[Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in this story!]
Chapter 1: The night before the day after
[Timeline: Korea - Summer 1952]
Even though it was just past midnight, the oppressive Korean heat bore down heavily on Hawkeye. He tossed and turned in his army cot, his raven black hair sticking uncomfortably to his forehead.
The arrival of an ambulance in the compound was enough of a distraction to finally bring him out of his restless slumber. He got out of his cot and pulled his red robe on over his t-shirt and boxer shorts, thinking he may as well go and see if he could help.
He glanced over at his swamp-mate, Major Charles Emerson Winchester III, who was snoring gently in his sleep. He seemed oblivious to the stifling humidity of the night air. The small but extremely effective, Vintage Mid Century Deco electric fan – sent to him by his mother from Boston - protected him from the relentless heat. He had somehow managed to bribe Klinger into rigging it up to the electricity circuit.
Not only that, but he had a small cool box filled with an array of bottled water – also sent to him by his mother. Again, he had managed to bribe the kitchen personnel to keep him stocked up with a never-ending supply of ice. A selection of non-military hygiene wipes, deodorants and other toiletry luxuries, made sure he was the coolest – and freshest – person in camp!
Hawkeye tip-toed over to where the Major lay sleeping and carefully unplugged the fan. Usually it was hidden away under lock and key with all his other personal effects, so it wouldn't be swiped if he wasn't in the tent. Hawkeye grinned in satisfaction as he made his way outside with the fan safely tucked under his arm. Let the pompous wind-bag suffer for a few hours along with everyone else in the camp!
In the meantime, Captain BJ Hunnicutt, who was the doctor on duty, was already approaching the ambulance with the night nurse. BJ opened the doors and peered uneasily into the vehicle to see what atrocities awaited inside.
There were about six men lying down on stretchers on the ambulance slats. The first aid medic was perched beside one of the men, checking a pressure bandage that was covering the patient's side. As if by magic, several 4077th corpsmen appeared and helped to get the casualties out of the vehicle and on to the ground.
As BJ began his triage procedure, he could tell from the soldiers' fierce appearances and bushy moustaches that they were from the Turkish army. Luckily, they just appeared to have minor cuts and bruises. But they were clearly in a state of shock.
Hawkeye came over and squatted by the patient with the side injury, putting the fan down beside him. On further inspection, it looked like he had been slashed with a knife.
"What happened here?" he asked the Turkish medic. "We weren't aware there was any fighting in the sector."
"It was a very quick ambush," replied the medic. "The North Koreans slipped through the defence line whilst we were sleeping. These are the lucky ones. Some of the others had their throats cut whilst they were still asleep."
Both Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a sombre glance. You didn't have to be in hand-to-hand combat to be killed in this war. The North Koreans - donning their tennis shoes for added stealth - liked to attack at night. They would blow bugles and whistles so the infantry would know they had arrived. The noise would throw the unsuspecting soldiers off-guard in the process. No doubt the sentry on duty would have paid heavily for his oversight in not spotting the attack sooner.
Colonel Potter also appeared in the compound and joined the triage party.
"Do you guys need a hand?" he enquired, in a sleepy voice.
"No thanks, Colonel," affirmed BJ. "Most of the wounds are just superficial. We should be able to handle it."
"Okeydokey!" replied Potter. "Get Winchester if things pick up."
"Speaking of Charles," said Hawkeye, suddenly remembering about the fan. He grabbed it from the floor and held it out to the Colonel. "Can you take this back to your tent with you, Colonel?"
Potter looked at Hawkeye suspiciously, but he was too hot and tired to get involved in another one of Hawkeye's childish pranks. Besides, he could make good use of the fan!
After a couple of hours the Turks had been attended to and were settled into Post-Op. Thankfully, their wounds were not too serious. The mental scars of the conflict would no doubt take longer to heal than their actual injuries.
BJ and Hawkeye sighed with relief, realising that the casualties could have been a lot more severe if a full-blown battle had ensued. The Turks did most of their fighting with the enemy at night with knives and machetes. The silent death was how these tactics were described by their Allies. They had a reputation for being rough, hard aggressors, who preferred to have the offensive position.
They were friendly enough, but they had a dangerous proficiency in close combat when they were armed with their long, sabre-looking knives. The other military units remained very wary of them.
Hawkeye finally went back to bed, leaving BJ to finish his duties in Post-Op. As he opened the Swamp door he was confronted by a very agitated and extremely hot, Major Winchester.
"Alright, Pierce, you cretin!" he fumed. "Where is it?"
Hawkeye sighed. It was going to be a long night!