Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with MASH (well, a couple of books maybe….)
Efficiency
The mess tent door flew open and Hawkeye Pierce strode in, brushing dust from his travel-stained jacket and heading straight for the coffee.
"Pierce?" Colonel Potter called from the table where he and his senior officers were finishing what passed for lunch. "I wasn't expecting you back until later tonight. What's wrong?"
Hawkeye dropped down onto the bench between Charles Winchester and BJ Hunnicutt, dumping a small heap of papers in front of him. He sniffed the coffee, took a long swallow, grimaced, and took another.
"I'll tell you what's wrong, Colonel. That so-called meeting you sent me to turned out to be the biggest waste of time since Frank Burns."
"Since Frank Burns what?" asked Margaret Houlihan suspiciously, concerned that certain aspects of her past might be about to surface in public.
"Nothing – just the biggest waste of time since Frank Burns." Hawkeye gave her his most mischievous smile.
BJ picked up one of the sheets of paper from the table and examined it. "What's this cross for?"
"I decided to record for posterity the precise moment when I lost the will to live," Hawkeye told him.
"It's right at the top of Page One," said BJ.
Hawkeye gave him a need-I-say-more look.
"I'll admit I had my doubts about sending you to the 8063rd for this," said Potter. "I was due to go myself, but I had a couple of patients in post-op I couldn't leave. BJ was in the village with that local woman who's expecting twins; Margaret was halfway through the nurses' performance reviews and Winchester……"
"Hid in the latrine with a good book," finished BJ.
"I'll have you know I was struck by a sudden bout of dysentery," said Charles indignantly.
BJ grinned. "Sudden and extremely short, judging by the hearty lunch you just ate." He turned to Hawkeye. "So what happened to turn your all-day meeting into a two hour course of frustration?"
Hawkeye finished his coffee, pulled BJ's lunch tray towards him and began to pick at the remains of whatever might have been in it. "Colonel Drake – a man against whom I shall never hear a bad word – decided to put the gathering out of its misery."
"Gus Drake?" said Potter incredulously. He knew the 8063rd's commanding officer well. "That man has the patience of a saint and the manners of an English butler. It would take a herd of stampeding buffalo to rattle his cage."
"Not a herd of buffalo, Colonel. One Lieutenant Eugene Baxter, age approximately twenty, experience in a combat zone precisely zero, attempting to convince an increasingly hostile audience of the merits of "Improving Efficiency in the Use of Medical Resources brackets Korean Police Action brackets."
"Pierce was not a good choice of candidate for this," said Charles grimly. "I almost pity the unfortunate young man."
There was unspoken agreement round the table. Hawkeye Pierce did not suffer fools gladly, and if he felt that red tape and bureaucratic incompetence was stopping him doing what he did best – saving lives – then his normal good-natured cynicism could transform in seconds into a ruthless, biting sarcasm which could leave those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end wondering what had hit them. Putting a young, wet-behind-the-ears accountant in the same room as Pierce was tantamount to throwing a plump lamb in the general direction of a very hungry wolf and sitting back to watch their friendship develop.
Hawkeye waved his fork at the colonel. "Are you aware," he said round a mouthful of cold meatloaf, "That we are officially overstaffed by one-fifth of a surgeon?"
"That's a preposterous thing to say!" exclaimed Margaret.
"I volunteer to send any part of me home in the interests of efficiency," offered BJ.
"I suggested pretty early on that removing a dozen senior personnel from their duties for a whole day to discuss efficient use of resources might be a good example of an inefficient use of resources, and it went completely over Baxter's head," continued Hawkeye. "Then it got worse. I've never seen anyone so completely oblivious to the feelings of other people. I tell you, Sidney Freedman could have a field day with this guy. He went on and on, cheerfully throwing figures around like confetti, and you could just feel the resentment in the room growing and growing. He analysed the number of dressings used per patient, the length of the average stay in post-op – somewhere in that junk there's even a chart detailing laundry costs and possible savings." Hawkeye gestured angrily at the pile on the table, his mood darkening. "Maybe we should ask the wounded to bleed less."
He paused and reached for more coffee.
Here it comes thought Potter.
"Then he suggested that a three percent drop in the volume of antibiotics and painkillers we use would be an extremely useful contribution towards balancing the books."
"Ouch," said BJ, wincing.
"That's just absurd!" said Margaret angrily.
"I'm sure you didn't let that particular gem pass without comment," said Charles.
Hawkeye shrugged and speared another piece of meatloaf. "I had a few questions."
"And?" prompted Potter, wincing inwardly in anticipation.
"Okay," said Hawkeye putting down his fork carefully. His voice was full of quiet, white-hot fury. "I told him we have a ninety-seven percent efficiency rate here at the 4077th when it comes to keeping wounded kids alive, and I questioned why that fact wasn't on any of his oh-so-wonderful charts. I questioned why we even bother, when there appear to be entire departments within the US Army dedicated to undermining any good we do. I questioned his experience, his judgement, his integrity, his intelligence and his ethics - and I believe I may have questioned his parentage at some point along the way"
BJ laughed in delight. "That's a performance I'd like to have seen."
"I'm not sure I would," said Margaret, eyeing Hawkeye cautiously. She could picture the young lieutenant cowering like a rabbit frozen in the headlights as the unstoppable juggernaut of Hawkeye's rage bore down on him.
"What happened then?" asked Charles, trying to hide his amusement.
Hawkeye wasn't laughing. "Well, right after that, Colonel Drake said he'd heard enough. He closed the meeting and offered to take Baxter on a tour of his OR and post-op, so he could show him exactly where the dollars are being spent. That man deserves a medal for relieving our suffering. And it's entirely possible that he saved Baxter's life."
"Attention, all personnel! Incoming wounded!."
As they all left the mess tent and walked across the compound to answer the summons, Potter put a hand on Hawkeye's arm. "Am I going to hear more about this, son?" he asked quietly. "Will this Lieutenant Baxter make something of it?"
"To be honest, Colonel," said Hawkeye wearily. "I really don't care, although I think Drake may have told the guy a few home truths later. Believe me, I only said what everyone else was thinking. If you'd been there you would have done exactly the same."
Potter smiled. "Oh, I don't think I've quite got your way with words."
"Your veritable verbosity," put in BJ.
"Your legendary loquaciousness," added Charles.
"Your knack for opening your big mouth and putting your foot in it," said Margaret, slipping her arm through his.
Hawkeye grinned suddenly, appreciating their attempts to restore his good humour with their gentle teasing. "Hey, did I mention that I got a standing ovation from the other guys after Baxter and Drake left the room?"
Potter laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can't improve on that ninety seven percent efficiency rating."