Disclaimer: M*A*S*H and all its related characters are not my property.
Jo, however, is a figment of my imagination, and therefore is mine.
This is my first MASH fic, and my first piece of fan fiction in eons. I
would appreciate feedback (constructive and complementary), but please be
gentle.
************************************************************************
Jo tucked her last t-shirt into her footlocker. She looked around her at the tent filled with cots and footlockers identical to hers. There were clothes strewn around, and pictures on bedside crates. Right now it was empty, except for her, but she knew at night time it would be filled with other nurses. Jo wondered what it would be like to share a room with so many people.
In the distance, Jo could hear the sound of chopper blades in the distance. Hastily, she put her pictures from home on the crate next to her bed. She struggled to remember which of the buildings contained the O.R. They all looked the same to her. But when she opened the door she realized she only had to do was follow the crowd of people.
As she approached the jeeps carrying the wounded soldiers from the landing pad, a major barked at her, "Lieutenant - you help out with triage!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't know what to tell you about it. Victoria, there was blood everywhere. I saw things I don't even remember reading about in school. It was all I could do to just keep breathing. I thought I was going to be sick. I can't get those images out of my mind. If I pause to think before I go to sleep, all I can see are the mangled bodies of boys younger than me. I guess I'm lucky then, because right now we work so hard during the day that I hardly remember getting into bed, let alone those moments of silence before I fall asleep. Not that there is much silence here. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo lay on her cot, with the blankets strewn on the floor. The air in the tent was unusually warm and so was the air outside. She could hear the even breathing of the woman in the bed next to hers, and the gentle snoring of the woman at the other end of the room. From the other end of the compound she could hear the voices of officers in their club. Their words were slurred, so she couldn't make out the conversation, but some of them were singing. Somewhere there was a record playing. Jo sighed and rolled onto her side, missing the quiet of her room at home. The day had been long, and Jo couldn't remember for certain if she had eaten lunch. She didn't remember dinner, but the persistent heartburn was reminder enough. She closed her eyes trying to push away the images that fought their way onto the screen of her mind. So long as she was conscious she could fight the impulse to remember what had happened. Finally her eyelids began to droop. She was at home, lying peacefully in her comfortable bed. It was early still, but she had been woken up by a lawnmower outside. She groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but the lawnmower only got louder. She got out of bed and peeked out her bedroom window. The lawnmower was moving closer. A young man, boy really, was pushing it. He had blond curls, and beautifully tanned skin, but there was something not quite right. Jo squinted, not sure if she was really seeing correctly. There was blood on his shirt. She started to call out to him, but he turned away. From behind Jo could tell something was wrong. The back of his head was missing. Jo's eyes snapped open. She was lying on her cot. There was no lawnmower, there was no boy missing half his head, at least not here. Jo stood up and pulled on her clothes. There was no point in lying there trying not to sleep. Quietly she left the room of sleeping nurses and empty cots and walked over to the Officers' Club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. We have been busy, because the fighting has moved closer to us. I don't know how much to tell you because I can't bear to think that you might have to carry these images with you too. I know that you believe you are grown up, but you are still my baby sister, even if it is only by one year. I still have some responsibilities as your big sister.
I am still getting to know the people here. Of course it is easiest to get to know the nurses since we're living in such close quarters. Sometimes it's like having so many sisters I don't know what to do with myself. They're friendly enough, and usually we share the things we have. Our head nurse is all right too. She is Real Army, and she likes to go by army rules and regulations. Some of the people here think it's a real drag, but I almost like her predictability. There isn't much here that is predictable.
Not everyone here is real army, though. There are plenty of draftees, and even some others, like me, who signed up because they thought it would be a good place to get some experience. And I am getting experience. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo walked in the door to the Officers' Club. She had been here for two weeks and this was the first time she had entered this particular tent. Jo did not drink, except for one encounter with alcohol that ended badly. No one in her family drank either. Her father forbade alcohol in his house, as did his father.
"Josephine," he used to say, "alcohol is the drink of the devil. It impairs the judgement and leaves room for Satan himself to make his way into you." Jo almost laughed out loud as she imagined her father's voice booming out in this crowd. In one corner were the men she'd heard singing from her tent. They were leaning against each other, half-propped up in a few chairs.
A man came up behind her. "Buy you a drink?" he asked.
"Sure," Jo heard herself reply.
"What'll you have?"
Jo tried to think of the drink her boyfriend had ordered for her when she was still in the first year of her nurses' training, but all she could remember was the nausea afterwards. "I'll have what you're having," she responded.
"Barkeep, another martini, and one for the lady."
"I haven't seen you here before," he said as the bartender handed him their drinks.
"No," she paused to take her drink, "I came in only a few days ago."
Jo took her first sip and felt it burn. She gave a small cough, trying to pretend she did this all the time. The man in front of her raised his eyebrow, and so she put her hand out.
"I'm Josephine, Josephine Avery, but only my father calls me that. Most people call me Jo."
"Ah," he said and shook her hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone calls him Hawkeye, though I don't know why. He's the chief surgeon here. I haven't assisted him in the O.R., but I've cared for his patients afterwards. He does good work. Most of the surgeons here do, especially given what they have to work with. But that is not what I was going to tell you about.
He's tall, and he has dark hair, but it's his eyes I really like. They are a beautiful blue, and they are mischievous. The nurses who have been here awhile all have something to say about him. He has quite the reputation around camp, especially for his pranks. There is something sad about him too. I suppose there is something sad about me too. I don't know if anyone can see what we see here and not be sad. I'm sorry, Victoria, I don't mean to write you about these things. When I sit down to write I try to think about all the funny things I can tell you, but when I start to write they just don't seem so funny anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo took slow sips of her drink. At least now she wasn't coughing with each one.
"You don't drink much, do you?" the doctor asked her after introducing himself.
"No," Jo blushed. "Is it that obvious?" She hadn't needed him to introduce himself. She had only been there a few weeks, but it was a small place. Even if it weren't, it would have been hard not to hear about Hawkeye.
Jo let out a soft giggle as she set down the glass. She was tipsy. She could feel the haze clouding her mind, relaxing her body.
"Earth to Jo," came the voice from beside her and Jo snapped back.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You really are a cheap date," he said, laughing. "I said, would you like to dance?"
"Sure," she said, unsure it was really a good idea.
The music was provided by a jukebox pumping out tunes from its place against the wall. Jo stepped out onto the dance floor with Hawkeye. She slipped her hand into his, as he placed his in the small of her back and pulled her in closer. They moved in time to the music, and in synchronization with each other. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and her stomach flopped. At first she thought is was the drink making her feel sick, but the feeling seemed to ease in between his breaths. She giggled again. Hawkeye moved to dip her, and she let out a soft cry and threw her arms around his neck. He straightened up, pulling Jo with him, and she found her face buried in his chest. "I wouldn't have dropped you, you know," he told her. She took a step back from him, blushing, but stumbled over her own feet and Hawkeye had to catch her. Embarrassed, she pulled herself away.
"I'm sorry Captain," Jo said, "I must be more tired than I realized. I think that maybe I'd better go back to my tent. Thanks for the drink, though."
Jo tucked her last t-shirt into her footlocker. She looked around her at the tent filled with cots and footlockers identical to hers. There were clothes strewn around, and pictures on bedside crates. Right now it was empty, except for her, but she knew at night time it would be filled with other nurses. Jo wondered what it would be like to share a room with so many people.
In the distance, Jo could hear the sound of chopper blades in the distance. Hastily, she put her pictures from home on the crate next to her bed. She struggled to remember which of the buildings contained the O.R. They all looked the same to her. But when she opened the door she realized she only had to do was follow the crowd of people.
As she approached the jeeps carrying the wounded soldiers from the landing pad, a major barked at her, "Lieutenant - you help out with triage!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't know what to tell you about it. Victoria, there was blood everywhere. I saw things I don't even remember reading about in school. It was all I could do to just keep breathing. I thought I was going to be sick. I can't get those images out of my mind. If I pause to think before I go to sleep, all I can see are the mangled bodies of boys younger than me. I guess I'm lucky then, because right now we work so hard during the day that I hardly remember getting into bed, let alone those moments of silence before I fall asleep. Not that there is much silence here. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo lay on her cot, with the blankets strewn on the floor. The air in the tent was unusually warm and so was the air outside. She could hear the even breathing of the woman in the bed next to hers, and the gentle snoring of the woman at the other end of the room. From the other end of the compound she could hear the voices of officers in their club. Their words were slurred, so she couldn't make out the conversation, but some of them were singing. Somewhere there was a record playing. Jo sighed and rolled onto her side, missing the quiet of her room at home. The day had been long, and Jo couldn't remember for certain if she had eaten lunch. She didn't remember dinner, but the persistent heartburn was reminder enough. She closed her eyes trying to push away the images that fought their way onto the screen of her mind. So long as she was conscious she could fight the impulse to remember what had happened. Finally her eyelids began to droop. She was at home, lying peacefully in her comfortable bed. It was early still, but she had been woken up by a lawnmower outside. She groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but the lawnmower only got louder. She got out of bed and peeked out her bedroom window. The lawnmower was moving closer. A young man, boy really, was pushing it. He had blond curls, and beautifully tanned skin, but there was something not quite right. Jo squinted, not sure if she was really seeing correctly. There was blood on his shirt. She started to call out to him, but he turned away. From behind Jo could tell something was wrong. The back of his head was missing. Jo's eyes snapped open. She was lying on her cot. There was no lawnmower, there was no boy missing half his head, at least not here. Jo stood up and pulled on her clothes. There was no point in lying there trying not to sleep. Quietly she left the room of sleeping nurses and empty cots and walked over to the Officers' Club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. We have been busy, because the fighting has moved closer to us. I don't know how much to tell you because I can't bear to think that you might have to carry these images with you too. I know that you believe you are grown up, but you are still my baby sister, even if it is only by one year. I still have some responsibilities as your big sister.
I am still getting to know the people here. Of course it is easiest to get to know the nurses since we're living in such close quarters. Sometimes it's like having so many sisters I don't know what to do with myself. They're friendly enough, and usually we share the things we have. Our head nurse is all right too. She is Real Army, and she likes to go by army rules and regulations. Some of the people here think it's a real drag, but I almost like her predictability. There isn't much here that is predictable.
Not everyone here is real army, though. There are plenty of draftees, and even some others, like me, who signed up because they thought it would be a good place to get some experience. And I am getting experience. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo walked in the door to the Officers' Club. She had been here for two weeks and this was the first time she had entered this particular tent. Jo did not drink, except for one encounter with alcohol that ended badly. No one in her family drank either. Her father forbade alcohol in his house, as did his father.
"Josephine," he used to say, "alcohol is the drink of the devil. It impairs the judgement and leaves room for Satan himself to make his way into you." Jo almost laughed out loud as she imagined her father's voice booming out in this crowd. In one corner were the men she'd heard singing from her tent. They were leaning against each other, half-propped up in a few chairs.
A man came up behind her. "Buy you a drink?" he asked.
"Sure," Jo heard herself reply.
"What'll you have?"
Jo tried to think of the drink her boyfriend had ordered for her when she was still in the first year of her nurses' training, but all she could remember was the nausea afterwards. "I'll have what you're having," she responded.
"Barkeep, another martini, and one for the lady."
"I haven't seen you here before," he said as the bartender handed him their drinks.
"No," she paused to take her drink, "I came in only a few days ago."
Jo took her first sip and felt it burn. She gave a small cough, trying to pretend she did this all the time. The man in front of her raised his eyebrow, and so she put her hand out.
"I'm Josephine, Josephine Avery, but only my father calls me that. Most people call me Jo."
"Ah," he said and shook her hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone calls him Hawkeye, though I don't know why. He's the chief surgeon here. I haven't assisted him in the O.R., but I've cared for his patients afterwards. He does good work. Most of the surgeons here do, especially given what they have to work with. But that is not what I was going to tell you about.
He's tall, and he has dark hair, but it's his eyes I really like. They are a beautiful blue, and they are mischievous. The nurses who have been here awhile all have something to say about him. He has quite the reputation around camp, especially for his pranks. There is something sad about him too. I suppose there is something sad about me too. I don't know if anyone can see what we see here and not be sad. I'm sorry, Victoria, I don't mean to write you about these things. When I sit down to write I try to think about all the funny things I can tell you, but when I start to write they just don't seem so funny anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo took slow sips of her drink. At least now she wasn't coughing with each one.
"You don't drink much, do you?" the doctor asked her after introducing himself.
"No," Jo blushed. "Is it that obvious?" She hadn't needed him to introduce himself. She had only been there a few weeks, but it was a small place. Even if it weren't, it would have been hard not to hear about Hawkeye.
Jo let out a soft giggle as she set down the glass. She was tipsy. She could feel the haze clouding her mind, relaxing her body.
"Earth to Jo," came the voice from beside her and Jo snapped back.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You really are a cheap date," he said, laughing. "I said, would you like to dance?"
"Sure," she said, unsure it was really a good idea.
The music was provided by a jukebox pumping out tunes from its place against the wall. Jo stepped out onto the dance floor with Hawkeye. She slipped her hand into his, as he placed his in the small of her back and pulled her in closer. They moved in time to the music, and in synchronization with each other. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and her stomach flopped. At first she thought is was the drink making her feel sick, but the feeling seemed to ease in between his breaths. She giggled again. Hawkeye moved to dip her, and she let out a soft cry and threw her arms around his neck. He straightened up, pulling Jo with him, and she found her face buried in his chest. "I wouldn't have dropped you, you know," he told her. She took a step back from him, blushing, but stumbled over her own feet and Hawkeye had to catch her. Embarrassed, she pulled herself away.
"I'm sorry Captain," Jo said, "I must be more tired than I realized. I think that maybe I'd better go back to my tent. Thanks for the drink, though."
