I had been napping off of a long shift and then some in the Swamp when I felt a hand shaking my shoulder urgently. Well, it was a long night full of drinks, smoking, pretzels from the Officers' Club and poker in the Swamp to be honest, but that did not matter to me either way after dealing with Frank Burns as my partner in surgery during the day and then a shift afterward. All that bothered me at that moment (other than Frank's slimy cold hands touching mine earlier and Margaret eying me with suspicion) was that someone was constantly trying to get me awake. Although a headache and the cold had been bothering me, whoever was on the other end of that hand was getting an earful when I was able to get the vision to clear up and my words were poised to sting.
I had been sleeping in a comfortable chair, the weak wintry sunshine hitting my face as I rolled over and groaned, the seat almost tipping me out as memories of the last party overwhelmed me. Although this last poker game had been kept within personnel of the camp and did not include outside friends, I still was annoyed by the lack of great slumber, the smoke from Henry's cigar and even Klinger's skirt that kept getting in my way every time I went to get up for a drink. Still, it was a wonderful night I did not want to forget and one that I did not want to wake up from. I wanted to relive dancing with Hawkeye for hours as we counted our winnings (although Father Mulcahy was the true winner) in tune with the songs played, Trapper pouring more and more drinks and Radar falling asleep at the table, teddy bear in hand.
As soon as my eyes adjusted though, there was Trapper (speak of the devil). Although wrapped in what seemed to be a million layers of clothing, he still was grinning from ear to ear and not complaining about the cold for once. He was up to something and I knew it. That much was certain.
"Are you awake enough?" Trapper started, although his question was quite stupid.
"Do you think I want to be?" I fired back, feeling my mouth with my tongue and trying to get the thick grim out of it. I was tempted to spit it out by Frank's cot, but I decided that swallowing was more politic.
"I would assume so, considering what happened in the OR and then Post-Op."
"Don't remind me."
"Oh, ho! So, we do want a little revenge?"
"If I could have it, yes, I would go for it."
Trapper had something up his sleeve and it concerned Frank, which excited me on the inside. I had to admit that my post-surgery shift, before going to the Officers' Club for the pre-game fun had been, shall I say, annoying. Frank was his normal beaming personality naturally and also had a temper to add to it. He and Margaret had gotten into an argument in a fit of passion (something that happened just after OR) and it left Frank not only with hickies all over his body, but also red marks where he had been slapped, most of them on his face. In turn, he was blaming everyone for everything, from the medication the patients were getting to the way Klinger was cleaning out the bedpans. He even screamed at me in front of the patients, as well as the other nurses milling about, for giving a wounded officer what I was told to give him. It happened the whole shift and it was enough to make me want to punch Frank in the face before I left for the Officers' Club and then the Swamp.
I didn't think it worth the years in the stockade to attack a ranking officer though. I just smiled and nodded at Ferret Face, heading to the Officers' Club afterward for some drinks and fun and then to the Swamp for poker. Although I wasn't in a talkative mood and only exchanged glances with Hawkeye every once in a while before the game, it was still relaxing and a little to my tastes. It was cheery too, the way people were talking about the Christmas season and what they would do if they were home, ignoring the fact that Major Simmons was facing a trip down to Leavenworth. It also made me think of Bloomington in a fashion, how Mom and Clarence would get us ready for church and make us pray for hours. It was enough to make me puke.
"So, how good at you at art?" Trapper then asked me, holding out some newspaper and glue.
"Not very," I admitted, getting up and stretching. I wasn't getting where Trapper was going with his supplies.
"Well, you see, it's almost that time of year for a little good luck," Trapper explained. "Every winter in some South American countries, when it gets a little colder, they hit what's called a piñata. It's usually the village idiot and they do it to the worst in order to get good luck for the next year. Whoever hits it the most gets the most good luck."
The way Trapper said the story made me want to believe him, even though I knew it was a bunch of shit. "They do not!" I was laughing though.
"Do so," Trapper protested with a pretty pout. "I just wanted to continue the tradition. So, are you good with art or not?"
It took me a minute to consider before I took the things out of Trapper's hands. "You know, come to think of it, I am pretty good with making masterpieces. Now, where is this so-called village idiot you speak of?"
Frank had been sleeping off the last shift from the day before, stumbling into the Swamp after the poker game. I did not notice, through my own drunken slumbers, that he had arrived and did not care had I had agreed to be a part of plot. However, what I did see was that he was already wrapped in some sort of plastic sheet, occasionally dotted with some chocolate and other candies. I held back a giggle, using Trapper's directions to wrap the new toy. After half an hour and many times where we had to tell the other to shut up, Frank was finished and still asleep. We admired our work for a few more minutes, waiting for the glue to dry. It didn't take long since it was so cold, but when it did, Trapper was ready to get Frank hit.
By then, Trapper had quickly went outside, grabbing a gurney from around the corner and wheeling it inside the Swamp, the door still open. With a motion of his hand to indicate that Frank needed to be transported, we lifted Major Pain up and secured him by tying some rope around him and the metal bed. When we were sure that Frank was not going to wake up yet (I mean, he was whimpering for his mother in his sleep), we pushed him outside into the December cold. Trapper directed and I took the lead, walking through the camp and behind the kitchens. Right where the cook took the perilous supplies, where the leftover rotting food slimed the mud, Hawkeye and Radar stood. The former could not stop snickering while the latter was nervously peering everywhere to check for Margaret.
"Sirs…I mean, Ma'am too…don't you think we shouldn't be doing what I think we're going to be doing so we don't do it?" Radar stammered, hoping that we wouldn't go through with the prank.
"Nonsense, my dear Radar," Hawkeye reassured him, patting him on the back. "Frank won't know a thing. So, just keep those glasses handy. You'll need them soon."
Again, on a silent command, Trapper again had me untie and pick Frank up. Groaning under the dead weight, since I alone was doing it as Trapper helped Hawkeye prepare something sinister, I carried old Ferret Face to where Hawkeye was and almost dropped him in the mess left behind by the cook. Hawkeye only grinned, tying the rope around Frank as I held him. He then nodded, allowing me to release him. As I did, Frank seemed to have started to levitate. However, I only knew that was happening because Hawkeye was pulling on some other ropes to keep him from the ground. It took some work to get Frank a little higher, but when Hawkeye managed to succeed in getting Ferret Face high enough, he tied one end to a post on the ground. When all four of us looked up to see our handiwork, we saw that Frank was still sleeping, oblivious to what happened to him, and that the whole camp could now see him and was now within easy reach of a pole or three.
"Hey! Beat a piñata, anyone?" Trapper yelled, something that got the natives pretty restless. Before we knew it, the area was flooded with people who wanted to play this game.
It was best to stand back and watch the action from afar away, especially when one needed to avoid being incriminated. Rubbing my arms and wishing for a shower and maybe some food (if I didn't feel the need to study the grey matter), I walked away with Hawkeye and Trapper. Radar had decided that enough was enough and scampered away to appear that he was not guilty, staying far away from us and in the opposite direction. In the meantime, as people lined up to beat Frank with some sticks, we heard the lovely Major Burns scream that he was alive and to stop as candy poured out from the holes in the plastic sheet and newspaper and glue.
Passing Henry, who had been curious about the commotion and held Leslie Dish in his arms on the way to the party, the three of us went back to the Swamp. Finding a seat around the still, Trapper started pouring some drinks for everyone. We made a silent toast about a job well done, drinking the gin. Finally, there was the refill (and all before my breakfast, by the way) and the wish that Dean would come back to us ok. I mean, Hawkeye and Trapper had just met my brother. They liked him enough and thought him too serious at times, but easy to break in and much more fun to get drunk with. As we heard Margaret screaming at Henry some yards away about Frank and how he got up where he is, Hawkeye cracked a smile and raised his glass.
"To old Ferret Face," he said. "Maybe he get the point."
"Hear, hear," Trapper added loudly.
"I doubt it, but we can hope." I drank with the pair, watching the chaos outside and waiting for Henry to call us to his office. It was a matter of time now.
As time passed though, nothing happened. Henry did not send Radar after us nor did Margaret and Frank accuse us of doing the deed. I would have gladly taken the blame, but for now, I was content in sitting there, cold and tired, and hearing people outside the Swamp talk about how much fun it was to be hitting Frank without any punishment. I chuckled, glancing at both Trapper and Hawkeye in turn before the former decided that he had a date with a nurse. He bid us a fond farewell, saying that he'll make sure to leave the coat hanger for us if we chose it, and soon was gone. This left me and Hawkeye alone together, the both of us sipping on our drinks still. While Hawkeye was soon up and pulling down the extra flaps on the tent, making sure that the freezing air stayed out, he also was putting some wood into the stove. He then sat back down, sighing as he did, and he stared at me for a second before taking out some paper from under his pillow behind him.
"I was writing a letter to my dad," he started awkwardly. "I was wondering if you'd like to add a word or two. He'd like to hear from you."
"Two maybe, if he's lucky," I replied, laughing. "How kind of you to ask."
Hawkeye managed to get me some more paper. In the meantime, with what space he had left on his letter and into the next pages handed to me, I started posing my first note to Dr. Daniel Pierce of Crabapple Cove, Maine. I put down that it was a joy to meet Hawkeye, how things were on my end (being as vague as I could be) and then how working here at the 4077th turned out to be. I remained as positive as I could, knowing that Hawkeye possibly told his dad the worst already, and damned my cramping hand when I was done and signed my name on the bottom of the next page, proud that I was able to get so much in. By then, Hawkeye had scanned it, put it in the envelope and sealed it. He then wrote his name and then mine on the top left corner and then the address of his home in Crabapple Cove – so familiar to him – and left it without the stamp under his pillow once more.
I moved closer to Hawkeye, managing to somehow sit in his lap without meaning to (I swear!). Although I was short and small to his tall and thin form, Hawkeye held me tightly, fiddling with my pants and coat, putting his cold hands against my breasts when he reached them and moving them down. While there was no way someone would peek in as he played, I was worried that someone would be walk in (like Frank) and make a comment. I loved privacy as much as the next person and tried hard to swap Hawkeye away to avoid getting caught. He was not going to be deterred though. Hawkeye wanted a little fun and he was taking advantage of the fact that I had not eaten yet, drank a little and always was adventurous with him.
"Hawkeye, don't you think we should wait?" I asked in a worried tone, my voice also revealing that I wanted more and more and more.
"Wait…for what?" Hawkeye inquired as a reply, his face soon touching my bare skin and his teeth on my neck.
"Never mind." I was enjoying it. Right now, it was best to just go with the flow and take off my pants, thinking that it was now time for some riding. "Ok, then, let's play our own game. The rules are simple. Just obey me and nothing will go wrong. Understand?"