Jack of Harts

Jesse James tested out well enough to become one of our original flight leaders back when we all thought we were going to remain a ground-based reserve squadron in Texas. They actually put Drew Keawe, a true First Princess of Hawaii under his wing. He never forgave himself for letting her die. But he shouldn’t blame himself. I was there. And I reviewed the footage. He did nothing wrong. She… was just surrounded by wrong places to be at the wrong time. He always says he should have done something to change that. To give her a chance. Don’t believe him. I know where he was, and I know what he could have done with the perfect vision of twenty-twenty hindsight. I doubt he saw it at the time. I know I wouldn’t have back then. And I know it would have killed him. I don’t blame him, and neither should anyone else.

I first met Jesse James in Texas during our basic flight training course. It was a consolidated program, geared towards giving us basic ground combat and flight training, no matter what our final Military Occupational Specialty was going to be. We were all Ageless. That meant they could push us way harder than any normal training group. Which meant that we partied harder than the rest during our rare times to rest and relax. Not that we got much rest, you understand. Now Jesse’s favorite past time was cheating all the rest of us in card games. That is where I met him. The cards practically teleported into his hand and he knew where every card was when he dealt them out. I paid up after three hands, chalked it up to a learning experience, and told him I was never playing him with real money ever again. He accepted my declaration with good humor, and then saved the money to his “rebuild the farm” account. That was well played.