"Why would you do this to me? I thought we were friends!" Hawkeye slumped in the passenger seat of the jeep has it bounced along the rutted dirt road heading from Seoul back to the 4077th. His arms were crossed in a pout and his eyes glared at the passing Korean hill side, refusing to look at Trapper next to him in the driver's seat. "That nurse was putty in my hand. I have never felt skin so soft. I could have gazed into those eyes for the rest of my life."

"Yeah well, the rest of your life would have been about 10 minutes long if I hadn't pulled you out of that bar." Trapper strong-armed the jeep's stiff steering to try and avoid the worst of the ruts and holes in the road. "While you were busy gazing in her eyes, you didn't see her G.I. boyfriend coming down the street with four of his buddies ready to pull your spine out through your navel. "

"Anatomically impossible."

"You should be thanking me. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me. You owe me."

Hawkeye groaned and put his head in his hands. "And what a sweet death it would have been, Trapper. To spend my last moments with that pale skinned angel. A man could never hope for better."

"She was a soft eight at best."

"I should punch you in the mouth for such blaspheme."

"Later. It's dangerous to drive punch-drunk."

The jeep rolled over a large rock then bounded through a deep rut. Hawkeye had to grab the dashboard to keep from being thrown out of his seat.

"Are you sure you're not drunk already? I don't want to be saved from death by G.I. Joe only to succumb to death by G.I. Jeep."

"Layoff. You're welcome to drive if you think can handle this goat track any better."

"Nah. If I drove I'd kill us for sure."

"Besides, I'd like to get back to camp as fast as possible. It's getting late I don't relish the idea of having to drive on this road-of-certain-death in the dark."

"Well, I think—" Hawkeye didn't get to finish his thought as the glass in the jeep's windshield suddenly exploded all over them.

"What the hell?" yelled Trapper, slamming on the brakes. The jeep's front tire blew with a loud bang as it skidded to a stop.

For a moment the two men sat and stared at each other in silent confusion. A shot rang out and a bullet hole appeared in the hood of the vehicle.

"Snipers!"

The pair scrambled from the jeep and sprinted for cover in a stand of stunted trees near the road. Puffs of dirt exploded around their feet as the sound of rapid gunfire chased them.

"Over here!" Trapper grabbed Hawkeye's arm and veered him to the left. Together they tumbled down into a ditch.

Hawkeye untangled himself from Trapper and crawled on his belly back up the side of the ditch, trying to see over the over the top without actually poking his head out.

"Where are they? Did you see any of them, Trapper?"

"Uh, Hawkeye?"

"How many do you think there are? Do you think they're going to come down after us?"

"Hawk."

"The jeep is shitcanned. We might have to try and wait them out. If we just lay quite they'll give up, right?"

"Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye rolled over and looked down at his friend sitting in the bottom of the ditch with one holding his side as he fought to catch his breath.

"Hawkeye, we've got a problem." Trapper lifted his hand from his side and held it up for Hawkeye to see. It was covered in blood.

Hawkeye felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach and the colour drained from his face. Sliding down the small bank into the bottom of the ditch, Hawkeye grabbed at Trapper's t-shirt. Blood spilled out onto the dirt and Trapper hissed as his shirt was pulled up to reveal a single bullet wound in his right side just above his hip.

"You've been shot."

Trapper grimaced as he pressed his hand back onto the wound. "Is that your expert opinion, Doctor? Boy, your diagnostic skills are truly amazing."

Hawkeye leapt to his feet, bounded out of the ditch and sprinted for the jeep. He made it less than ten feet before a hail storm of bullets drove him back into the ditch.

"What the hell are you doing! Are you crazy!" screamed Trapper. "You're going get yourself killed!"

Hawkeye was panting, and Trapper could see he was shaking.

"The bag," gasped Hawkeye. "Our medical bag. It's in the jeep. I've got to get it."

"That's insane."

Hawkeye gathered himself into a crouch, ready to jump out for another attempt.

"Don't worry about me, I'm an expert at avoiding gunfire. Trained back home by running away from angry fathers with shotguns."

Trapper grabbed his friend's jacket to pull him off balance.

"Who says I'm worried about you? If you go out there, you'll end up like a piece of swiss cheese and where will that leave me? I assure you, my concern is purely selfish."

For a moment the two men locked eyes. Hawkeye let out a breath that he hadn't realized that he'd been holding. Gently, he pulled Trapper's hand from his jacket, giving it a small squeeze before letting go.

Hawkeye sat flat on the dirt beside Trapper and took stock of their surroundings. Their hiding spot was a neglected irrigation ditch less than three feet deep. It was full of leaves and broken tree branches. Trapper was kneeling in a tiny tickle of water running along the bottom.

"Okay," said Hawkeye, running a hand back through his hair. "Okay."

"Okay," repeated Trapper.

"Okay. It's going to start getting dark soon. That will give me a better chance to try and sneak back to the jeep."

"That's a good plan. I like it."

Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know it qualifies as good plan, but it certainly is a plan. If the army has taught me anything, it's that it's important to have a plan. The 'good' part is optional."

Trapper's snicker changed into a hiss has a stab of pain shot through him.

"Hold on, Trap." Hawkeye began stripping out of his jacket and t-shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to stop the bleeding. I'm going to use my shirt as a dressing."

"That filthy thing? No way. I'll get an infection for sure."

"I don't have a lot to work with here, and I assure you, right now, it's a hell of a lot cleaner than my shorts are."

Trapper glared at Hawkeye while watching him him put his jacket back on over his bare shoulder. His side felt like it was on fire. Sweat was starting to drip down his forehead. He could feel the ditch water soaking through his pants.

"Look, Trapper," said Hawkeye. "It's true you might get an infection, but you know as well as I do that if I don't get something on the wound, you'll definitely bleed out before night fall. So there really isn't a choice, is there?"

Trapper looked at the ground and reluctantly nodded.

"Good. Now, how about you get out of that puddle. Unless you're using it to hide the fact that you've peed your pants."

Keeping their heads down, Hawkeye helped Trapper maneuver up onto the bank so he was lying on his left side with his back to Hawkeye. The snipers must have spotted some movement because a couple of gun shots rang out, but neither man felt any impacts near them.

Hawkeye tore a couple of strips from his t-shirt and folded the rest into a thick dressing.

"Okay, Trap. Are you ready?"

Trapper nodded, lifted his hand away and turned his head to watch Hawkeye. Despite everything he had seen in year of surgery, it still amazed him how much blood could come out of one tiny hole. It had soaked through his shirt and jacket and had seeped down into the top of his pants.

Hawkeye worked fast, ignoring Trappers grunt of pain has he pressed the dressing down onto the wound. His hands slipped the bandage strips around his friend's waist and tied them off with practised ease.

"How does that feel?"

Trapper didn't answer.

"Trap? Are you okay?"

Still no answer.

"Trapper!" Panic crept in Hawkeye's voice.

"I'm…just give me…a sec." Trapper took a few shallow breaths before rolling over onto his back. "I'm not enjoying this. Let's quit and go home."

"It's okay, Trapper. The sun has already started to go down. It won't be long until I can make another try for the jeep."

"And then what?"

Hawkeye felt a knot forming in his stomach. "I don't know yet. But I'll think of something."

"Please do," whispered Trapper.