Chapter 18
Mac opened her eyes and automatically reached across the bed. This time her hand came to rest on Harm, who was sleeping quietly next to her. Mac slid next to him and ran her hand over his well muscled arm; the same arm which had held her so tightly last night.
How long had it been since she'd been held like that? Not since Colonel John Farrow back on Okinawa.
Okinawa. What a mistake that was.
They had both risked serious damage to their careers, and having to hide their relationship made it seem tawdry. Worse still, it had made Mac feel as though she was the tramp that her father had long accused her of being.
Mac slipped her hand beneath Harm's undershirt and began running her fingers through the hair on his chest, stirring Harm from his slumber. "Hey, sleepyhead. Weren't you were supposed to go back to your own room?"
"I guess I didn't make it," Harm answered, and still half asleep.
"What will mommy think when she's sees your bed hasn't been slept in?"
"She'll probably cheer. Why are you awake this early?"
"I'm feeling better, so I want to go for my morning walk with Frank. Why don't you join us?"
"It's still dark outside," Harm groaned.
"I have it on good authority that the sun will rise."
"Which is when normal people get out of bed."
"Suit yourself." Mac grabbed a set of warmups and went in to use the head. When she returned, Harm was still in bed. "What time do we leave for Coronado?" she asked.
"1300. That should give you plenty of time to pack."
"That will work. Please, Harm, let's eat our meals at the hotel and not at exclusive downtown restaurants."
"I'm fine with that." La Fontanne was his parents favorite, not his own.
Mac bent down next to Harm, rubbed her cheek against his and then wrinkled her nose. "You need a shave. I'll be back home no later than 0930," and she gave Harm a firm kiss on the lips.
When Mac left the room, Harm reached for her pillow, which smelled just like her hair. He put the pillow against his face and promptly fell back to sleep.
Frank was already in the kitchen and brewing a pot of coffee. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked Mac.
"I'm fine. It was just an upset stomach. Right now I'd love a cup of hot coffee."
"Coming right up." Frank poured two cups of black coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.
Mac looked over the top of her cup. "I want to apologize for being so rude yesterday evening."
"Don't give it a second thought. You weren't feeling well, and Trish wants to mother every person who so much as sneezes."
"Even so, I behaved badly."
Sarah MacKenzie could do no wrong in Frank Burnett's eyes. "Trish and I owe an apology to you for our being overbearing. After all, you came here to offer our family support during a difficult time."
"Before this visit, I've never experienced being part of a real family. There's a lot about it that I still don't understand."
"I regret that Trish and I didn't help. If we step out of line again, let us know about it."
"Frank, you and I and Trish all want the same thing. If I could snap my fingers, I'd make everything turn out the way that the three of us want it to. Unfortunately, I don't have that power."
"We understand that. Do you feel up for a morning walk?"
"I'm looking forward to it."
"That's my girl," and Frank finished his coffee.
The sun was over the horizon when Tom Boone pulled off the freeway and onto El Cajon Blvd. "Hey Buddy, how about some breakfast?" Boone asked Harmon Rabb Jr., who was resting against the passenger side door.
"Sure. I'm hungry," the boy answered, and Boone pulled into the parking lot of the Alpine Cafe.
It was Sunday morning and the cafe was crowded, so Boone and Harm took a seat and waited for a booth. Boone was in uniform and wearing his G-1 flight jacket; the goatskin well worn and sporting a variety of patches. He quickly attracted the attention of an older couple seated next to them.
"Where are you headed this morning?" the gentleman asked.
"We're on our way to an air show in El Centro. I'm taking this little guy to see his father fly," Boone replied.
"My daddy is a Blue Angel," Little Harm said proudly.
"The Blues have completed their season, and his dad is leaving the team to return to the fleet," said Boone.
"I thought that the Blue Angels were stunt pilots," said the man's wife.
"No, ma'am. They are highly skilled naval aviators."
"Are you a member of the team?" the man asked Boone.
"No, sir. I'm not in their league," Tom admitted.
"What aircraft do you fly?"
"Currently, the F-8 Crusader," and Boone pointed to the Last Of The Gunfighter patch on his jacket.
"Have you deployed?"
"Yes, sir. Three combat deployments in the past four years."
"Alexander, party of two," the hostess announced.
The wife stood up, but her husband indicated for her to sit back down. "We can wait a bit longer. Go ahead and take our booth," he told Tom.
"That's very kind of you, sir," said Boone. "Harm, thank the nice people for giving us their place."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you, ma'am."
"What a polite little boy," the woman said. "How old are you?" she asked Harm.
"Almost five," Harm answered.
"He'll turn five on Wednesday," said Boone.
"He looks like he'll grow into a fine young man," the wife told Boone.
"He's being raised right," Boone said.
"Then maybe there's hope after all, even with all of the damned hippies running around," the man spat.
"Vernon, watch you language around the child," his wife cautioned.
"Sorry, I just get upset with the direction the country is heading. Thank god there's an election in November to shake things up."
Boone wasn't interested in politics; he had a steady job whether Nixon or Humphrey won the White House. "You folks have a nice day," and he and Harm took a booth by the window.
"Coffee?" asked their waitress. She was a pretty girl in her early twenties, slender, with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes.
"Please. What do you want to drink?" Boone asked Harm.
"Hot chocolate...and I want a waffle."
Boone smiled at the girl. "No need for menus. Ham and scrambled eggs with wheat toast for me, and a waffle for my young friend."
Boone had said the words "young friend" casually; just as any adult would, but Little Harm took it seriously. He was excited to imagine himself as being Tom's friend.
"I thought he was your son," the waitress said.
"I'll make sure to mention that to his father."
"So, you're not married?" the waitress asked.
"As a matter of fact I'm not," Boone answered.
This may be easier than I had thought. I should borrow the boy more often.
The girl smiled at Boone. "I'm Peggy."
"It's nice to meet you, Peggy. I'm, Tom."
"I'm Harm," the boy spoke up. He didn't understand what was going on between Boone and the waitress, but he didn't like sharing Tom's attention with her.
"It's nice to meet you, Harm."
"My birthday is on Wednesday," he announced.
"Then I'll make sure you get a special waffle." Peggy refilled Boone's coffee and left the two alone.
"What time does my daddy fly today?" Harm asked.
Boone looked at his wrist watch, a Glycine Airman Special-Automatic. "Twelve hundred hours. High noon. The gates open at nine, so you and I can walk around and look the airplanes on display. I'll bet you can even sit in some of them. Would you like that?"
"Oh boy," Harm said in an excited voice.
"After the show is finished it will be a while before your dad can join us. You and I will have lunch, and then you have to be a good boy while we wait for your dad. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, Tom," Harm promised.
When Harm's hot chocolate and waffle arrived, the waffle was decorated with whipped cream and fresh strawberries.
While the boy dug into his waffle, Peggy served Boone's his ham and eggs, and then slipped a piece of paper into his hand with her phone number. "I live in La Mesa. I'm free in the evenings, and I get Wednesdays and Saturdays off."
Boone had been concerned about the gradual loss of his hair, but it didn't seem to make any difference to the ladies who only saw the uniform, and the gold wings. "I'll give you a call this week."
The ham and eggs were tasty, and after finishing his own breakfast, Boone looked across at Harm and saw that the boy's face was smeared with whipped cream.
"Did you managed to get any of that waffle into your mouth?" Boone took a napkin, dipped it into his water glass, and wiped Harm's face clean.
"It was good. Thank you, Tom."
"My pleasure." Tom Boone enjoyed spending time with Harm Junior. Boone had a nephew nearly the same age as Little Harm, but he lived in Iowa and Boone seldom saw him.
After leaving Peggy a sizable tip, Boone paid the check and then he and Harm continued to El Centro. It was a 90 minute drive through California's Low Desert with little to see or do, but Little Harm was well behaved inside Boone's brand new Chevelle.
Because of its unique location, NAF El Centro was known to every naval aviator and played a key role in their initial and refresher training. What made the NAF so special was its combination of unique climate, vast unobstructed desert terrain, limited non-military air traffic and its own dedicated gunnery and bomb ranges. El Centro was an ideal environment for aerial combat maneuvering, air-to-air gunnery and bombing practice, as well as being the winter home of the Blue Angels.
1968 had been a difficult year for the Blues. A team member had suffered a fatal crash during an airshow at the close of 1967, and two more fatalities followed in practice flights in early 1968. While some in the Congress questioned the need for a Navy Flight Demonstration team, the US Navy was adamant that flying with the Blues was safer than on a stateside training flight and the season went on as scheduled.
The line of visitors entering the base through the main gate was half a mile long, but with his ID decal on the front bumper, Boone breezed through the back gate with little more than a salute from the Marine guard.
Before they got out of the car, Boone told Little Harm, "You're my wingman, so it's your job to stick with me, just like I stick with your dad. If we get separated, find someone in uniform and stay with them until I come to get you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Tom."
"Okay, lets go and see some airplanes."
It seemed as though an example of every aircraft in Navy inventory was parked on the tarmac with rated aviators for each type standing by to answer questions.
The F-4 Phantom II was the Navy's hottest fighter and drawing a lot of attention from the crowd. There was a line of people waiting to sit inside the cockpit of the F-4, but when Boone recognized the Phantom's pilot as a member of his class in flight school, Little Harm went to the front of the line.
Boone had to grab little Harm under the shoulders and lower him into the cockpit, but once seated, the boy looked like he was born to fly a fighter. When Little Harm's face broke into a big smile, Boone noticed once again how much he looked like his father.
Looking at airplanes is hard work and a man can work up an appetite. Trish had warned Boone not to allow Little Harm to eat too much junk food, but it was a hot day and a break for ice cream and a soda didn't seem to out of line to Boone, who also enjoyed some ice cream.
The PA system suddenly crackled to life. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the world famous Blue Angels will begin their performance in 30 minutes. Those with VIP passes may now go to the grandstands."
"That's us, buddy," said Boone. Harm having mailed Trish the VIP passes weeks ago.
"Is my daddy going to fly now?"
"In a few more minutes. Let's take our seats."
The show began with the members of the team walking side by side to their aircraft, the Grumman F-11 Tiger. It was easy to spot Harmon Rabb, who was a full head taller than the next tallest man on the team.
Each member of the team was introduced as he approached his aircraft. "Flying lead solo in the number five aircraft, from Beallsville Pennsylvania, Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Senior," the PA blared.
"That's my daddy!" Little Harm shouted to anyone who would listen.
The engine start-up followed the introduction, then the four lead aircraft taxied out onto the runway for the famous Diamond Takeoff followed by a Half Cuban Eight.
Next came the two solo aircraft.
When Harm's number 5 aircraft came into view, Boone pointed it out to Little Harm who began cheering.
Harm rolled down the runway and then, at what seemed to be an impossibly slow speed, he performed a Dirty Roll: a full 360 degree roll with the landing and arresting gear extended. The minimum altitude for the maneuver should have been 100 feet above the deck, but Harm's aircraft was much lower than that.
"Beautiful, Harm. Beautiful," said Boone, who never ceased to be amazed by his friend's skill at the controls.
After completing the roll, Harm retracted the gear and transitioned into a to a Chandelle: a 180 degree turn combined with a high performance climb. The Chandelle was a standard maneuver for any aviator- even for civilian pilots, but few could perform it was well as Harmon Rabb, and no one did it better.
Aircraft 1, 2, 3 and 4 now made their signature 18-inch wingtip-to-canopy diamond formation followed by the Diamond Roll with the entire diamond rolling as a single entity.
When Boone had asked Harm about flying in such a tight formation, Harm said matter of fact, "If our wings touch we're too close. If they don't touch we're too far apart."
When the two solo aircraft reappeared, both were flying in carrier landing configuration with Harm flying inverted, establishing a "mirror image" effect with his teammate.
Harm was the master of inverted flight and he made it look easy.
"Daddy's upside down," observed Little Harm.
"He'll bring it around," said Boone. An instant later, Harm came back to vertical and the two planes began a series of opposing scissors, passing so close to each other that it seemed impossible that they didn't collide.
The main group now performed a Diamond Dirty Loop with all four jets in carrier landing configuration followed by a Double Farvel—diamond formation flat pass with No.1 and No.4 aircraft inverted.
The two solo's came back on center stage and made a Knife Edge Pass at over 500 knots, which left the crowd gasping for breath. Harm finished the maneuver in a minimum radius turn followed by a horizontal loop pulling over six Gs.
It was the highest G maneuver of the show, and Boone, knowing that the Blue Angels didn't wear G-suits, grunted while he watched it.
The second solo aircraft now joined in with the main diamond, which began a series of complex maneuvers finishing in the always popular Echelon Parade.
With the crowd's attention focused on the main group, Harm caught everyone by surprise when he made a "Sneak Pass." Flying low over the crowd, Harm lit the afterburner and achieved the fastest speed of the show, traveling at just under Mach 1, before performing a series of opposing Four Point Hesitation Rolls. Harm then joined with the group for the Line-Abreast Loop—the most difficult formation maneuver where all 6 jets fly a loop in a straight line.
The show continued until the grand finale: a Loop Break Cross—Delta Break with the six aircraft separating in six different directions, performing half Cuban Eights, then crossing the center of the performance area.
The wild applause from the crowd showed how much they enjoyed the team's performance.
Little Harm tugged on Boone's sleeve. "My Daddy flies good, doesn't he."
"Your dad's the best," said Boone.
Boone and rest of the squadron had already received preliminary training in the F-4 Phantom, so once Harm rejoined the squadron he would have to play catch up. Most pilots would be at a disadvantage, but Boone knew that Harm would be at the top of the training class in no time.
After the crowd broke up, Boone and Little Harm headed to the officers club for lunch.
After finishing their cheese burgers, and eating two bowls of ice cream each, Big Harm arrived at the club.
"Daddy, daddy!" Little Harm raced to his father who grabbed him and gave him a kiss.
"Hi, Champ. We're you a good boy for Tom today?" Harm asked.
"Yes, Daddy."
"He was great. I wish that Bill Ross and Gary Grissom were as well behaved," said Boone.
"I was hoping that Trish would be here," Harm said.
"She wasn't feeling well this morning." Boone suspected the real reason that Trish didn't come along was because she didn't want to watch her husband fly.
Little Harm was given several pieces of Blue Angels gear, and after a round of backslapping and farewells from the other officers in the club, Harm grabbed his gear and they headed to the parking lot.
"That's quite a ride," Harm said when he spotted Boone's brand new navy blue Chevelle with white cheat-lines.
"Take a look at the interior. It has the premium vinyl package with bucket seats."
Harm gave a low whistle. "Nice. Speaking of new vehicles, I closed a deal on a Stearman 75 last week. It will be trucked to my mother's farm on Thursday."
"How many pieces is it in?" asked Boone.
Harm laughed. "One large piece...and several boxes. I'll keep it in the barn until I can find time to restore it."
"Are we going to Grandma's house?" Little Harm asked anxiously from the backseat.
"Sorry, Champ. Not for quite a while," his father said.
"Scuttlebutt is that you turned down an instructor position at Pensacola," Boone said to Harm.
"I did. I've already missed two combat deployments. I can't risk sitting out a third."
"What did Trish have to say about it?"
Harm gave Boone a sideways glance. "She wasn't happy."
Boone nodded. "We can kick it around later." He understood that Harm couldn't say more with his son in the car.
"Don't forget that we're having Little Harm's birthday party on Saturday at 1300," Harm said.
"I wouldn't miss it. Do you think that Trish would mind if I brought someone along?" Boone asked.
"Tom loves Peggy. Tom loves Peggy," Little Harm began singing.
"Who is Peggy?" Big Harm asked.
"I'll clue you in later."
The drive back to San Diego was long and uninteresting, with Boone and Harm talking about their upcoming training in the F-4 Phantom which would take place in Yuma. Little Harm tried to pay attention to the conversation, but finally stretched out in the backseat and quickly fell asleep.
"Looks like he's tired out," Harm observed.
"It's been a busy day, but we had a lot of fun," said Boone.
"You're good with kids, Tom," said Harm.
"I suppose it's because I'm on their level."
Once they arrived at the house, Harm asked Boone if he wanted to come in for a beer.
"No thanks. I want to get back to the base."
"You can call Peggy from our phone," Harm joked.
"I'll grab your bags while you take care of Little Harm," replied Boone.
Harm folded back the passenger seat and looked down at his sleeping son. "Wake up, Champ."
Little Harm slowly opened his eyes and saw his father smiling at him. "Are we home yet, Daddy?"
"We're home, son. Come on, mom's waiting for us inside," and the boy felt his father's powerful arms pick him up and lift him out of the car. . .
Laying in bed in the guestroom, Harm reached for Mac's pillow; only this time he used the pillowcase to dry his eyes.
[A/N] Five members of the Blue Angels Flight Demonstration team have been Killed In Action: Two in Korea and three in Vietnam. One of them, Commander Harley H. Hall, is known to have survived an ejection from an F-4J Phantom which was struck by antiaircraft fire over Vietnam. Unconfirmed reports had placed Commander Hall in the Soviet Union, but the current governments of Vietnam and Russia deny any knowledge of his whereabouts. In 1980, Commander Hall's status was changed from MIA to presumed dead and he was posthumously promoted to the rank of Captain. His name appears on Panel W1, Line 122 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. I feel that Captain Hall's story served as the model for Harmon Rabb Sr's captivity in the Soviet Union.
My apologies for the military history lesson.
