Disclaimer: The characters in the following story do not belong to me, but
belong to M*A*S*H and its companies. I do however own Major Spicer,
General Cole and General Thorpe.
Title: Against All Odds 4: The War Within
Chapter 1:
"Scalpel."
"Clamp."
"Suction. thanks."
"All right, next one in."
It was almost too sterile in surgery for Hawkeye Pierce. He had been used to the light-hearted chatter that floated through the OR, but since those bygone days, things had changed. Henry Blake had gone home and back to the real world, as it was known. Their commanding officer could not really be classed as new to anyone, with a few exceptions.
Frank Burns had returned, now a Colonel, and was in charge of the camp. Hawkeye had always wondered to himself how bad the war could get. He prayed that this was the peak.
Not only was Frank about as good as a commander as a chocolate coffee pot had uses, but his surgical skills were just as bad. Frank tried to get through the day by asserting his authority, but a salute was all he got. No respect, Burns muttered to himself.
Frank had returned to the 4077th, seizing the chance with both hands, with many goals in mind. He wanted to show up Henry Blake, as he thought the Lieutenant Colonel was an unsatisfactory commander, and that Frank could do better. True, Henry could be slack at times, but he knew that this was not just any old unit. This was a M*A*S*H, and Henry knew how to keep it that way. He had earned and deserved the respect of every member of the unit, except for Frank, of course.
In OR that day, BJ Hunnicutt was trying to rebuild his confidence along with his patient. The last time he had performed surgery, his patient had died hours later, and this had lowered his confidence. Unfortunately, the operation was not going as well as planned.
BJ cursed as the bleeding in his patient became worse. Frank immediately noted this. "Need any assistance, Hunnicutt?" Frank asked, desperate to get a chance to redeem himself in the OR.
"We do want the guy to live," Hawkeye said tensely.
"Watch it, Captain," Frank spat. "I rule this unit now."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Trapper John McIntyre muttered.
"I heard that, McIntyre," Frank snapped.
Ignoring Frank, Hawkeye looked into BJ's patient. "Hey, you're doing fine."
"You wanna do this? I'll take something I can cope with, like tonsils," BJ grumbled.
Frank picked up on the unconfident surgeon. "I can finish him."
"He said it himself," Hawkeye replied. "You'll be fine, Beej. You can do it. Don't let one let down get to you. Jeez, that was a mouthful." He watched BJ work for a moment whilst he was given a new gown, gloves and patient. "There, you're back on track now."
BJ looked up. "Thanks, Hawk."
"What did I do?" Hawkeye retorted good-humouredly.
Margaret was not finding it easy to work alongside Frank again. She avoided him when she could, but she knew that it would be impossible to do that totally. She did her best when she was assigned to his table.
"Suction," Frank growled.
"Suction," Margaret replied monotonously.
The atmosphere was frosty; both parties giving equally cool receptions.
"Any colder and this guy's blood would be frozen," Hawkeye muttered under his breath.
Some hours later, the last patient left. Trapper, who had worked on him, mulched through into the Scrub Room and collapsed from exhaustion onto the bench. The OR was gruelling at the best of times, but this session was all the more draining, all because Frank was present.
Frank's ability as a surgeon had barely improved during his time away, and people wondered how he had made it to Colonel and Commanding Officer. (Another of the Army's ways of torture, Hawkeye said to them.)
Trapper decided to pick himself up and had just enough energy to make it back to his cot in the Swamp. He was just settling in and closing his eyes when an announcement rang out and silenced, stunned and shattered the camp. "Attention, all personnel. By order of Colonel Burns, drinking and gambling are no longer permitted within the 4077th. That is all."
Hawkeye sat up. "He can't do that!"
BJ remained lying down, staring at the ceiling. "This guy has it in for mankind."
Trapper shook his head in disbelief. "And we can't do anything about it."
BJ secretly thought that he knew how to sort Frank out, but he kept it to himself.
"I vote we fight fire with fire. Frank was always giving Henry trouble for being a bad commander by calling up various Generals. I vote we do the same," Hawkeye proclaimed.
"Agreed," said the other two.
"And for now, we hide the Still," Hawkeye added.
"Where?" BJ asked.
Trapper thought for a moment. "I know," he began. "Margaret's tent."
"As long as she doesn't drink it dry," Hawkeye muttered.
"Better than having no still at all," Trapper pointed out.
"Agreed. Shall we make the big move now?"
"How do we get it there without Ferret Face seeing?" BJ queried.
All three sat and pondered this for a moment. "One keeps Frank busy, and the other two escort it," Trapper finally suggested.
"No good. We'd need at least three to carry it," Hawkeye pointed out.
"Well, how about we get someone else to keep Frank occupied?" BJ suggested. "Who immediately comes to mind?"
"Not Radar," Hawkeye said firmly.
"I agree. He's suffered enough as it is," Trapper added.
BJ remembered being told of the teddy bear incident of the previous night. "Well, what about Klinger? He could disturb Ferret Face."
"He IS disturbed," Hawkeye said.
"Which one?"
"Both, but Frank is chiefly disturbed," Trapper replied.
"Okay, it's a plan," Hawkeye brought them back to the subject at hand. "Trap, you can prepare Margaret for her new tent mate, and I'll brief Klinger. BJ, see if you can track Frank down, ready for Klinger to intercept."
The plan was set. When Trapper went to Margaret's tent, she was preparing to go to bed.
"Hey," she said after he kissed her politely. "What brings you here?"
"Margaret, is it okay if me, Hawk and BJ hide someone in here?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"The Still," Trapper told her.
"The Still?!"
"Frank just outlawed alcohol, and gambling too," Trapper explained.
"Well, you can hide it in here, but I've no idea where," Margaret told him.
"We'll find a place. Right now, the plan is that we three Swamp Rats carry the Still to your tent whilst Klinger distracts Ferret Face."
"Good evening, sir, what can I do you for?" Klinger asked as he answered the knock at his door. No mudpack on his face, no curlers in his hair, no nail polish, no dresses. It was becoming a regular sight around the camp.
"Can I come in? It's probably not safe to talk out here," Hawkeye said in a mock-spy style.
"You know our fearing leader has just banned alcohol? Well, me, Trapper and BJ are going to hide our Still in Margaret's tent, and we need you to distract Frank whilst we're doing it, so that he doesn't catch us," Hawkeye explicated.
"I see."
"You'll be entitled to use the Still when you want," Hawkeye added, trying to sweeten the deal.
"Sure, I'll do it, but any ideas how?"
"Well," Hawkeye began, thinking about this. "Put on a nice dress?"
"Sure, I've got just the one!" Klinger jumped up and pulled open his cupboard door.
"Meet back in the Swamp in five minutes," Hawkeye called as he left Klinger to change.
BJ found Frank in his office, tidying his belongings. It maybe lonely at the top, Frank thought to himself as he dusted, but at least I have my own office. His family had been so proud when he was promoted. Told the whole town, I'll bet, Frank thought to himself smugly.
BJ watched through the dirty windows in the door as Frank pottered about. As he viewed the scene, BJ laid out his personal plan in his head. He would pull many-a practical joke on Frank. Nail his boots to the floor, sew up the arms in his jackets, put sand in his socks. the list was endless.
BJ slipped away quietly, careful not to wake Radar. As we walked back to the Swamp, he thought about how well his pranks would turn out. Never once did the thought cross his mind that he was playing a very dangerous game.
Title: Against All Odds 4: The War Within
Chapter 1:
"Scalpel."
"Clamp."
"Suction. thanks."
"All right, next one in."
It was almost too sterile in surgery for Hawkeye Pierce. He had been used to the light-hearted chatter that floated through the OR, but since those bygone days, things had changed. Henry Blake had gone home and back to the real world, as it was known. Their commanding officer could not really be classed as new to anyone, with a few exceptions.
Frank Burns had returned, now a Colonel, and was in charge of the camp. Hawkeye had always wondered to himself how bad the war could get. He prayed that this was the peak.
Not only was Frank about as good as a commander as a chocolate coffee pot had uses, but his surgical skills were just as bad. Frank tried to get through the day by asserting his authority, but a salute was all he got. No respect, Burns muttered to himself.
Frank had returned to the 4077th, seizing the chance with both hands, with many goals in mind. He wanted to show up Henry Blake, as he thought the Lieutenant Colonel was an unsatisfactory commander, and that Frank could do better. True, Henry could be slack at times, but he knew that this was not just any old unit. This was a M*A*S*H, and Henry knew how to keep it that way. He had earned and deserved the respect of every member of the unit, except for Frank, of course.
In OR that day, BJ Hunnicutt was trying to rebuild his confidence along with his patient. The last time he had performed surgery, his patient had died hours later, and this had lowered his confidence. Unfortunately, the operation was not going as well as planned.
BJ cursed as the bleeding in his patient became worse. Frank immediately noted this. "Need any assistance, Hunnicutt?" Frank asked, desperate to get a chance to redeem himself in the OR.
"We do want the guy to live," Hawkeye said tensely.
"Watch it, Captain," Frank spat. "I rule this unit now."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Trapper John McIntyre muttered.
"I heard that, McIntyre," Frank snapped.
Ignoring Frank, Hawkeye looked into BJ's patient. "Hey, you're doing fine."
"You wanna do this? I'll take something I can cope with, like tonsils," BJ grumbled.
Frank picked up on the unconfident surgeon. "I can finish him."
"He said it himself," Hawkeye replied. "You'll be fine, Beej. You can do it. Don't let one let down get to you. Jeez, that was a mouthful." He watched BJ work for a moment whilst he was given a new gown, gloves and patient. "There, you're back on track now."
BJ looked up. "Thanks, Hawk."
"What did I do?" Hawkeye retorted good-humouredly.
Margaret was not finding it easy to work alongside Frank again. She avoided him when she could, but she knew that it would be impossible to do that totally. She did her best when she was assigned to his table.
"Suction," Frank growled.
"Suction," Margaret replied monotonously.
The atmosphere was frosty; both parties giving equally cool receptions.
"Any colder and this guy's blood would be frozen," Hawkeye muttered under his breath.
Some hours later, the last patient left. Trapper, who had worked on him, mulched through into the Scrub Room and collapsed from exhaustion onto the bench. The OR was gruelling at the best of times, but this session was all the more draining, all because Frank was present.
Frank's ability as a surgeon had barely improved during his time away, and people wondered how he had made it to Colonel and Commanding Officer. (Another of the Army's ways of torture, Hawkeye said to them.)
Trapper decided to pick himself up and had just enough energy to make it back to his cot in the Swamp. He was just settling in and closing his eyes when an announcement rang out and silenced, stunned and shattered the camp. "Attention, all personnel. By order of Colonel Burns, drinking and gambling are no longer permitted within the 4077th. That is all."
Hawkeye sat up. "He can't do that!"
BJ remained lying down, staring at the ceiling. "This guy has it in for mankind."
Trapper shook his head in disbelief. "And we can't do anything about it."
BJ secretly thought that he knew how to sort Frank out, but he kept it to himself.
"I vote we fight fire with fire. Frank was always giving Henry trouble for being a bad commander by calling up various Generals. I vote we do the same," Hawkeye proclaimed.
"Agreed," said the other two.
"And for now, we hide the Still," Hawkeye added.
"Where?" BJ asked.
Trapper thought for a moment. "I know," he began. "Margaret's tent."
"As long as she doesn't drink it dry," Hawkeye muttered.
"Better than having no still at all," Trapper pointed out.
"Agreed. Shall we make the big move now?"
"How do we get it there without Ferret Face seeing?" BJ queried.
All three sat and pondered this for a moment. "One keeps Frank busy, and the other two escort it," Trapper finally suggested.
"No good. We'd need at least three to carry it," Hawkeye pointed out.
"Well, how about we get someone else to keep Frank occupied?" BJ suggested. "Who immediately comes to mind?"
"Not Radar," Hawkeye said firmly.
"I agree. He's suffered enough as it is," Trapper added.
BJ remembered being told of the teddy bear incident of the previous night. "Well, what about Klinger? He could disturb Ferret Face."
"He IS disturbed," Hawkeye said.
"Which one?"
"Both, but Frank is chiefly disturbed," Trapper replied.
"Okay, it's a plan," Hawkeye brought them back to the subject at hand. "Trap, you can prepare Margaret for her new tent mate, and I'll brief Klinger. BJ, see if you can track Frank down, ready for Klinger to intercept."
The plan was set. When Trapper went to Margaret's tent, she was preparing to go to bed.
"Hey," she said after he kissed her politely. "What brings you here?"
"Margaret, is it okay if me, Hawk and BJ hide someone in here?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"The Still," Trapper told her.
"The Still?!"
"Frank just outlawed alcohol, and gambling too," Trapper explained.
"Well, you can hide it in here, but I've no idea where," Margaret told him.
"We'll find a place. Right now, the plan is that we three Swamp Rats carry the Still to your tent whilst Klinger distracts Ferret Face."
"Good evening, sir, what can I do you for?" Klinger asked as he answered the knock at his door. No mudpack on his face, no curlers in his hair, no nail polish, no dresses. It was becoming a regular sight around the camp.
"Can I come in? It's probably not safe to talk out here," Hawkeye said in a mock-spy style.
"You know our fearing leader has just banned alcohol? Well, me, Trapper and BJ are going to hide our Still in Margaret's tent, and we need you to distract Frank whilst we're doing it, so that he doesn't catch us," Hawkeye explicated.
"I see."
"You'll be entitled to use the Still when you want," Hawkeye added, trying to sweeten the deal.
"Sure, I'll do it, but any ideas how?"
"Well," Hawkeye began, thinking about this. "Put on a nice dress?"
"Sure, I've got just the one!" Klinger jumped up and pulled open his cupboard door.
"Meet back in the Swamp in five minutes," Hawkeye called as he left Klinger to change.
BJ found Frank in his office, tidying his belongings. It maybe lonely at the top, Frank thought to himself as he dusted, but at least I have my own office. His family had been so proud when he was promoted. Told the whole town, I'll bet, Frank thought to himself smugly.
BJ watched through the dirty windows in the door as Frank pottered about. As he viewed the scene, BJ laid out his personal plan in his head. He would pull many-a practical joke on Frank. Nail his boots to the floor, sew up the arms in his jackets, put sand in his socks. the list was endless.
BJ slipped away quietly, careful not to wake Radar. As we walked back to the Swamp, he thought about how well his pranks would turn out. Never once did the thought cross his mind that he was playing a very dangerous game.