July 26th, 1951 dawned a beautiful, perfect day. Well, as beautiful and
perfect as a day can get in a war-torn country like Korea.
An Army jeep rattled and bounced down a dusty back road, occasionally veering to the left or right. The driver was singing a drunken version of "The Star-Spangled Banner", and a hiccup punctuated every other word. Normally, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was a terrific singer, but he was on his way to a medical conference in Seoul, which he dreaded as always. Henry also tended to drink more than usual just before. He pushed up his fishing cap and raised a canteen to his lips. It was filled with what he called "White Lightning", the alcoholic melting pot of a drink that Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper McIntyre made from their Still.
Now, there had been warnings that a Korean sniper was in the area that Henry was driving through. It was likely that even if he had been sober, Henry still wouldn't have remembered. So, the Colonel was completely caught off guard as gunfire erupted from a nearby tree. One bullet found its way to the engine, and the jeep stopped with a jerk. Henry, still in a drunken stupor, opened the door and started running. The gunfire continued. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and he dropped to the ground.
Henry tried to escape by dragging his leg, but the sniper's bullets caught up with him. They strafed up and down his body. He attempted to raise his arm, but it was like his whole body had gone numb. "Aw, hell no," he whispered. Some of the bullets had struck his spinal cord, and he was paralyzed.
The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had begun. With sweat dripping down his face, Henry made every attempt to move, with no result. He couldn't feel any pain, but he started yelling as if hell had broken loose. When nobody came, Henry gave himself up for lost. Everything went dark.
2 hours later . . .
"Colonel Blake?" A woman's voice broke through Henry's thoughts. He slowly opened one eye, and immediately shut it again as blazing sunlight poured through an open window. "Colonel Blake?" Tentatively, Henry opened both eyes, and found himself staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. "Lor . . .Lorraine?"
The woman shook her head. "I'm Lieutenant Judy Reynolds. You're in an Army hospital in Seoul." Henry lifted up a hand, and was relieved to find that he was no longer paralyzed. He struggled to get up on one elbow, but fell back as a throbbing pain went through his chest. "Oh, God. Feels like a hangover, only much worse. What happened?"
Lieutenant Reynolds clasped his hand. "You were shot. The surgeon discovered no less than seventeen bullets embedded in your body. Four hit your spinal cord, two pierced your lungs, and one nicked your heart. You're lucky to be alive."
Henry's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," he murmured.
"How's the Colonel doing, Judy?" A 20-something doctor walked into the hospital room and picked up Henry's chart. "I'm Captain Douglas, the surgeon who operated on you. Uh . . .I just have one question for you, Colonel." Henry nodded. "Shoot." "Were you, by any chance, drinking? Or did you have something to drink before you left your unit?" Henry began counting off on his fingers. "Oh, let's see . . .when I woke up this morning, I had my daily glass of gin. I had two shots of rum just before breakfast, so I wouldn't be able to taste it. I had a mix of stuff from the camp Still, and I drank an entire bottle of bourbon before I left. Oh, and I had a pick-me-up just before the sniper started shooting."
Captain Douglas rubbed his eyes. "Colonel, don't you know how dangerous drinking is? I know. When I was sixteen, I had brandy at a party and wrecked my father's car." He put Henry's chart back down and looked Henry right in the eyes. "I have never touched a drop since, and I'm all the better for it."
Henry started to protest, but the Captain held up his hand. "I'm going to call your unit and Seoul HQ. You're going to be here for at least a week. HQ needs to get a temporary CO in." After he left, Henry looked at Lieutenant Reynolds. "Would you happen to have a little brandy with you?" She rolled her eyes, and walked out of the room. "A drop? A smidgeon?" Henry called after her.
An Army jeep rattled and bounced down a dusty back road, occasionally veering to the left or right. The driver was singing a drunken version of "The Star-Spangled Banner", and a hiccup punctuated every other word. Normally, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was a terrific singer, but he was on his way to a medical conference in Seoul, which he dreaded as always. Henry also tended to drink more than usual just before. He pushed up his fishing cap and raised a canteen to his lips. It was filled with what he called "White Lightning", the alcoholic melting pot of a drink that Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper McIntyre made from their Still.
Now, there had been warnings that a Korean sniper was in the area that Henry was driving through. It was likely that even if he had been sober, Henry still wouldn't have remembered. So, the Colonel was completely caught off guard as gunfire erupted from a nearby tree. One bullet found its way to the engine, and the jeep stopped with a jerk. Henry, still in a drunken stupor, opened the door and started running. The gunfire continued. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and he dropped to the ground.
Henry tried to escape by dragging his leg, but the sniper's bullets caught up with him. They strafed up and down his body. He attempted to raise his arm, but it was like his whole body had gone numb. "Aw, hell no," he whispered. Some of the bullets had struck his spinal cord, and he was paralyzed.
The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had begun. With sweat dripping down his face, Henry made every attempt to move, with no result. He couldn't feel any pain, but he started yelling as if hell had broken loose. When nobody came, Henry gave himself up for lost. Everything went dark.
2 hours later . . .
"Colonel Blake?" A woman's voice broke through Henry's thoughts. He slowly opened one eye, and immediately shut it again as blazing sunlight poured through an open window. "Colonel Blake?" Tentatively, Henry opened both eyes, and found himself staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. "Lor . . .Lorraine?"
The woman shook her head. "I'm Lieutenant Judy Reynolds. You're in an Army hospital in Seoul." Henry lifted up a hand, and was relieved to find that he was no longer paralyzed. He struggled to get up on one elbow, but fell back as a throbbing pain went through his chest. "Oh, God. Feels like a hangover, only much worse. What happened?"
Lieutenant Reynolds clasped his hand. "You were shot. The surgeon discovered no less than seventeen bullets embedded in your body. Four hit your spinal cord, two pierced your lungs, and one nicked your heart. You're lucky to be alive."
Henry's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," he murmured.
"How's the Colonel doing, Judy?" A 20-something doctor walked into the hospital room and picked up Henry's chart. "I'm Captain Douglas, the surgeon who operated on you. Uh . . .I just have one question for you, Colonel." Henry nodded. "Shoot." "Were you, by any chance, drinking? Or did you have something to drink before you left your unit?" Henry began counting off on his fingers. "Oh, let's see . . .when I woke up this morning, I had my daily glass of gin. I had two shots of rum just before breakfast, so I wouldn't be able to taste it. I had a mix of stuff from the camp Still, and I drank an entire bottle of bourbon before I left. Oh, and I had a pick-me-up just before the sniper started shooting."
Captain Douglas rubbed his eyes. "Colonel, don't you know how dangerous drinking is? I know. When I was sixteen, I had brandy at a party and wrecked my father's car." He put Henry's chart back down and looked Henry right in the eyes. "I have never touched a drop since, and I'm all the better for it."
Henry started to protest, but the Captain held up his hand. "I'm going to call your unit and Seoul HQ. You're going to be here for at least a week. HQ needs to get a temporary CO in." After he left, Henry looked at Lieutenant Reynolds. "Would you happen to have a little brandy with you?" She rolled her eyes, and walked out of the room. "A drop? A smidgeon?" Henry called after her.