[All MASH characters belong to Fox (insert Fox theme music here)]
Cavan switched off her audio equipment and sank back into her armchair, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes flicked over to a bookshelf against the wall, where there were several small pictures in frames. One picture in particular seemed to draw her interest – a bucolic scene of several horses grazing in a very green field with rolling hills in the background. A knock on the door woke her from her reverie.
"Come in," she called, standing up and moving over to her desk. The door opened to reveal an older man of about fifty, in a tweed suit and bow tie.
"Ah, Miss Fitzgerald. Are you busy?"
"Oh, no, Mark." A slightly panicked look came across Cavan's face, as if she were trying to remember something.
"You must have forgotten about our meeting today."
"Oh! Shoot. I'm so sorry, Mark." Cavan turned a little pink. She had indeed completely forgotten about her meeting with her thesis advisor. "I just...got a little distracted." She absentmindedly wondered how many times she had used that excuse.
"That's fine, Cavan. Do you mind if I have a seat?" She shook her head and he sat in the armchair. Cavan sat behind her desk. "You do have your list of sources for me..." he prompted.
"Yes..." Cavan dug around in the papers on her desk until she found what she was looking for. "Here you go," she said, passing him the stapled papers. He flipped through the list quickly before setting it on his leg and looking back up at her.
"How is your work at the Center going? Do you find you have time to do your work here as well as your thesis work?" Cavan waved her hand casually.
"Yes, sure. It's a bit of a task, but I'm up to it." Her advisor watched her with thinly veiled skepticism, taking a deep breath.
"I'll take your word for it, Cavan, but you're pushing your deadlines. Of course there are no strict rules governing this...but I get the feeling lately that your thesis hasn't been your highest priority. And if you expect to turn in a product of the highest caliber, I think your research should be your highest priority." Cavan nodded as she listened, biting her lip. "How is your research?"
"Fine," she lied. "I'm going back up to Archives II this weekend."
"Good," Mark replied after hesitating a moment. "I expect to be closely informed of your progress, of course."
"Of course." Cavan tapped her fingers nervously on the desktop. Her advisor stood up and moved toward the door.
"Good afternoon, Miss Fitzgerald. And good luck with your research this weekend. I'll be in touch."
"Thanks. And I'm sorry about the meeting," she said earnestly. He nodded and slipped out the door, closing it behind him. "Damnit," she whispered, shaking her head. "Stupid Cavan."
She spent the next thirty minutes reorganizing the papers and files on her desk and making a research schedule for the weekend. Eventually, however, her eyes returned to the framed photograph of the horses, as well as the picture beside it of a grey-haired man with a ruddy face standing beside a stone wall. Cavan put her pen down and leaned back in her chair. After a few minutes she picked up her phone and dialed a number.
"Hallo," came a man's voice on the other end.
"Da," she replied, a distracted look on her face. There was a split second of silence.
"Cavan?" There was still a touch of a brogue to the man's accent, despite his decades of living in the States.
"Yeah." Another uncomfortable silence followed.
"Do you need something, Cavan?" her father finally asked. Cavan fiddled with the pen on the desk.
"Ah, no, I was just calling to say hello. To, um, check on the foals and brood mares." She hoped her voice sounded convincing.
"Cavan, are you sure you're not needing something? Half the mares have foaled, and the rest are doing fine."
"Good. Um...did you have a good Christmas, Da?" There was a noise on the other end like a cough of some sort.
"Christ, Cavan, that was nearly two months ago."
"Yeah, I know, but..." The pen tapped on the desktop. "I just hadn't caught up with you in a while."
"True, that is, Cavan, but now is not the best time to start this." Cavan imagined her father was rubbing his eyes wearily. "I have to go help Seton with the yearlings."
"Ok, Da, I'll let you go. It was good talking to you." Yet another brief silence.
"Good talking to you, my girl," he said finally, in a softer tone.
After she hung up Cavan stared at the various files and papers on her desk. She stared at the picture of the horses grazing. She stared at her audio equipment. Finally, flipped through her memo book until she reached her desired page, then picked up the phone again and dialed.
"National Archives, College Park Maryland."
"Yes, I'd like to speak to the archivist who'd be in charge of...the Korean War era."
"One moment please."
Cavan suppressed any feelings of guilt as she waited for the archivist to come on the line. She very carefully kept her eyes away from any of her thesis research.
"This is Scott Edwards."
"Ah, yes, and you're in charge of the Korean War?"
"Cold War, 1950's era, so yes," he replied.
"Good. I'm coming up there this weekend, and I have some questions for you."
"Shoot."
"What do you know about Series 47358?"
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[REEL 1 – Session 2, November 12, 1951]
Doctor: Welcome, Corporal O'Reilly.
O'Reilly: Ah, thanks. I guess.
Doctor: Today will function much the same as yesterday. I'll give you a topic, you will discuss it, there are no right or wrong answers. Again, please state your full name and rank, for the recording.
O'Reilly: Corporal Walter Eugene O'Reilly.
Doctor: Thank you. Let's begin. Yesterday you discussed yourself, Corporal. Now I want to focus on a broader subject. What are your thoughts on war? [silence]
O'Reilly: Boy, that's a big question, isn't it? Uh. [clears throat] I think...that the Communists are un-American and, ah, something that should be stopped. 'Cause of their, ah, un-Americanness. And so this, um, police action is...good?
Doctor: Corporal, I'm not trying to identify communist sympathizers here. Nothing you say here can be used to hinder your career. I simply want your thoughts on war in general. If you like, you don't have to talk about Korea at all. In fact, that might be better, if you are feeling nervous about it.
O'Reilly: Oh, me, uh, nervous? Nah. I just...ok, I'm a little nervous. We just hear these rumors, you know, about spooks trying to wash out soldiers they don't think are good enough. This place isn't my favorite place in the world, but I don't wanna get washed out, Doc. This whole thing – you asking me these questions and everything, it's just a little weird. Sorry.
Doctor: No need to apologize, Corporal, I understand your concern. I can assure you, however, that I have no intention of washing anyone out of the Army. My intention is the same as when I first expressed it to you. I'm simply interested in your thoughts on a variety of subjects. Your thoughts, along with the thoughts of other young men like you, will be used so that we can better understand the American soldier.
O'Reilly: Oh, ah, ok. The American soldier.
Doctor: That's right. And if you'd rather not talk about the war today, we can discuss something else. [sound of rustling papers] In fact, that seems the best plan. Corporal, why don't you talk about your goals in life. [silence] Corporal? Is there something wrong?
O'Reilly: Choppers.
Doctor: I don't hear anything.
O'Reilly: Wait for it. [silence, followed 10 seconds later by faint sound of helicopters] I have to go.
Doctor: I understand. I'll –
O'Reilly: You'll be a little late tomorrow, I'll see you at four. [sound of footsteps, then a door slamming]
Doctor: -be a little late tomorrow, so why don't we meet at four? [silence] Remarkable. [click]
