Margaret was definitely feeling better after her break. It was amazing what even the shortest rest could do to her energy level. She felt more focused and even a little bit happier since she had poured out her feelings into her journal.
But the surgery hadn't gotten any better. Another bus of casualties pulled into the compound as she was walking back to OR. The doctors were all in surgery so she started triage and then handed Klinger the reins as she went into the OR. He really has stepped up since Radar left, she thought. She was impressed. It was hard to believe that the man in high heels and evening dresses had earned her respect on merit alone.
"Are you feeling better, Major?" Col. Potter asked as she walked back inside.
"Yes, sir," she answered, also letting them know about the bus load of casualties that had just arrived.
Everyone groaned.
The work continued for many more hours until Margaret's break seemed to be days in the past. Surgery moved much more slowly without Hawkeye to help. She knew he was needed at the Aid Station, but she couldn't help but be concerned that some of the patients at the 4077th might be in danger without him.
Margaret realized such thoughts were very unmilitary. "Soldiers" follow orders and while Hawkeye wasn't enthusiastic about following them she knew he had chosen to take the risk. She just hoped it had been the right decision.
It had been nearly two days without any word from Battalion Aid or I Corps about Hawkeye's situation. The whole camp was getting restless. Margaret hated to admit it, but Hawkeye really was the central person in the camp. His presence had been one of the few constants in this ever changing wartime environment.
Had been? You're almost as bad as Charles, thinking about him in the past tense, she realized.
BJ called her over to his table.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"Not really."
"Neither am I."
Margaret knew BJ was the only one who understood the closeness she and Hawkeye shared. He had been caught in the crossfire of many an argument and she assumed Hawkeye had told BJ about a few of their more amiable encounters. BJ was never one to gossip, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was definitely aware of their feelings for each other. He probably understands them better than I do, she thought.
"Maybe I've been a little outspoken in my concern, but I feel guilty because it was my turn to go."
Margaret smiled. "You have been a little loud. You once nearly startled a patient out from his anesthesia."
Her voice turned serious. "But you're asking all the questions and demanding all the answers that I wish I could."
"It's been tough for you to hide it, hasn't it?"
"Hide what?"
"The way you love him."
"The way I what?" she nearly yelled. The nerve of him, presuming to know all of my feelings, she thought.
Now it was his turn to smile. "Shh, Margaret. You'll wake the patient."
"He's my friend, just like he's yours," she said stubbornly, knowing it wasn't true. As far as she knew, Hawkeye and BJ had never made out in the supply tent.
"I'll admit it's been hard for me to hide my concern," she sighed, "but I'm not sure concern equals love. I do have a feeling though that if - no, when - he returns things will be different."
"Yeah," BJ agreed. "I've never worked this long without him."
"Neither have I," she admitted. "There are days that he's been gone, but never when we've had so many casualties."
"I guess all we can do is hope."
"That's all we've been doing for the past two days," she groaned. "I feel so useless."
"Well the young man on the table in front of you certainly doesn't think you're useless."
"I know," Margaret replied. She turned her attention back to the young man in question.
"He's awfully young, isn't he?" she heard Fr. Mulcahy ask.
"Yeah. I can't tell if they're getting younger or we're just getting older," BJ replied.
Col. Potter spoke up. "I remember when I was a medic in WWII, there was more than one private who was under 17. Enlisting was one way for these young boys to prove their bravery and the recruiters were very lenient and willing to accept anyone physically fit no matter their age. Sometimes we would rescue them from the battlefields and their voices would crack as they told us their names. I was never sure whether to be impressed by their gumption or disappointed in their foolishness. The same thing happens now, but I'm no longer impressed. I'm disappointed that they misunderstand what they've gotten themselves into. Some days I just want to call Mildred and tell her to make sure the neighborhood boys never leave their houses."
As he was telling his story, MArgaret realized that just a few years ago, she would've supported these young men's "brave decision," but today she knew they were just foolishly wasting "the best years of their lives."
I love that movie, she could hear Hawkeye saying. Teresa Wright is definitely my kinda gal.
A shout from BJ pulled her out of her daydream.
"Watch the racket, Hunnicutt. This hospital's in a hospital zone." Col. Potter admonished.
"Hawkeye Pierce is alive and well and living at Battalion Aid!" BJ exclaimed.
"What?" Charles asked incredulously.
"How do you know that?" Fr. Mulcahy asked.
"He left his fingerprints all over this guy. Who else sews vertical mattress stitches with white cotton sutures?"
"That's gotta be him!" Margaret exclaimed, more relieved than she fully realized.
He's ok. Hawkeye's fine. He'll be coming home soon. Those thoughts were running through her mind as she was finally able to relax and breathe deeply for the first time in days.
A few hours later, Klinger came into the OR with good news.
"A new surgeon arrived at the Aid Station this morning, so Hawkeye's on his way back."
The room erupted in cheers.
Margaret finally felt safe again.
The last of the casualties were finally taken care of and the doctors exited the OR. Margaret was on her way to her tent and ready to collapse on her bed when she heard a jeep pull into the compound.
Her heart lept and she ran over to see Hawkeye, sitting in the jeep, safe and sound.