yeah, he lives and breathes flying…" "Just like you, sir." Meg responded, "He misses his Tomcat." Harm nodded, he remembered Animal's love for flying and air combat – pitting his talent and tactics against another man in another flying machine and coming out the victor, whether it was on the TACTS range or whether it was over the sandbox for real. It was the same as how Harm felt about flying and fighting in the F-14 after he'd distinguished himself in combat over Iraq and Harm had felt like he'd had a piece of him surgically removed without anesthetic when it came to losing his wings at his FNAEB ten months after the ramp strike; and still did, when hearing the sound of an F-14 spooling up on the ramp or in full burner at the end of the runway or overhead. He could still hear the words that the Captain chairing the evaluation board hearing spoke that rang the death knell on his flying career: Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Jr., on or about the night of 18 December 1991, lost clear vision in his eyes, while under blue-water operations in the Mediterranean Sea; the outcome of which was a ramp strike which resulted in the loss of the aircraft as well as the loss of his Radar Intercept Officer. It is the board's finding that Lieutenant Rabb was negligent in his due diligence in maintaining his physical airworthiness. The findings indicate pilot error in the incident; therefore Lieutenant Rabb is hereby suspended from naval aviator status. Lieutenant Rabb will surrender his wings to his squadron commanding officer and will no longer be authorized to wear naval aviator wings until such time as it is deemed that he has re-qualified both physically and technically as a naval aviator. As of now, Lieutenant Rabb is hereby ordered to US Naval Bureau of Personnel to determine whether he will continue his naval service in another designator or if he will be out-processed from naval service. These are the findings of this Fleet Naval Aviator Evaluation Board convened 05 October 1992. It was a verdict that still haunted him to this day; the words burned into his memory, even after getting his wings back from Tom Boone with approval being given from the JCS after landing the Tomcat back aboard the Seahawk two years later during a JAG investigation with Lieutenant JG Kate Pike in order to make sure that Tom and he didn't have to eject into the Aegean Sea. The complete and utter devastation that he had felt when he lost those gold wings that he had worked so hard for still reverberated like aftermath of the explosion of a nuclear warhead in his psyche. Animal had a wound that would heal and provided there were no complications; he would be back to flight status as soon as he finished his refresher training in the F-14 at RAG and then onto a cruise as an XO. Harm, on the other hand, felt that he had a physical defect; one that yanked him out of the cockpit and there was no going back. Sure he still had the abilities to fly an F-14 Tomcat any chance that he could get; but he couldn't fly at night due to his night-blindness and that would end up killing his career as a blue water naval aviator. In that way, he envied Animal. At least he could go back to doing what it was that he loved doing. Harm was not so lucky. He often questioned what had happened, but Animal had told him that you can't dwell on the past; you have to just move forward. Harm, you'll always remember what happened up there. You will always carry the guilt of an accident determined to be your fault; but the thing is that you can't let that guilt eat you up to the point where you lose focus. You always keep moving forward. That's life, shipmate. Question what you did wrong and what you can do to correct it if it's correctable; if it isn't, make peace with your decision and move on. But don't let the questions eat you up. You make your mistakes; you learn from them and you move forward. And you make damned sure that you don't repeat the same mistake twice. He sighed as he looked over at Meg. "You're right, I miss flying too and I envy Animal being able to go back to do what he does best. But the main crux is that my diagnosis prevents me from getting into the cockpit at night and that's what aviators are expected to do; night patrols, night traps, night cat-shots…the whole nine-yards…and we don't have a bingo field in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. You're expected to trap aboard the carrier or you end up losing a thirty-six million dollar aircraft due to pilot incompetence. That's what Animal and I meant by the turn in the barrel stories. You end up making pass after pass until you make it in or you crash, one or the other. And if you still can't make it aboard after multiple passes, the CAG will just get tired of it after sending up two or three tankers…to pass gas, he'll just tell you to trap in the Davis, meaning he'll catch you in the barrier; you end up damaging the aircraft because there's no clean barrier trap and it's a one way ticket to the beach for you because you're no longer qualified as a deployable aviator which means your career as a naval aviator is over. It's dead serious business out there, Meg. There're no second chances." Meg nodded; she knew that Harm knew his stuff, after all, he learned it from her now boyfriend. It was a physical defect that caused Harm to have his ramp strike; not any deficiency in Animal's instruction; evidently her boyfriend was extremely tough on his protégés for that very reason. It was something that couldn't be helped and unfortunately it cost the Navy a thirty-six million dollar airframe and the loss of a two million dollar cost in training a naval flight officer who had been killed in the crash. Hence the reason the Navy was very unforgiving of someone who lost an airframe due to personal failings and even more so if that accident had resulted in the loss of flight crew. Meg understood that all too well from the Navy's position on many of the NAVAIR accident cases that she and Harm had investigated. Harm stated with a tone of wistful longing, "If I do go back, I have to be one hundred percent, meaning that I'd have to be able to fly at night, that my vision problems either clear up entirely with no reoccurrence or there's some way to get my vision corrected so that I have full night-vision again." "Would you ever go back and get your vision checked out to see if it can be correctable?" "They told me that it was a genetic problem and something that can't be fixed by surgery…when they examined my eyes prior to the FNAEB." His tone was hopeless. "I never wanted to get a second opinion…because then it would mean that…" He stopped talking for a long moment as he drew in a long shuddering breath. "It would mean that…I made a mistake…that I clung to the fact that it was a genetic problem and not the fact that I didn't press the matter when I got told that it was an infection that would clear up…back in 89. For me finding out that it wasn't night-blindness, the genetic cop-out to taking the blame for an accident that cost me my RIO when I struck the ramp; it would have been devastating knowing that I could have prevented the crash by just forcing the issue back in 89…" "And now?" Meg asked; she understood that it was Harm's way of coping with the aftermath of the accident. "I don't know if I've come to terms with Mace's death yet." Harm said quietly but Meg could read the emotion in his voice; despite his earning his wings back he still hadn't come to terms with the ramp-strike and the fact that his actions cost his RIO Mace his life. He drove in silence for a long while. When he spotted a Beltway Burgers, he stopped in and Meg ordered a Beltway Supreme and a large Coke. Harm got himself a Coke as well, even though he rarely liked touching cola; chock full of sugar and other things that weren't good for you, but occasionally as a treat was fine and he ordered some fries. At least it would keep them until they got back to the office, which was still a few hours drive yet; and at least prevent them from being ravenous by the time they stepped into HQ. The galley was open still; after all officers did have a tendency to work late, but their offerings were lean by the time that they would get into the office. After they ate, it was a straight shot into the office; where they gathered up their stuff; said their good-byes and headed out of the office for the night. Harm heading up to his townhouse and Meg heading to her apartment she shared with Animal to hopefully spend a relaxing night with her boyfriend; enjoying the Cantonese chicken that should be in the oven at 2130hrs. Meg's Apartment; Washington DC, September 29, 1994 2130hrs Animal had received the call from Meg on his cell phone's voice mail and well, he had popped the chicken in the oven to cook at 375F at the requested time of 2130hrs. It had been a half hour since it had gone into the oven, so Animal grabbed an oven mitt and delicately maneuvered the foil off the baking dish. There were at least ten pieces of chicken glazed with the honey-soy sauce-ketchup-lemon sauce; good enough for two meals if they were exceedingly hungry; two pieces tonight; three pieces on Friday or vice versa along with rice and steamed vegetables on the side. The previous week, Animal had gone up to Bethesda and asked Dr. Whitman if he could talk to someone about the post-traumatic stress flashbacks/dreams that he'd had when he was on the TR and while in Yokosuka and Dr. Whitman, being a concerned and trained doctor took him seriously even when Animal had mentioned that they had stopped ever since Meg and he had gotten into an intimate relationship and had arranged for him to speak to someone about it. Meg was so comfortable with Animal as her significant other that she hadn't even batted an eyelash at Animal's mentioning that they were in an intimate relationship, after all it was a straight-forward fact – it was doctor-patient confidentiality any how; and if it wasn't affecting the discipline and good order of the command that she was under, then the Navy would look the other way. So he was planning to go up on the third of October, a Monday, to go and get some counseling to deal with the PTSD from the Hill 175 incident and meet up with the psychiatrist so that he could get a handle on some of the emotions and stuff that happened which would go a long way to helping him stay on an even keel emotionally. He was looking forward to getting that matter resolved. Looking at the clock it was 2200 and Animal went back over to the couch/loveseat and sat down to read some more out of his NATOPS manual for the F-14A Tomcat. He also had the NATOPS manuals for the A+; otherwise known as the F-14B and the F-14D because each had their own characteristics in handling but since he was with a squadron that flew the "A", he'd hone up on that manual. Applying himself to NATOPS procedure would stand him in good stead since he wouldn't be as rusty as if he'd just sat around and ate nothing but Ho-Hos and watched TV re-runs while recuperating. If there was one thing that his father drilled into him; it was being disciplined. And that had stood him in good stead even through the emotional upheavals in his second year of university when he found out that his father had had a fatal heart-attack three months before the end of the school term and his mother passed away five months later just before he went back for third year. He was on his own and he had to be disciplined in order to put his academics first and he graduated top of his NROTC class with a high academic average. So he buried his face in the NATOPS manual while waiting for the chicken to finish and he pulled it out when the alarm went off on the timer. Making sure that he put two pot-rests side by side on the counter before putting down the baking dish onto them to keep the hot baking dish from scorching the counter-top and devaluing Meg's apartment; after all, home repair was a foreign concept to him. Unfortunately he'd never really been mechanically inclined nor was being able to replace a countertop even in the realm of possibility for him and thus for him; prevention of damage was a much better concept than having to repair something that could have been avoided. He breathed deeply as he smelt the aromatic flavors coming from the chicken…and made sure that it was covered again with foil; glossy side inwards to keep the heat from the baked chicken sealed in and making sure that it didn't get too cold before Meg got home. Making sure that the rice was still warm, he pulled the plug on the rice cooker to cut the heat, keeping the cover on to keep in the steam to keep the rice nice and soft; after all he didn't want the edges to get crunchy. And he checked on the steamed vegetables which were still steaming away on low heat. And at exactly 2230hrs, the key was heard in the lock and the door opened. Animal looked over at the doorway to see Meg coming in; a look of relief on her face at being able to come home and be able to eat. "mmmm, that smells good." She said as she leaned in to give Animal a kiss. "I see you got my message." "Yup…like you thought, I was on the road, on my way back to the aparment when you left the message." Animal replied. "It's so convenient having you here…if you weren't, I'd have to come home...throw the chicken in the oven; make rice, steam the vegetables…and I wouldn't be eating for another two hours." She gave him another kiss, "I knew you were good for something." Animal gave her a smirk. Getting down plates, they dished themselves up a few pieces of chicken each and then scooped in some vegetables and rice. After all, it smelled absolutely heavenly and they found out that the chicken was thoroughly marinated having spent a whole night in the fridge sitting in the glaze before being thrown in the oven. It was absolutely mouth-watering when they bit into the chicken pieces - absolutely rewarding. Meg was happy with the result and seeing her boyfriend enjoying the result of her culinary efforts gave her a warm feeling. When they were done, they headed over to the sink and washed their dishes together. Being able to be close physically was satisfying and when they were finished with the dishes, they retired to the bedroom as it was getting late at night and well; Meg had work the next morning – so no hanky-panky either. It would have to wait for Friday night. And they were satisfied with curling up together in bed and going to sleep. JAG HQ, Navy Yard, Washington; DC, 1330hrs, September 30, 1994 After Harm returned from lunch, he ran into RADM AJ Chegwidden. "Lieutenant Commander Rabb, in my office…" the rear admiral stated as he leaned into Rabb's office as he headed for his own. "There's an urgent case that you and Lieutenant JG Austin need to investigate. I'll give you the details when you both get into my office." "Aye-aye, sir…" Harm said as he turned to go notify Meg of the new case that had just dropped into their laps. And fifteen minutes later, they were in the admiral's office standing at attention. "Sit down…" the admiral said briefly. And the two officers sat down in the chairs. AJ looked at them with a grim expression. "There's been a shooting at Marine Corps Station Quantico, Maryland. A Gunnery Sergeant Ray Crockett allegedly took a shot at his commanding officer. Now Colonel Gordon wants the Gunny's ass tied to a tree and skinned alive." The admiral sighed, ran his hand through his thinning hair and then looked back at Harm and Meg, "The Gunny and I go back…a long way. It was a hell of a night. NVA coming through the wire. My position was overrun. Our team didn't have a snowball's chance in hell that night of making it through." He paused, "What I didn't know was that the Marines were covering our asses that night. There was a total of eighteen shots that night." He looked grim. "Sunrise, we found eighteen dead NVA; all around my position." He paused a long moment to let that sink in. "All killed with single shots…when we got back to base, we heard that Marine Recon had a sniper up in the trees, a Lance Corporal Ray Crockett." He shook his head ruefully, "I tracked him down in Saigon, wouldn't even let me buy him a drink, didn't want to dull his senses." Harm replied, "Sir, if Gunnery Sergeant Crockett took a shot at Colonel Gordon, it'll be hard to avoid a general court-martial, Admiral." "Fair investigation first, that's all I ask. That man saved my life, do what you can to save his." The admiral ordered as he gave them a hard look as if to say I expect you to do whatever it takes. At least that was the unspoken order that Harm thought he'd received. "Aye-aye, sir…" Harm and Meg chorused as they snapped to attention. "Dismissed…" The two about-faced and exited the admiral's office. Looking at each other, Harm and Meg sighed… "This one's going to be tough to avoid a court-martial…" Meg said. "I'll hook up with you at the motor-pool. I have to call Tosh and tell him the bad news…that we're going to be out on another investigation…and this time I may not make it home tonight…looks like this one's a multi-day investigation…" She sighed; she'd hoped that since they hadn't had much time together the past few days, that she'd be able to have a bit of intimacy that night, but well, the Navy had thrown a monkey-wrench in those plans. Harm rolled his eyes again, "OK…I'll see you down at the motor-pool as soon as I get my things together." He didn't have a significant other that he had to notify that he was going to be out of town and he didn't know whether that was a good thing or something that he was disappointed about. Tosh told Meg on the phone call, "I understand, Meg…orders are orders, hon; and you gotta obey them" even as Meg sounded disappointed. "I'll call you when I get settled at the VOQ…" Meg said, "I love you…" "Love you too, Meg… stay safe, OK?" "I'll try…" When she'd finished the call, she grabbed her things and headed down to the motor pool to meet up with Harm so that they could get on their way to Quantico. Even though it was only about an hour and a half out of town; it still meant a multi-day investigation as the case was serious. Attempting to injure a superior officer was a serious offence and one that could end up being an Article 128; (b) AGGRAVATED ASSAULT.—Any person subject to this chapter— (1) who, with the intent to do bodily harm, offers to do bodily harm with a dangerous weapon, which carried a maximum penalty of a dishonorable discharge; forfeiture of all pay and allowances, and confinement for 3 years. There were other statutes in the UCMJ that had been contravened as well. And the admiral wanted them to mitigate his charges? That certainly was going to be difficult for them to do if it wasn't impossible. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0835 (the following Friday) "Good morning, Colonel. Prisoner Crockett is present as ordered, sir." "Good morning, Colonel," Colonel Gordon gave the Gunnery Sergeant a hard-faced look. "Good morning, Gunnery Sergeant" he responded almost reluctantly. "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, is it your contention that you had no malicious intent when you fired on Colonel Gordon's vehicle?" "Sir? The Colonel wouldn't let me explain my deal." GSGT Crockett stated, "I was just trying to get the CO's attention, sir." "The Colonel has agreed to let us duplicate your shot," Harm said with some hint of trepidation as the last time that he and Crockett had spoken, Crockett had implied with some menace: Don't ever let me see you in my scope, Commander. Would he follow through with that threat or would Harm still keep his cranium intact? "Rather than ask the Colonel and his aide to drive the vehicle, the task has fallen on me." Just to add some more tension to the mix, the Gunnery Sergeant stared at Harm and stated sotto voce, "Sir, the Gunnery Sergeant meant what he said when he warned the Commander about not getting in his scope." Oh shit. Harm's heart sank near to his toes. Nope, this was not proving to be a good day after all. Technically, the Gunny could be put on charges under Article 115, Communicating Threats; however Harm had chosen to ignore that. Swallowing a choking feeling as his Adam's apple appeared to leap into his throat, he somehow managed to get out the words, "Your sincerity is not at issue here, Gunny; your intentions are." How he managed to elocute that sentence while wondering if he was going to make it out alive out of this demonstration was a miracle. "ATTENTION ON THE RANGE!" Harm turned to see the JAG come striding towards them. Both he and the Gunnery Sergeant snapped to attention. Turning to Meg he asked out of the corner of his mouth, "What the hell's he doing here?" Meg gave him a pointed look, "Making sense of nonsense, I hope." Looking him up and down; she stated, "I didn't want to see you get yourself killed, sir…" "I'm flattered," "Don't be, sir, I have enough work to do without having to explain to the admiral why my partner got himself killed during an investigation. The paperwork would be endless…" Meg smirked at him. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0900hrs Harm stopped the jeep as soon as he saw the rear-view mirror on the driver's side of the vehicle shatter. Slumping bonelessly in his seat, he let out a deep sigh of utter relief…as the stress he had put himself through came seeping out in a flood. Gunnery Sergeant Crockett was a man of honor; he'd never gun down a fellow man in uniform, even though he may have threatened that he would do so in the heat of anger. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0900hrs (back on the hill) "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, the Corps cannot allow prior gallantry to be used as an excuse for reckless behavior, therefore I have no choice but to find you guilty of wanton destruction of miscellaneous items of government property. You are hereby ordered to make full restitution. In addition you are restricted to base for sixty days at half-pay; any questions?" "Sir, no sir!" "Pin your chevrons back on." Colonel Gordon stated, "Return to duty!" "Aye-aye sir!" barked GSGT Crockett; then turning to the Commander, he stated, "Thanks Commander, you've got some major brass." He grinned grimly, "Eight weeks, I'll make you a hell of a sniper." Harm still somewhat shaken; smiled back nervously stating, "Maybe next time, I'll keep it in mind." The rear admiral approached the two, "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, I believe I still owe you a drink if you're done shooting for the day." Crockett snapped to attention, "Sir, I'd be honored, sir." Harm leaned over, "You still don't remember him, do you? Gunny?" Gunnery Sergeant Ray Crockett grinned at him, "Commander, A gunnery sergeant don't tell a two star he don't remember him." "Commander Rabb, Lieutenant Austin; why don't you join us?" The admiral grinned gesturing to the group exiting the hill enroute to the watering hole. "Sir, As much as I'd like to join you, the Colonel, the Commander and the Gunnery Sergeant; permission to secure…" Colonel Gordon and the Admiral looked at her as Meg stated, "I have someone waiting for me back up in DC…" Admiral Chegwidden wasn't the slightest bit put-out by Meg's stating that she would prefer to join her boyfriend rather than toss back a few with them; after all she was in a relationship with someone. Besides, it was more of a get-together between the guys and she would probably feel out of the loop. AJ grinned knowingly, "Of course, Lieutenant. Do you have a ride back?" as Harm looked over at Meg with a wistful glance. "Well, considering that my significant other is an O-5, I'm sure that he'd be able to access the base to pick me up from Quantico…and drop me off at HQ to pick up my car, sir." Meg grinned. "Very well," Colonel Gordon stated, "Lieutenant, I'll clear it with the gate-guard so that you can get picked up by your significant other." MC Base Quantico; Quantico, VA; October 7, 1994 1050hrs Animal sighed as he pulled up to the gate-guard showing his ID; he was pleasantly startled at least an hour and forty-five minutes earlier when he'd received a call from Meg asking him if he could pick her up from Quantico. "Thank you, sir…" said the Marine Corps Lance Corporal who was manning the post as Animal showed him his ID. "Colonel Gordon cleared you before-hand, so you can go straight through." "Thank you, Lance Corporal…" Animal nodded to the gate-guard who saluted him and drove forward towards the parking lot. He was technically on medical leave, but since he was going onto a military installation, Animal decided that it would be in his best interest to wear his service dress blues to avoid mis-identification. Parking his Camaro in the parking spot allowed for base visitors, he noticed Meg, the Admiral, a grizzled Gunnery Sergeant, Harm and Colonel Gordon standing by the headquarters building. Animal got out of the vehicle, put on his cover, shutting the door to his car and walked over to the officers and NCO standing by the building. Walking up to the Marine Corps Colonel, he snapped to attention, and saluted the Colonel as per the rules for officers visiting an installation, whether or not there was an officer higher in rank than the base commander there or not, it was courtesy to pay one's respects to the base commanding officer first. The salute was returned and Animal spoke, "Sir, thank you for the permission to visit the base, sir." "I understand, that you're here to pick up the Lieutenant JG, Commander." "Yes, sir." "Very well…" Colonel Gordon grinned, noting the line-officer star on Animal's sleeves as well as the naval aviator's wings above his ribbon rack, extended out a hand to shake Animal's which was returned with a firm grip and a return grin. Animal then turned to the JAG rear-admiral, rendered him a smart textbook salute which was returned. "Sir, permission to collect the Lieutenant and depart," "Permission granted, Commander." Meg grinned at Animal as she turned around and executed a crisp salute to both the Admiral and to the Marine Colonel and then of course, to Animal as per formal military protocol which was returned with a properly rendered salute and a grin. "Permission to depart with the Commander, sirs…" "Permission granted, Lieutenant JG Austin." Both RADM Chegwidden and Colonel Gordon stated formally, but with identical grins. Harm restrained an eye-roll. Gunny Crockett grinned at Harm knowingly as he watched this display. Evidently the Lieutenant Commander had gotten outmaneuvered for the affections of the Lieutenant JG by the Commander. He had after all noticed how protective the Lieutenant Commander was of the Lieutenant JG. And it appeared that the fact that the Lieutenant JG was unavailable was not very palatable to the Lieutenant Commander. Hey, he was a sniper; he noticed these things; especially when it came to looking for weaknesses. If you got the spouse of a target, he'd be jumpy as hell or would probably be in a mental state as to make him an easier target. Both Meg and Animal headed for the vehicle. Unlocking the vehicle door for Meg, they both doffed their covers and got in the Camaro. Making their departure from the base, Animal turned to Meg as they turned on to One and headed up towards Woodbridge, "So…to your office, first…then home?" Meg smirked at him, "As much as I want to go home straight-away…I guess I do have to collect my car at the office…it was a long investigation." "I missed you…" Animal grinned at her. It'd been a lonely weekend. "I missed you too…" Meg stated, as she rested her hand against her boyfriend's right, as he used his left to guide the vehicle as he maneuvered the Camaro up the highway. It would be a straight shot, up to the Beltway, then over to the Navy Yard in order to collect her vehicle.