The young Pilot was standing next to his Alloutte Helicopter, morose at having been put down in the morning medical before flying.
As he returned from the dispersal murmuring some expletives, he had a quick cup of coffee in the tea room, kickstarted his Jawa with the look,that a mongoose reserves for a snake and roared off, a la Tom Cruise in Top Gun.
Next day he was again in the first detail, a quick ATC & Met briefing followed by the sortie profile by the Flight Commander.
As the Airforce Jeep arrived at the dispersal with the Doctor on board,he nervously put his right wrist forward for the symbolic medical check up.
A quick pulse check revealed that the Pilot was indeed having some medical issues.
His pulse were almost double the prescribed minima.
Another kick to the Jawa, another Tom Cruise race down the road on the bike.
The third day the young Pilot was looking relatively very tense .The Airforce Jeep arrived carrying the young Flight Lieutenant in the blue Air Force colour Saree, with her stethoscope swung casually across her shoulders, the Pilot gave a nervous smile and put forward his wrist for the medical.
‘Pulse rate too high,How many drinks you had last night’ the young doctor enquired with a look that could slice a chicken.
I am a non drinker ,non smoker and an early sleeper, typically a bad military leader, he lied with a disarming smile.
Then what could be the problem, the Doctor wanted to know.
The young Pilot was by now ready with the confession.
There is no problem except with my heart, he murmured sheepishly.
‘Every time I see you my heart breaks the sound barrier, and eventually I am grounded..Three days in a row.’
The pretty young thing in the blue saree had a kaleidoscopic mosaic of expressions come and go by her face, as she abruptly sat on her Jeep murmured something and drove off.
He looked at the medical register ,she had signed his fitness.
Back from the sortie a note from the Squadron Adjutant awaited him ,informing that the Commanding Officer desired to see him ,as soon as he landed.
Summoned into the COs office,he stood like a moron knowing what was coming, but sadly helpless as he had no control on the proceeding.
The CO gave him the look that the Tigers are known for and warned him against any further misadventure..
‘How come you are having late nights, what is your Bottle to Throttle window,’ the CO inquired in a concerned manner.
So she had not told the Old man everything after all,he was so relieved.
The young Pilot assured the CO that there is no serious medical problem, it’s just a case hormonal imbalance but safe for flying ,he declared nonchalantly to the CO.
The CO then gave a smile and asked him to go ahead and take treatment for the overburdened hormones.
As he walked out the door he heard the CO’s parting shot,
‘I hope I will not see her back in my office complaining.Just make sure of that
‘Who Sir’ he pleaded ignorance.
Get Lost ~was the final word of command from the CO ,dismissing him abruptly.
He just saluted and gave that smile which remains sacrosanct between flyers.
As the weekend got over ,the Pilot walked across to the Station Sick Quarters and reported sick.
The Duty Medical Officer checked him out and once again found his pulse racing.
He then said to her that he is open to any medical review board but his problem lay elsewhere .
He then got to his knees right there and proposed to her ..
Six weeks later he wrote a DO letter to his Commanding Officer ..
‘The hormonal imbalance is now remedied Sir, Reporting Operations Normal.’
The enclosed envelope contained the Wedding card of The Pilot with the Airforce Doctor.
The Commanding Officer simply smiled as he reached for his cigar.
He leaned forward and pulled out a file captioned ‘Discipline Officers’
He then pulled out a written complaint by the Doctor and wrote in COs remarks column.
‘Case Investigated and Closed.Resolved mutually on Passionate Grounds.’
–By Manoj Asthana
Artillery Army Aviation