MASH is not my property, though I've seen every episode so many times it's kind of hard not to try and come up with a story. I doubt you will find this one inspired.
This is not my best effort. I fear I am just writing to write, and trying something different to try and force me out of writer's block.
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Unlikely Saint
by Lyda Mae (RavenDove) Dameron
Chapter One: Patient's Name Is Not Known
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The bombs that fell with crescendo on crescendo, allegro in insanity. The only thing that drove them from Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester the third's ears were the screams of the woman in front of him. She lay on a stretcher in the compound of the MASH 4077th with so many others stacked like cord wood instead of like hospital triage should be. She had dirty blond hair and dark eyes that could barely be seen in the fading light.
She was screaming and covered with blood, but it didn't take long for Major Winchester to determine that the majority of it was not hers. She bore only a mild shoulder laceration that had already been taken care of at battalion aide. He pulled out a flashlight to look at the papers battalion aide had sent.
Patient's name is not known
Shoulder Laceration
Possible Head Trauma
Charles held the flashlight to her eyes. They responded normally to light. "Can you hear me?" he asked tentatively.
She suddenly became quiet and closed her eyes. "Our Father Who art In Heaven, Hollowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will be done, On Earth As it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our Trespasses as we forgive... Forgive..." and then she began to scream again with hot tears streaming from her eyes.
She was beyond hearing anything but the bombs Winchester realized. She was in shock from everything around her. He pulled a syringe from his bag and gave her a sedative, then looked up to find Major Margret Houlihan coming toward him. "Have her moved to Post Op and make sure they keep her warm."
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Father Francis Mulcahy looked down at the face of the woman. He wished he had a name to go with her face. Only the initials on a hymn book. A.S.L. and a vile of oil with the words 'I am a Mormon. Please find two Elders.' written on it gave clues to her identity.
She had made it through the night in silence except for two episodes when she had come to crying out for Jesus. The first one had come while he was giving last rites to the soldier in a bed across the way the second he had found himself holding the woman's hand and praying with her to gain her calm.
Now as dawn came she slept but there was no peace in her face.
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