Of Mercy and Madness

by KGKB radio

mirth, mischief, mayhem. Hawkeye Pierce's life will never be the same again after a rash of misfortunes befall the amp.

Of Mercy and madness

Disclaimer: I don't own Mash, couldn't take the responsibility.

Special thanks to K B, without her gentle persistence, this story would never have been written. I also acknowledge Internet resources I used in order to make this story as true to the time period as possible. Wikipedia and several articles on the Korean War came in handy! This story is dedicated to Meatball Surgeons and my pastor, James Young. So please sit back, read, and enjoy! K G

Chapter 1 The Joker's Wild

The clouds pressed in on a chilly, damp mid autumn day, casting a mist over the war torn Korean landscape. The tall mountains that could be so picturesque in fine weather were shrouded in the gray fog that lent itself to an even bleaker outlook on life than the reality of the war. Mash 4077 situated in a valley was not known for its beauty at the best of times, but the dense cloak of moisture that hung over everything made it appear even more desolate and miserable than usual. Such conditions had persisted for two days now, and it was enough to try anyone's patience, even that of the usually ebullient ones who strove to take their existence in stride. This gloomy atmosphere dampened even the brightest spirit if anyone could be blithe of spirit in war time or at any other time or situation thrust upon him by the will of another. The weather could have been tolerated, had it not been for a rash of misfortunes that befell the camp recently; not surprising but the occupants of the 4077th Mash unit felt the strain nonetheless. It began when Margaret Houlihan much acclaimed for efficiency and the ability to keep order in chaos felt bereft of this ability. That stellar nurse had requisitioned for 4 nurses to be sent to relieve a shortage but, true to army fashion, the fourth nurse did not arrive; in her place, a bunch of useless wire which even Klinger in all his efficiency could not utilize. Not only was the fourth nurse's whereabouts left to conjecture, but also the sanity of the people at headquarters; that dubious subject shall be left to another story for another author.

The nurses that Margaret did acquire were excellent ones but were as different from each other in temperament as three people can be. Ominous visions assaulted her mind of the conflicts she would be engaged in the resolution of. She believed that a superior officer should not be forced into the role of sorority house mother! As a result of the stress - whether real or imagined and of the recent acquisitions, she succumbed to a terrible cold in the head a further addition to her trials.

Kristine Vesper, a 30-year-old native of Anchorage Alaska was happily betrothed to a handsome fireman named Randy. Kristine was extroverted, loved everybody and did not care what people thought of her; her ambitions were to gather as many friends as one person could. Barbara Lawson, a 50 year old widow from Bellingham Washington, was the mother hen who saw everyone in the 4077th as her brood. Her highest aspirations were to see everyone as comfortable as one could get whether they desired it or not. Then there was Brenda Cox, a 28-year-old resident of Chippewa Falls Wisconsin; she was quiet, introverted and had never been married nor did she ever want to be.

Kristine Vesper was the third adopted daughter of Wilhelm and Helena, German immigrants who were unable to conceive and who believed in the provision of a good home to the poorest, neediest orphans that ever there were. The couple had rescued the tiny waif after the tragic circumstance that left her an orphan. An oil lamp had ignited and, while the entire family slumbered peacefully upstairs, the lower floor was rapidly consumed, the fire made its insidious way upwards. Kristine's midnight wails awakened the parents to the terrible plight. They rushed frantically into her room; their prevailing thought was to save their only daughter regardless of their own peril. They threw open the window which sent the fire into an even greater frenzy. The couple snatched the child from her crib and threw her out of the aperture into the leafy arms of a nearby tree just before the floor upon which they stood collapsed, sending the parents to their death in the inferno below. Neighbors came by to stem the blaze and found the infant girl in the tall tree, unharmed, oblivious to her orphaned state. The neighbors, themselves poor and unable to raise Kristine, placed her into a state run children's home where they never learned of her fate.

The Vespers had originally sought to bring a boy into their home upon their other girls, Ingrid and Annika's vehement desire for a little brother. However, upon entrance into the local state run Children's facility, the wish for a boy dissolved at the first sight of Kristine clad in a little pink dress her mouth looked as though it were ready for a mother's warm kisses. When her history was revealed, Helena was forced to dab at her eyes while Wilhelm declared that "she shall be entrusted into my care promptly"

The German couple had relocated to Anchorage Alaska when Wilhelm wanted a better life than he had in Germany, working for an unappreciative task master of a boss. The venture proved to be a success, for whatever they turned their hands too fared well for them. They were shrewd business people of the strictest type whose wealth was earned with fairness and strict insurance of good results. They were not wont, however to leave their business ideology at work for they ran their home as if it were a business; everything had to be done in an orderly way, no childish meanderings from the rules was permitted. Any daughter that failed to carry out the duties given her would feel the wrath of either parent. The Vespers were not above reminding a daughter if she disobeyed of the poverty she had been rescued from. It was an environment in which money reigned supreme; every decision was based upon its principles and the making thereof. The girls were told repeatedly that the only way to succeed in life was to earn vast amounts of money save it, do not spend it unless absolutely necessary. Ingrid and Annika took their parents tutelage to heart; Ingrid could be almost conniving in her attempts to gain profit. Annika prospered through more conventional means for she was too timid to try her hand at any unearned gain. Kristine, however, would have none of it. From the time she was old enough to comprehend financial concepts, she tuned them out save what she wanted to hear. This was not to say that she did not value money or the acquisition thereof, for she did; however, it was of minor importance to her. She thought with her heart, not head, much to the pique of her family. While her parents entertained business associates of high society - at which parties Ingrid and Annika behaved like ladies, Kristine when she was forced to attend, comported herself in her casual, tomboy fashion. She preferred the company of anyone who needed a friend reglardlesss of social class. This failure to adhere to ladylike conduct was not due to lack of instruction for Helena tried to teach them how to be proper young women. Kristine was constantly scolded by the family for her undignified behavior not to mention the company she kept. However, she marched through life as though she had not heard a word of their admonitions. Even her appearance did not meet with approval, for in their opinion, she wasn't pretty enough for them to be seen in her company. Her sisters were both tall slender girls with perfect teeth for which they prided themselves enhanced not a little by much approval by their mother who, it must be candidly admitted, pampered their vanity despite Wilhelm's prohibitions. Their lovely brown eyes viewed the world from beneath well kept lashes the latter receiving the very best beautification treatments that money could buy. Both her sisters wore their long thick blond hair elegantly pulled back, thus highlighting their smooth, pale cheeks on which makeup was liberally applied when they could get away with it. They dressed in the finest clothes that could be had at bargain prices and if a spot or wrinkle appeared thereupon, the wearer would make life insufferable until the dirt was removed or wrinkle pressed out. Helena indulged all this fastidiousness for it would she hoped, attract the attention of wealthy young men who could care for them and herself if that was necessary. Kristine was short with a medium bone structure that made her appear stockier than she really was. She did not fuss over her chocolate brown curls nor did she tie it back but let it bounce around her shoulders in a most chaotic fashion. Her face was ruddy, burned by sun in summer, wind in winter and nary a beauty product found its way onto it; for she viewed makeup as inconvenient at best, downright ridiculous at worst. Fortunately her eyelashes needed no beauty treatments for they were thick, lovely, the one envy of her sisters. She had a slight overbite which was of no concern to the dentist, but which gave her a comical smile that showed her front teeth from between her rose-colored lips. She did not wear the latest fashion nor don fancy dress as she preferred comfortable casual wear. Her favorite summer apparel was a pink number with white polka dots that caused much hilarity at the country club. It was a shame for, on those rare occasions when she did allow herself to be arrayed in fancy finery, she was an attractive young woman. The other children at the country club would, upon the first sight of her gather together in groups to ridicule her behind their hands or, if they felt particularly mean, deride her openly. If they did not deride her about her clothes which they felt were beneath the standards of the club, they derided the school she attended because it was not the most elite therefore, worthless in their eyes. The Vespers felt education was the same no matter the institute it was held in so the girls attended public school. Her sisters had many friends in the club despite this because they were willing to stoop to anything to obtain the approval even if it meant the sacrifice of family loyalty; Kristine was offered upon that altar with the result that she preferred the company of her classmates. From them, she reveled in the latest dances – the Lindy being her particular favorite - music, games even sports were not beneath her; she loved them all. Whenever one or another of them suggested an outing of any kind, Kristine was halfway out the door with shouts of gleeful excitement before the idea had fully come into fruition. She, unlike her sisters, prattled on excitedly about the fun she had with her peers but was told to hold her tongue by parents or siblings alike especially at the country club for, as they were all too happy to inform her, "This is a proper establishment, not a filthy bar."

Upon completion of high school, she decided to study to become a surgical nurse so that if another war ever broke forth, she determined to serve in a mash unit to work among the sickest patients. Nursing was, in her parents' estimation, a noble profession, so it was one area in which she gained their approval. As for the afore-mentioned Mash units, however, her parents nearly committed her to an asylum on that point. But if she had learned one positive thing from her parents it was that she must be in service to her fellow man and she could not do this in business or secretarial college. If, they felt, she could found her own business, she would answer to no one.

It was during her twenty-eighth year of age when she met Randy Lacarno, a handsome fireman who stole her heart the first day they met. A whirlwind romance followed, much to her family's perturbation; they wanted her to marry into a high social class where she would be with well bred folks who might be able to break her wayward spirit. They envisioned a life of privilege, one in which no laborious tasks would ever be undertaken by her. To worsen her ostrisization from her family, Randy invited her to his church because he wanted to share his beliefs with the woman he knew he'd wed sooner rather than later. It was an experience Kristine found both oddly comforting and strange. The Vespers were of the Catholic persuasion - when they attended church at all - it was to gain rapport with business people who might be persuaded by their piety. She found the Catholic rituals burdensome. So in a fit of pique, she boldly announced that she would be baptized as a Christian on the first available weekend. Though her relationship with her God was born out of rebellion toward her stuffy family, she truly wanted to devote herself wholly to God. The family had not sufficiently recovered their scattered senses when she stated that she was to marry Randy within a year and, until they wed, she would take an apartment on her own.

She was in the process of procuring her own home when Randy and her pastor drew her attention to many news articles on the desperate need for nurses in Korea, and her servant's heart drew her to that far off Asian land. Upon arrival at the 4077th, she was descended upon by the resident flirt Hawkeye.

"Randy!" He'd exclaimed loudly upon the revelation that she was betrothed to him. "A lowly fireman? I'm a doctor; I'm rich; I can care for you."

"I see," Kristine shot back, her mouth twisted into her comical smile. "But you still need the army to feed and shelter you."

"Oh this place? I'm here so that I don't have to spend my vast amounts of money I have saved back in Crabapple Cove. I have the means to keep you high society women in high society!"

"I've heard you gripe non stop about this place and highest on that list is BEING DRAFTED!"

"I answered the call so I could leave the mafia. I still have my immense wealth and they won't ever find me here." Everyone within ear shot erupted into uproarious laughter at the mental image of the pacifist Pierce involved in any crime.

Despite this camaraderie, the Alaskan never allowed herself to be alone with him or any other single man save Father Mulcahy, lest any gossip reach Randy's jealous ears. And so Barbara was her constant companion. Hawkeye for his part, did not like this arrangement, feeling the implication that a chaperone was needed; it bothered the ladies not a bit.

Kristine and Barbara's dissimilarity in age was more than made up for by their similar backgrounds. Barbara Wright Lawson also was orphaned as an infant. Her mother, widowed when Barbara's father succumbed to diphtheria during the early stages of the pregnancy. The stress of such a grievous loss miraculously did not shake the infant from her warm home much to everyone's immense surprise. However, Barbara's mother died from complications of child birth to which the attending physician put full blame upon her weak constitution, therefore he took no responsibility and no charges were ever laid. Her last request made with the final exhalation from her lungs was for the tiny babe to receive a home with relatives rather than what could be had in the often clinical orphanage. Fortunately, her sister, Gloria and brother in law Larry, honored the woman's request, they took the tiny girl into their home in which lived 7 cousins, aging maternal grandparents, together with a conglomeration of pets. It was a large rambling farm-style house located on the outskirts of Bellingham Washington that lent itself to many happy hours in the great outdoors with her cousins, friends or pets. It was a happy but boisterous family not lacking in anything, save quiet. It was in this environment that Barbara learned to take life in stride and where her own maternal instinct was honed to great heights. In spite of or perhaps because of her own great loss, she took an intense interest in the medical profession. She would, from the time she was old enough to understand, ask her aunt or uncle to repeat the causes of her parents' demise, her gaze fixed upon the speaker when the narration came to the diseases to which they had succumbed. She betook herself to the library to research the condition in question, not out of fear but fascination. For she did not feel sad for the parents she never knew. She hoped that if she studied hard enough, she could prevent another child from a similar situation. Her cousins viewed her as slightly macabre to which she calmly went about her research as though she had heard not a word. While others her age ran to childish haunts, she read the biographies of famous turn of the century female nurses such as Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale. This is not to say she had few friends, quite the contrary, for she was one of the most well-loved students in school. She had an excellent imagination for the invention of new games or stories for her peers to engage in and she was noted for her concern for them even when she was quite young. Her care for and about people did not lessen as she grew older; she knew that she wanted nothing more than to be a nurse whether for a family or professionally if a family was not meant to be. She put her newly acquired skills into practice when, just after graduation from nursing school, her seventy-one-year-old grandfather suffered a stroke. He needed constant attendance for the remainder of his life; his body had succumbed to the stroke but his mind remained sharp for he praised Barbara highly. He encouraged her to never give up her dream to be employed in the medical profession.

In the spring of 1933, she met Bob Lawson and knew immediately that this was the man she would marry. Unfortunately, the Great Depression left many people unemployed or under-employed; therefore they were unable to afford to wed until the winter of 1942. She had her work to occupy her until the long awaited event wherein her dreams of family could be realized. They were striving toward that end when Bob felt the irresistible pull to tangibly honor his country. Therefore, he entered the army to become a platoon commander six weeks before Barbara sent a letter announcing the coming of their first child. Again, as before, Barbara embraced busyness, for she was accustomed to independence; she loved her husband dearly, but she did not need him to in any way shoulder all of life's financial burdens. Because of her condition, she agreed to work at a desk as an admissions nurse until she was due to deliver. The couple was not to enjoy wedded bliss, for on a rainy night in May, Barbara opened her door to meet the somber eyes of a casualty assistance officer. She knew before the words left his lips the reason for his visit; Bob's flag draped coffin would arrive in a timely manner for a memorial service and proper burial. Tragically, complications with her pregnancy caused the destruction of her desire for a baby. Barbara miscarried shortly after the news about Bob reached her. She had a strong constitution and she weathered this storm as she had all the others in her life, face set like a flint, determination spurred her on. Whenever she felt the onslaught of the intense sadness, she reminded herself that she was not alone in her anguish; many people were as she was. Since the couple never had time to start their family, when she was sent to the 4077th, she adopted her co-workers and patients as her own. She felt a special kinship with Kristine, for she could see herself in the young woman's eyes. Beneath the men's protestations, they secretly loved the hen as Hawkeye named her, for she was older than all the other staff save Potter. This entitlement she allowed not without a few jibes of her own most of them directed at pierce himself. She took him in hand immediately and almost without him knowing it, she became the mother he never had.

Brenda Cox was as different a personage as Margaret had ever seen; it was these differences she feared more than anything else about the new ladies. Her background was so dissimilar to theirs they often speculated how a woman like her had entered a place like this. She was the only child of Brandon and Jessica, a loving but strict, rather protective couple. They instilled into her the love of books, the importance of education, hard work and love of humanity. She was content therefore, to spend her childhood and teenage years with her mind traversing the vast array of knowledge or adventures that were to be had in the world of literature rather than waste time, as she put it, with people who did not share her ideals or intelligence. Her peers labeled her a bookworm, prude, no fun or various other variations thereof. Her quiet introverted nature did not lend itself to making friends with ease but the few people that she let into her life knew her to be a generous hearted person with a boundless loyalty. When in high school, boys tried to date her, for she was one of the prettier girls there, their efforts were thwarted out of trepidation of their intentions or awkwardness over her looks. She viewed herself as woefully unattractive despite her parents' constant reminders that she was certainly not. She was although not angelically beautiful, possessed a wholesome attractiveness most folks in her small hometown found very endearing. She had short very curly auburn hair that framed a small round baby face. Her full mouth and ready smile suggested she liked to laugh. Her small pert nose was dotted with a few freckles, making her look younger than her 28 years, which was not helped by the dimple in her straight chin. A rather buxom woman, she stood about 5 feet 4, slim waisted with elegant legs and petite feet. Though she was not overly muscular, she had a strength that belied her size. It was her generous heart that prompted Brenda to study nursing, and she wanted to do whatever she could to help wherever she was needed most. When she read in her local newspaper about the urgent need for Army nurses, she took herself with great haste for the local recruiting office and joined the Army, little knowing what to expect in the predominantly male organization. So it was with great irony that this sheltered personage was assigned to of all places, the 4077th. When she arrived, she tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible but she was she was descended upon by a well-intentioned surgeon whose actions merely confirmed what she dreaded. While Kristine and Barbara made friends readily, she did not. She was hostile toward Pierce especially, for Margaret had taken it upon herself to warn them to be careful when interacting with the captain; Brenda ttook this to great heights.

How ironic that new nurses arrived just in time for a lull in the fighting; the bleakness of their circumstances pressed upon all of them with almost tangible weight. The residents of mash 4077th were so restless, dejected and bored that they almost wished for patients to break up the monotony though that would result in who knew how many hours of long, arduous labor. The loneliness pressed hardest upon Hawkeye Pierce. For him, what began with the acquisition of three rather than four nurses continued on with ever increasing ferocity. His partner in "crime" BJ Hunnicutt had been sent to battalion aid, for which he was greatly relieved for it would afford him some measure of relief from the tedium of life at his usual station. The dejected Pierce could not take refuge in the still, for it had succumbed to a clumsy BJ the night before he left. The cheesy mustached doctor had dropped a precious letter from his beloved wife Peg. As he had no desire to have his jokester roommate read the letter's contents, he hastily rolled off his bunk, only to have his rather large feet shove it under the table that held the still. Scrambling underneath and not giving careful enough heed, BJ arose, letter in hand, and sent the still toppling over amid howls of protest from Hawk, for he knew that to obtain supplies to repair it might take until the end of the war, where if they ever did find the rightful owner of the afore mentioned equipment, he would be charged inflation, travel expenses and various other in sundries. Charles Emerson Winchester greeted the disaster with a rare burst of laughter, albeit with the attempt to be dignified about it. The aristocratic surgeon felt that he had finally been vindicated; his stay in that horrid place could now be eased with the gift of prolonged solitude wherein he could listen to his beloved Mozart, undisturbed by his Gin swilling tent mates. The captains would now owe their proverbial souls to either Rosie's bar or the officer's club for an extended period. And so, Charles felt that at last, he had received his balm in Gilead.

"Thank you, Hunnicutt," Charles intoned, a smug look upon his face. "I see your little prank has backfired royally."

This, however, was a very bad mistake, for Winchester had not learned it would have been prudent to maintain silence about his feelings in the presence of Hawkeye Pierce, who felt it his duty to retaliate. If he had remained silent no further eruptions might have occurred and we would not traverse this tale together.

A bored Hawkeye was a dangerous man, not to be trifled with, especially not for one Major Charles Emerson Winchester. The captain set out to prove the adage that "he who laughs first, laughs last." Early the next morning, Hawk absconded with the offender's gray and blue striped bathrobe while it's owner merrily — or otherwise - cleansed his body in the miserable excuse for a shower. His mind had vacated the confines of his surroundings to traverse the greener pastures of his new found freedom. Consequently, when he was finished, he did not see his bath attire where he usually left it. In its place was a hideous bright purple towel with a large orange stripe down the back, compliments of the Maine native who, it must be admitted, orchestrated for this towel to be the only one available to the pompous Winchester. The thoracic surgeon was forced to traverse the entire compound to the swamp clad therein.

While he looked for the afore mentioned towel, Hawkeye had accosted Klinger, swore him to secrecy concerning the events that were due to take place shortly. The Lebanese corporal gladly agreed not to tell who the perpetrator was, but he would play his own hand by the gathering of a small crowd to witness the dignified Winchester fall victim to a practical joke. However, if the audience expected the much maligned man to react, they were sorely mistaken; Winchester would not give Pierce nor anyone else the satisfaction of a reaction, the only mirth they could glean from this experience was that he had to be seen in such miserable clothes. He maintained his dignified stance in the face of such a travesty that vexed his soul. He kept his head held high, back straight, his gaze fixed ahead as he made his way through the crowd. He had the distinct impression his enemy was not far off, no doubt enjoying the havoc he had wrought. A casual observer would have seen Winchester exuding superiority and calm; but closer scrutiny would reveal that his calm exterior belied the anger within; our astute observer, if he dared to get close to the major, would notice that his face was a reddened mask of suppressed wrath. They would have noted the rapid movement of his lips in the utterance of obscenities and threats too vile for this epistle and uncharacteristic of the self proclaimed implacable surgeon. He was so overwrought he failed to notice the needed clothing affixed to the flag pole, a pair of his underwear completed the ensemble.

Kristine, Barbara, and Brenda rushed out of their tent at the raucous laughter that greeted their ears. The former two broke into uproarious laughter, while the latter pursed her lips into a thin line of disdain.

"Who was the genius that ran Major Upity's bathrobe up the flag pole!" Kristine asked between fits of mirth.

"Five hundred dollars says it was Hawkeye Pierce. It's a breath of fresh air to see that stuff shirt brought down to our level," Barbara snickered.

"I wouldn't put it past him to do something like this. I wish he'd just resign his commission and go back to whatever fraternity house he comes from and leave the medical care up to those of us who can act our age!" Nurse Brenda sniffed with contempt, her hands firmly planted on her hips. "This isn't summer camp; it's a war zone."

Brenda's soliloquy slandered Pierce without compunction, for she disliked him intensely. To her, his jokes lacked humor; she viewed him as a callow, uncouth, irreverent, profane, sarcastic imbecile not to me taken seriously.

When Charles had at last gained the safety of the swamp, he found Pierce sprawled upon his bunk, his head buried in a copy of the Crabapple Cove Currier, a look of pure innocence upon his face.

"Pierce," he thundered, "where is my robe, you juvenile!"

"Major, what makes you think I would put my "filthy" hands upon your clothing?" Pierce barely lowered the newspaper, a pained expression upon his face. "That thing is so uptight; I'm surprised it doesn't put itself on!"

"Despicable cretin! If I should be unfortunate enough to contract pneumonia because of your childish antics, the blame shall rest squarely on your miserable shoulders!" Charles gave vent to his wrath. Hawkeye shrugged indolently. He kept the newspaper lowered just enough so he could see the drama that went on in the olive green quarters. Charles ransacked the swamp, venting his revulsion for his tent mate heedless of his audience. The younger man almost gave way to his mirth at the sight of the uppity major in that horrendous towel making a vain attempt to locate his robe. At last, Charles gave up the fruitless search, dressed, then made his way outside. Why had he, a Winchester, ended up with this miserable excuse for a tent mate that dared to call himself a surgeon? He glanced up to behold his bath apparel atop the pole, flapping in the east bound breeze.

Hawk followed his nemesis outside on the pretext that he needed some fresh air. He caught sight of the look of utter mortification upon the major's face. He broke into loud laughter; Winchester wished he could have ended the chief surgeon's life by strangulation, and I daresay even the Hippocratic Oath would have spared Hawkeye were it not for the contempt that rendered him speechless.

Just then, Colonel Potter stormed up to a still guffawing Hawk wearing his army fatigues, his feet shod in white, or what should have been white running shoes; his army boots in his hand.

"Pierce, I like a good practical joke as much as the next G.I., but the next time you stuff something in my boots, you'll be under them, comprende?" Potter shouted. He held up his footwear for his audience, to reveal a gelatinous mass in the interior. Apparently, Potter was not immune to the wiles of a bored surgeon who had taken great pains to collect a mass of congealed matter from the mess tent to give it a new home in Potter's boot.

"Well, that crap just got a promotion."

"What in the name of Great Caesar's ghost were you thinking? Major Winchester's bathrobe is meant to be worn, not flown up the flag pole!" Potter had been so distracted by his own Pierce-induced woes that he'd failed to notice the new "flag" At that moment, Potter did not feel he could withstand Hawkeye's irksome behavior; he had new respect for the late Colonel Blake and wished some of his patience had been bestowed upon him. How, he wondered had Henry, a draftee with no military experience managed to run this place while he, a regular army colonel with lots of experience felt challenged by it. He had no way to know just how often the soft-spoken, unassuming man had been reprimanded by his superiors nor just how, on numerous occasions, the camp had run roughshod over him. Potter was, at the same time, vexed at the unholy urge to laugh at the spectacle of that bathrobe, which belonged to such a dignified individual as Winchester swinging merrily from the flagpole.

"Moronic boar!" Margaret directed her insult at Pierce as she passed by on her way to fulfill some menial duty. When she caught an earful of Potter's sharp reprimand, felt her mood lighten for here was a perfect scapegoat for her to vent upon. She directed a withering look Pierce's way at the sight of the new "flag" and Potter's upheld boots.

"Peppy persiflage, Major," Charles agreed with Margaret's apt description of their enemy.

But all the Prankster did was throw back his head and laugh heartily, oblivious to the insults from Margaret, Charles agreement with them, nor Potter's anger.

The colonel threw up his hands in despair, he felt as though he were with a bunch of school yard children instead of a civilized Mash unit.

At the sound of his superior officer's rebuke, the joker assumed a feigned air of subdued sorrow; his head hung in mock shame, eyes downcast.

"Sir, I thought I'd bring Charlie down to human level," was the explanation given in a contrite voice but with a merry twinkle in the blue eyes.

The person in question felt he did not need to be brought down "to human level" He made no further comment, for to do so would be cause for riotous hilarity. So he grabbed his bathrobe, turned on his heel and went back into the swamp, the door received the brunt of his vexation as it was shut not gently behind him. Potter glared at the captain who did not flinch under the stern gaze. Pierce vowed that there would be revenge against whomever he deemed necessary.

Hawkeye was the model of good behavior: he attempted to assist Charles with some of the tedious paperwork in post-op in order to make "amends" for the bathrobe incident. He even went out of his way to be as well mannered as possible to Margaret, offering to get lunch from the mess tent and generally comporting himself irreproachably. He had, to his credit, tried to quell the urge to comport himself unbecomingly with the perusal of his volleyball magazines. But magazines were no substitute for real company and so revenge came swiftly and expediently. So it was a mere 30 hours after the bathrobe incident, he cast about in his mind to seek his next practical joke victim; the lot fell to Margaret. Hot lips had been especially rough on those who under-ranked her, so Hawkeye took it upon himself to put the army brat in her place he hoped with better results than were to be had with Winchester. Benjamin Franklin Pierce, chief surgeon of a mash unit, sad to say had recorded the entire conversation of wedded bliss between Margaret and her husband Donald with a tape recorder he acquired and strategically placed under her chair. When the call had ended, the captain took the device to the pa, turned it on, and fled as fast as he could to safety.

"Hi, sweetie," Margaret's uncharacteristically soft voice could be heard throughout the entire compound. Her cold had lessened in severity though she still found it necessary to take some cold remedy with her food. So she was spared the odor of the place albeit for a time. "Oh honey, I miss you so much. OH, I wish you could take me in your loving arms; I want to feel your sweet kisses upon my lips and neck..."

As if exposure wasn't embarrassing enough, the worst was yet to befall her, for not only did the intimate words of the newlywed broadcast over the loud speaker; something of a far more embarrassing magnitude was to be heard issue forth. The major had eaten her meal too quickly prior to the phone call. The food as it often did, disagreed with her. A loud expulsion of gas erupted from the major, though she could not smell it due to the afore-mentioned cold medication. "Love muffin, oh Donald, baby, how am I supposed to get through until I can kiss your mouth you big teddy bear…" Another wave of noxious fumes poured from her. "I bought a see-through night gown and if I have to wait much longer so you can see me in it … I'll make you a very happy man… I'll lie next to you, and you can run your hands and lips over my body. What? Oh don't worry about how it is with me; I want to hear about you, darling… You stud…"

The latter was punctuated with another burst of flatulence directly into the tape recorder's microphone. Loud smooches followed this titillating dialog. Margaret then let loose with a volley of sexual discourse sure to make a hardened soldier blush. She hoped that the connection was not clear enough for Donald to hear her passing gas lest he believe he was married to a perfect swine. Margaret's only salvation was that she was alone in the office, its regular occupant was in disposed, while Potter was in the operating room.

It was not often that one of the majors was the victim of a practical joke; to have this occurrence happen twice was almost worth being in the army. Klinger ducked into his quarters and convulsed with laughter; though he tried to use some restraint, lest someone overhear him. Barbara and Kristine took to their beds and covered their faces with their pillows to muffle the screams of embarrassed laughter for the flatulence, not the conversation that issued forth.

"Oh no! He didn't!" Kristine gasped as soon as her laughter subsided enough for her to talk. "OK, it's one thing to record her … uh … breaking wind, but that kind of talk should be kept exclusively between husband and wife. If only he could just have played the gassy episodes, that would have been enough. The love talk was taking it a bit too far"

"Remember, you can't just set up a part of a tape recording and turn it on without having to be there," Barbara reminded her tent mate, having regained her own composure. "If I could get my hands on Captain Pierce, he, though he's a grown man, would find himself on a one way trip over my knee, and I'd spank him until my hand hurt. Then I'd keep right on spanking him for making it hurt."

Brenda, true to character, greeted the incident with a furtherance of her hatred for him; how could any doctor comport himself this way, she fumed to herself. Radar had turned so red that anyone who saw him would have feared he would perish from heart failure; the poor little guy buried his beet red face in his beloved brown teddy bear and wished fervently that he had anything to extricate him from the one sided conversation he was forced to hear. He was so desolate of spirit that he'd have gladly submitted to the camp's worst enemy, Major Frank Burns orders if that major had appeared by some horrific feat of magic.

Charles had begun to revel in the silence of the empty swamp to listen undisturbed to his classical records. He abruptly deactivated his phonograph and wrung his hands.

"Pierce, why don't you do the entire camp a favor and act your age for once. Never in all my days have I seen a man as in need of maturation as you. It's a wonder they allow you to practice medicine, you over-grown adolescent!" he muttered to himself; vexed at allowing the captain to interrupt his solitude.

The incident had, however, penetrated his less than compassionate personage and he felt something that, for lack of a better word, could be called compassion for Margaret's sake arise in his breast.

Ten minutes after the embarrassing broadcast played out, Charles and Margaret took themselves to Potter's office to rectify the situation; dignity thrown to the winds as they ran. Charles was still under the influence of his earlier influx of compassion and so he accompanied the other major but not without selfish motives. He wanted doctor Pierce punished for the not forgotten bathrobe incident.

Certain of the stricter sort, Margaret among them, felt that the senior officer was too lenient on the chief surgeon. The head nurse would have been in her element to have Pierce dispatched to Leavenworth, sent home with a dishonorable discharge; any number of consequences would suit her. Her mind conjured up vast amounts of images of just how his little town would receive him upon his return. Margaret could have endured the travesty with more stoicism had the nature of the recording not been so personal; one in which she had shown a lot of unbridled sexuality, publicly uncharacteristic of the hard-nosed major. In the matter of the gas expulsion, that could not be repeated; she would requisition for any medication and that it be brought to her personally. Margaret was brought back to planet earth by the realization that at least it was not Blake who ran this outfit; if it were, she was certain Pierce would have bullied the easy-going Lieutenant Colonel into making her feel as though she were in the wrong; then he'd get a medal for it.

"Come in," the gruff voice called from within at the loud knock.

Potter knew that, lest he lose two of his staff, he would have to take serious action against Hawkeye. The public broadcast of someone's private conversation was going too far. But he felt that the administration of discipline for such a childish crime to an adult was not in his job description. To the relief of the maligned pair, Father Mulcahy was in residence in the office to maintain some semblance of calm and order. It had to be candidly admitted that order and Pierce did not go together, never had and probably never would.

"This insubordinate behavior cannot be tolerated. Pierce is a disgrace to the US army, and his conduct is reprehensible." Charles gave vent to his vexation as soon as the majors were waved into chairs opposite the colonel's desk. Charles did not take the offered seat but stood against the wall beside Margaret's chair. He did not consider pretenses of much importance at this precise juncture;. he wrung his hands, a sure sign of perturbation.

"Major Winchester is right," Margaret agreed between clenched teeth. "His behavior over the last while is insufferable, sir," Margaret's voice, not soft at the best of times, rose in volume until it reached a crescendo that made the occupants feel as though they had hit against a wall of sound.

"He has made our lives a hell that-that-and you must do something!"

She finished speaking her face red with anger and the effort it took not to explode. She trembled with the effort of keeping it in check.

Colonel Potter furrowed his brow, lost in his own private thoughts as he assessed the situation. He understood that Pierce was lonely, bored, and uneasy, a condition made worse by the absence of BJ; but something had to be done. He felt for sure that someone would report Dr. Pierce sooner rather than later; he could not afford to lose his chief surgeon over something so trivial as a practical joke. The quandary in Potter's mind was halted by the unexpected suggestion by the good Father Mulcahy that Hawkeye accompany him to the orphanage. This would alleviate the tension while giving the doctor a much needed diversion from his current place of residence. Sherman was immensely relieved that the issue had been wrested from his hands for the administration of discipline to someone of Hawkeye's age made him feel like he was punishing a recalcitrant child. Charles made no attempt to hide his relief at the prospect of peace from his tormentor while Margaret, if she had allowed herself, would have danced right there in the office.

"Radar! Call Pierce and tell him to come here pronto!" Potter commanded.

"I was already on my way to do that, sir." The efficient little guy had, in fact, his hand upon the radio. "Captain Pierce, report to Colonel Potter's office immediately."

The black haired surgeon trudged into the outer office, a scowl replacing his trademark indolent grin, for he suspected that even he had gone too far this time.

"Debaucherous letcher!" Margaret hissed, as she crossed the surgeon's path on her way to retrieve a pen that Potter requested from Radar's desk.

Hawk stopped, raised his head defiantly, and locked eyes with her in a stare that seemed to look right through a person.

"The one thing you and Chuckles major in is being so uptight that if you farted, it would come out a diamond!" Hawk quipped without missing a beat.

"Savage!"" OH to have rid of him, to witness this delinquent be ruthlessly hauled off to a work camp, but all she could do was turn upon her heel and return to the office. The assurance of peace could only be had with Potter's verdict. The lady really could not wait to have peace, if not forever then as long as she could possibly get away with. When Hawkeye appeared in the open doorway, Potter waved him into a chair, which he took and glanced at the faces around him. Margaret shifted in her seat, her whole demeanor resembled that of an angered feline, Hawk noted with a hint of amusement. He stifled laughter with a fit of coughing as the image of Margaret filled with anger until she exploded entered his mind,

"Pierce," Potter began, "I know you're bored, but your antics are getting on everybody's last nerve. You have got to find something more constructive to do with your spare time before someone puts you on report and you find yourself on a one way ride to Leavenworth."

"Send him there, now!" Margaret muttered under her breath.

"Major? Do you have something to say?" Potter's eyes bore into Houlihan; she slumped low in her chair, embarrassed that her outburst had been overheard.

As much as he wished he could, Hawkeye could not revel in the major's discomfort for long, for he felt the undeniable pangs of guilt begin to steal into his soul. Why did he play the whole conversation over the PA? Why didn't he simply cue up the recorder to only broadcast her passing gas? The public airing of her flatulence alone should have been enough, but he had to be childish and expose a private conversation between a woman and her husband.

"Pierce, I have just the antidote for your behavior. You're going to accompany Padre to the orphanage." Potter's stern voice cut into his misery. The raven haired rogue was undeniably glad to accompany the priest; he would have consented to almost any diversion to alleviate his depression that the latest circumstances had brought on. He had never been to the good clergyman's beloved orphanage before; he had often wondered why the soft spoken priest found the place so inviting. Hawkeye liked children; in rare moments when he allowed himself to reflect upon his life, he often thought it would be a delight to have his own family. He would gaze into the face of a young one who would bear the resemblance of himself and the one he'd wed; a blank slate upon which their shared values could be printed. These familial reflections tended to befall him when he was afflicted by insomnia, those times when his mind would take flight into areas he did not or could not acknowledge. Sadly, they were all too quickly eclipsed by self deprecation or doubts that he would ever find solace in love, security in marriage, never mind the birth of offspring. He lay this squarely at the feet of Carlye.

He had loved her with every fiber of his soul, swore it in the form of a marriage proposal to which she refused due to his dedication to his job. She, of all people should have understood for she herself was in all truth, as busy as himself. His heart was rent to cureless ruin beneath her feet. If she had accepted, reader, we would not have the Hawkeye, the man shaped by his pain to traverse this adventure with; but the event had transpired as has been noted in the work that has inspired this testament you now read. When he was drafted, he knew he would be surrounded by men who would view him as weak or cowardly if he were not an object for feminine appeal. He solved the difficulty with quick wit, racy novels and the acquisition of his beloved volleyball magazines. When Carlye unexpectedly came to the 4077th, for reasons known only to himself, he tried to renew a relationship with her with the same results that greeted his first attempt in Boston. His heart thus rent asunder again, he vowed to never to commit to another as long as he lived. BJ was determined to drag the truth from his lips when he had noticed the dejection upon Hawkeye's usually happy countenance. He was as previously mentioned endowed with lightning quick mind with which he concocted a tale that he had lived with Carlye for a year and a half before he became a full fledged doctor. Despite of – or perhaps because of – his avid skirt chasing, the nurses did not take his flirtatiousness seriously. Those that knew him the longest ignored it while the newer nurses viewed him as either comic relief or someone to be derided for trying too hard. Those dates that he did acquire were fraught with such difficulty as to make one wonder why he even bothered. When a romantic meal was arranged, it was usually interrupted by the call to duty for Hawkeye. The nurse would scramble up her romantic ideals demolished and leave without heed to the protestations of the equally irate doctor. Despite – or perhaps because of – him, the date would never again be reestablished, for the woman would not so much as speak to him thereafter before she was reassigned. When a date was not interrupted, his loquacious nature was his undoing. His kisses were the finest thing about the man, she would tell her comrades afterword, that is if he engaged in the kissing. But the lady would be subject to such a string of unromantic verbiage that the women invariably could not tolerate this incessant chatter, so they would make excuses to extract themselves from his presence, some without considerations to his feelings. Many a night found the captain alone, thrust into the depths of despair and confusion. Why did women accompany him willingly enough then become incensed over interruptions or his character flaws never to return? The past few weeks had vexed him especially sore as no one had consented to even dinner with him; Potter had not granted his repeated requests to go on leave, and so despair clung to him like a mantle.

"And, Pierce, Please do comport yourself in a manner becoming of a physician and an officer while you're embarking on this mission of mercy. After all, you have to prove you can be trusted around the children." Charles drawled with a sniff. "Ha ha, at last I shall be free from this cretin's childish exploits. I shall enjoy every minute of peace and solitude allowed me during my tent mates' absence. I can peacefully indulge myself in the gentle notes of Mozart's Quintet Of Clarinets And Strings without the interruption of two obnoxious adult delinquents who have nothing better to do than consume copious amounts of moonshine gin and transform their half of the tent into a den of clutter and filth!"

"Enjoy it, Charlie, because when Beej and I get back, we're going to try something new. We're going to transform your half of the tent into a 'den of clutter and filth'." Hawk retorted with a half smile curling his lips.

"One more thing, Pierce," Potter interrupted this conversation before it disintegrated further. "Wear your captain's bars and medical caduceus for once!"

"They need proof of my lock up in this place?"

"Dismissed!" Potter said in such a way that it squelched even Hawkeye.

Hawk churlishly returned to the swamp, grabbed the medical symbols and donned them with such an aggrieved air as to make anyone think the pacifist had been asked to fight at the front.

Uncharacteristic of his medical conscientiousness, Hawk had been so caught up in his brewding; he failed to get a medical kit ready; however he was pleasantly surprised when Nurse Brenda, sent by Colonel Potter, ran up to the jeep Radar had procured, staggering under the weight of the over filled black bag.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," the surgeon greeted cheerily with his trademark flirtatious wiggle of the eyebrows and a huge grin that most people felt could melt stone

Hawkeye was hopeful that his lot was to be improved now at the sight of her approach. He had attempted to ask her out on numerous occasions, but his efforts had been thwarted by her vehement disinterest in the brash young doctor, much to the amazement of the other new ladies who, at first, could not imagine why Brenda did not snap up the eligible bachelor since he practically fell over himself to get her attention. Consequently, they came to realize Brenda's unwillingness to offer Pierce even the smallest gesture of friendship, and they never did understand why he did not give up and seek solace elsewhere at her continuous refusals to so much as talk to him. They did not know that Brenda's father had warned her during World War Two just how repugnant men in the army were apt to be: how they comported themselves around women and not to associate with them if at all possible. So it was, with great fear in her breast that she made the journey to Korea.

Brenda, acting under duress, was outwardly civil toward him as Pierce's superior army status dictated. She had the distinct impression that if she once consented to even a casual date, he would behave in an unbecoming fashion. She could not imagine why he wanted to ask her out for any other reason than to do her personal harm. But, she could not deny that he was very popular around the unit, and it baffled her as to the reason thereof, unless most of them were as perverse as the self proclaimed Don Juan. After all, she conceded, these were not ordinary circumstances, humanity is in need of some diversion and Pierce was a morale booster if nothing else. As a result of her distaste for him, she tried to avoid anyone closely associated with him.

Some of the personnel accused her of being as haughty as Charles Emerson Winchester the third, one of the few veteran people in camp that she both liked and trusted. While Brenda did not care for his egotistical behavior, at least he didn't attempt to flirt outrageously every time she so much as walked past him. She conceded that Pierce's medical prowess and knowledge were unquestionable as was his work ethic: however, if he paid as much attention to work as he did to womanizing, he could have improved to even greater heights of scholastic and medical achievements.

"Thanks," the handsome physician smiled at the young lady before him who handed over the medical kit. "Holy cow, how did you carry this around without a fork lift?" he joked, his hands ill prepared for the weight of the bag, therefore causing the afore mentioned item to fall into his lap.

"At least you can't grab anyone if you have this," the woman snorted frostily.

"Hey, I don't expect to be gone long. What you say when I get back, around 2100, we meet in the officer's club. I'll teach you the lindy, you'd be better at it than me."? He made this offer with his most winning smile; his lovely blue eyes sparkled most alluringly. Brenda, who mistook his attention as nothing more than lecherous, allowed her self control to give way; her eyes smoldered with the hot rage that burned within her.

All the tension she had been under since her arrival spurred her on; she would rid herself of him once and for all. She would rather be imprisoned than spend even a second with him. She looked him directly in the eyes; her own filled with animal-like rage.

"The officer's club!" she spat the words at him as if that location was a place of the vilest iniquity. "I wouldn't go anywhere with a selfish, self pitying, vicious tongued, cynical excuse for a human like you! And furthermore, do this entire camp a huge favor! Get captured by the North Koreans! In fact, I'd love nothing better than to hand you over to them myself!" Stunned silence followed her explosion. She held her body stiff so he would not have the satisfaction of seeing her tremble as she willed herself to walk away with as much grace and poise as she could possibly muster. Her superiors could do what they liked to her, it would be preferable to an environment that he was part of. If she had stayed longer, she might have caught the look of confused hurt in Hawkeye's blue eyes, which he tried to hide with a hastily pasted on smile.

Father Mulcahy, however, caught sight of the forlorn look and downcast eyes.

"Don't take it so hard, my son; it's probably not meant to be between you and Brenda." He said this to try to assuage the sad loneliness that had descended upon the doctor. Padre felt that if Pierce did not throw himself at every woman that crossed his path that he would do better; however, wild horses could not drag the truth from his lips even if it meant the secret would lay him in his stone cold tomb.

Benjamin Franklin Pierce, unused to being so undeniably rejected, mutely shoved the pedal into the floor, making the dust fly as they pealed out of the motor pool!

"Hawkeye, please!" the priest protested, "I'd like us to get there in one piece … unless you'd rather treat my neck for whiplash right here in this jeep."

Hawkeye did not lessen his fierce pressure upon the gas pedal until they were a good piece down the rutted pot-hole strewn road. The sun had broken through the clouds, the occupants felt somewhat cheered, bathed in its rosy warm glow. They rode along in silence for a while, each lost in their own misery or thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts, father, you're awfully quiet today," the blue eyed rogue broke the silence as he'd noticed the reflective look on his friend's countenance. Pierce was a man who liked to talk, did so incessantly and did not want to travel the entire 12 miles in silence. He thought of singing but his heart was not in it after such an insult as he'd received that day. Padre was grateful that the captain did not take up his less than desirable excuse for musical vocalizations for he did not have the strength to endure the audio assault. He always feared it – the singing not comments thereupon would attract either wild animals or enemy soldiers.

"Just thinking about how different my life has turned out," Padre answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" The captain arched his eyebrows in surprise. He was vexed with the realization that he had never given much consideration to the young priest, his life now nor what it had been nor for that matter, what it would entail in the future.

"When I take food or medical supplies to the orphanage, it always makes me feel that I am needed. Although it always gives me joy to help them. But when I return, I often question how much help I really am here; after all, there isn't much a chaplain could do in a hospital that rushes its patients through as if they were on an assembly line. Er … no offence meant, Hawkeye."

The young clergyman felt flustered; he did not want to add to the misery this day had already wrought upon the doctor.

"None taken, Father." The meatball surgeon himself had often regretted that he couldn't do more for his patients than patch the myriad of lacerations inflicted upon them by the war, ship them off to another hospital and prepare for more disembodied surgery never to learn of their progress nor whether any of them returned home. Seeing his driver roll his eyes in a combination of confused curiosity, the godly man continued. "Let me start from the beginning. I'd just been ordained before I was drafted and, though I know my life is in the hands of the Almighty, I'd always thought I'd minister in a small parish in Philadelphia, not here. What good or use would I be in a Mash unit—"

"I think your life is in the hands of the government," The irreverent captain quipped. "But we need you every day." Hawk finished on a gentler note.

"I want to do more than administer last rights or conduct poorly attended services." Mulcahy went on, ignoring the sarcastic jibe. "You medical staff have patients to care for; you can bolster each other up because you face things together, and you can relate to each other. Sometimes, and I'm ashamed to admit this; I almost envy you medical personnel. I am the only priest in this unit … and let's face it," He lowered his voice as he tried to convey his point without offending his audience. Like the ideology that bothered Brenda, the reputation of mash camps had preceded his arrival and this one, newly set up by Colonel Blake, had to be as bad if not worse than he'd feared. "This isn't a place conducive to spiritual growth. I prepare Sunday sermons to have only a few people attend, lead Bingo games, and listen to confessions. I wanted to do something that really mattered in a tangible way, so I became involved with the orphanage. I knew that the lord's work could be done in many ways, and I wanted to be in His service as badly as you wanted medical practice."

"You envy us?" If the priest had confessed to a need to shoot people, it would have produced less astonishment in the incredulous Hawk. He knew Padre often succumbed to feeling useless but envy? Who would envy being knee deep in blood especially when that blood issued forth from people whose only worry should have been who they were taking out for a date or how best to keep little Johnny out of the cleaners.

Padre smiled ruefully at the blunt forthrightness of his travel companion.

"I know it's against Scripture, my son, but I sometimes do; I'm human with the same issues as anyone else. Just because I believe in God, doesn't mean I don't struggle, it just means that I have help in my struggle.

Hawkeye found that admission of frailty a strange comfort. When on rare occasions when spiritual matters entered his mind, - clouded by gin or clear - he'd always reckoned that clergymen or religious people in general used God the same way he did the alcohol; it numbed the mind or extricated them from the misery of reality. If he did entertain the meanderings of his mind into the spiritual, his final consensus was always the same: that there was a list of do's and don'ts but if that helped bring security into the person's life, who was he to argue. However, he had to concede that the priest was one of the guys for all that; he played poker, even in the matter of drink he practiced restraint without judgment upon those who imbibed heavily.

"How did you hear that the orphanage needed help?" Hawk inquired, his interest piqued.

"It was the one thing the army did right. They knew I didn't have as many duties to fill as you all do, and that meant I had a lot more time on my hands. Let me backtrack a little and explain first how the orphanage was started and why it is called 'Sister Teresa's orphanage'. The war made orphans out of a lot of kids. Many more children were born as a result of rape and were unwanted, not to mention the shame these women face. In this culture, if a woman becomes pregnant out of wedlock, it is her fault no matter what the circumstances are. I digress though. Very often, a soldier would break in to a home, shoot the husband or at the very least have him taken prisoner. This of course left many women without their husbands, and since the police were afraid to take action, rape went mostly unnoticed. If the children weren't a result of rape, many soldiers became lonely, took advantage of or fell in love with a lady and babies were born at rampant proportions. This plight caught the attention of the nuns, especially those at the church of Saint Anne, and they decided to take action. Sister Teresa contacted the government who told her there was a shell of a children's home, but that it had fallen into ruin. Even in the best of places, homes for children are run by charity, and resources are stretched to the limit. Unfortunately, in poor countries, it's even worse. She obtained permission to take over, and that was why it is named after her. She had a good deal of trouble repairing and expanding the quarters to handle the increased influx of children; and since she knew both English and Korean, she had no trouble convincing Korean and later some American nuns to help run it. When the army asked me to assist Sister Teresa, I'd been newly established in the Mash unit, I figured you could pull some strings to get medical supplies out there-"

The clergyman lowered his head, embarrassed to admit such Klinger-like ideas. Hawkeye had spent so much time kvetching about the war, patching soldiers, or engaging in juvenile pranks to take much consideration for the impact the war had on the smallest members of society. Hawkeye had to smile at the admission of the young priest's reliance upon the ability of the medical staff to commandeer supplies for the orphanage. This admission confirmed that Father Mulcahy was definitely not a typical priest, from the little Hawkeye knew about religious people.

It had been about 20 minutes since the pair pulled out of the motor pool. They had been so lost in their conversation that when a fork in the road presented itself to them, it went unnoticed by Padre who was sat that moment mentally traversing various paths known only to himself.

"Which way, father?"

"Huh? Oh take the right turn," Padre answered, his reflections fallen into cureless ruin.

The old place came into view about a minute thereafter clearly visible even through the fog which had reasserted itself. Stenciled with block letters in both English and Korean was "Sister Teresa's orphanage." The two exited the jeep, glad to be free of their uncomfortable conveyance. The Maine native cast his eye about, taking in the clean but dilapidated grounds and building upon it. He took in the roof which looked as though at any minute it would fall down upon the occupants inside, the paint that had peeled and now clung to the building in strips. It was as I have mentioned, clean if so mild a word can be used to describe the pitch of purity it had been scrubbed into. As he followed the padre, he wondered somewhat apprehensively, just what role he could possibly play here, a place totally out of his league. Was this only a small fraction of how Mulcahy felt daily, he wondered. The exterior was very clean as was the yard around it. There were even some flowers beside the walkway that made their brave appearance, blooming brightly as if to shake a defiant fist in the face of the war. The front door looked quite worn, though an attempt had been made to distract the eye with a multi-colored mat stretched in front of it. He noticed a window in an upstairs room that had been broken and now was boarded shut. The dilapidation made Hawk better understand why Padre gave of himself so much to this place. Father Mulcahy knocked, turned the knob, and the door opened to reveal a spacious clean entrance with a desk in one corner and some pictures obviously drawn by some of the smaller children on the peeling walls.

"May I help you?" The lady behind the desk inquired without looking up from the paperwork she sorted and filed. She was tall and a bit plump with graying hair coiffed into a tight bun with pins thrust aggressively through it to hold it in place. She had a no nonsense look upon her angular face which reminded Hawkeye of Major Houlihan. She had on a nurse's uniform which did nothing to hide her round figure. Her glasses slid down her nose at that precise moment as they were in the habit of doing.

"Yes, Stella, I'm here to see Sister Teresa. This is Doctor Pierce; I brought him along to attend to any medical needs that arise," Instantly, Stella's demeanor changed, her whole face thawed into a summery warmth at the sight of Mulcahy.

"Certainly, gentlemen, come with me,"

The two men followed the lady into another room, one filled with children and nursing staff. A matronly woman arose from the floor where she had been playing with a little boy.

W

"Ah, Father, how nice to see you again," greeted the lady in slightly accented English. I see you've brought some help."

"Yes, this is Hawk-er, I mean Doctor Pierce; he's here to see any sick children you have. Doctor Pierce, this is Sister Teresa."

Hawk?" questioned Sister Teresa, somewhat apprehensively.

"Oh, it's from my father's favorite and only book he ever read, the last of the Mohicans, so he gave me the nickname, Hawkeye. Please feel free to call me by it; I'm not much for this "Doctor Pierce" stuff anyway." The tall captain explained, a good natured smile upon his handsome face, which put the lady quite at ease.

The captain surveyed his surroundings curiously. The room was not large, but it was clean, well lit and had pictures of scenery and animals on the walls. The children, although not richly dressed, were themselves clean and well cared for, and as children often do, they generally appeared happy despite their adverse circumstances. They rushed up to the men with abandon and embraced them, curious excitement all over their faces at the sight of the tall dark haired stranger. Foreigners they were accustomed too but this picture of contrasts was far from the norm. As children are wont to do, they stared at him in open mouthed fascination until Sister Teresa told them to stop.

"No problem, Sister," Hawk addressed her with a smile that let her know he was not offended by the reaction. He twisted his facial features into such contortions at the children to cause them much mirth that Teresa feared permanent disfiguration, but she had to laugh lightly despite this.

The padre cheerily greeted the little ones and received squeals of delight, for the gentle priest was a pillar in their midst, a wealth of comfort whom they loved dearly. The regular staff greeted the chaplain with loving respect for they shared the children's view of him; they welcomed the doctor with the same vigor that had been extended to the good priest, for any friend of Padre was a worthy friend of theirs.

"I'm so glad you could come today with the supplies. We have children who need medical care," Teresa addressed her comment to Padre after the initial excitement had subsided and some semblance of calm descended upon the orphanage. "Could your friend see them, please if it isn't too much trouble for him - if he stops being a bear long enough."

"A bear?" The clergyman looked inquisitively at Teresa.

He had been so busy he had failed to hear the noise of the captain's low growls.

"Yes," she giggled softly then broke into loud laughter. Hawkeye had not left his own childhood far enough behind him to resist the chance to comport himself in such a manner that would have made dignified Charles throw up his hands in holy horror. He was on the floor with the smaller children growling like a friendly bear, hardly the picture of a professional. They in turn tussled him with complete abandon as though they had known him all their lives.

"Grrr! I'm Ben the Bear, and I love to eat. Grrr! Dinner." Hawkeye snatched a pillow in his hands as a real bear would an object he intends to eat. "Numm numm numm numm numm!" He pretended to devour the fluffy form, causing raucous laughter to ring from the children some of whom could not understand one word of his play.

"It's all jocularity," the priest, who was unused to seeing Pierce around anyone besides the staff at the 4077th, quipped as he cast his eyes in the nun's direction, more to say something than to just stand there agape.

Realizing "Ben the Bear" would have duties to attend to besides horse play, Sister Teresa told the children in Korean that the friendly bear needs a bear hug from one little girl and one little boy before he could go and be friendly to the sick children in the other room. Catching onto the little game, Pierce gathered the boy and girl who were standing closest to him and squeezed them in a group hug; then the raven haired "bear" reluctantly disentangled himself from the laughing children, recoiling on all fours and rising to his feet.

"I hope you don't mind my putting a stop to your fun, but I do need you to come see our sick ones."

"Not at all, glad to help." The New Englander was grateful to do anything within his power to assist the children and the staff who attended them.

"Hawkeye, I'm going to make my rounds too … love on these children and tell them a few bible stories."

"I'll take him through to see the ill children; Tie Li will translate for you." Sister Teresa obviously had everything in hand.

The two men agreed with this proposal, and Hawk followed the matron to another room, this one larger than the other but set up as a make shift hospital. It was there that he set eyes on a living wonder that made his knees knock together. He considered himself to be an expert in beautiful women, but the young Korean girl that bent over a child's bed was a sight to behold. She had long black hair which was braided, and this thick plait ran down her back. Her dark eyes shone with an all too rarely seen compassion for the child she bent over, and her face was utterly astounding. She had a clear complexion, smooth enough to make any man swoon. She looked as delicate as a china doll with a waist so tiny, the dumb struck doctor thought he could span it with his two hands with room to spare; and it would have thrilled him to no end to try. Dry-mouthed, he cast his azure eyes upon her left hand to see if a sparkling band of gold betokened her marital status; unfortunately, he could not see from where he stood if his findings would dash his hopes. He was so harrowed up in his mind as to how to speak with her that it did not occur to him that she might not know a word of English. This angel whose name was Cho glanced up and saw Sister Teresa with the good doctor in tow. She greeted Teresa with the voice of an angel, smiled politely at Hawkeye but not one word could the raven haired rogue understand. Though he would not talk the nurse's ear off as he did with many an English speaking lady, he yearned to say something to her. But the discomfort of the language barrier proved to be too much for the physician, not helped at all by his anger at himself for his silence in the presence of not one, but two women. He felt he could have tried to speak; however, reader, our self proclaimed expert in attraction of females was reduced to the mute misery of an awkward school boy whose only hope was for rescue. Teresa rectified the situation by sending the beauty into another room to attend to Joo-chang, who, in boyish fashion, was gleefully – for him - tormenting his little friend Hea in defiance of the meaning of his name, Praise the Lord. Hea's wails attested to Joo-chang's less than saintly activity. Hawkeye felt immense relief for his lot was not to be improved here either so far as his second "career" was concerned.

"I'll stay with you," Sister Teresa informed the surgeon when Cho had gone out. "Your first patient has a cough, and we want to rule out bronchitis."

Hawkeye leaned over the distraught little boy in the bed, speaking soothingly to him while the matron translated. As soon as the cold stethoscope touched his warm skin, the boy glared up at the ebony haired young man but this was all the protestation he had the strength to make.

"Ah looks like only a bad cold, he won't have to take anything other than cough syrup." was the diagnosis from the surgeon. The patient sighed with relief for he detested the taking of pills vehemently. Cough syrup was, in his estimation, akin to soil which it must be candidly admitted, he had sampled when he felt mischievous; but it was preferable to that wretched sentence, the taking of pills. This was due in no small part to the delectable rewards that were to be his to help wash down the vile taste of the cough medication for the staff felt the occasional sweet treat was permissible when it could be obtained.

The next patient was a girl who appeared to be about 13 or so. She lay upon her bed, her face taught with pain as she clutched her lower abdomen and groaned softly. The nun approached her bedside, talking softly as a mother would and gently pulled back the blanket. The doctor then approached the poor child and noticed blood upon her bedding right around her reproductive area. The girl saw the strange white man standing beside her, turned her back to him and curled up into the fetal position, her face aflame with embarrassment. The nun laid a gentle hand upon the frightened girl and assured her in Korean that the man was a doctor and needed to look at her, to which she agreed to out of necessity not because she wanted too. Just then, another cramp seized her, and this one proved too much to bear, causing her to moan softly.

Hawkeye froze; anger began to churn within him, its hot tentacles beginning to knife his stomach. The conversation from the jeep ride in raced through his mind with the intensity of a gunshot. "Teresa, nobody's … She hasn't …" Hawkeye hissed, from between clenched teeth. He might not have been possessed of the most diverse knowledge of cultures but he knew that Asian women tended to be stoic in times of pain or crisis, so he had to allow his suspicions and medical knowledge to work in tandem since he noticed the crimson stain also spotted her night gown.

"She hasn't been violated by a man or one of the older boys here?" His right hand balled into a fist which he would have gladly used upon the perpetrator if he could have routed him out of whatever hole he hid himself in, ready to pounce again.

"Oh no, doctor, she hasn't been away from the orphanage for quite a while, and when she or any other young girl would be in the company of the older boys, someone is always watching to make sure nothing happens."

"So there's no way she could have been …"

Hawk felt relief sweep over him. His hand ceased his trembling. If the child hadn't been raped, then there could only be one other reason he could think of at the moment for the bloodied garments and linens. "Teresa, do you know if she has started her cycle yet?" he asked, his medical knowledge continuing to kick in.

"No," the orphanage founder answered doubtfully, never having seen the spots on the child's bed clothes or sheets before. "I don't believe she has."

"I think that's the problem then," the medical practitioner did his best to keep his voice even for he wanted to convey to these people that he was a professional physician if nothing else. "Tell her that this is normal and that some people have these terrible cramps when they first start while others don't at all. My older sister had really bad pain from what I can remember. I was very young, only about 8, so I didn't know why she was hurting so badly. Anyway, all this young lady will need is some painkillers." " He gently laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder as the matronly lady translated his diagnosis.

A sad, far away look crossed Hawk's face at the mention of his family, and it did not go unnoticed by the kindly care taker.

"What is wrong?" she asked, concern showing in her dark brown eyes.

"Ma and Loraine…" Hawk faltered for the right words, for he did not wish to have this gentle nun's question go unanswered, while not being desirous of pity if he told too much. "They both died. Loraine, my sister … had diabetes since she was 10 or so … and Dad, who has been my town's doctor for as long as I can remember, treated her as best as he could. He flew to Boston where a renowned physician was giving a lecture on new treatments for her condition. Insulin was very effective for 4 years and we figured she would live a normal long life. She caught a cold which rapidly worsened. Dad suspected pneumonia and rushed her to Portland. By then, it was too late and … since she was already very weak, she died in ma's arms … at least that was what I was told later. I was only 9 then … too young to understand all that went with death, but old enough to know about terrible loss. Ma was so grief stricken she didn't care about her health, and her will to live diminished. She got cancer and died a year later at Portland General Hospital. In my child's mind, I thought that there was some kind of vampire, like in old horror novels, who fed on the patients … Dracula's very own soda fountain. Then when I became a teenager, I believed they didn't try hard enough to save Ma; and I vowed then and there to go into medicine so no kid would have to lose family as I did."

Pierce finished his story, wondering what had prevailed upon him to tell a stranger the tragedy that had befallen his family. The silence in that part of the room was broken only by the older lady who translated this sad tale to the teen. Teresa used her free hand to give Hawk's shoulder a gentle squeeze she hoped conveyed comfort to the young man. The girl murmured almost inaudibly. The olive skinned doctor looked questioningly at the nun.

"She says 'The loss of your mother and sister saddens my heart';" Teresa translated the girl's sentiment." The doctor hoped that in some way, her pain was eased by what he had undergone in his own life. She greatfully swallowed the pills he administered and smiled warmly at the doctor for, despite the language barrier, they shared a bond, one formed of common pain and understanding.

Suddenly, a child's shrill scream rent the stillness.

"It's Kwan!"