A/N: Once again, I own nothing!

A/N: This hasn't been edited very well, sorry.

I looked at the jeep in apprehension. It was quite a ways up for Radar, one of the two people whom I'd now met, whom I'd share a camp with, probably until the end of the war.

My skill at entering a tall vehicle is even less than his. I'd taught myself how to ride a motorcycle a while back, but that was different. I tend to buy cars that were low to the ground, to avoid this problem.

Radar and Hawkeye were looking expectantly at me. I could tell that Radar hadn't guessed why I didn't get in too. He was sitting in the back of the jeep, perched on a dusty seat, staring at me.

The older man seemed a bit smarter. He was actually assessing the height into the car-and my leg.

I hate pity from anyone, but I know that sometimes, there are perfectly good reasons. This might be one of them.

I glared at him, letting him know that this was no fun whatsoever for me. "Well? What are you waiting for? Give me a hand up, so we can get out of here."

Hawkeye smiled slightly. "Wondering when you'd ask."

He reached out a hand. "Give me a second!" I snapped, lifting my bad leg up to the jeep. Normally, I would have just stepped in with my left leg, then pushed up quick enough to keep from falling back in, but it had stiffened up on me, back on the plane. Fourteen hours is a long time to stay seated, for anyone. I knew that if I tried to get on the vehicle like normal, I'd collapse before I could push myself into the seat.

My leg was complaining, it didn't like to stay in such a position for so long. I hooked my cane onto the door, clutching the jeep with one hand, and grabbed Hawkeye's hand, propelling myself upwward with my left leg, trying to get it in quickly enough that I wouldn't fall back to the ground.

It worked in a way, as I got into the seat, but it wasn't graceful, and it hurt. My right leg buckled soon after I switched my weight to that side of my body. Hawkeye kept me from falling back to the ground, so I collapsed into the seat with a thud, biting my lip to keep from screaming.

I stared angrily at the ledge, it was short enough that nobody else had a problem getting in. Radar looked at me. "Gee Sir, are you alright Sir?" I wanted to snap at him, but knew from experience that if I opened my mouth at this moment, all that would come out is a scream.

Hawkeye covered this one for me. "Radar, why don't we leave House alone for a while? It's not really any of our business how he feels."

Radar nodded. "Sir, if you need anything, poke me."

I acknowledged him with a grunt of approval, and we sped away.

The jeep was just as bumpy as it appeared. My leg was already killing me, from the plane, and the gymnastics, trying to get into the vehicle. I hadn't imagined that actually riding it would be worse, not better.

It was, though. Soon after we'd gotten out of there, and into the wilderness, I started clutching my leg. It was in full revolt right now. I could feel the muscle spasming, contracting wildly beneath my hand. I yelled in agony as we hit a particularly big pothole, and I was thrown a good three inches into the air.

Clamping my mouth tightly shut, I curved over my leg, squeezing it for dear life. "Pull...over" I managed to gasp out. Hawkeye nodded, pulling over to the side of the road. Radar jumped out before me, helping me out of the death-trap.

I collapsed about two feet from it, and started retching violently. I was dimly aware that Hawkeye had gotten out, and was bracing me on the left, holding me upright.

I retched until it turned into dry heaves, then continued a bit further, until my stomach calmed down. Of course, this only meant that my leg could take center stage.

When I fell to the ground, my legs had folded underneath me, forcing me into a kneeling position. Now, they were complaining, having been forced into this position, probably for somewhere around twenty minutes.

Hawkeye seemed to notice. "Radar, straighten out his left leg." I couldn't hear anything after that, as Hawkeye picked up my leg, and I blacked out.

I came to a bit later. I was on the jeep again, in the back. My legs were propped up on a blanket. Radar was staring at me. "Hawkeye? I think he's coming around."

"m-hm" Hawkeye acknowledged this, but didn't even slow down. "Radar, we're in the middle of enemy territory. I'm going to need you to do this for me."

I tried to sit up, but didn't quite succeed. I did manage to open my eyes, though. Radar was staring at me. "Uh, sir, I don't think you should do that. Hawkeye said that you shouldn't be able to even try to sit up for at least twenty minutes after you woke up."

I groaned. "Well, how long do we have until we arrive at the camp?"

Hawkeye answered this. "fifteen minutes, give or take."

"Give or take what?" I asked, exasparated.

Hawkeye chuckled. "Fifteen minutes, give or take two hours. You might want to have a conversation with Radar, this might take a while."

I didn't really want to, but Radar initiated one. "So, sir, what takes you to our neck of the woods? Me 'n Hawkeye were drafted."

"Same."

Hawkeye laughed. "Majors don't get drafted by the US army. They don't want someone with so much resentment so high up in the chain of command."

"Psh. Who said I was drafted by them? I was drafted by my father."

Hawkeye considered. "Your leg? I would have thought even the army would have enough sense to reject you from this place."

I sighed. I was tired. "It's amazing what people will belive. Other than this, I'm healthy, and technically, there should be no pain. Damaged nerves can be ignored on an army report."

Hawkeye's hands clenched the steering wheel. "Those..." He trailed off, but I could understand his point.

"Radar, how much longer until we get to camp?"

"Well, sir, we're here."

I looked up. I saw a few tiny, dusty tents, and a handmade sign, proudly proclaiming their camp to the world. I would have noticed more, but I was a bit hazy from the pain. It had been a long day, and I couldn't wait for it to be over.

Hawkeye parked the jeep outside one of the few buildings with walls. Temporary walls, but not canvas. "Need a hand?"

I shook my head. No way was I going to come in leaning on someone else. Gingerly, I turned, gently guiding my body to the door. Hawkeye waited patiently next to me.

I dropped down onto my good leg, but couldn't catch myself in time, with nothing to hold on to, and I collapsed onto the ground. At least I didn't scream this time, just grunted.

Hawkeye lifted me back up. "You okay in there?"

I nodded. "Where to next?" I needed to work out some of the stiffness.

"Colonel Potter's tent. He runs our little hellhole, you're supposed to report to him so he can see what's going on. You're the first new bit of help we've gotten in years."

Hawkeye gave me my cane, as I disentangled myself from his support. I gingerly tested out my balance, putting my foot flat on the ground with a grimace.

It held, barely. Hawkeye led me a few short steps over to the building, watching me. I was leaning almost all my weight on my arm, when I took a step with my good foot.

A man maybe a bit older than my father looked up when I came in. He quickly noticed the limp, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me another one of your cohorts got bombed on the way in?"

I glared at him, but Hawkeye beat me to the answer. "Good afternoon to you too, Colonel. No, he was like this when I got him. Apparently, he's good enough for a combat area as-is."

"Is that so? Well, I can't say I agree, but it's good to have some more hands around here. You must be tired from your trip. Hawk can show you to the Swamp so you can get settled, and we'll show you around tomorrow." I nodded, and the colonel dismissed us.

Hawkeye offered to take my bags out from the jeep to the Swamp, whatever that is. He looked closely at the jeep, then took out my duffle bag, raising an eyebrow. "You shipping the rest of your stuff?"

"Nope. That's it."

"Why? Most of us brought a whole trunk of stuff."

I didn't want to tell him too much about my history, but I needed to get my leg up before I fell down, and he didn't seem to want to let this go. "Take me to my room. I'll tell you in there.

A/N: I don't know how long it would take to get to Korea in the fifties. However, in this century, it's fourteen hours to Hong Kong, and the plane comes down from the north, so it would take less time to get to Korea. I figure it's reasonable if you compensate for the advances in technology since then, so go with it.

A/N: I usually don't like to hold out for reviews, but I just thought I'd remind you that they can make chapters come quicker!