After 12 hours as duty surgeon, Captain John Watson was in the mess tent enjoying a mug of tea and a roast beef sandwich while idly eavesdropping on Captain "Hawkeye" Pierce as he chatted with a reporter at the next table.
"How do you handle the stress? What do you do to keep sane?" the reporter asked.
"I wear my underwear on the outside to see if anybody notices," Pierce replied.
Watson choked on his tea. "Hot," he mumbled behind his hand when they looked over at him. Pierce smirked.
Back in the Swamp, Watson dug the pants out of the bottom of his kit. They'd been a birthday gift from his sister on his first overseas deployment. Christ! Harry must have been pissed as newts when she'd bought them.
When would he wear them? On a date? If he were with a woman in that state of undress, his mind wouldn't be on explaining to her why he was wearing bright red pants with the Union Jack across his arse.
The next morning Watson awoke to Radar's announcement: "Big city hospital ER on a Saturday night has been rescheduled for this morning. Incoming wounded 10 minutes out."
"Sod it!" Watson dressed hurriedly and pulled the patriotic pants on over the bottoms of his scrubs.
Pierce laughed heartily. "John, nice BVDs!"