Where There's a Will, There's a War

BJ Hunnicut was unusually tense as he worked through their sixth hour of OR that session. It was obvious that it would last much longer.

"Bad news, folks. The phones are out at Battallion Aid."

"Damn!"

BJ cursed angrily. "What the hell's going on up there?" "I dunno, sir." Klinger shrugged, setting the newly arrived patient down on one of the tables, and retracing his steps back into Pre-Op. So far there had been no sign of Hawkeye.

"Now, BJ, there's no reason to think that the dead surgeon is Hawkeye." Father Mulcahy said soothingly, touching the silver cross around his neck. "Yeah, and there's no reason to think that he's not, either." BJ spat back from behind his mask.

*Three hours later, back at the Battallion Aid Station*

"Captain Rackley!" A corpsman called from across the tent. "What is it, Saunders?" "Phonelines are back up. There should be a slight lull in wounded, but the artillery fire's keeping up." The Captain sighed. "Get me through to I-Corp. Now."

Ten minutes later, Rackley held the earpiece up to his ear, speaking into the mouthpiece in a tired, dejected tone. "General, we need that replacement surgeon here A.S.A.P. Yeah, we just lost another surgeon to shellfire. No, the station's alright. He was outside getting a breath of fresh air, and... well... you know the rest. The one who was filling in 'til we got the new guy. Yes, I can give identification; Benjamin Franklin Pierce, Captain, M*A*S*H 4077...