Disclaimer: The characters used in the following story do not belong to
me, they belong to M*A*S*H and its related companies. I am not making a
profit from using them in this story.
A/N: I thought I'd attempt to move away from angst and drama stories, and have a go at a humour fic. I hope you like it!
Title: Dear Kids
"Dear Molly, Janey and Andrew,"
"It's your Daddy here, still in the war. I don't know whether you have been learning about the war at school or not, or whether you've talked about it. Let me tell you, my part of the war is probably nothing like you would learn about. What do you kids hear about this war? Well, we are in Korea, and the North Koreans and South Koreans don't like each other, and the Chinese like the North Koreans. Something like that."
"Anyway, our part of the war isn't like that. Where I am, I don't see any fighting. All those kids who got caught up in the fighting come to the hospital that Daddy works at, and Daddy and the other doctors at the hospital help those kids who get hurt. It's kind of like a hospital at home, except we're in the middle of a war."
"There are some other differences here. There are the normal people in the hospital, like doctors and nurses, but there are other people here, who help in other jobs in the outfit. One on them is our company Clerk, Radar O'Reilly. You'd like Radar, he's cute and he has a teddy bear. (He'll go mad for me telling you that.) Radar is his nickname, because he can hear things before they arrive. This came in very useful the other day..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sir!" Radar yelled through the uproar of panic in the OR, and the devastation caused by the bombing outside surgery. "Sir! I've got news on the shelling!"
"Radar, if it's good news, tell me now. If not, I'm busy with this guy's colon and the piece of shrapnel that is making a home out of it."
Radar kept quiet for a moment, shuffling his feet and looking away. This indicated to Henry that the news was not good. He sighed, wondering whether his day could get any worse. "Fine, Radar, you may as well tell me now before I find out at a less convenient time."
"What time could be more inconvenient that during surgery?" Frank Burns asked, impatiently clamping an incessant bleeder.
"When Henry's asleep," Hawkeye Pierce informed him.
"What's the news, kid?" Henry asked, ignoring the other chatter.
"Sir, we're being attacked," Radar began, but he was cut off by groans that flooded through the surgical masks of staff.
"I could have told you that much," Hawkeye said. "Don't tell me you needed a phone to figure that out!"
"We are being attacked," Radar repeated huffily. "But we're not meant to be. It's us! We're attacking ourselves!"
"What the hell are you talking about? Oh, sorry Father," Henry added, looking slightly sheepishly over to Father Mulcahy, who was standing a little way off from the tables.
"Quite all right. Times are tough, and everyone is tense."
"Okay, Radar, what's the poop?"
"We are being attacked by Americans! By us! We're on the same side! But they don't think that we are," Radar explained clumsily.
"Oh sure, we just *have* to be North Koreans, with the American Flag flying outside our camp," Trapper John McIntyre muttered.
"Surely there must be a mistake," Margaret Houlihan objected, defending the American Army that she so proudly served in.
"The only mistake is that being made by the guys who speak our language throwing bombs and shells on top of us," Hawkeye shouted angrily.
"At least we're a hospital," Frank granted.
"Very good, Frank, it's taken you eight months to work that one out. What gave it away? Was it the blood? The trays of scalpels, clamps and retractors, perhaps? The amount of plasma we go through?"
"Or perhaps the big red cross on the top of Post-Op?" Hawkeye finished.
"Pipe down, everyone!" Henry yelled. He turned to Radar, in need of more information. "Have you called..."
"... Major Robson, who is waiting for a call about it, and who will then call us back after he's called the bombers," Radar spoke at the same time as Henry.
"I think we should call the whole thing off," Hawkeye decided. He then called out, "All right, take him away and bring in the next one."
"I'm quite sure that the relevant personnel are doing everything within their power to stop this, this mistake," Margaret announced. "These things take time."
"Yeah, that's fair. It takes an hour to stop a shelling, and a split- second for a shell to provide some kid with a ticket to a M*A*S*H unit," Hawkeye muttered. A bomb struck the ground outside the compound, close to the OR, causing those in the room to flinch before restarting their work. "If they're working so fast, why are we still being shelled?"
"Things take time," Margaret repeated coarsely.
"Radar, organise sandbags and covers for the OR and Post-Op, then..." Henry glanced up at Radar, whose stance had taken that of when he tended to hear choppers. "What do you hear? More wounded?"
Before anyone could groan, Radar ran across the room and dived on top of Father Mulcahy, who was standing by the window in silent prayer for one particularly difficult case. A second later, a fiery blast smashed the window where the Padre had once been standing.
One shattered nurse screamed and several other members gasped. Radar picked himself up off of the floor as a corpsman helped Father Mulcahy to his feet.
"Father, Radar, are you okay?" Trapper asked with concern.
"Radar, I don't know what to say," the Priest began, slightly shaken by the whole incident.
"Ohmigosh, I knocked over a Priest!" Radar gasped, the realisation of his action suddenly dawning on him. "Father, please forgive me? I only did it because..."
"Radar, calm down," the Father quietened the young man, whom was verging on hysteria at the though that he had knocked a Priest to the ground. "It's quite all right. Actually, it's more than all right. I want to thank you for saving my life."
Radar looked up, slightly baffled. "Did I do that?" He looked slightly white at the thought of it.
Henry noticed the Corporal's change in colour, and a small patch of blood on one side of his arm, and commanded, "Father, take him outside. He's got cut from the glass. Can you find someone to treat that?"
"There should be a nurse in Post-Op," Margaret said helpfully.
As Radar stumbled out, the panic had almost fully subsided and the OR atmosphere began to return to normal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm sitting in Post-Op right now, kids. This is where the patients stay in bed after we've made them better. The doctors and the nurses give them medicine when they're in Post-Op. It's not just doctors over here in the war. There are lots of nurses here, and they are a great help to everyone. The head nurse is Major Margaret Houlihan. You'd probably like her; she's not so different from Mommy. Also, she likes kids a lot. Major Houlihan doesn't like Daddy very much. It's like when Daddy went out and bought a new barbeque, which Mommy didn't want."
Henry stopped writing for a moment, and wistfully thought of his barbeque sitting in the garage at home. "Anyway, every now and then, Major Houlihan can be great and surprise everyone. Like when we got a surprise a couple of days ago..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ah, another day, another eight hours in surgery," Trapper sighed, laying down on his cot and hoping not to need to get up until the war was over.
"Need some medicine?" Hawkeye asked, tapping some of the liquid from the Still.
"Only if it comes in a martini glass," Trapper replied, gratefully taking his draught. He sipped at it, and promptly spat it out. "Yuck!"
Hawkeye frowned. "A bad batch?"
"A bad batch of what?! This stuff isn't gin! It's water?"
"Water? In this camp? I don't want to know where it came from," Hawkeye mumbled with a disgusted look on his face, throwing the contents of his glass in the vague direction of Frank's cot and belongings.
"Who put it there?" Trapper asked.
"And more to the point, where did they put the previous contents?" Hawkeye asked worriedly.
"All we have to do is look for a paralytic person on the floor somewhere," Trapper told him.
"With this war, that could be a dozen people, at least half of which are sober," Hawkeye pointed out. "I doubt the person would drink it. Look at it logically. This person is making a statement against alcohol, by replacing ours with water. This kind of person would hardly drink it."
"What if its someone who has a love of alcohol?" Trapper asked. "Someone who loves it enough to pinch ours?"
"It's reasonable, but not many people in that category would go to the trouble of replacing it. We'll keep it in mind, though."
"Okay, settled. We've got two kinds of suspect. One is the silent, yet crafty protestor against alcohol. Two, the desperate alcoholic."
"Can we think of anyone in those categories?"
"Frank would be in the first category, and would be at the head of the list," Trapper said.
"He would be the head of the head list," Hawkeye added. "Henry would be in the second category, but doing that is not his style."
"Exactly. Why would he want to steal our stuff when there's a booze cupboard in his office?"
"Okay, so Henry's off the suspect list."
"Hey, I still haven't had my medicine, yet," Trapper reminded his friend.
"Shall we head over to the pharmacy?" Hawkeye asked.
"Certainly."
A figure listened outside the tent, grinning. The two Captains ain't seen nothing yet, the person thought wickedly. Watching the two Captains exit the Swamp and head towards the Officer's Club, the individual followed, acting as an innocent in the matter.
As they neared the Officer's Club, they heard loud noises erupting from inside. Thinking that a fight had broken out, and their medical services might be needed, they quickened their pace and hurried into the building.
Inside, they saw what appeared to be a revolt. The people inside the Club were shouting angrily at the barman, whom was Korean and understood little of what the Americans were brawling.
"Hey," Trapper called, "What's going on?"
Corporal Klinger, dressed in his red sequined number with matching purse, answered. "Some joker took the alcohol away! We're left with water!"
Frank, also present, said, "It's that bar-tender! He's got that drunk look in his eyes."
"Frank, that look is fear, caused by rowdy Americans such as yourself accusing him of drinking our booze," Hawkeye explained calmly.
"It wasn't him, we know that much," Trapper added.
"How do you know?"
"Because our Still was also sabotaged."
Frank chuckled before Hawkeye threw him a threatening look. Major Burns then continued, "Well, it still could have been him. These Koreans have their ways, you know."
"Whom would willingly go in The Swamp?" Trapper asked.
"Good point," Hawkeye said. "You have to possess a strong nerve to do that."
"It's a wonder Frank's able to walk through the door," Trapper muttered.
"Hey! I heard that!"
"I know. You were intended to."
Margaret strolled up to the bar. "Major, Captain, Captain," she greeted.
"Major," Trapper greeted.
"Major," Hawkeye also said.
"Good evening, Major," Frank addressed.
"This has to be a special occasion," Hawkeye decided. "Major, you rarely visit the Officer's Club. What's the cause? Birthday? Anniversary?"
"No, Captain, I just felt like a drink. It's been a long day," she informed him, almost too cheerfully. Suspicions were raised.
"Category One," Trapper muttered under his breath to Hawkeye, whom nodded. A plan would have to be made.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Another member of the 4077th that reminds me of your mother is Corporal Klinger. Not for his looks, but for his wardrobe. You see, kids, Klinger is someone who really does not want to be in the Army. He wants to leave the war so badly that he dresses up as a woman. Andrew, please don't try on your sisters' clothes because of this. Anyway, Klinger doesn't just do this, he has lots of other things he does. He's even tried to fly out of the 4077th! Let's just say, his latest stunt had us going bananas..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was just creeping over the Korean hills when it happened. The entire camp save a few members on duty suffered the abrupt awakening. The sound, quite like a squawk and yelp at the same time, sounded as if came from the sky.
Radar, whom was just beginning to stir in his cot, felt that it was his duty to get up and see what the disturbance was. He put on his overcoat and glasses, and stepped outside. The sight that greeted him stopped him still, and making his jaw drop to the floor.
"Klinger?! Is that you?"
Radar had looked up and saw Corporal Klinger standing on top of the latrines. He was dressed in a brown loincloth, and his lungs bellowed out the sounds of a monkey.
"Klinger!" He shouted, running over. Klinger replied in more ape-like vocabulary. "What the heck are you doing up there? Colonel Blake's going to go mad!"
Klinger proceeded to make more monkey noises, and beat his chest with his fists.
Hawkeye and Trapper, whom had been awoken by the disturbance, decided to vacate their beds to see what was going on. Dressed in robes and untied boots, and Hawkeye with his famous cowboy hat, they strolled over to where a crowd grew around Klinger.
"Hey, Klinger, what is it this time? I wonder whether Sid Freedman knows anyone who's pulled off this stunt," Hawkeye said.
"Want a banana?" Trapper called out. "If you do, you're in the wrong place. I haven't seen one in months."
Henry stormed out of his quarters, the noise obviously having woken him up. "Klinger! Get off of the latrines!"
With an indignant frown, Klinger again producing burbling monkey sounds and beat his chest.
"I don't think he wants to," Hawkeye told him.
Casting a glare at Hawkeye for stating the completely obvious, Henry tried again. "Klinger, you'll freeze to death! Put something more than that on!"
"Klinger, this is Korea, you won't find a vine to swing on here," Hawkeye informed him. "Try somewhere else, like Brazil."
Margaret and Frank slipped out of Major Houlihan's tent, careful not to be seen together, and joined the crowd to see what the commotion was about. "Corporal Klinger!" Margaret almost screamed on looking up and seeing him. "Get down from there before you break your neck!"
"That's the first person to mention his safety," Father Mulcahy noted.
"I think that we all care so much that it does not need to be mentioned," Hawkeye told the Father. "Margaret, on the other hand, does not show any care for anyone too often."
"What's he doing up there?" Frank asked.
"Looking for the ball he lost," Trapper replied, rolling his eyes.
"Major, Sir, he's looking for a Section Eight," Radar put in.
"I knew that," Frank snapped.
"He's trying to convince everyone that he is nuts," Hawkeye said. "At the moment, he's only bananas."
"To be declared nuts, he has to imitate a squirrel," Trapper added.
"Klinger, for the last time, get down from there before I call the MPs," Henry commanded.
"I'm not coming down without a Section Eight discharge, sir!" Klinger shouted from the roof.
Why doesn't someone just get a ladder? Trapper wondered to himself. Hands casually in his pockets, he walked around the back of the latrines and found the ladder that Klinger had used to climb up the latrines with. He leant it against the latrines and began climbing.
"Sir! Captain! Don't do that?"
"Do what?" Trapper asked, still climbing. "Look, Klinger, I got a rude awakening this morning, and I think it's only fair..."
"Captain! This isn't strong enough to hold the both of us! Don't..."
It was too late. Trapper had hoisted himself up on top of the latrines, and as predicted, both he and Klinger fell through the flimsy roof and into the shoddy building.
Hawkeye, Henry and Radar ran over, hoping that no one was injured. On seeing this, Margaret asked Frank, "Why aren't you helping? You should be setting an example for the enlisted men."
"Well, I'm sure they don't need anymore than three people to help them," Frank decided with a shrug.
"Trap! Klinger! Are you both okay?"
Trapper emerged from beneath part of a wall. "I'm here," he called. Henry and Hawkeye ran over to get the wall off of him, whilst Radar helped Klinger out from beneath the corrugated-iron roof.
"Captain McIntyre! You ripped my loincloth!"
"I hope you're decent, there are nurses outside," Hawkeye informed him. "Seriously, are you hurt?"
Klinger sniffed. "Just my pride." He stepped out of the latrine, where he was promptly wolf-whistled.
"Trap, you okay?"
"Fine," Trapper replied. "Got a couple of cuts on my leg, but that's what you get for falling through the latrine."
"Get them cleaned up," Henry ordered. He too exited the latrine, with Radar following close behind. "All right," he called to the crowd. "The show's over. Breakfast will now be served." He then turned to Radar. "I need people to..."
"...Rebuild the latrines, pronto," Radar replied. He scurried away, and Henry rolled his eyes. When would it all end?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Most of the characters around the 4077th M*A*S*H are good eggs, and Daddy has a lot of fun working with some of them, even Klinger. They can all be practical jokers, even the ones you least suspect."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Margaret was just far too cool yesterday," Hawkeye decided. It was just after breakfast the same morning that Klinger had pulled off his latest stunt, and Hawkeye and Trapper were playing checkers in the Swamp.
"It was just far too convenient that she happened to walk into the OC the same day as the alcohol goes missing."
"And, without Frank, which is even more of a surprise."
"Do you think Frank's in on it?" Trapper asked.
"No chance. He would have blown it open long ago if he were part of the conspiracy. No, I think Hot Lips is working alone. Working with Frank would be suicidal to her entire operation."
"Where do you think she's hiding it? I mean, she couldn't have drunk an entire Still plus the contents of the Officers' Club. Unless someone pumped her stomach that we didn't know about."
"I'd say she's hiding it somewhere in her tent, somewhere where Frank doesn't hide when somebody knocks on the door."
"Under her cot. It has to be. Frank wouldn't fit under there."
"Right, we've established the who and the where, and probably the why. Now we have to answer the how."
"The how what?"
"The how are we going to get our booze back."
"Okay. How?"
"Cleverly," Hawkeye grinned, a plan forming in his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the Mess Tent at lunchtime, Hawkeye and Trapper purposely sat at a table with Margaret. She was a little surprised, but she remained civil. "Good afternoon, Captains," she greeted. "How's your leg?" She asked, directing the question at Trapper.
"Not bad, thank you," Trapper replied courteously.
The plan had been laid out. Hawkeye had snuck into Henry's office and had 'borrowed' a bottle of vodka from his cupboard. The two then waited until Margaret entered the Mess Tent for lunch, and quickly joined her. Trapper grabbed a cup of coffee, but instead of filling it with hot water, he had filled it with the vodka.
Hawkeye reached across for the salt, but in the process knocked it, along with the pepper pot, flying into Major Houlihan's lap. "Ah, Major, I'm so sorry!" He then made a commotion about cleaning it up. During this, Trapper switched Margaret's cup of coffee with the cup containing the vodka.
As part of the other phase of the plan, Trapper also poured vinegar onto Margaret's plate, a condiment they both knew she detested. Trapper had doubted that they would be able to carry this part off without Margaret noticing, but Hawkeye was making such pandemonium that someone could have taken the away and Margaret would not have noticed.
"Captain, it's all right, it's only salt and pepper," Margaret told him. "No harm done."
The meal continued peacefully for five seconds before Margaret took a bite out of her food. Tasting the vinegar, she reached for her cup of coffee and downed half the cup in one gulp. It was too late once she realised what she had swallowed.
"You!" She pointed an unsteady finger at the Captains.
"Careful, Margaret. You've just had the biggest shot of Vodka and coffee known to man," Hawkeye noted, surveying the almost-empty mug.
Margaret sat down again, thoroughly deflated.
"Where'd you hide the booze?" Trapper asked.
Pouting, Margaret replied, "Under my cot."
Abandoning their lunches, the three left the Mess Tent to retrieve the goods. "Out of interest, any reason why you did this?"
Margaret grinned like a schoolgirl. "I tried to prove that I could pull pranks as good as the next guy," she told them.
Hawkeye and Trapper laughed. It wasn't a stand against alcohol, after all. "We, the Hawkeye-and-Trapper-Practical-Joking-Association, dub you worthy after pulling that prank," Hawkeye declared.
"It's not like you, Margaret," Trapper said. "Thoroughly unmilitary, and we're proud of it."
"Who says we all have to act in our characters all the time?" Margaret questioned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Even though most of the people on our side of the war are normal guys, like you and me, there are a few exceptions to the rule. There is one man, who is a bit like a spy. He shows up from time to time when life at his end of the war gets boring, and tries to make life at our end of the war more fun. Well, that's not what he says, though."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Henry walked through the OR, he noticed a patient that was not there previously. He stopped and went to examine the chart that would usually be at the end of the bed. There was no chart. Becoming suspicious, Henry walked up to the man, whose head was covered in bandages.
As he neared him, he saw the familiar eyes and brows poking out from beneath the bandages and sighed. It was going to be another long day.
"How's it going, Flagg?" Henry asked. He heard the Colonel momentarily groan before removing the bandages.
"What gave me away?" Flagg asked as he sat up in the bed.
"We don't get a lot of patients that magically grow in our beds the minute the doctor's back is turned," Henry explained. "That would have to be something you have been programmed to do."
Flagg nodded. "It worked for about ten minutes, though. In ten minutes, if I were an enemy spy, I would have had this hospital blown to a thousand pieces."
"Thank the Lord you're on our side then, I think," Henry added, having some second thoughts about this statement. "Anyway, Flagg, why are you here? And if you tell me that's not your name, I'll fly you out on the next chopper."
"In your office, it's not safe to talk here."
"It's your mission," Henry shrugged. He motioned to the nurse that he would be back soon, and then left with Colonel Flagg.
"Okay, Flagg, what's the big secret?" Henry asked, pouring himself a much- needed drink.
"Blake, we've got trouble in this camp. I've been especially trained to deal with this kind of problem, rest assured."
I won't rest assured until you're thirty miles away from me, Henry thought to himself. "What kind of trouble, Colonel?"
"There is an enemy spy somewhere in this camp. He is disguised as a sheep."
Henry spat out his drink at the absurdity of this. "A what?"
"Are you deaf, man? A sheep!"
Henry's eyes could widen no further. He's finally lost it, he thought to himself. "Colonel, we've had a disturbance from a wannabe-monkey this morning, but no sheep."
Thinking it best to ignore the comment about the monkey, Flagg continued, "He has been seen roaming around the edge of camp."
"Do you even get sheep in Korea?" Henry wondered aloud.
"Colonel, it is my duty to expose the spy before he creates trouble," Flagg declared. "If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." With that, he shot out of the office in pursuit of the mammal.
No sooner had Colonel Flagg left, Hawkeye and Trapper both walked in. "Is it my imagination or did I just see Colonel Flagg leave the building?" Trapper asked.
"Unfortunately, it's him in person," Henry said, pouring himself another drink.
"What did he want? Any enemy parachutists drop in lately that we didn't know about?" Hawkeye enquired.
"He thinks there's an enemy spy out there, dressed as a sheep," Henry told them.
"I think he's flipped," Trapper concluded.
"I've seen a goat out there. I guess farming was never in Intelligence Basic Training," Hawkeye said. He led the other two to where he had spotted the animal. Outside, they witnessed the sight of Flagg trying to rip the skin off of the goat.
"I know you're in there," Flagg growled. "You can't fool a Colonel in Army Intelligence."
Radar walked outside to see what the commotion was about. "Hey! What's he doing to Dolly?"
"Dolly the goat? Is she yours, Radar?"
"I'm looking after her for the pregnant Korean lady in Post-Op," Radar informed them. "What's he doing to her?"
"More to the point, what Korean women call their goats Dolly?"
"Flagg thinks there's an enemy Korean inside," Henry told him.
"There isn't!" Radar protested.
"I know that, you know that, but he doesn't," Hawkeye said, pointing to Flagg.
Dolly the goat, having become irritated at being pulled about, turned on the man. She lined up, growled, and promptly head-butted Flagg in the side. She repeated this act several times, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
"The spy has a good aim," Hawkeye laughed. Dolly chased Colonel Flagg right out of the compound, and turned with her nose in the air as she was walked back by Radar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, kids, Daddy has to go now. Everyone at the 4077th says hi, (I told them to since I'm their commanding officer!) I missed you all lots and lots, and although I don't know when I'll be home, I hope it will be soon."
"I love you lots, from Daddy."
A/N: I thought I'd attempt to move away from angst and drama stories, and have a go at a humour fic. I hope you like it!
Title: Dear Kids
"Dear Molly, Janey and Andrew,"
"It's your Daddy here, still in the war. I don't know whether you have been learning about the war at school or not, or whether you've talked about it. Let me tell you, my part of the war is probably nothing like you would learn about. What do you kids hear about this war? Well, we are in Korea, and the North Koreans and South Koreans don't like each other, and the Chinese like the North Koreans. Something like that."
"Anyway, our part of the war isn't like that. Where I am, I don't see any fighting. All those kids who got caught up in the fighting come to the hospital that Daddy works at, and Daddy and the other doctors at the hospital help those kids who get hurt. It's kind of like a hospital at home, except we're in the middle of a war."
"There are some other differences here. There are the normal people in the hospital, like doctors and nurses, but there are other people here, who help in other jobs in the outfit. One on them is our company Clerk, Radar O'Reilly. You'd like Radar, he's cute and he has a teddy bear. (He'll go mad for me telling you that.) Radar is his nickname, because he can hear things before they arrive. This came in very useful the other day..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sir!" Radar yelled through the uproar of panic in the OR, and the devastation caused by the bombing outside surgery. "Sir! I've got news on the shelling!"
"Radar, if it's good news, tell me now. If not, I'm busy with this guy's colon and the piece of shrapnel that is making a home out of it."
Radar kept quiet for a moment, shuffling his feet and looking away. This indicated to Henry that the news was not good. He sighed, wondering whether his day could get any worse. "Fine, Radar, you may as well tell me now before I find out at a less convenient time."
"What time could be more inconvenient that during surgery?" Frank Burns asked, impatiently clamping an incessant bleeder.
"When Henry's asleep," Hawkeye Pierce informed him.
"What's the news, kid?" Henry asked, ignoring the other chatter.
"Sir, we're being attacked," Radar began, but he was cut off by groans that flooded through the surgical masks of staff.
"I could have told you that much," Hawkeye said. "Don't tell me you needed a phone to figure that out!"
"We are being attacked," Radar repeated huffily. "But we're not meant to be. It's us! We're attacking ourselves!"
"What the hell are you talking about? Oh, sorry Father," Henry added, looking slightly sheepishly over to Father Mulcahy, who was standing a little way off from the tables.
"Quite all right. Times are tough, and everyone is tense."
"Okay, Radar, what's the poop?"
"We are being attacked by Americans! By us! We're on the same side! But they don't think that we are," Radar explained clumsily.
"Oh sure, we just *have* to be North Koreans, with the American Flag flying outside our camp," Trapper John McIntyre muttered.
"Surely there must be a mistake," Margaret Houlihan objected, defending the American Army that she so proudly served in.
"The only mistake is that being made by the guys who speak our language throwing bombs and shells on top of us," Hawkeye shouted angrily.
"At least we're a hospital," Frank granted.
"Very good, Frank, it's taken you eight months to work that one out. What gave it away? Was it the blood? The trays of scalpels, clamps and retractors, perhaps? The amount of plasma we go through?"
"Or perhaps the big red cross on the top of Post-Op?" Hawkeye finished.
"Pipe down, everyone!" Henry yelled. He turned to Radar, in need of more information. "Have you called..."
"... Major Robson, who is waiting for a call about it, and who will then call us back after he's called the bombers," Radar spoke at the same time as Henry.
"I think we should call the whole thing off," Hawkeye decided. He then called out, "All right, take him away and bring in the next one."
"I'm quite sure that the relevant personnel are doing everything within their power to stop this, this mistake," Margaret announced. "These things take time."
"Yeah, that's fair. It takes an hour to stop a shelling, and a split- second for a shell to provide some kid with a ticket to a M*A*S*H unit," Hawkeye muttered. A bomb struck the ground outside the compound, close to the OR, causing those in the room to flinch before restarting their work. "If they're working so fast, why are we still being shelled?"
"Things take time," Margaret repeated coarsely.
"Radar, organise sandbags and covers for the OR and Post-Op, then..." Henry glanced up at Radar, whose stance had taken that of when he tended to hear choppers. "What do you hear? More wounded?"
Before anyone could groan, Radar ran across the room and dived on top of Father Mulcahy, who was standing by the window in silent prayer for one particularly difficult case. A second later, a fiery blast smashed the window where the Padre had once been standing.
One shattered nurse screamed and several other members gasped. Radar picked himself up off of the floor as a corpsman helped Father Mulcahy to his feet.
"Father, Radar, are you okay?" Trapper asked with concern.
"Radar, I don't know what to say," the Priest began, slightly shaken by the whole incident.
"Ohmigosh, I knocked over a Priest!" Radar gasped, the realisation of his action suddenly dawning on him. "Father, please forgive me? I only did it because..."
"Radar, calm down," the Father quietened the young man, whom was verging on hysteria at the though that he had knocked a Priest to the ground. "It's quite all right. Actually, it's more than all right. I want to thank you for saving my life."
Radar looked up, slightly baffled. "Did I do that?" He looked slightly white at the thought of it.
Henry noticed the Corporal's change in colour, and a small patch of blood on one side of his arm, and commanded, "Father, take him outside. He's got cut from the glass. Can you find someone to treat that?"
"There should be a nurse in Post-Op," Margaret said helpfully.
As Radar stumbled out, the panic had almost fully subsided and the OR atmosphere began to return to normal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm sitting in Post-Op right now, kids. This is where the patients stay in bed after we've made them better. The doctors and the nurses give them medicine when they're in Post-Op. It's not just doctors over here in the war. There are lots of nurses here, and they are a great help to everyone. The head nurse is Major Margaret Houlihan. You'd probably like her; she's not so different from Mommy. Also, she likes kids a lot. Major Houlihan doesn't like Daddy very much. It's like when Daddy went out and bought a new barbeque, which Mommy didn't want."
Henry stopped writing for a moment, and wistfully thought of his barbeque sitting in the garage at home. "Anyway, every now and then, Major Houlihan can be great and surprise everyone. Like when we got a surprise a couple of days ago..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ah, another day, another eight hours in surgery," Trapper sighed, laying down on his cot and hoping not to need to get up until the war was over.
"Need some medicine?" Hawkeye asked, tapping some of the liquid from the Still.
"Only if it comes in a martini glass," Trapper replied, gratefully taking his draught. He sipped at it, and promptly spat it out. "Yuck!"
Hawkeye frowned. "A bad batch?"
"A bad batch of what?! This stuff isn't gin! It's water?"
"Water? In this camp? I don't want to know where it came from," Hawkeye mumbled with a disgusted look on his face, throwing the contents of his glass in the vague direction of Frank's cot and belongings.
"Who put it there?" Trapper asked.
"And more to the point, where did they put the previous contents?" Hawkeye asked worriedly.
"All we have to do is look for a paralytic person on the floor somewhere," Trapper told him.
"With this war, that could be a dozen people, at least half of which are sober," Hawkeye pointed out. "I doubt the person would drink it. Look at it logically. This person is making a statement against alcohol, by replacing ours with water. This kind of person would hardly drink it."
"What if its someone who has a love of alcohol?" Trapper asked. "Someone who loves it enough to pinch ours?"
"It's reasonable, but not many people in that category would go to the trouble of replacing it. We'll keep it in mind, though."
"Okay, settled. We've got two kinds of suspect. One is the silent, yet crafty protestor against alcohol. Two, the desperate alcoholic."
"Can we think of anyone in those categories?"
"Frank would be in the first category, and would be at the head of the list," Trapper said.
"He would be the head of the head list," Hawkeye added. "Henry would be in the second category, but doing that is not his style."
"Exactly. Why would he want to steal our stuff when there's a booze cupboard in his office?"
"Okay, so Henry's off the suspect list."
"Hey, I still haven't had my medicine, yet," Trapper reminded his friend.
"Shall we head over to the pharmacy?" Hawkeye asked.
"Certainly."
A figure listened outside the tent, grinning. The two Captains ain't seen nothing yet, the person thought wickedly. Watching the two Captains exit the Swamp and head towards the Officer's Club, the individual followed, acting as an innocent in the matter.
As they neared the Officer's Club, they heard loud noises erupting from inside. Thinking that a fight had broken out, and their medical services might be needed, they quickened their pace and hurried into the building.
Inside, they saw what appeared to be a revolt. The people inside the Club were shouting angrily at the barman, whom was Korean and understood little of what the Americans were brawling.
"Hey," Trapper called, "What's going on?"
Corporal Klinger, dressed in his red sequined number with matching purse, answered. "Some joker took the alcohol away! We're left with water!"
Frank, also present, said, "It's that bar-tender! He's got that drunk look in his eyes."
"Frank, that look is fear, caused by rowdy Americans such as yourself accusing him of drinking our booze," Hawkeye explained calmly.
"It wasn't him, we know that much," Trapper added.
"How do you know?"
"Because our Still was also sabotaged."
Frank chuckled before Hawkeye threw him a threatening look. Major Burns then continued, "Well, it still could have been him. These Koreans have their ways, you know."
"Whom would willingly go in The Swamp?" Trapper asked.
"Good point," Hawkeye said. "You have to possess a strong nerve to do that."
"It's a wonder Frank's able to walk through the door," Trapper muttered.
"Hey! I heard that!"
"I know. You were intended to."
Margaret strolled up to the bar. "Major, Captain, Captain," she greeted.
"Major," Trapper greeted.
"Major," Hawkeye also said.
"Good evening, Major," Frank addressed.
"This has to be a special occasion," Hawkeye decided. "Major, you rarely visit the Officer's Club. What's the cause? Birthday? Anniversary?"
"No, Captain, I just felt like a drink. It's been a long day," she informed him, almost too cheerfully. Suspicions were raised.
"Category One," Trapper muttered under his breath to Hawkeye, whom nodded. A plan would have to be made.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Another member of the 4077th that reminds me of your mother is Corporal Klinger. Not for his looks, but for his wardrobe. You see, kids, Klinger is someone who really does not want to be in the Army. He wants to leave the war so badly that he dresses up as a woman. Andrew, please don't try on your sisters' clothes because of this. Anyway, Klinger doesn't just do this, he has lots of other things he does. He's even tried to fly out of the 4077th! Let's just say, his latest stunt had us going bananas..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was just creeping over the Korean hills when it happened. The entire camp save a few members on duty suffered the abrupt awakening. The sound, quite like a squawk and yelp at the same time, sounded as if came from the sky.
Radar, whom was just beginning to stir in his cot, felt that it was his duty to get up and see what the disturbance was. He put on his overcoat and glasses, and stepped outside. The sight that greeted him stopped him still, and making his jaw drop to the floor.
"Klinger?! Is that you?"
Radar had looked up and saw Corporal Klinger standing on top of the latrines. He was dressed in a brown loincloth, and his lungs bellowed out the sounds of a monkey.
"Klinger!" He shouted, running over. Klinger replied in more ape-like vocabulary. "What the heck are you doing up there? Colonel Blake's going to go mad!"
Klinger proceeded to make more monkey noises, and beat his chest with his fists.
Hawkeye and Trapper, whom had been awoken by the disturbance, decided to vacate their beds to see what was going on. Dressed in robes and untied boots, and Hawkeye with his famous cowboy hat, they strolled over to where a crowd grew around Klinger.
"Hey, Klinger, what is it this time? I wonder whether Sid Freedman knows anyone who's pulled off this stunt," Hawkeye said.
"Want a banana?" Trapper called out. "If you do, you're in the wrong place. I haven't seen one in months."
Henry stormed out of his quarters, the noise obviously having woken him up. "Klinger! Get off of the latrines!"
With an indignant frown, Klinger again producing burbling monkey sounds and beat his chest.
"I don't think he wants to," Hawkeye told him.
Casting a glare at Hawkeye for stating the completely obvious, Henry tried again. "Klinger, you'll freeze to death! Put something more than that on!"
"Klinger, this is Korea, you won't find a vine to swing on here," Hawkeye informed him. "Try somewhere else, like Brazil."
Margaret and Frank slipped out of Major Houlihan's tent, careful not to be seen together, and joined the crowd to see what the commotion was about. "Corporal Klinger!" Margaret almost screamed on looking up and seeing him. "Get down from there before you break your neck!"
"That's the first person to mention his safety," Father Mulcahy noted.
"I think that we all care so much that it does not need to be mentioned," Hawkeye told the Father. "Margaret, on the other hand, does not show any care for anyone too often."
"What's he doing up there?" Frank asked.
"Looking for the ball he lost," Trapper replied, rolling his eyes.
"Major, Sir, he's looking for a Section Eight," Radar put in.
"I knew that," Frank snapped.
"He's trying to convince everyone that he is nuts," Hawkeye said. "At the moment, he's only bananas."
"To be declared nuts, he has to imitate a squirrel," Trapper added.
"Klinger, for the last time, get down from there before I call the MPs," Henry commanded.
"I'm not coming down without a Section Eight discharge, sir!" Klinger shouted from the roof.
Why doesn't someone just get a ladder? Trapper wondered to himself. Hands casually in his pockets, he walked around the back of the latrines and found the ladder that Klinger had used to climb up the latrines with. He leant it against the latrines and began climbing.
"Sir! Captain! Don't do that?"
"Do what?" Trapper asked, still climbing. "Look, Klinger, I got a rude awakening this morning, and I think it's only fair..."
"Captain! This isn't strong enough to hold the both of us! Don't..."
It was too late. Trapper had hoisted himself up on top of the latrines, and as predicted, both he and Klinger fell through the flimsy roof and into the shoddy building.
Hawkeye, Henry and Radar ran over, hoping that no one was injured. On seeing this, Margaret asked Frank, "Why aren't you helping? You should be setting an example for the enlisted men."
"Well, I'm sure they don't need anymore than three people to help them," Frank decided with a shrug.
"Trap! Klinger! Are you both okay?"
Trapper emerged from beneath part of a wall. "I'm here," he called. Henry and Hawkeye ran over to get the wall off of him, whilst Radar helped Klinger out from beneath the corrugated-iron roof.
"Captain McIntyre! You ripped my loincloth!"
"I hope you're decent, there are nurses outside," Hawkeye informed him. "Seriously, are you hurt?"
Klinger sniffed. "Just my pride." He stepped out of the latrine, where he was promptly wolf-whistled.
"Trap, you okay?"
"Fine," Trapper replied. "Got a couple of cuts on my leg, but that's what you get for falling through the latrine."
"Get them cleaned up," Henry ordered. He too exited the latrine, with Radar following close behind. "All right," he called to the crowd. "The show's over. Breakfast will now be served." He then turned to Radar. "I need people to..."
"...Rebuild the latrines, pronto," Radar replied. He scurried away, and Henry rolled his eyes. When would it all end?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Most of the characters around the 4077th M*A*S*H are good eggs, and Daddy has a lot of fun working with some of them, even Klinger. They can all be practical jokers, even the ones you least suspect."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Margaret was just far too cool yesterday," Hawkeye decided. It was just after breakfast the same morning that Klinger had pulled off his latest stunt, and Hawkeye and Trapper were playing checkers in the Swamp.
"It was just far too convenient that she happened to walk into the OC the same day as the alcohol goes missing."
"And, without Frank, which is even more of a surprise."
"Do you think Frank's in on it?" Trapper asked.
"No chance. He would have blown it open long ago if he were part of the conspiracy. No, I think Hot Lips is working alone. Working with Frank would be suicidal to her entire operation."
"Where do you think she's hiding it? I mean, she couldn't have drunk an entire Still plus the contents of the Officers' Club. Unless someone pumped her stomach that we didn't know about."
"I'd say she's hiding it somewhere in her tent, somewhere where Frank doesn't hide when somebody knocks on the door."
"Under her cot. It has to be. Frank wouldn't fit under there."
"Right, we've established the who and the where, and probably the why. Now we have to answer the how."
"The how what?"
"The how are we going to get our booze back."
"Okay. How?"
"Cleverly," Hawkeye grinned, a plan forming in his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the Mess Tent at lunchtime, Hawkeye and Trapper purposely sat at a table with Margaret. She was a little surprised, but she remained civil. "Good afternoon, Captains," she greeted. "How's your leg?" She asked, directing the question at Trapper.
"Not bad, thank you," Trapper replied courteously.
The plan had been laid out. Hawkeye had snuck into Henry's office and had 'borrowed' a bottle of vodka from his cupboard. The two then waited until Margaret entered the Mess Tent for lunch, and quickly joined her. Trapper grabbed a cup of coffee, but instead of filling it with hot water, he had filled it with the vodka.
Hawkeye reached across for the salt, but in the process knocked it, along with the pepper pot, flying into Major Houlihan's lap. "Ah, Major, I'm so sorry!" He then made a commotion about cleaning it up. During this, Trapper switched Margaret's cup of coffee with the cup containing the vodka.
As part of the other phase of the plan, Trapper also poured vinegar onto Margaret's plate, a condiment they both knew she detested. Trapper had doubted that they would be able to carry this part off without Margaret noticing, but Hawkeye was making such pandemonium that someone could have taken the away and Margaret would not have noticed.
"Captain, it's all right, it's only salt and pepper," Margaret told him. "No harm done."
The meal continued peacefully for five seconds before Margaret took a bite out of her food. Tasting the vinegar, she reached for her cup of coffee and downed half the cup in one gulp. It was too late once she realised what she had swallowed.
"You!" She pointed an unsteady finger at the Captains.
"Careful, Margaret. You've just had the biggest shot of Vodka and coffee known to man," Hawkeye noted, surveying the almost-empty mug.
Margaret sat down again, thoroughly deflated.
"Where'd you hide the booze?" Trapper asked.
Pouting, Margaret replied, "Under my cot."
Abandoning their lunches, the three left the Mess Tent to retrieve the goods. "Out of interest, any reason why you did this?"
Margaret grinned like a schoolgirl. "I tried to prove that I could pull pranks as good as the next guy," she told them.
Hawkeye and Trapper laughed. It wasn't a stand against alcohol, after all. "We, the Hawkeye-and-Trapper-Practical-Joking-Association, dub you worthy after pulling that prank," Hawkeye declared.
"It's not like you, Margaret," Trapper said. "Thoroughly unmilitary, and we're proud of it."
"Who says we all have to act in our characters all the time?" Margaret questioned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Even though most of the people on our side of the war are normal guys, like you and me, there are a few exceptions to the rule. There is one man, who is a bit like a spy. He shows up from time to time when life at his end of the war gets boring, and tries to make life at our end of the war more fun. Well, that's not what he says, though."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Henry walked through the OR, he noticed a patient that was not there previously. He stopped and went to examine the chart that would usually be at the end of the bed. There was no chart. Becoming suspicious, Henry walked up to the man, whose head was covered in bandages.
As he neared him, he saw the familiar eyes and brows poking out from beneath the bandages and sighed. It was going to be another long day.
"How's it going, Flagg?" Henry asked. He heard the Colonel momentarily groan before removing the bandages.
"What gave me away?" Flagg asked as he sat up in the bed.
"We don't get a lot of patients that magically grow in our beds the minute the doctor's back is turned," Henry explained. "That would have to be something you have been programmed to do."
Flagg nodded. "It worked for about ten minutes, though. In ten minutes, if I were an enemy spy, I would have had this hospital blown to a thousand pieces."
"Thank the Lord you're on our side then, I think," Henry added, having some second thoughts about this statement. "Anyway, Flagg, why are you here? And if you tell me that's not your name, I'll fly you out on the next chopper."
"In your office, it's not safe to talk here."
"It's your mission," Henry shrugged. He motioned to the nurse that he would be back soon, and then left with Colonel Flagg.
"Okay, Flagg, what's the big secret?" Henry asked, pouring himself a much- needed drink.
"Blake, we've got trouble in this camp. I've been especially trained to deal with this kind of problem, rest assured."
I won't rest assured until you're thirty miles away from me, Henry thought to himself. "What kind of trouble, Colonel?"
"There is an enemy spy somewhere in this camp. He is disguised as a sheep."
Henry spat out his drink at the absurdity of this. "A what?"
"Are you deaf, man? A sheep!"
Henry's eyes could widen no further. He's finally lost it, he thought to himself. "Colonel, we've had a disturbance from a wannabe-monkey this morning, but no sheep."
Thinking it best to ignore the comment about the monkey, Flagg continued, "He has been seen roaming around the edge of camp."
"Do you even get sheep in Korea?" Henry wondered aloud.
"Colonel, it is my duty to expose the spy before he creates trouble," Flagg declared. "If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." With that, he shot out of the office in pursuit of the mammal.
No sooner had Colonel Flagg left, Hawkeye and Trapper both walked in. "Is it my imagination or did I just see Colonel Flagg leave the building?" Trapper asked.
"Unfortunately, it's him in person," Henry said, pouring himself another drink.
"What did he want? Any enemy parachutists drop in lately that we didn't know about?" Hawkeye enquired.
"He thinks there's an enemy spy out there, dressed as a sheep," Henry told them.
"I think he's flipped," Trapper concluded.
"I've seen a goat out there. I guess farming was never in Intelligence Basic Training," Hawkeye said. He led the other two to where he had spotted the animal. Outside, they witnessed the sight of Flagg trying to rip the skin off of the goat.
"I know you're in there," Flagg growled. "You can't fool a Colonel in Army Intelligence."
Radar walked outside to see what the commotion was about. "Hey! What's he doing to Dolly?"
"Dolly the goat? Is she yours, Radar?"
"I'm looking after her for the pregnant Korean lady in Post-Op," Radar informed them. "What's he doing to her?"
"More to the point, what Korean women call their goats Dolly?"
"Flagg thinks there's an enemy Korean inside," Henry told him.
"There isn't!" Radar protested.
"I know that, you know that, but he doesn't," Hawkeye said, pointing to Flagg.
Dolly the goat, having become irritated at being pulled about, turned on the man. She lined up, growled, and promptly head-butted Flagg in the side. She repeated this act several times, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
"The spy has a good aim," Hawkeye laughed. Dolly chased Colonel Flagg right out of the compound, and turned with her nose in the air as she was walked back by Radar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, kids, Daddy has to go now. Everyone at the 4077th says hi, (I told them to since I'm their commanding officer!) I missed you all lots and lots, and although I don't know when I'll be home, I hope it will be soon."
"I love you lots, from Daddy."