Sorry I took so long. This chapter took dman ages to put together. Hope it's ok.
It was another deluge for the 4077th. Swarms of bleeding soldiers were put in front of the the three surgeons. Hawkeye was at the first table nearest the door to Pre Op with Lieutenant Gauge working on a haemothorax, BJ next to him with Lieutenant Kellye removing shrapnel from the stomach of a young North Korean solider and Charles at the end of the room once again under the watchful eye of Major Houlihan was preventing an aneurysm in the aorta of a French solider.
"Suture," Charles called out to Margaret.
"Suture," she replied handing him the instrument he'd asked for."Major?" she pestered Charles
"Yes, Major," he responded, his full concentration still on his patient.
"May I talk with you after surgery?" she enqueried the tone of her typical annoyance towards him in her voice.
"Of course, Major. 5 o silk," he contined with operation as if she hadn't spoke.
Hawkeye raised his head from his patient to look at Margaret and shook his head.
Bet they've already called Freedman.
***
Charles had started to close the patient when Klinger came rushing in.
"Major, you're needed on the phone. Colonel Potter's calling from Battalion Aide."
The verocity with which Klinger had reached Charles' table he nearly knocked the instruments over as he slid across the floor.
"Would you close for me, Marjor?" Charles asked holding out the 3 o silk and needle to Margaret.
"Of Course, Doctor," she answered firmly but she hesitated just for a moment before taking the needle.
"Give the Colonel our best, Charles," BJ called out as Charles followed Klinger out of OR.
The rest of the staff concurred.
"Yeah and tell him to 86 Battalion Aide as soon as he can so we can have a genuine leader again," Hawkeye quipped taking his gloves off.
He and BJ chuckled a little.
"Pierce." Margaret drew his attention. "That was too far."
"Hey, come on, Margaret. Charles knows I was only joking." he replied defensively.
As Kellye put fresh gloves onto his hands he leaned over to BJ and queried "He knew I was joking, right?"
***
"What time is it, Klinger?" enquired Charles as they galloped off towards their destination in one of the camp's jeeps.
"About fourteen hundred hours, Major."
"Pierce and Hunnicutt only have three patients left, thankfully. I shan't be missed." He gazed absently at the mountains where the choppers bearing wounded normally came from.
"Speaking of Hawkeye and BJ, why didn't you…" began Klinger who momentarily looked towards Charles before returning his eyes to the road.
"How far away is the "check point", Klinger?" Charles blantently ignored Klinger's question.
"Just around the corner, Major."
True to his word, around the corner there was a rather miffed Penobscott being kept there by two "MPs".
"Thank you, gentlemen. Corporal Klinger and I will take things from here," Charles announced stepping out of the jeep towards his waiting foe.
"Well, well, Chuck so you're behind this. It's so nice to see ya again although I'm not very happy with the present you gave me last time we met," sarcastically remarked Penobscott indicating his nose.
"Wow, Major you did that, to him?!" Klinger asked completely flabbergast.
"For once Klinger doesn't have to worry about having the largest nose in Korea, ever so kind of you, Penobscott." jibed Charles, his eyes fixed and stern on his quarry.
"Alright, Winchester I'll give you one last chance. I'll send you back to Tokyo General if you help me get Margaret back," offered the General dropping his eyes downwards as if he was momentarily conceding defeat.
"HOW DARE YOU?!" Charles bellowed growing to his full height and throwing out his chest " You think I would stand idly by while you hurt Margaret again just so I could go back to Tokyo and beat Colonel Baldwin at cribbage?!"
"Ok, you've had your chance, you Son Of a Bitch."
Penobscott's right fist was about to come in contact with Charles' stomach when Klinger pressed the barrel of his rifle to the clenched fist.
"I suggest you put your hand down unless you want it out of action, sir," he growled through clenched teeth.
Before dropping his fist he smirked and lifted his revolver to Charles' head.
"I suggest you put your gun away before Charlie boy here is put out of commission."
With that he cocked the gun menace in his eyes.
"It's alright, Klinger I'll take care of it," Charles reassured the Lebanese Corporal. If he was frightened he gave no outward sign.
Klinger backed off but was poised to lunge like a snake awaiting its prey to come near enough for it to strike.
"Best not use that , Kl.." Charles began, indicating the rifle, before he dropped like a stone to his knees. Penobscott's fist had just made an acquaintance with one of his ribs.
"That's it!" growled Klinger ferociously, thrusting the barrel of his rifle into Penobscott's face.
"Klinger! Don't!" Charles bellowed attempting to lift himself from the ground.
Klinger rushed towards the Major and helped him up.
"Thank you, Max," he breathed gratefully, a small smile of gratitude on his face.
"Just a bit winded, Klinger. I'll be fine."
From the corner of his eye he noticed Penobscott smirk.
Let the bastard have it.
With swift reactions Charles rammed his fist into Penobscott's already wounded nose. Penobscott was about to retaliate, his blood boiling when Charles gripped his wrist and applied firm pressure to the point where the pulse is found and finally he twisted the General's wrist, the shooting pain it caused forced Penobscott to the ground, on his knees.
Moments later two genuine MPs appeared in place of Klinger's friends.
"General Penobscott, we have a warrant for your arrest," announced the taller of the two, a pale, red haired Canadian brandishing Sergeant's stripes on his arms.
"On what grounds?" growled Donald through gritted teeth, unsuccessfully attempting to hide that he was in pain.
"Two counts of threatening a fellow officer, one count of wounding a fellow officer, one count of perverting the course of justice, five counts of racism the most notable one against Major Hikaru Cho of the Japanese Army and one count of attempted rape of Lieutenant Nancy Gauge," the Korean MP read out the charges to Penobscott whose was now sullen.
After hearing the familiar name of Nurse Gauge, Klinger spat an array of colourful words at the accused while Charles considerably increased the pressure on his wrist, digging his nails into the rough skin of Donald Penobscott's arm.
No wonder she was so quiet and listless when she came back from R&R in Tokyo! thought Klinger as he recalled greeting her home from the airport and she only speaking a few words to him in return.
Penobscott opened his mouth to attempt to argue his case but before he could say anything out of nowhere came a voice both Klinger and Charles recognised.
"You thought you were untouchable, didn't you ? But the CIA knew that you were a traitor, we were just waiting for the right moment to lower the boom on you, General Penobscott if that really is your name!"
Out of the bushes, covered in war paint came Colonel Flagg brandishing a revolver in his right hand, a case file in his left and dark sun glasses covering his beady eyes.
"Thanks for the tip off, Corporal," Flagg acknowledged Klinger, stepping forward.
"But that doesn't mean the CIA are grateful for your help!" he raised his voice, wagging his finger and exchanging glances between Klinger and Charles.
"You can't prove I did any of that, Flagg," winced Penobscott, still under the vice like grip of Charles.
"The CIA can prove anything and if you're inclined to say anything else I'm entitled to…" began Flagg flipping through his small, leather bound notebook "…administer Chinese Water torture which is not actually Chinese those pinko, yellow reds stole it from us but you probably knew that already didn't you, comrade?"
Flagg thrust his face into Penobscott's projecting spit into his prey's eyes.
"Well, then Colonel you seem to have control of the situation, Corporal Klinger and I shall be off then," Charles stated causing Flagg to move away from the disadvantaged Penobscott.
"You bet your American bootstraps, Major. I'll have the report on this filthy urchin by tomorrow for your CO to sign and send to ICORPS," answered Flagg waggling his revolver at Charles and Klinger.
"Umm, best not involve the Colonel or anyone at 4077th in this. I'd like to remain anonymous, please. If need be mention yourself but leave Corporal Klinger and I out of this," Charles requested sounding almost as if he was begging Flagg.
"Alright, Winchester but because we're keeping you in the clear doesn't make you our allies, got it?!" growled the Colonel pushing his sunglasses further up his nose.
"Indeed, good day to you," Charles replied nodding curtly.
Although his mind wanted to leave his hand so badly wanted to crush Penobscott.
Alright you can do it but just this once.
At that moment all of Charles' strength moved into his fist and with one great squeeze a thunderous crack was heard and Penobscott cried out in pain. His wrist was shattered.
***
Klinger and Charles remained silent throughout their jeep ride back to camp. Klinger had many questions for Charles but he guessed by the blank expression on the taller man's face that he was in no mood for talking.
***
As soon as they reached the 4077th later that evening they parted quickly and headed for their respective beds.
Entering the Swamp Charles was met by an irate Hawkeye and an bemused BJ.
"So much for Winchester promises, ey?" growled Hawkeye jabbing his index finger into Charles' chest.
"Pierce, I apologize…" began Charles before he was cut across by Hawkeye.
"I'll never be able to get a present to my Dad on time now! Geez, Winchester I actually thought you'd become more human for once but once again your greed comes before anyone else!" Hawkeye raged onwards, BJ looked on helplessly.
"Now come on, Pierce.."
"We know Colonel Potter didn't phone. What did you get Klinger to do for you this time?!"
"Pierce…"
"Oh piss off, Frank!" Hawkeye spat out and shoved Charles to the floor.
"I am not Frank Burns!" Charles raised himself from the floor and drew to his full height like he did in front of Penobscott. Charles had heard all about the Idiot Frank Burns from just about everyone in the camp and to be called him was like being called a vile word.
Charles stormed out of the Swamp, his fractured ribs reminding him of their presence. His heart was pounding and his pulse was racing. Sweat poured from his brow and he began to splutter and cough. Holding his hand to his mouth to cover the germs he realised there was something very wrong. He'd coughed up blood.