Blasted Wind

Note and Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own the characters to M*A*S*H. We can also wish to though.

It had been a chilly, windy early March day. Although the weather had been staying cold for some time now (and the orphans have been safe in their new collapsible beds with thick blankets), life at the camp has been going on at a normal pace. The usual has been going on except for a change last month that has made us smile, especially me and Sister Theresa (and Klinger, when he'll admit it). It was a man (on paper, at least) named Captain Jonathan S. Tuttle, the one man who would send all those supplies to the orphans selflessly and without prodding. He had faithfully sent more to the orphans after that first time, mostly food and more medical supplies nowadays, but it has been a bigger help than the Army has been.

That was what usually kept me on my toes. Even though I had a good idea who (or they) Tuttle was, I was sure to keep it a secret from those in charge. I did not want to disappoint the orphans and most certainly, Sister Theresa, knowing the surprise. It had been an honor and privilege to know that someone actually cared (and to know who they are), so I had been in high spirits, to say the least.

Today, it has been horrible, the biting wind aside. Although I was not due at the orphanage until tomorrow with Klinger and Radar (the latter who decided to come with us too), I was still keener on focusing on the weather and perhaps the new football game going on. Granted, it was too windy for football, but I was determined to push the Catholics and win against the Protestants, although I was the only one on the team and was up against ten other people. Out of pity (and perhaps to play some football), Trapper joined me on the team. He was no Catholic, but he was good at heart, and that was what made the day better and the team cheered.

"How many more tries do we get?" I asked Trapper during the third quarter of the game, when we were down twenty-seven to ten. I was disoriented and confused from being hit in the head several times during the game. "The ball is ours, right?"

"Yes, Father," Trapper replied, looking from me to the other team as he thought, scheming, most likely. "We have another go before they get the ball. We've got twenty more yards and we can score." Trapper then looked at me with confusion. "Say, Father, I thought you knew how to play football. Didn't you coach a team or two?"

"I coached boxing, my son, not football," I explained. "Although, I must say, I would root for Notre Dame any day."

As Trapper laughed, some of the enlisted men on the other side grew restless and yelled at us to hurry up and get a strategy in place. Helmets on tighter as they went into position, they glared at us two with little disdain, but the fierce competition was in their eyes and it shone bright. I could see it from where I was standing, willing to knock it out of them.

"Ok, Father, I'll hike the ball to you and you run for it," Trapper finally said after throwing an insult to the Protestant team that I could not hear (and possibly chose not to because of my ears). "Pass it when I'm over the line, if need be. I'll be ahead of you and blocking whoever comes. Sound good?"

"Whatever it takes."

"Good. Oh, and Father?"

"Yes, my son?"

"It was nice knowing you."

I laughed heartily as I also strapped on my helmet, tightening Trapper's too. I also grabbed my elbow and knee pads from the sidelines and put those on as well, not keen on taking a tough tumble in the mud and paying for it later with scrapes and bruises. The boys on the other side were tough and gave me a beating every other time I've played (especially since I was part of the mother tree of their branches), but with Trapper, it seemed worse, especially since he had no religious background whatsoever and just played for fun. And nobody was going to miss an opportunity to beat up a doctor.

Now, with a plan in place, Trapper and I went into position and were able to call out our play when Klinger skated by, right in the middle of what we called a field. The ground had been muddy and was bumpy with footprints and tire tracks, but he had managed to put on some roller skates and zip across the compound gracefully…in nothing by a slip.

Oh, my!

As I saw a hairy….well, a hairy back…the second time since coming here, I heard Trapper yell out some numbers (as well as some obscene comment towards Klinger that I chose not to listen to again) and hike the ball to me. Without noticing that I had the odd shaped ball in my hands, I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do with it. The shock of seeing Klinger with nothing on but a slip (and the wind making it worse by upping the ante) and skating away with ease on the muddy campgrounds was horrid. Worse, I was almost tackled by the other side and lost the ball.

"Come on, Father!" Trapper yelled as he pushed back man after man, to clear a path for me so that I could run. "Ignore the Missus!"

"Huh?" I walked to one side, narrowly missing one man trying to grab the ball from me. From there on, I walked and sidelined every man that tried to get me, unaware of what I was doing and only staring at Klinger's back as he skated away.

I was not paying attention to anything but that hairy back (and the Lord forgive me if I was tempted by something I should not be lusting after), but when the MP's showed up and kicked up more mud, starting to chase Klinger, I finally gave up. Shaking my head and clearing it of all nasty images (and ones that I would have to pray about and release to the Lord), I finally saw the end of the line. As Sergeant Rizzo, the head honcho of the Protestant team, started to run for me again, I dashed for the end zone and finally scored. We now had sixteen points.

"Father, I have to say, you were swell out there," Trapper said as we celebrated (albeit it was small) and prepared for the extra point. "I should ask Klinger to come around again."

My cheeks flushed. "Why?"

"Because it seems that he always brings out the best in you," Trapper replied. He then turned away for a moment as he heard his name being called, seeing Hawkeye, and started talking a mile a minute as a nurse came up from behind Hawkeye.

Averting my eyes for a moment and ignoring what was being said, I didn't notice that Radar had come up from behind me too. Knowing that there would be a break in-between the touchdown and its extra kick-off and when the other team gets the ball, he handed me some paperwork. I glanced back at Trapper, who was busily outlining a nurse's face with his gloved finger, and then to the other team, who glared at me with a mix of anger and elation, all because we scored a point finally. I then turned to Radar.

"What is this, Radar?" I asked him, not even reading the paperwork.

"Oh, it's just the supplies listed for tomorrow's trip," Radar replied. "You can sign and initial that you signed or initial and sign that you initialed."

I read the paperwork carefully, seeing that the usual supplies were coming with us. Then, I saw extra food rations and medical supplies for the orphans, signed over by Captain Tuttle. He even added in his back pay from the Army in there, over ten thousand dollars worth!

"The money is in a safe, safe and sound," Radar told me, as if reading my mind.

"Yes, well…I give many thanks for this bountiful gift and this man who made it happen," I said gratefully as my heart sang with joy, signing the paperwork (not caring about initialing) and handing it over to Radar. "Thank you, my son, for giving me such good news. Sister Theresa will be thrilled as well! God bless you!"

As that same blasted wind carried Klinger's slip up, the same wind flapped the papers I gave back to Radar. I watched his back as he walked away, but waited patiently enough for Trapper and Hawkeye to be finished behind that nurse. All the while, even with the other team throwing stinging remarks that we needed to hurry up once more, I was happy, more so than I ever been before. Not only were the orphans settled into new things that they needed, but the money they would receive would double what they had. They would eat well for months to come, have housing supplies for over a year. They could even have a Christmas this year!

I was stunned into a silence that I rarely was in. As I turned back to Trapper and Hawkeye, though, all I saw was innocence in their seductive eyes, especially with the nurse they were entertaining temporarily. Perhaps they knew about it and somehow finagled it, to have the orphanage receive that much money. Somehow, they must have made it so that no child, especially in war, would ever be in need. And I don't know how they could have pulled it off and not have gained the animosity of the Army in turn.

God bless them. It was all I could say in my mind as I waited for Trapper to finish, tossing the ball to the other team and awaiting a plan to defeat them this time. God bless them, and for the days they have left to them!