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Date Posted: 18:57:21 06/15/13 Sat
Author: usmgrad
Subject: Moments in Time
In reply to: usmgrad 's message, "Good Night Son" on 18:55:50 06/15/13 Sat

Title – Anniversary Challenge #5 Moments in Time

Author – usmgrad
Disclaimer - JAG and its characters are the property of CBS Television, Paramount Studios and Bellisarius Productions. All rights reserved. No monetary gain will be realized from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N – the fifth anniversary challenge was the one that gave me the most ideas, (If only I had more time)! It started out as glimpses, but a few managed to expand into more. The first was ‘Good night Son’, this picks up where that one left off. Another “expanded” story was ‘fixed’ to meet the Christmas Challenge. I have one more idea, but at the moment it’s only notes.


These glimpses of Harmon Rabb Jr.’s early life are based on things we learned during the show mixed with how Harm might have been affected by the events that took place in Vietnam. We begin four months after Harmon Rabb, Sr. was shot down in Vietnam, December 24, 1969 and was declared an MIA.



March 1970

“Harmon Rabb, you better be ready for school.” If they didn’t leave soon he was going to be late again.

Harm entered the kitchen rubbing his eyes, still in his pajamas, “But Tommy said the ship is coming in this morning, aren’t we going to see Daddy?”

Trish knew the Ticonderoga was arriving today, that’s why she had a full day planned away from the base. She didn’t want to think about the fact that her husband wasn’t coming home with his shipmates. She hadn’t mentioned the arrival to her son, so his question took her by surprise. Trish had to sit down, catch her breath and gather her thoughts before she could respond. Today was going to be harder than she thought.

“Harm, Daddy isn’t on the ship.”

“Why not?”

“Remember I told you his plane was hit and he’s missing.”

Young Harm was confused, “well yah, but then he got found because we got those letters from him and he sent presents and his trunk came with all his stuff. And he didn’t come home yesterday when all the other pilots came home because his plane is broken. So isn’t he on the ship?”

Trish’s heart sank, while she had been protecting her son from the pain she was suffering, she had also been denying him the truth about what happened to his dad.

“No honey, remember I told you the letters and presents were sent before his plane was hit. It took a long time for them to get here. Sweetheart, he’s still missing in Vietnam.”

Harm thought about all his mother had told him about his dad, his plane being hit, him hiding and the helicopters from the Tico searching for him. “But if the ship is here who’s looking for my Daddy?”

Trish was unprepared for this conversation, or the conversation to be had if her husband was never found. “Honey, there’s lots of Navy and Army and Air Force people still in Vietnam looking for your Daddy. It’s just that it was time for all the people on his ship to come home.”

Harm tried not to cry, but the tears fell anyway. “I want my Daddy to come home.”

Trish took her son in her arms, holding her own tears back, “I know honey, so do I.”


March 1973
Harm is nine


Harm was excited as he walked in the front door, hollering for his mother. “Mom, where are you?”

Trish came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. “Right here son, where’s the fire?”

“The teachers were talking about it at school. Is it true? Is everyone coming home?”

Trish had heard it on the news also, but she knew everyone was not coming home. Trish didn’t want to spoil her son’s happiness, but since that first year she was determined to tell her son the truth about his father.

“Harmon, your father’s not coming home.”

Harm didn’t believe his mother, “But they said everyone is finally coming home. He’s been gone a long time, it’s time for him to get to come home too.”

“Harm, the Navy doesn’t know where your father is; your dad doesn’t know everyone’s leaving.”

Harm sat down on the sofa, Trish had never seen her son go from ecstatically happy to so low, even when his team lost the football championship everyone had worked so hard to achieve. “Doesn’t my dad want to come home? Doesn’t he love us anymore?”

Trish sat next to her son, “Of course he does sweetheart. No matter where he is or what he’s doing he loves us and wishes he was here with us.”

Trish sat there holding onto her young son, realizing he wasn’t little anymore. He was growing up without his father. Tears formed in her eyes, not for her loss, she would cry her tears later, alone in her bedroom. But for her son’s loss.

“How about we go out to eat tonight, just you and me.” Anything to cheer up her son, even if it meant a strain on the food budget for a few weeks.

“No thanks mom, I’m going to my room for a while.”

Trish knew exactly what he would do once in his room. He would take his father’s picture and the model plane he had received for Christmas all those years ago, sit on his bed and listen to letter tapes his dad had sent home. Making copies of the letter tapes for Harm had been one thing Trish had done in hopes that he would always remember the sound of his dad’s voice, incase he ever did come home.

Two years later,
April 1975, the fall of Saigon

Harmon and Trish sit on the sofa watching the news. The US had pulled out of Vietnam two years earlier but now it was finally over, the north had reached Saigon. The news was doing a recap of the history of Vietnam, normally Trish would not have let her son watch but she had discovered that the older he got the more he learned, on his own, about Vietnam, the place that his father went missing. As the reporter brought the story to a close the last scenes were of the people trying to get on the helicopters. Harm watched intently.

When the TV went to commercial Harm turned and with anger in his eyes asked his mother, “Who’s going to look for the MIA’s now?”

Trish didn’t have an answer.



1976 – seven years after Lt. Harmon Rabb, USN was shot down
Harmon Rabb Jr is 13

The day started out just like every other had for the past two months. Harm refused to speak to his mother. He had stopped talking to her when he found out she was having his dad declared dead. It’s not that Trish was purposely trying to hurt her son; she was actually doing it for his own good. There were things that her son needed that couldn’t happen until his father was either found or declared dead. Since the military still had him listed as MIA and couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her anything else her only choice was to have him declared legally dead. She didn’t want to, it was hurting her more than Harm knew but she knew she had to if they were to have any future.

It all became real in the day’s mail delivery. She received the final papers, he was officially gone and she cried all over again.

Harm didn’t see the red eyes when he came home, or the missing smile and cheerful “welcome home son”. He actually didn’t see his mother at all when he entered the house. His eyes were drawn immediately to a package sitting on the front table. He quickly opened it, having waited six weeks for it to arrive. When he finally got it opened he had tears in his eyes.

He walked to the kitchen, faced his mother, showed her the item he had waited for patiently and informed her, “My dad is not dead. He’s missing in action. And one day I’m going to find him.”

He then put on the MIA bracelet he had saved his money to special order, the one with Harmon Rabb Sr.’s name on it.



Summer 1979
Harm is sixteen

When she thought about it she realized it had been building for years. Harm was determined to find his father; she just never thought he would go to these lengths. He had taken his savings and somehow managed to get to Vietnam where he hooked up with an ex-soldier looking for MIAs and POWs. Now after the longest two weeks in her life he was finally being brought home. A government official, Nevell Webb, had told her everything he knew about her son’s last two weeks, which wasn’t much. He also gave her a background on Sergeant Stricker, the person her son had been with. If it hadn’t been for an article and picture discovered by friends in the paper she would still be looking for her son.

He arrived home in one piece, but Trish knew the things her son had seen and probably done would haunt him for the rest of his life. She had so wanted to protect him from all the bad things in life, like any mother. But this, his devotion to his father, was something she realized she could never stop. Harmon Rabb Jr loved his father even though he had been gone from his life for ten years.


Two months later

She had tried ever way she knew to break the news to him. There was no easy way but just say it. Finally she decided it would be today, while they ate breakfast. She was sure he would understand, he might not be happy but he would understand.

“Frank Burnett asked me to marry him.”

Her son made no attempt to respond.

“I said yes.”

There was still no reaction from her son.

“It’s not that I didn’t . . .

Harm looked up, startled; Trish realized what she had said.

“. . .don’t love him, but he’s not been found and we don’t know. . .”

“My father’s not dead.”

“I hope for your sake he’s not, but I have a life to live also and whether you believe it or not your father wanted me to be happy. And Frank makes me happy.”

“Yes ma’am”

“Harmon.”

He looked at his mother, “He’s not my father.”

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[> [> [> The First Visit -- usmgrad, 18:58:48 06/15/13 Sat [1]

Title – Christmas Challenge – The First Visit

Author – usmgrad
Disclaimer - JAG and its characters are the property of CBS Television, Paramount Studios and Bellisarius Productions. All rights reserved. No monetary gain will be realized from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.


Authors note - Through out the show we watched Harm visit his father at The Wall on Christmas Eve. I wondered about the first time he visited and decided it would fit the Christmas challenge. This is my vision of that first visit. This story follows (timeline wise), “Good Night Son” and “Moments in Time”.



December 23, 1985
Naval Air Station
Pensacola, Florida

“Ensign Rabb to see you sir” came a voice over the intercom.

Captain Thomas Hawthorn looked up from his work, pulled a folder from the pile on the corner of his desk, pressed the button and replied, “Give me two minutes then send him in.”

The captain quickly reviewed the ensign’s personal file and his performance evaluations while at Pensacola. Just graduated from the Naval Academy, in the past six months the ensign had proved to be a natural when it came to flying. He was leaving Pensacola the top of his class headed to Miramar for additional training and then probably straight to a carrier group.

When the current class of aviators arrived, as he did with every class, Captain Hawthorn learned everything he could about each new student, both from observations and from personal files. Ensign Harmon Rabb, Jr was still a mystery. He was serious, almost too serious for a young man his age. His roommate, Lucas Pendry had done his best to lighten him up, even introduced him to a few of the local girls. Even Jack Keeter, whom Hawthorn was sure was this group’s practical jokester, although he couldn’t prove it, wasn’t able to lighten Mr. Rabb’s demeanor. From day one, for some reason Captain Hawthorne felt he knew this officer. It took some time but he finally figured it out. He had know the young man’s father, not personally as they flew off different ships in Vietnam, but knew of him because of the type of mission the senior Rabb flew. Tom had flown similar missions. He was also aware of the last mission his father flew. The young man waiting outside his office had lost his father when he couldn’t have been more than five years old.

Two minutes later, Ensign Rabb entered the office and immediately came to attention. He had been in Pensacola for six months but this was his first visit to the captain’s office.

Captain Hawthorn waited a moment before speaking, observing the new aviator. He then proceeded with the obvious since he had no idea why the ensign was in his office.

“Ensign Rabb, you have orders for Miramar?”

“Yes sir, we leave the day after Christmas.”

Checking the officer’s file one more time, the captain was looking for clues as to what might be on the ensign’s mind.

“I see you’re a second generation naval aviator.”

Harm’s stance became even straighter, if that was possible. “Third, sir.”

Captain Hawthorn’s look suggested he wanted him to continue.

“My paternal grandfather flew in World War Two.” Harm paused a moment, finding a spot on the wall over the captain’s head then continued, “He didn’t come home.”

Some of the pieces were finally falling into place, third generation aviator, both previous generations lost to war. The captain still didn’t speak, allowing Ensign Rabb to continue.

“Sir, I understand there is no leave for the holiday.”

Finally the reason for the visit, “that’s correct Mr. Rabb; your group is due to ship out December 26th.”

“Are there any exceptions?”

“Is there an emergency I’m not aware of?”

“Not an emergency, sir.”

“If not an emergency, than what is it that has you here?”

Harm understood the tone of the question; he could apologize and leave the office with no affect. But he pushed ahead, what he needed to do was important. “After Miramar I understand we will be billeted to a ship, perhaps as long as a year before we are back in the states.”

“That’s correct.” Captain Hawthorn replied.

There was a pause before Harm proceeded. “I’d like permission to go to Washington, D. C.”

Captain Hawthorn thought a moment; looked into the young officer’s eyes. He thought he knew what the young officer wanted to do but needed to make sure.

“Your father was shot down in Vietnam.” It was a statement that needed to be spoken.

“Yes sir, fourteen years ago . . . tomorrow.” Harm hoped this would be enough information.

“Will this be your first visit to . . .?”

“Yes, sir.” Harm interrupted, not out of disrespect but out of a need to eliminate the possibility of an extended conversation on the subject.

The captain pondered the young officer and his request. He himself had been struggling with taking the same trip.

“There’s a flight out tonight, you’ll have to find a flight to Miramar from DC.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir. There’s a flight early Christmas morning.”

“Ensign, you’ve already made arrangements before being given permission?”

“No sir; just looked into the options before I asked.”

Captain Hawthorn paused; he wanted to wish the young man well, but held back. This trip was going to be a difficult one for the officer. “Permission is approved. Good luck Ensign.”

“Thank you sir.”



Christmas Eve, Washington DC

It was early in the afternoon when Harm stepped off the Metro. This was his first visit to Washington since just before his admission into the academy. Four years ago, his mother, step father and him had come east from California early and visited the museums and the monuments. A real family vacation, his mom had said, knowing it would be her last ‘vacation’ with her only child. This time he wasn’t here on vacation and he was by himself. He had only one stop to make while in Washington DC.

He walked slowly down the Mall, he was in no hurry. He had all night, the flight to California not leaving until 5:00 am. He caught himself listening to conversations as he walked along the Mall. There was group headed to the Washington Monument with someone quoting facts from a travel brochure. Another group, teenagers, were caroling along the walkway. Darkness descended; the museums closed, the tourist groups thinned, and families hurried, taking in that last sight before heading home to prepare for Santa.

As he neared the Lincoln Memorial, the caroling had disappeared and was replaced with hushed whispers. This end of the Mall had a more reverent atmosphere. He had read a lot about the new memorial before his arrival.

The Memorial Wall was designed by Maya Ying Lin. It is made up of two black granite walls 246 feet 9 inches long. The walls are sunk into the ground, with the earth behind them. At the highest tip (the apex where they meet), the panels are 10.1 feet high and taper to a height of eight inches at their extremities. Granite for the wall came from Bangalore, Karnataka, India and was deliberately chosen because of its reflective quality. When a visitor looks upon the wall, his reflection can be seen simultaneously with the engraved names, which is meant to symbolically bring the past and present together. One wall points toward the Washington Monument, the other in the direction of the Lincoln Memorial, meeting at an angle of 125° 12. Each wall has 72 panels, 70 listing names and 2 small blank panels at the extremities. Inscribed on the walls are the names of servicemen who were either confirmed to be KIA (Killed in Action) or remained classified as MIA (Missing in Action). They are listed in chronological order, starting at the apex and moving east, then starting again at the end of the western wall and returning to the apex at panel. Symbolically, this is described as a "wound that is closed and healing."

( http://vietnam-wall.myarmedforces.com/vietnam_wall_history.htm )

He wondered if what he had read was true, could this one memorial ‘bring the past and present together.’ Would he finally have his wound closed and healed?

He stood at a distance for the longest time watching as visitors entered, looked, stopped, touched the wall then moving on. He knew he was being watched also; he was in uniform. As the sun set and the visitors thinned he knew it was time.

He slowly walked down the path. With each step he took the sounds of the city disappeared. A quiet enveloped him, carrying him down the path. He saw the mementos left along the path, American flags waving in the cool night air, patches from various military division, notes of love and remembrance, ribbons and medals earned posthumously finally being given to whom they belonged. Candles flickered against the granite giving the entire memorial a serene feeling. The emotions that welled up inside him were almost overwhelming.

Before he left Pensacola, Captain Hawthorn had asked him if he was ready. He stopped, unsure if he was indeed ready for this moment. The calm, serene atmosphere gave him the courage he needed to continue. Five more steps, he turned to face the wall. The cold dark granite stood looming over him but he didn’t feel overwhelmed. He stood at attention, his eyes focused straight ahead. He could see his reflection in the dark stone and at the same time the name etched on the wall, his past and present coming together. He reached and touched the bracelet on his wrist, as he did most times when he thought of his father. It had been the bond with his dad for the past nine years. His hand moved toward the wall. Reaching its destination he felt it, the connection that had been missing from his life for the last fourteen year. Emotions overflowed as his eyes focused on the spot he had come to see.

HARMON RABB, SR +


“I haven’t forgotten you Dad and one day I’m going to find you and bring you home.”


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