Confronting the Truth
JAG Crossover
Harm was at the bar near the base where all the pilots went to. He was a skilled and popular man and was looking forward to getting back to the Seahawk.
He tipped the barmaid generously and flashed his most charismatic smile at her. She was far too experienced to take it as an invitation, though – she knew the type of man her customer was.
Handsome, young fighter pilots had been flashing that smile at her for years.
She waved as he exited – the last pilot of the day. There were still a few other Navy guys drinking though.
As he walked out of the bar, he heard a voice in a British accent ask, "So, where exactly am I?"
He peered out but couldn't see the source of the voice. Suddenly, a figure stepped into the pool of light which was created by the light on the front of the bar.
"Hello. You're in San Diego – Miramar. How didn't you know that?"
The man shrugged. "I got a lift here and wasn't paying attention. Mostly bumming around." He paused. "This a good place?"
Harm grinned. "I'd say so. Most of the guys here taking quals come here."
Harry asked curiously, "Quals?"
"Qualifications. Things that pilots have to demonstrate to maintain flight status."
"Ah." He saw the man had silver wings on his clothes. "So you're a pilot." Harm nodded. "Can I ask a question?"
Harm, who was naturally gregarious, shrugged and replied, "Sure."
"When I said hello, could you see me?"
Harm said, "No." He grinned. "It was as if you just appeared out of nowhere."
Harry looked at the young man and considered his words carefully. "Please do not take this as anything other than a friendly observation." Harm was a bit suspicious, but nodded. "I was wondering how a pilot – who's supposed to have excellent sight after all – could miss me. It's a bit dark – but it's not pitch black."
Harm was both mildly insulted – and a bit self-conscious. He was honest enough with himself to actually consider the things people told him. "Anyway, it was odd. If you'll excuse me, I want to go in and have a pint. Name's Harry, by the way."
"Harm, Harmon Rabb. Enjoy your pint." Harry nodded as he walked toward the bar. Harm suddenly started looking out from where he was at and saw something that he had never noticed before: His ability to see beyond the pools of light made by various fixtures was not as defined as he would have liked it to be. He didn't see the light the man disappeared into behind him but he did look around when he heard a bit of song briefly.
Upon looking around, he couldn't see where it came from so he shrugged and continued on.
The observation about the dark followed him for the next days as he finished his quals and made his way back to the Seahawk. As he stood on his favorite spot, smoking his cigar, he made a decision. He would have to go see the Flight Surgeon.
The Flight Surgeon checked him and had him see an optometrist while the carrier was still in port. The diagnosis completely destroyed him emotionally: He had night blindness. As a result, he couldn't be a pilot on a carrier which often saw night duty. He would have fought it – but didn't want to be responsible for causing an accident by being too cocky.
He was somewhat morose as he spoke to the billet supervisor. His options were somewhat limited – but the idea of completing a law degree and becoming a JAG lawyer was appealing to him.
In his career as a JAG, he often found himself representing pilots but he was also well known for having no sympathy for pilots who had accidents due to lying to themselves about medical conditions. His personal sacrifice insured that was the case.
His former RIO had much success and the two kept in touch.