Hawkeye

I definitely noticed when she arrived. I mean we ALL did—every male with a working pulse noticed, believe me and I'm even including Charles, who generally won't admit he even has a pulse. Comes with all that sluggish blue blood of his, but I digress. Here at the 4077th I absolutely noticed when the tall curvy blonde in glasses climbed out of the jeep and looked around. Mostly what I noticed was listed in that previous statement but I also picked up on the captain's bars somewhere above and to the outskirts of an amazing chest.

It had been a while since I'd gotten up close and personal with anything even fractionally that tempting so I sauntered out in my best welcome wagon fashion, trying to make eye contact because first impressions and all that but it wasn't easy. (I'd say it was hard but that's implied, what with the aforementioned libido and all.)

"Captain, welcome to our little corner of Post-conflict Management. I hope you brought your own gauze with you." Witty and concise, that's me. I smiled too, hoping that would win her over before anybody else moved in.

She looked at me in a way I haven't been looked at since my induction: overly serious, assessing me like a 4H entry; I half-expected her to ask me to open my mouth so she could check my teeth. Hell, all she was missing was a clipboard at that point. Then she almost smiled back.

Just a little quirk at the corner of her mouth but enough to let me know she wasn't one of the regular Army clowns who pass through here on a depressingly regular basis. That helped.

"Tell me who you are," she murmured, pushing up her glasses and locking gazes with me. Ash blonde, straight hair like Veronica Lake. Great eyes behind those lenses, soft and blue.

"Hawkeye Pierce," I let her know. "Surgeon, distiller, dashing man about town."

One eyebrow went up and I felt a little shiver at that. Don't know why—I work hard for my reputation; it's one of the few things I DO work on.

"Of course," she murmured in tone to go with the eyebrow. "THE Hawkeye Pierce. Three people have already warned me about you."

"Only three?" I shot back. "I'm slipping."

"One of them WAS a general," the blonde assured me and I wondered which one. Before I could start guessing, she added, "Captain Rydersen, nurse anesthetist, here from Tokyo General. Tell me, which way to Colonel Potter's office?"

"Let me be your guide," I offered, giving her another of my winning smiles.

"If you did that you'd have to go in front of me," she pointed out, "I think you'd better just walk beside me instead."

"Oh you literalist," I quipped playfully, "If you insist."

"I do that quite often," the captain assured me, turning those baby blues my way again. "Insist, that is." Something in her eyes made me tingle and I chalked it up to chemistry of the hormonal sort.

"You don't say?" we started to stroll towards Potter's tent and even though she was shorter than I was she set the pace, determined little minx.

I got the door for Captain Rydersen, just to prove I had manners and she gave me another one of those assessing looks.

"You know, I'm seriously tempted to make you my pet project," she told me.

"For the science fair? FFA? Girl Scouts?" I was being glib because now I was close enough to smell her perfume and it was something I wouldn't mind wearing myself via skin to skin contact.

"For all the wrong reasons," she told me and slipped inside, leaving me trying to figure that one out.

I made my way back to home and libation, not exactly sure about Captain Rydersen but definitely intrigued. She had something there—a couple of somethings for starters—but replaying the encounter I wasn't exactly sure she'd succumbed to my charm. Then again, she hadn't told me I was a cad and to leave her alone either so I would take that win and wash it down with a little gin. After all gentlemen prefer blondes. So do bums like me when it comes down to it, Hot Lips excepted of course.

-oo00oo-

Betsy

I'd been warned all right, and so I wasn't surprised to be approached right off the tailgate of the jeep. My friend Allison had been the first to give me the heads up.

"He's tall, dark and corny," she'd told me. "Can't miss him: smirks a lot, kind of witty, but a depressing drunk. He'll try to sweep you off your feet, so steer clear unless you want to be another notch on his cot leg, Betsy."

And Junie had chimed in too. "Be prepared to put up with a lot of bad puns. Swear to God he's a class clown who never gave up the habit. After a few hours in the OR it really starts to grate on your nerves. Try not to get assigned to his table or he'll expect you to grin at every damned thing he says."

Fair warnings and so far, accurate. The last had come from General St. George, who'd given me quick opinions on all the staff here. After assuring me I'd love the old war horse in command and should give the head nurse her due respect, he'd added, "Watch out of the Chief Surgeon though; he's an opinionated pain in the ass. If he wasn't brilliant with a scalpel he'd have been discharged ages ago."

It's interesting how all three opinions gave a pretty accurate picture of the lanky Lothario in the bathrobe. Still, I put him to the test with my first words and he followed through, which was interesting. I checked twice more, sure he'd balk or react or try to assert himself but no, all three times he responded exactly as directed, which was tentatively intriguing. It's been a long time since I've found anyone giving off the right vibes with the potential for something more.

Honestly? I wasn't joking when I told him I insist. I do, particularly in getting my own way. I'm not selfish or rude or pushy, but I'm not sure what to call it. My aunt used to say it was being a satin bitch. "Women like us, Bets, we're born with the upper hand. And trust me, the world is full of men who adore that. You're a queen, so make them treat you like one."

So yeah, it's my nature. I was blessed with a good frame and good hair. Can't do anything about the eyes but that's okay too. I've always had my fair share of taunts about four-eyes and it doesn't bother me anymore. Sometimes my glasses are great camouflage and they cut down on passes coming my way. Makes it easier to make friends too.

I introduced myself to Colonel Potter who checked my transfer, asked how St. George was doing and welcomed me to the 4077th all within three sentences. He directed the company clerk to take me to the Head Nurse's tent and I met Major Houlihan who gave me the once over and asked some pretty direct questions.

"Do you drink, Captain Rydersen?"

"No ma'am."

"Good. Do you gamble, or sleep around?"

I made myself look a little shocked. "No Ma'am."

"Well you're going to be working with a lot of people who do, Captain. It's a rougher sort of life this close to the front and you need to be prepared for it. Our hours are unpredictable and the work overwhelming at times. People blow off steam in all sorts of ways, but by God the 4077th lives up to our motto, 'best care anywhere,' got that?"

"Yes Ma'am."

She gave me sort of a pitying look. "Any questions?"

"Not yet. I would like to look over the layout of your theater and talk to the other NAs as soon as possible."

She took me around to meet the other nurses and NAs. I knew all three of them already—we anesthetists are small group overall and I felt better knowing I could count on Gretchen, Sharon, and Paula to show me the ropes. Houlihan left me with them and they took me to the OR so I could get a feel for the place.

It was empty, but I walked around trying to visualize what it was like with each table occupied and it got a lot smaller. I noted that the stools next to the 685 machines were pretty old too, and asked about it.

"Low priority," Sharon sighed. "We've been asking for new ones but it's not anywhere near the top of the list. The Major's been trying though."

I nodded. "I think I know who to push. What about the cutters?"

"Potter's great," Gretchen chirped. "Values his gas passer. Hunnicutt's good too, no problems with him."

"Winchester needs his table raised once in a while," Paula sighed, "and he wants the vitals about ever fifteen if the assisting doesn't do it. He's a little big, too. I've been stepped on a few times but he always apologizes."

"And Pierce?" I asked. All three girls rolled their eyes, but smiled.

"Flirty but once we get rolling he forgets we're there unless there's an issue or the vitals drop. Also faster than the other three so you need to keep an eye on him."

I nodded; oh I was definitely going to do that.