Title: Thin Red Line
Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy and Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Rating: M
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Summary: The Red Scare spreads to the 4077th when a no-nonsense colonel is sent to investigate one of their own.
Author's Note: Based on the characters portrayed by Rene Auberjonois and Donald Sutherland from MASH (1970), the original film production.
In response to persimmon's whump challenge. As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW
The jeep ride to Seoul was uncomfortable, to say the least. Hawkeye and Dago were shoved into the back of a jeep—still handcuffed—while Colonel Grayson climbed into the passenger seat next to a man with an MP armband hugging his bicep. The chaplain and surgeon were ordered not to speak, so they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they were delivered to the military police headquarters.
Two guards approached the jeep as it rolled to a stop, each grabbing an arm of the arrested men, and yanking them roughly from the vehicle.
"Hey!" Hawkeye protested. "There's no need to manhandle us! Take it easy."
"Shut your mouth, Pierce." Grayson barked, then spoke to the MP's. "Separate them and put them in holding cells. I want to interview each of them before we send them off and I don't want them conspiring anymore than they already have."
"Send us off? To where?" Hawkeye demanded.
Grayson's fist struck low and fast, delivering a hard blow to Hawkeye's gut. The doctor doubled over, heaving in pain.
"Hawkeye!" Dago couldn't help but holler out at the sight of the other man being assaulted and he automatically took a step towards the doctor, but the grip on his arm tightened and jerked him in the opposite way. "Wait! Please!"
"No can do, Father." The MP said stoically. "Orders are orders."
"Can you at least tell me where they intend to send us?"
The MP didn't answer, and led Dago through a series of corridors before he unlocked the door to an empty room. "Step inside and face the wall."
Dago did as he was told, knowing that if he caused trouble now, he was likely to get himself even deeper into this mess than he already was. He was worried about Hawkeye and hoped the doctor was alright, but conceded that there was nothing he could do at the moment. As he faced the wall, the MP stepped up behind him and released the cuffs binding his wrists. Dago wanted to audibly sigh in relief from the release of tension and tightness around his wrists, but he stifled the noise.
"Place your hands against the wall." The MP instructed.
The chaplain, again, did as he was instructed. The cuffs of his shirt rode up an inch on his forearms and he could see ugly red rings marring his pale skin where the cuffs had dug into him. There were dark lines beginning to form, indicating that he was starting to bruise. He grimaced slightly at the sight.
The MP began to pat Dago down, looking for weapons or other goods he might have smuggled in that could be used in an escape attempt, and confiscating everything from the breviary that had been in his pocket, right down to the silver crosses pinned on his lapels. He even removed the army-issued cross necklace that denoted him as a Christian chaplain.
When the MP left, closing and locking the door behind him, Dago shivered involuntarily. The holding cells were not meant to provide comfort in the least. It was dark and hot—the only source of light and ventilation coming from beneath the door. There was no cot or chair in the room, and no toilet—things that one would expect to find in a typical jail cell. Dago knew that these rooms weren't meant for long-term detainment, but that thought did nothing to comfort him.
Where were they planning on sending him and Hawkeye? The chaplain wondered if Henry knew they were going to be relocated, or if Henry could even do anything for them at this point. Communism was a horrible threat, and anyone suspected of being a traitor or a sympathizer was treated guilty until proven innocent. Even the innocents who had been investigated had found their lives in ruin after they'd been cleared. Dago knew the same was possible for himself and the doctor.
Sliding down the wall in the darkened room, Dago folded his hands together and began to pray.
Hawkeye paced the small holding cell he'd been taken to like a caged animal. Feeling of the wall with one hand, he stalked back and forth angrily, trying to formulate a plan on what to do. He hated Grayson. Hated him. Hawkeye was a supreme pacifist, but he hated Grayson so much he wanted to kill him. Or at least give him what for.
His stomach was killing him from where Colonel Iron Fist had struck him, making him more aware of the knots in his gut as he worried over the situation. A thousand thoughts were circling his brain in succession, making him nauseous and anxious. For the first time since he'd been drafted, he regretted half the things he'd done that had nearly gotten him court-martialed—the other half still mostly amused him, so he didn't bother feeling bad about them. Despite the fact that Hawkeye wasn't a conventional Army Officer, he was certain he wasn't the only one who hated being here, or who didn't quite follow protocol and procedure, so what had branded him as a traitor?
He still considered that this might all be a ploy to get the American people to rally behind the war effort—much the same way they did with the propaganda during the first and second World Wars. What better way to prove the threat of communism than by showing that even a doctor and priest could be tainted by it?
Bastards…
He hoped that Dago was alright, and felt bad for the chaplain being caught up in this. Neither of them had done anything wrong, but Dago's refusal to cooperate was enough to charge with something, Hawkeye was sure. He admired the other man for staying strong, even though the chaplain had been so visibly upset by Grayson's attempts to get him to dish on Hawkeye. He would seriously owe the other man now.
Then, of course, was Mary and the boys. He hoped to whatever Gods might exist that they were alright; that Grayson hadn't sent some goons after them. The only thing Mary Pierce had ever done wrong in her life was falling in love with a miscreant named Hawkeye. She didn't deserve to be interrogated or made to worry that her husband might be a turncoat. Of course, Mary was smart enough to know better and just might give the CIA a piece of her mind. Hawkeye couldn't help but chuckle at that thought.
Give 'em Hell, baby. He thought with a grin.
Sweat rolled down the priest's face. He could feel it slick on his arms, legs, and back soaking into the fabric of his uniform. He mopped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and rested his head back against the wall. His throat was parched and there was hardly any saliva left on his tongue as he tried to wet his chapped lips.
How long had he been in here? Surely it had only been a matter of hours, but if that was the case…how long did they intend to keep him in here? Grayson had told the guard he planned to interrogate each of them again. Was he hoping to weaken their defenses first by making them sweat it out? Mulcahy had to admit, it was a good strategy, but he still wasn't going to offer up any information that might incriminate Hawkeye. Dago didn't care what 'intel' the Colonel thought he had, Hawkeye wasn't a communist.
Lost in his own thoughts, the chaplain nearly jumped when he heard the slide of the bolt on the door before it was pushed open. Light flooded the dark room and Dago shielded his eyes as it painfully blinded him.
"On your feet." A voice ordered him.
Dago complied, albeit slowly. His body, though he had done nothing physical in several hours, felt weak and tired and sore. The guard, obviously impatient, grabbed the chaplain's collar and hoisted him the rest of the way up, spun him around and pushed him face first against the wall before wrenching his arms behind his back. The chaplain hissed in pain as another set of handcuffs were placed on his wrists, rubbing against the raw and bruise skin, but thankfully were not as tight as Grayson had made them.
"Come on." The guard said, turning Dago back around and shoving him towards the door.
"This…" Dago felt like his tongue and throat were sandpaper and his voice cracked from lack of moisture. He tried to swallow, but he was too dehydrated. "This isn't necessary."
The guard said nothing as he marched Dago back along several corridors to another room and roughly pushed him into a wooden chair in front of a wooden table, leaving him cuffed. This room was dimly lit, but still uncomfortably warm. As the guard made to leave again, Dago pleaded with him.
"Can't I have some water? Please?"
His only reply was the door slamming shut behind the guard. Dago sighed and let his head drop forward as he closed his eyes, feeling defeated and utterly alone.
It felt like another eternity had passed before the door opened again. Dago didn't bother looking up immediately to see who it was. He knew by sheer intuition that it was Colonel Grayson.
"Well, Red," the colonel said in a smooth voice laced with poisonous barbs. Dago knew the use of the nickname was a double entendre: Red because of Dago Red and Red because of communist. It was just one more gibe to get at the chaplain. "Now that you've had a little taste of what's in store for you…are you ready to cooperate?"
Now Dago did lift his head. The colonel was holding a glass of water and Dago involuntarily licked his lips, the sight of the cool liquid momentarily making him forget Grayson's thinly-veiled threat. "What do you want from me?"
"You know what I want, Padre." Grayson said, coming over and setting the glass down on the table before he perched himself on the edge. "All you have to do is tell me anything Pierce might have said to you that was unpatriotic, then you're free to go."
Dago met the man's eyes. "What did Hawkeye do that made you think he was a communist?"
"I've already told you, Padre; he's a threat to the American way of life." Grayson said impatiently. "What has he said to you?"
"I've known Hawkeye for several months, since he first came to Korea." Dago said dryly. "He and I have had numerous exchanges."
"Yes…and?" The colonel was practically salivating, obviously pleased that the priest was speaking.
"I don't intend to tell you about any of them." Dago said after a moment's hesitation.
He could nearly see the steam billow out of Grayson's ears as the colonel reached his boiling point. The colonel was on his feet in a flash, one leg swiping under the legs of the chairs and knocking it—and Dago—to the floor. Again the chaplain was momentarily dazed by the colonel's swiftness, but soon found himself being hauled off the floor before he was slammed against the wall.
"I warned you once, you little shit!" Grayson screamed at him, tugging him forward before he slammed Dago back into the wall a second time. The chaplain felt the air leave his lungs from the force of it. "Don't fuck with me! Tell me what you know!"
"I don't know anything!" Dago yelled back weakly.
"Bullshit!" Grayson said, slamming the priest into the wall a third time. "Tell me what you know!"
Dago gave the man a daring look, remembering the last thing Henry had told them. "What I know? This is what I know: I am John Patrick Mulcahy. My rank is Captain of the United States Army. My service number is RA56295403*."
Grayson snapped.
Just as he'd done to Hawkeye, the Colonel slammed his fist into Dago's stomach, making the priest want to vomit, though he knew there was nothing to expel. He punched Dago again and again in the same place.
"Want to get cute with me!" Grayson bellowed. "Think I won't lay a hand on you because you're a man of God? Think again, Padre!"
He struck one last time, harder than before and released Dago. The priest fell to the ground, hunching over, unable to hug his stomach due to the cuffs, as he coughed and gagged. Tears were leaking from his eyes, mingling with the sweat on his face, and dripping from the end of his nose and chin.
"Last chance, Padre." Grayson panted.
"My name…" Dago said shakily, "is John Patrick Mulcahy. My rank is-"
Before he could continue, Grayson came at him again and landed a solid kick to the priest's face. As Dago's mouth filled with blood, he wondered if the colonel had just kicked his teeth out, but when he spit the crimson fluid on the floor, none of his teeth fell out. He poured blood from his mouth and nose, throbbing where the colonel's steel-toed boot had connected.
Grayson squatted down in front of Mulcahy. "You had your chance, Padre. I have no choice but to keep you under arrest. Even if Pierce decides to confess, you've committed treason by keeping his secrets."
Dago wanted to speak, but between the pain, blood and dehydration, he couldn't find the ability. Dago's eyes tracked the colonel as he rose to his feet and crossed to the table to pick up the glass of water. For a long second, Dago's hopes soared that perhaps the man might allow him a drink after all, but they were quickly dashed again as Grayson carried the water over and poured it on the floor in front of the priest. He felt more tears sting his eyes at the utter cruelty of this man, but the sight of the water on the ground was simply too much. Dago swallowed whatever pride he had left at this point and lowered his bloodied face to the floor, trying to lap at the liquid as best he could. He cried in anguish as the water he could get was immediately tainted with his blood, providing him no relief.
He heard Grayson laugh coldly above him, obviously enjoying the sight before the man turned and left the room. Dago rested his forehead on the floor as he sobbed. Was this what happened to people who were arrested on suspicion of conspiracy or treason? Was this how they were treated? He couldn't reconcile that his own country might treat him this way. True, he could have told them what they wanted to hear, but why put Hawkeye on the line for a few foolish comments that meant nothing?
The door opened again and Dago didn't bother moving, even when he was ordered to his feet. He knew, either way, the impatient guard would haul him up, then escort him back to his holding room. Dago hadn't anticipated the shock of pain, however, as his stomach screamed in agony, making him want to wretch once again. He still felt somewhat dazed and weak as he was shoved forward.
The priest was hardly aware that anyone else was in the vicinity, but as his eyes glanced up at an approaching set of boots, he met Hawkeye's gaze. The doctor's mouth dropped in horror at the sight of the priest, and Dago watched Hawkeye struggle to get away from the guard escorting him.
"Dago! Christ! Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Hawkeye screamed. "Dago!"
Dago couldn't open his mouth to respond, as it had once again filled with blood, and he simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to be marched back to his room.
"I swear to God, I'm going to sue the whole Goddamn United States when I get out of here!" Hawkeye screamed as he continued to struggle against the guards. He was tossed into the interrogation room they'd just taken Dago from and he kicked the door repeatedly as it was slammed shut. "YOU FUCKING COWARDS!"
Shaking with rage, Hawkeye panted and turned to survey the room. There was a toppled chair, and what looked like a mix of blood and water spilled on the floor. If Hawkeye had wanted to kill Grayson before, now he wanted to make it a slow and painful death. He tried to imagine what the colonel had done to Dago, but the possibilities just made him boil with rage. He couldn't get the sight of Dago's bloodied face out of his mind. He could tell, just by the quick look he'd had that Dago's nose had been broken and his upper lip had been split. The priest needed medical care to stitch his lip and reset his nose before it was too late.
When the door opened, Hawkeye wanted to charge the man, but he managed to stay put, simply turning his hateful glare on the colonel. "What did you do to him?"
"I gave him a chance," Grayson said coldly. "It is his own fault."
"His fault?" Hawkeye felt himself ready to explode. "You son of a bitch, I'll—"
"You'll get the same thing if you don't shut up and sit down, Pierce." Grayson said, as he righted the chair and pointed to it.
Hawkeye thought for a long minute. "I'll cooperate with you on the condition that you let me treat him."
Grayson looked surprised. "Very well. Sit."
Hawkeye sat and watched Grayson pace the room. Then the interrogation began…
Dago lay on the floor of his cell, thoughtless and in pain. He had no idea how much time had passed, and he simply didn't care. He felt defeated and alone, knowing no one was coming to save them from this hell and he'd pretty much sealed his own fate by sticking to his vow not to speak.
When the bolt on the door slid open, Dago tensed, waiting to be hauled to his feet once again, but instead someone limped into his cell. He weakly lifted his head, squinting up at the figure standing in the doorway, but unable to make out who it was or what they wanted. He was half tempted to tell whoever it was to go away, but wasn't keen on getting another kick in the teeth, so he simply dropped his head back down to the make-shift pillow he'd fashioned out of his shirt.
"Dago?" Hawkeye's voice was soft and he limped again towards the priest. Mulcahy lifted his head once again, the quick movement making him momentarily dizzy.
"Hawkeye?" He mumbled dryly through swollen lips.
"Yeah, babe…it's me." He said. The door slid shut behind Hawkeye, blanketing the room in darkness once again. "Thanks a lot!" Hawkeye yelled out to the guard before he dug into the medical kit they'd given him to patch up his friend. He found the flashlight that was standard issue in a kit and clicked it on, shining the beam at the priest, who flinched against the bright light. "Sorry…"
Hawkeye limped towards Dago as the priest managed to pull himself into a sitting position and sank down next to him against the wall. The beam of the flashlight illuminated Hawkeye's face for a brief moment and the priest reached over and took the light from the doctor, aiming it at Hawkeye's face.
An ugly bruise was already beginning to form around the surgeon's right eye—which, Dago noticed, was not hidden by the doctor's glasses. There was a smudge of red in the corner of Hawkeye's mouth, indicating he'd also been hit there.
"Are you okay?" Dago mumbled.
Hawkeye gave a weak laugh. "Don't worry about me, Dago. I'll live. I'm here to take care of you. Tilt the light up at your face." Hesitantly, the priest obeyed and Hawkeye sighed in empathy. "Christ…Looks like he tap danced on your face."
"Feels like it too."
Hawkeye sighed as he assessed the damaged. He really needed some water to debride the wounds, not wanting to use the alcohol in the bag, knowing it would hurt like hell, but he didn't have a choice. He pulled out the bottle of alcohol and a piece of gauze. "I wish I could tell you this wasn't going to hurt, Dago…"
"It already hurts." The chaplain countered.
"I know." Hawkeye said softly as he saturated the gauze with alcohol. "But it's about to hurt even worse."
The doctor gently pressed the gauze against the priest's lip and Dago winced as his skin felt like it'd been set on fire.
"I'm sorry Grayson did this to you, Dago. I'm sorry it's because of me."
The chaplain shook his head minutely, speaking when Hawkeye lifted away the gauze. "Don't be sorry, Hawkeye. It was my choice not to say anything to him. I don't think you're a communist any more than I am, but I wasn't going to offer up anything that might get you in trouble."
"I'm not sure it would have mattered either way," Hawkeye said as he wetted a new piece of gauze and began dabbing at the dried blood on the priest's face. "I told him I'd cooperate with him if he let me treat you, and even though I answered every single question, he still didn't like my answers and decided to take it out on my face with his fists."
"Better his fist than his foot," Dago sighed.
"He kicked you in the face?" Hawkeye sounded horrified and couldn't believe it when Dago nodded. "Christ…Dago…did you lose any teeth?"
"I don't think so. My gums are sore though so he might have loosened a few."
"That lousy son of a bitch…I know he's broken your nose. I could tell just looking at you earlier. And, by the way, I'm going to have to reset it, which will probably make it bleed again now that so much time has passed." Hawkeye sighed. "I'll put a few stitches in your lip, too."
"What did you tell Grayson?" Dago asked as Hawkeye finished cleaning up his face and dug through the bag for a needle and suture silk.
"Why I do the things I do—like the thing with Shaking Sammy. He didn't like me saying that it was just fun and games."
"No, I don't suppose he did." Dago said, managing to find a small chuckle. "He asked me to tell him what I knew, so I gave him my name, rank and service number. You can see how well that went over."
Hawkeye shook his head with a laugh. "You're one brave bastard, you know that, Dago? I never would have thought you'd have the guts to stand up to a guy like Grayson, but I was wrong. And…thank you."
"The question is…what happens now?"
"I don't know." Hawkeye said seriously, then met Dago's eyes. "Lay down on your back, this might be easier that way."
Dago complied and laid back, resting his head on his balled up shirt and looking up at Hawkeye who was positioning the flashlight in Dago's hand so that it gave him the right amount of light.
"Hold completely still, babe. I don't have any topical anesthetic to numb your lip."
Dago closed his eyes and felt the small needle pierce his skin half way between the opening of his left nostril and upper lip. It was extremely uncomfortable, but not unbearable, and Hawkeye worked quickly and carefully to minimize the pain as much as possible. When he was finally done, he snipped the thread close to the skin and patted Dago on the shoulder.
"All done with that babe, now sit up and I'll reset your nose."
"Do you have to?" Dago asked, gingerly feeling the stitches with the tip of his finger.
"Unless you want your nose to be crooked, I strongly suggest you let me."
The chaplain sighed and once again did as he was told, sitting up and putting his back against the wall. Hawkeye knelt in front of him, taking several pieces of gauze and folding them together. "Hold these. Your nose is going to start bleeding when I do this."
Dago closed his eyes tightly, holding his breath as Hawkeye reached forward, grabbing the bridge of the chaplain's nose and jerked it back into place. Dago could hear, as well as feel, the bone being moved back into place and tears stung his eyes and he bit back a scream of pain. Hawkeye's fingers closed over Dago's wrist and he lifted the chaplain's hand so that the gauze was pressed against his nostrils as the blood started to flow.
"Breathe, Dago." Hawkeye coached him, trying to find some tape that might keep the bone stable while it healed. He found a small roll and placed a thick piece of gauze over the bridge of the chaplain's nose before he taped it down tightly. "Don't touch that, okay?"
Dago was taking short, shallow breaths, tears leaking from his closed eyes.
Hawkeye felt bad that he hadn't been able to give the priest anything to numb the pain before…or even now, so he simply had to rely on the psychological benefits. "The worst is over, Dago. That's as bad as the pain will get. I promise."
"Trust me…that was bad enough."
"Yeah, but you took it like a champ, babe. Me, I'd have been screaming."
"Don't think I didn't want to." Dago said, trying to normalize his breath. "I want to go home."
"I know…so do I, baby."
"I'm so thirsty."
Hawkeye laid his hand on Dago's shoulder. "We can't think about it, Dago. We have to just stay focused on something else. They won't let us die in here."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because that would be murder," Hawkeye said. "I don't care what crime they want to charge either of us with; they can't just let us die."
"I'm not sure I agree." Dago said softly. "You heard Grayson earlier. He's planning on sending us somewhere."
"I know. But we have to be alive for that."
"Not if it's to a graveyard."
"Aren't you the one who's supposed to be optimistic? I figured you'd be spouting off some crap about how God is watching over us or something."
"He is, but even I doubt He would personally intervene in this matter."
"Gee, if that's faith, I definitely don't want any of that."
"I'm sorry… you're right." Dago sighed. "I'm just…afraid."
"I am too, babe; but that's what they want. They want us to be afraid." Hawkeye checked the flow of blood coming from Dago's nose and gave him a new piece of gauze, then changed the subject. "What do you think everyone's doing back at the 4077th?"
"Depends on how many casualties have come in between now and then. I'd expect Trapper and Duke and probably pretty lost without you."
"Either that or they've emptied the still in my absence and are having a fine time on my grog."
"That's likely too, I suppose."
The door lock slid open once again and light filled the room as both men were told to get on their feet and face the wall. Hawkeye knew what was coming and tried to talk reason to the guard.
"Listen, bub, you can cuff me anyway you like, but can you cuff him with his hands in front? I just reset his nose and it's gushing blood right now."
"Turn around," the guard said. "Hands behind your back."
"So much for diplomacy." Hawkeye scoffed. "Guess we really are on the wrong side of the war, Dago."
"No talking." The guard ordered as he snapped a pair of cuffs on each man and told them to proceed into the hallway.
Another guard was waiting and the two men were marched back through the many corridors and outside to a waiting jeep. It felt like early morning to the chaplain, and he knew the time had come that they would be transported to some undisclosed location. His only comfort in the matter was that—so far—he and Hawkeye would be traveling together.
Dago could feel blood dripping off his chin once again as they loaded into the jeep and took off. He could feel it spilling down from his nostrils and across his lips, and wished he had been able to keep the gauze in place. With a grimace, he wiped his chin across the top of his shoulder, letting his shirt mop up the blood. He didn't dare wipe his lips or nose and cause himself further pain and injury.
"It'll stop bleeding soon," Hawkeye reassured him quietly.
"I said no talking!" The guard said loudly from the front seat.
They drove for what felt like half the morning until they came to a checkpoint, where several armed men were waiting. Dago and Hawkeye were ordered to get out of the jeep, then they were both uncuffed before the MP's returned to the jeep and left.
"Fall in." One of the armed men said.
Dago and Hawkeye exchanged a curious glance, but didn't move.
"Fall. In." The man repeated with some irritation.
"To what are we falling in?" Hawkeye asked.
"Line." The man said gruffly.
Dago stepped in behind Hawkeye, and guards flanked them on either side.
"No chance for escape then," Hawkeye muttered.
"Company, march." The man in front hollered out, moving the group forward.
They walked along a dusty, dirty road that was lined with trees and disappeared behind a bend. Dago had no idea where they were or where they were headed, but he was tired and sore and dying of thirst.
Just when he thought he couldn't take another step, their destination came into view. It was a camp, not unlike the 4077th, but it was enclosed behind two barbed-wire fences that were at least 12 feet high. There was a gate leading into the camp manned by two armed guards. Dago felt his stomach drop.
"A POW camp?" He asked aloud before he realized it.
"Detention facility," the guard next to him corrected quietly, obviously knowing he wasn't supposed to be talking to the prisoners.
The chaplain looked over at him in surprise.
"Freedom Camp." The guard spoke again. "It's where they bring traitors."
"What happens to the people who are taken here?"
"They're given a chance to reform." The man said.
"And what about people who are innocent of the crimes they're charged with?"
The man couldn't answer as the group came to a stop outside the gates. Another man in uniform approached the gate and was let through and he inspected both Hawkeye and Dago carefully.
"Captains Pierce and Mulcahy, I presume." The man didn't wait for an answer. "I'm Colonel West. I run this little operation here."
West was a short man, and slightly stout, which contrasted to Grayson's harsh, overbearing physique. Though he wasn't as tall or well-built as the other colonel, West was still intimidating in his own way.
"You men are here because you have been arrested on suspicion of communist sympathies; a threat that destroys democracy and everything that the United States has been fighting against for since the first World War. Rather than charge you with your crime outright and discharge you from service, you have been given the opportunity to redeem yourselves and prove that you are valuable members of American society and worthy to be in this man's Army. Because you are officers, you are free to roam the grounds as you please in your spare time. Work hard and obey my rules, and you could earn your freedom back."
"What are your rules?" Hawkeye asked.
"Do not attempt to escape." The colonel said. "For your sake; not for mine. There have been a few foolhardy attempts to escape but each one was…terminated."
Dago swallowed hard, understanding the meaning.
"That's it?" Hawkeye asked incredulously. "Don't escape?"
"Believe me, Captain…that is enough."
Hawkeye and Dago exchanged another look, both feeling uneasy about what lay in store for them at the Freedom Camp. If the only rule was not to escape, how bad must things be on the inside?
As the two men were marched through the gate, they knew it wouldn't be long before they found out.
TBC
In the television series, Father Mulcahy's service number is said to be RA11295403. Since Mulcahy is from Pennsylvania in the series, the first two numbers should have been either 13 or 52 depending on the year he enlisted, not 11. However, in the books that launched the movie and TV series, Mulcahy is from San Diego, California. Hence, I changed the first two numbers of his service number to 56, which means that he would have enlisted after 1948 before the Korean War began.
