Look, look, its reformatted! I finally got round to it!
Cast of thousands: Yay you.
******************************************************************
It had been a long day. Hawkeye Pierce stumbled back to the swamp, poured a glass of martini, kicked off his boots and fell on to his cot.
Trapper looked up from the letter he was writing. "Rough shift?" he asked.
"Yeah, just two patients, but one of them had a really bad leg wound. Couldn't do anything except amputate. He couldn't have been any more than eighteen." Trapper looked sympathetic. Hawkeye drained his glass.
"I'm going to sleep for a week." He announced "Then I want you to wake me up so I can take a quick nap before I get down to some serious napping."
"Right pal. Just remember we've got a poker game tomorrow. Sidney's coming." Trapper said, turning back to his letter.
Just then Radar came running in. "Choppers sirs, loaded with casualties, fifteen minutes at the most." He ran out again immediately, on seeing the doctors were awake and moving.
"You know I'm beginning to think that this war - sorry police action has some personal objection to me sleeping," grumbled Hawkeye pulling on his boots again.
"Now that is definite paranoia. Very interesting." Trapper's imitation of Freud was terrible. "Keep that up and you might get sent for some R and R - accompanied by your personal physician of course."
"In your, my and or our dreams. In the meantime someone has gone to the trouble of providing us with patients, so we'd better operate."
Later, in the OR things proceeded as normal. Henry Blake was flirting unsuccessfully with a nurse while operating successfully on a marine.
Hawkeye and Trapper were in the middle of a chest case and were having an apparently serious conversation about the need for a new filter for the still.
And Frank Burns was fussing in front of a patient. "Lieutenant Bayliss, what do you call this?" he demanded.
Trapper looked up. "That's a scalpel Frank."
"And the thing in front of you is a patient." Hawkeye joined in.
"Oh shut up you two. I didn't want a clamp, nurse."
"But you asked for one sir."
"That's no excuse for incompetence."
"Well, how do you normally excuse your incompetence Frank?" Hawkeye enquired, then quickly turned back to his own patient "Metzenbaum scissors."
"Pierce I'm going to file insubordination charges if you keep this up."
Hawkeye looked at Trapper "Must be Friday." He observed.
"Pipe down people" Henry ordered and for a while everything was quiet.
"Oh rats" Frank exclaimed.
Hawkeye looked up in time to see a fountain of blood gush up from the Major's patient. "Trapper can you finish?" he asked urgently and at the nod dashed over and took over from Frank, operating quickly and efficiently, saving the patients life.
"Next time stick to horses ok Frank?"
"I'd like to know what right you have to take over from me." Frank blustered "I was managing perfectly fine until you butted in."
"Firstly no you weren't, secondly I am chief surgeon and thirdly your fly is undone"
Frank looked before he could stop himself. Hawkeye smirked and moved off.
"This war would go a lot better if someone shot him." Burns remarked, not very sotto voce.
After eight hours of surgery, Trapper - Hawkeye had gone to check on some x rays - wandered into the mess tent in search of food. As ever he was disappointed. He sat down at table next to Radar. Henry sat across from them, nodding off into the suspected mashed potato.
Radar began shovelling food into his mouth. Trapper prodded it to see if it would move of its own accord, then shrugged and began eating. The door opened and he looked up to see Majors Burns and Houlihan enter. They were deliberately walking a certain distance apart but that wasn't what caught Trapper's attention
"Frank, what's with the gun?" he demanded.
"I just read a report that said there are snipers in the area and I'm certainly not going to take any chances."
"Major Burns is perfectly right to carry a gun." Margaret announced. "After all, we are in a battlezone."
"No, we're in a mess tent." Trapper shot back. "The only thing dangerous in here, until Frank showed up anyway, is the food."
"Why can't you understand that this is war! And that in war you must be prepared to fight or die!" Frank flourished his gun dramatically. But he hadn't got the safety catch on and it went off.
Everyone jumped and a couple of the nurses - and Frank himself - screamed. There was a couple of seconds silence and then everyone started talking at once. Henry Blake had sat bolt upright at the sound of the shot, now he stood up and removed the gun.
"Major, what the hell do you think your doing?" he demanded angrily. "You can't carry a gun in the mess tent and you certainly can't fire it."
"Yeah Frank, one of these days you're going to kill someone" Trapper interjected. He was getting worked up to rave at Frank for a long time but a quiet voice stopped him.
"Trapper." There was something about the tone, shocked, confused and urgent. He turned and saw Hawkeye, looking very pale in the door of the tent, a red stain spreading across his T-shirt.
Their eyes met and Hawk fell gently forwards.
Cast of thousands: Yay you.
******************************************************************
It had been a long day. Hawkeye Pierce stumbled back to the swamp, poured a glass of martini, kicked off his boots and fell on to his cot.
Trapper looked up from the letter he was writing. "Rough shift?" he asked.
"Yeah, just two patients, but one of them had a really bad leg wound. Couldn't do anything except amputate. He couldn't have been any more than eighteen." Trapper looked sympathetic. Hawkeye drained his glass.
"I'm going to sleep for a week." He announced "Then I want you to wake me up so I can take a quick nap before I get down to some serious napping."
"Right pal. Just remember we've got a poker game tomorrow. Sidney's coming." Trapper said, turning back to his letter.
Just then Radar came running in. "Choppers sirs, loaded with casualties, fifteen minutes at the most." He ran out again immediately, on seeing the doctors were awake and moving.
"You know I'm beginning to think that this war - sorry police action has some personal objection to me sleeping," grumbled Hawkeye pulling on his boots again.
"Now that is definite paranoia. Very interesting." Trapper's imitation of Freud was terrible. "Keep that up and you might get sent for some R and R - accompanied by your personal physician of course."
"In your, my and or our dreams. In the meantime someone has gone to the trouble of providing us with patients, so we'd better operate."
Later, in the OR things proceeded as normal. Henry Blake was flirting unsuccessfully with a nurse while operating successfully on a marine.
Hawkeye and Trapper were in the middle of a chest case and were having an apparently serious conversation about the need for a new filter for the still.
And Frank Burns was fussing in front of a patient. "Lieutenant Bayliss, what do you call this?" he demanded.
Trapper looked up. "That's a scalpel Frank."
"And the thing in front of you is a patient." Hawkeye joined in.
"Oh shut up you two. I didn't want a clamp, nurse."
"But you asked for one sir."
"That's no excuse for incompetence."
"Well, how do you normally excuse your incompetence Frank?" Hawkeye enquired, then quickly turned back to his own patient "Metzenbaum scissors."
"Pierce I'm going to file insubordination charges if you keep this up."
Hawkeye looked at Trapper "Must be Friday." He observed.
"Pipe down people" Henry ordered and for a while everything was quiet.
"Oh rats" Frank exclaimed.
Hawkeye looked up in time to see a fountain of blood gush up from the Major's patient. "Trapper can you finish?" he asked urgently and at the nod dashed over and took over from Frank, operating quickly and efficiently, saving the patients life.
"Next time stick to horses ok Frank?"
"I'd like to know what right you have to take over from me." Frank blustered "I was managing perfectly fine until you butted in."
"Firstly no you weren't, secondly I am chief surgeon and thirdly your fly is undone"
Frank looked before he could stop himself. Hawkeye smirked and moved off.
"This war would go a lot better if someone shot him." Burns remarked, not very sotto voce.
After eight hours of surgery, Trapper - Hawkeye had gone to check on some x rays - wandered into the mess tent in search of food. As ever he was disappointed. He sat down at table next to Radar. Henry sat across from them, nodding off into the suspected mashed potato.
Radar began shovelling food into his mouth. Trapper prodded it to see if it would move of its own accord, then shrugged and began eating. The door opened and he looked up to see Majors Burns and Houlihan enter. They were deliberately walking a certain distance apart but that wasn't what caught Trapper's attention
"Frank, what's with the gun?" he demanded.
"I just read a report that said there are snipers in the area and I'm certainly not going to take any chances."
"Major Burns is perfectly right to carry a gun." Margaret announced. "After all, we are in a battlezone."
"No, we're in a mess tent." Trapper shot back. "The only thing dangerous in here, until Frank showed up anyway, is the food."
"Why can't you understand that this is war! And that in war you must be prepared to fight or die!" Frank flourished his gun dramatically. But he hadn't got the safety catch on and it went off.
Everyone jumped and a couple of the nurses - and Frank himself - screamed. There was a couple of seconds silence and then everyone started talking at once. Henry Blake had sat bolt upright at the sound of the shot, now he stood up and removed the gun.
"Major, what the hell do you think your doing?" he demanded angrily. "You can't carry a gun in the mess tent and you certainly can't fire it."
"Yeah Frank, one of these days you're going to kill someone" Trapper interjected. He was getting worked up to rave at Frank for a long time but a quiet voice stopped him.
"Trapper." There was something about the tone, shocked, confused and urgent. He turned and saw Hawkeye, looking very pale in the door of the tent, a red stain spreading across his T-shirt.
Their eyes met and Hawk fell gently forwards.