MASH 4077, South Korea.

He had read the letter more times than he dared to count, but as he stared down at that one line he found that no matter how hard he tried, the letters did not change. Sighing mournfully, young, unscarred hands stuffed the already crumpled piece of paper into the breast pocket of his brand new officer's jacket, as bright blue eyes gazed out over the live stock and supplies sharing the cargo compartment in the rickety old plane.

This was nothing like the one place he ached to be; and as he took in the crate labelled 'staples', and the goat chewing on hay, he couldn't help but realise that were he was heading would be nothing like it either. Running a hand through his easily ruffled hair, Doctor Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce thought back to the moment he received the letter, and the way that his entire world fell to pieces as each line dug him deeper into the service of the United States Army.

His Dad had offered to help him run; of course, but despite how much hated the government and all they stood for, he knew that he would have hated himself more if he hid away when others needed him. "You were given a true gift," his Dad had once told him, holding his hands like they were made out of glass. "Don't squander it, ok. Can you do that for me Hawk?" He had been nine at the time, but his Dad's words were a driving force for him from that moment on, pushing him to be the best that he could be in everything that did.

Leaning back against the wall of the cargo hull, the lithe man let his hat droop over his face as he thought over the letter one last time and grin cheekily. Well maybe not everything...

"I have called you all here because I have some very important information that I need to tell you, here."

The stumbling words offered by the greying CO were laughable, but as a curly haired Trapper John McIntyre eyed the small group of people sitting in the office, he couldn't help but feel that if the war wasn't going to kill him, than the lack of good company defiantly is.

Frank and Margret practically shared one mutated body that didn't know whether it was a quivering mess of coward, or a domineering woman that produced more testosterone than most red blooded American men Trapper knew. Father Mulcahy was a good man, but also a God man, and probably wouldn't know a good joke unless it was sent from up above. 'Rader' O'Riely was a good kid, but just that, a kid; and their dear commanding officer, Mr Col. Henry Blake, was as useful outside an OR as a wet rag in the rain.

The camp had only been up and running for just over a week, but Trapper knew that unless he transferred, was sent home, or had a new form of interest in the camp, he was going to cry insanity by the end of the month. Glancing over from his perch near the window as both Margret and Frank straightened their backs, the curly haired blonde barely stopped his eyes from rolling, and turned his attention back to the blushing Blake.

"What is it Henry?"

Frowning at the blatant lack of respect to authority figures, Margret opened her mouth to most likely give him a good lashing, but was stopped by the next words out of Henry's mouth.

"Well," he fumbled, playing around with the papers on his desk in a clear show of nervousness. "I just received word from I-core. They've decided that any MASH units within fifty yards of the front line, are now required to have a minimum of four surgeons on post at any time."

Clapping her hands together, Margret smiled widely. "Oh this is just wonderful," she crowed, causing Trapper to wince at the pitch. "That's just what we need. It will even out the OR in emergencies, and the shifts in the Post-op won't be so long and strenuous for you all."

Her announcement was worded to include everyone, but Trapper knew that it was aimed more so towards her fellow Major; and if Frank's nervous giggles were anything to go by, so did he.

"Well it will be nice to have an extra surgeon on hand to shorten the work hours," the yellow bellied coward simpered, his beady eyes watering for extra effect. "Not that I'm struggling with the pressure," he added hastily, "It might just make it easier on the rest of you, that's all."

Giving in to his eyes desperate pleas, Trapper let them roll in their sockets before glaring down at the sorry excuse for a surgeon. "Frank, the only thing that would make the OR easier on me, would be for you to admit that you're not really a doctor, and leave the operating to the professionals."

Swelling up in indignation, both Frank and Margret glared up at the blonde; well Margret did, Frank just kind of looked constipated. "How dare you talk that way to a ranking officer," she screeched, causing Trapper to wonder if it was only his ears that were being violently murdered in their home.

Holding his hands up as a gesture of piece, Henry stared at his ranking officers and attempted a stern face. "Now, now, Houlihan, I'm sure McIntyre was just joking."

Knowing that he could say so much more, but would receive no back up, Trapper folded his arms across his chest and waited till Henry had the Head Nurse's feathers back down, before speaking once more. "So who's the next victim? Not another stiff I hope."

Shaking his head, Henry glanced down at the open folder on his desk, and flicked over a page. "No," he muttered, scanning over the page as he answered. "He's name is Benjamin Franklin Peirce. Born and raised in some little town in the middle of nowhere, did his residency at Boston, and is labelled here to be our new Chief Surgeon."

Gaping at the newest piece of information, Frank rounded on the CO. "But I'm Chief Surgeon!"

"Well not anymore," Henry shrugged, refusing to take his eyes off the paper folder he was still perusing. "This new guy's only a Captain, but his track record seems to have flagged him in all kinds of positives with the Army. Says that he's also only a draftee, apparently he was working in the hospital a town over from his hometown when they picked him up."

Watching as the two Majors blistered under the information, Trapper pushed himself up off the table he had been leaning against, and made his way towards the door. "Well if that's all-"

"And where do you think you're going?" Margret yelled out, her hand nearly being ripped off by a whining Frank. "You haven't been dismissed."

Not bothering to glance back, Trapper pushed open the door and shrugged non-Chantilly. "I have a new Bunkie to prepare for. Want to make a good impression after all."

The plane ride had been terrible, but the jeep ride was even worse. Groaning in agony as the blasted thing hit yet another pothole, Hawkeye glanced over at the driver and wondered if the man was hitting the stupid things on purpose.

"That's it straight ahead sir."

Pushing aside the aches in his body, Hawkeye turned to check out his new environment, and felt like groaning all over again. If there was no other reason to hate the army, then it was their abundant love for all things kaki. The uniforms, the buildings, heck even patches of the ground were covered in the atrocious, vomit inspired colour. Praying to the gods of medicine that the food wouldn't be kaki as well, Hawkeye grabbed hold of the side of his seat as the jeep rounded the camp sharply, and pulled up out the front of the administration building. Unfolding his long, gangly limbs, the brunette whimpered in agony as his spine straightened for the first time in twenty-four hours.

"Are you Captain Peirce?"

Opening his eyes beadily, Hawkeye turned around to face his greeter, but found nothing but air.

"Down here sir.'

Correcting his gaze, Hawkeye blinked repeatedly, and even had to rub his eyes to make sure that what he was seeing was really there. "Wow," he muttered at last, still staring down at the poor midget with inch thick glasses and a hat that looked more like a sock. "I didn't realize that the government reached as far as munchkin land. If I give you a hundred dollars, will you show me were the yellow brick road is?"

Not sure if he should be insulted or not, Radar decided to just ignore it and continue with what he was assigned to do. "Um- I'm meant to bring you to Col. Blake."

Nodding in defeat, Hawkeye grabbed his duffle bag and suitcase out of the back of the jeep, and followed the poor height deprived man into the only building that looked like it wasn't made out of cloth.

"Col. Blake, sir? Captain Peirce is here."

Walking into the room that was obviously the CO's office, Hawkeye let his eyes vaguely roam over the various nick-nacks and assortments, before turning to the man behind the desk. The fact that he was wearing a fisherman's cap was a dead giveaway, but as the brunette took the lack of posture, and laugh lines on the man's face, Hawkeye knew that this man was just as much a victim of the government as he was.

"Captain Peirce," Henry grinned, sticking his hand out in greeting. "It's a pleasure to have you at the 4077th. We're not much, but I'm sure that we'll do great things here."

Taking the offered hand, Hawkeye smiled back before lowering himself into a provided chair. "It's just Hawkeye," he offered. "And I'm sure that you will."

Grinning wider, Henry stood to make his way to his liquor cabinet, but stopped in his tracks when his door swung open, and Margret and Frank breezed in. "Yes Houlihan, Burnes?"

Smiling sweetly, Margret glanced down at the brunette currently decked out in complete army formals, and simpered softly. "We just thought that we would greet the newest member of the 4077th and offer to escort him around the compound."

Standing behind the Head Nurse, Frank nodded with each word.

Knowing what they were before they even opened their mouths, Hawkeye felt any hopes that he had of this place being somewhat decent drain away. Blake may be the one with the title, but it was these two that held the power. Standing from his seat, the brunette turned around to face the pair; Majors if their stars were anything to go by, and smiled charmingly. "I would love to join you," he smouldered, figuring that if he was going to be here, then he might as well start off on the right foot. "But unfortunately I don't do threesomes, I just end up feeling like a third wheel."

Gaping, the pair stared up at the man like he had just slapped them across the face, which could have been quite possible, given his choice of words. Waiting for the ever expectant hissy fit that history had taught Hawkeye would quickly follow, the brunette was surprised when instead of yelling, the doors opened once more, and a man with curly blonde hair, sarcastic hazel eyes and a set of lips that just begged to be laughing made his way in. But that was not the most startling bit of the man. Trying desperately not to laugh, bright blue eyes racked the slightly taller man's physic, and the spaghetti strapped cocktail dress with matching heels that covered it.

"I haven't missed the new guy?" the blonde quipped, his hand reaching up to straighten a strap that had flipped itself on his way in. "It's just, I was promised a date, and I refuse to be stood up."

Letting out a huge burst of laughter, Hawkeye crowed loudly as he moved forward and grabbed the man's hand in a delicate embrace. "And just who would you be fair maiden?"

Using his other hand to fan his face in an over dramatic way, the blonde stared down at the slightly shorted brunette, and grinned mischievously. "Trapper John McIntyre. And you handsome?"

"Benjamin Peirce," Hawkeye replied, grinning just as widely. "But you my dear can call me Hawkeye."

Snorting loudly, the pair glanced at each other once more, before breaking out in pearls of laughter; the rest of the room looking at the pair as if they were crazy. Pulling himself together somewhat, Hawkeye shouldered his items before holding out his arm in invitation. "May I escort you to your suite?"

Fluttering his hand once more, Trapper grabbed onto the arm and followed the brunette as he shuffled out of the room. "But what about my partner?"

Shrugging, Hawkeye glanced over at his newfound light in an uncertain situation, and smiled happily. "Well he'll just have to find a new partner," he winked. "Cause no blind fool would give you up; and lucky for you, I just happen to be one."

Watching as the pair left the office in hysterics, Henry, Margret and Frank turned to each other and shared the one simple thought...

...what chaos were those two capable of creating?