The Swamp was filled with cigar smoke and the stench of really bad liquor from the homemade still squatting unceremoniously in the corner. A couple of people lay passed out on the nearby cots. Although it was almost dawn, a poker game in the middle of the tent was going on strong.
"OK, aces and deuces wild," Klinger said as he munched on a cigar and shuffled the worn deck of cards. He dealt to the motley crew slouched around the make-shift table.
"What's your bid, Beej?" Hawkeye said, tossing a couple of bucks onto the table.
B.J. waved his hand without looking up. "Not this round," he mumbled, his head in his arms.
Col. Potter and Radar tossed in a couple of bucks.
Klinger also folded. "Too rich for me," he said. He nudged Charles's cot and earned an annoyed moan. "We need to teach old Chuckles here how to play. All his dough would come in handy 'round here."
"Gimme two," Col. Potter said, taking the cards from Klinger. He shuffled them around in his hand. "So, what're we going to do about the so-called friendly bet with the 8063rd? Anyone here know anyone with some talent for the talent show?"
Hawkeye took one card from Klinger and raised three dollars. "We could enter Klinger as our local fashion expert."
Klinger snorted. He was wearing a sweater he knitted himself and a poodle skirt, which he made just for poker night. "Unless it'll get me my section 8, don't count on it," he said. "Hey, Colonel, does Sophie know any tricks?"
Col. Potter chuckled. "Not by a long shot. She's just your regular, run-of-the-mill horse." He laid his cards on the table. "Straight. Beat that, boys!"
"Umm, sorry, sir, but umm, well. . ." Radar laid his cards on the table. A full house.
Col. Potter cursed. "You sure have been on a lucky streak tonight."
Radar didn't reply as he gathered up the money on the table.
Potter got a mischievous look in his eye. "Speaking of lucky, you gonna use that money to buy your girl something nice?"
There were hoots and hollers all around.
"Would you degenerates shut up!" Charles said, putting a pillow over his head at the racket.
"Jessie is not my girl! Sir," Radar said, looking cross.
"How did you know the Colonel was talking about Jessie?" Hawkeye said merrily, draining the last of his homemade gin.
Radar blushed. "I, um, just assumed, that, well . . ." He sighed heavily and put his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. "Well, she hasn't even talked to me since that night the bombs went off in camp!"
"You mean the night I caught you two dallying behind your desk?" Col. Potter said, idly shuffling his cards.
"Colonel!" Radar said, blushing to the tips of his ears.
"You what?" Charles said, sitting straight up in his cot.
"Yes, Radar, do tell," Hawkeye said, leaning back in his chair. "I love a good bedtime story."
"No! I mean yes! I mean, we kissed, but no I'm not going to tell you about it!" Radar stammered.
"The girl must have had a momentary lack of judgment," Charles muttered.
"Don't be jealous, Charles," B.J. said. "So, Radar, have you actually tried talking to her?"
Radar fidgeted with the bills in his hand, ignoring Charles. "Well, yeah, but she's either busy or working, and we just don't talk like we used to. I don't really know what to do."
B.J. patted the distraught boy on the shoulder. "Sounds like to me she's just as nervous as you are. Give it some time, and she'll come around."
Radar looked unconvinced. "You think so, sir?"
"Sure," Hawkeye said. "She must like you because I sure can't get her to go out with me!"
Radar glared at Hawkeye as he gathered up his money, stuffing it in his pockets. "I think that's all I can take for tonight, sir," he said, as he huffed out the door.
"Well, well, well, our little Radar has grown up," Col. Potter said.
Hawkeye poured another round of gin for everyone at the table.
The Colonel took a sip and made a face. "You know, I really like the girl. She's been a top notch nurse, and even Margaret has had no complaints." He took another sip. "But, I get the feeling there is something she's not telling us."
"Hey, maybe she's got a secret outlandish talent that'll win us that trophy back from the 8063rd," Klinger said. "You know, like tightrope walking or something."
"We sure need someone with some talent to beat that nurse of theirs," Potter said. "She looks like a vixen and sings like songbird." He laughed aloud. "Remember last year when we pitted Margaret against that girl? Made us look like a bunch of hokies."
Klinger stood up. "Sorry, guys, but I go on duty in an hour. Got to freshen up. I made a new dress last night, gingham, maybe I'll wear that," He sauntered out the door, planning his attire.
"Guess we all need to hit the hay," Col. Potter said, standing and stretching. "Maybe we'll come up with somebody to beat that gal over at the 8063rd."
As he walked out he heard Charles mumble "I can't believe she actually kissed him."
************************************************
Fighting increased dramatically the next week. Jessie found herself working two 40-hour shifts in surgery, with only a couple hours sleep in between. Although it was difficult not to fall apart, she gritted her teeth and lived with it. After all, everyone else did in their own strange and peculiar ways, so why couldn't she?
And she would never, ever admit it, but deep down inside, she missed Radar.
After the second shift, she and the other nurses cleaned up the OR with the orderlies. A few chose to go straight to bed, but Jessie, Kelleye and Chris opted for the mess tent. Except for a few bites taken in a rush over the past three days, they had eaten nothing.
The weather had a cool tinge to it, so they gathered their coats before strolling wearily to the mess tent. Since it was after the dinner hour, it was fairly deserted.
They chose a table as far away from the door and the autumn breeze as possible and settled in.
"So, Jess, what to you think of our home-away-from-home so far?"
Jessie suspiciously eyed a lump of potatoes on her plate, taking a bite and grimacing. Reluctantly, she took another. "I don't think I've had time to think about it."
"If you had time to react to it, you might run screaming into the night, don't you think?" Chris said. Of the three of them, she had been at the 4077th longer.
"Yeah, and right into a North Korean tank!"
Jessie looked up in time to see Radar dejectedly entering the tent. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at a nearby table, his shoulders slumped. He looked as weary as she felt.
"Got any mail lately?" Kelleye asked, startling Jessie back to the conversation.
"Um, yeah, I think." Jessie dug in her pocket and pulled out a handful of letters, most with Texas postmarks. "Radar brought these to me while I was in post-op this morning. Or yesterday. Or whenever it was." He had handed them to her and walked away without a word. Of course, it wasn't like she actually tried to talk to him, either. She felt like she should comment on what happened the night of the bombing, but didn't quite know what to say.
Maybe that you liked it?
"I got one from my sister in Detroit," Chris said, waving a letter in the air, once again drawing Jessie back into the conversation. "She had her baby!"
"Oh, that's great!" Jessie said, meaning it.
"Named the poor thing Billie Sue."
Jessie choked on her coffee. "Are you serious?"
Chris made a face, and Kelleye laughed. "Yeah, can you believe it? That child will have to live with that name for the rest of her life!"
Kelleye sobered up for a moment. "Speaking of Billy, do you remember that soldier that came in with the bad head wound? The one that Hawkeye operated on?"
Jessie searched through her muddled brain. All the wounded seem to blend together. "Yeah, I think so. William Something-or-other, wasn't it?"
"What about him?" Chris asked.
"He died early this morning. Blood clot."
Jessie put her coffee mug down with a thump. "Wasn't that the one that Radar had made friends with?"
"That's him," Kelleye said. They all glanced in Radar's direction. "Poor guy, I think he's taking it pretty hard."
Chris shook her head. "Damn war." She stood up with her half-empty tray. "Well, that's all the torture I can stand. I'm heading for the showers."
"I think I'm going straight to bed," Kelleye said.
Jessie shook her head. "You guys go on. Leave some hot water for me, will you? Oh, and congratulations, Chris, on your new niece."
"Thanks. I just hope I live long enough to meet her."
"I hope you do, too."
Jessie shivered as the cool wind filled the tent as the two girls exited, leaving her and Radar alone inside. He was staring morosely into his coffee cup, both hands curled around it for warmth.
By the way he was sitting, Jessie knew he was upset. It was hard to lose a patient, but it was even harder when you went against better judgment and got to know them personally.
Radar knew she was there, then hated himself for even paying her any attention.
He hated it even more when his heart jumped when she rose and walked in his direction.
"Mind if I join you?"
He shrugged, hoping to appear indifferent.
She settled across from him, trying to think of something to say. There was a lot between them that certainly needed to be said . . .
She cleared her throat. "You know, Klinger was running around here the other day reading tea leaves. Have you taken up reading coffee grounds, perhaps?"
Although he didn't look up, Jessie saw a hint of a smile on his face. It pained her to see him hurting, but pained her even more to know that she even cared.
"I'm sorry about Billy. The two of you seemed to get along well." She blurted it out before she regretted saying it.
"Yeah. Thanks." Radar remained staring at his empty coffee cup forlornly.
Against her better judgment, Jessie reached out and touched his wrist. "If you want to talk about it . . ."
He looked at her pointedly, ignoring the fact that just her touch made his heart race. "Why would you want to talk now when you haven't talked to me in days?"
She let go, hurt. "OK. I guess I deserved that." She shifted on the cold bench, uncomfortable in the silence. "I guess I'll see you around, then."
"Yeah. I guess so."
Jessie walked out the door, the sky looking just as morose as she felt.
As soon as she got back to her clammy tent and lit a fire in the woodstove, the rain started. Deciding against going back out into the muck to take a shower and feeling a little lonely to boot, she put on an old flannel hunting shirt of Mark's, more for comfort purposes than anything else. It came to her knees, so she was warm, especially when she curled up next to the woodstove to read her letters from home.
After savoring all the news, she replied to each of them. As usual, she carefully avoided any mention of war, instead trying to paint a bright picture for her friends and family. However, after her short conversation with Radar, she was having a hard time being cheerful and gave up. Extinguishing the light, she fell into her cot, trying to get some sleep before the next barrage of wounded arrived.
Her aching muscles and whirling thoughts kept her awake. Although the pattering of rain on the tent was usually soothing, it made her feel even more alone than before.
Sighing, she tossed in her cot, trying to get comfortable in the dark.
A knock on her door startled her. At first, she thought it was her imagination, only the rain falling harder outside. The second knock jolted her fully awake and grumbling, she walked to the door, not even bothering with a robe.
"Who is it?"
"It's me. Walter."
Surprised, she unlatched the door and opened it, pulling him inside before the rain could soak the inside of the tent. Although he was wearing a parka, he looked drenched.
"What in the world are you doing in this mess?" More worried about him being out in the middle of the night, she didn't even think about the issues plaguing their floundering friendship as she sat him down by the woodstove and tossed some wood scraps into the sputtering flames. She threw his soggy raincoat into the corner.
Although she may have been oblivious to their situation, he sure was not. But, it might have made it easier if he was. "Well, I decided to go for a walk . . ."
"In the rain?"
"It wasn't raining when I started walking. I just kept walking after it started. It wasn't all that bad."
Jessie gingerly sat on the edge of her cot, waiting for him to continue. There was more. She knew it.
He glanced over and tried not to notice that when she sat, the shirt rode higher up her leg. He tore his gaze away and took a deep breath, pulling off his glasses and wiping the moisture from them. The sadness and longing made him feel mixed up inside, giving him a headache. "I decided I did want to talk to someone about Billy. He was just fine one minute, then he was gone. It was all so . . .so final."
He doesn't want to talk about us. Relieved and disappointed, all at the same time, Jessie realized that not all the wetness on his cheeks was from the rain. She handed him a tissue, which he gratefully accepted, as she spoke. "It never stops flooring me how one minute you're here, then the next minute, you're . . . just . . . not."
He sniffed loudly. "I couldn't really talk to the guys. I didn't want them to laugh or anything." He took another deep breath. "And, you're the only real friend I have here that's not a guy. Or, I thought you were. I don't really know. It seems like everyone who really cares about me is thousands of miles away."
Regret. It wasn't an easy pill to swallow. Avoiding him all this time wasn't the answer. What the answer actually was, she had no clue. But, before she could open her mouth to reply, he jumped up, grabbing his parka in the corner. "Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you. It won't happen again, I promise."
His sudden retreat astonished her to the point she almost didn't react in time. But, she managed to reach him before he barged out the door. "Walter, wait." Grabbing his arm, she managed to stop him in her doorway.
Dripping with rain, he stood directly in front of her, looking almost as uncertain as she did.
There was no way his mind could be as muddled as hers. A thousand thoughts swirled inside her head. First and foremost was the fact that it made no sense to fall for someone in a war zone. Second was the fact that she wanted him to kiss her again. As he watched her, she hesitantly reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingertips.
He just couldn't help himself. He needed her. Hungrily, his lips met hers.
He was a little surprised when she returned the embrace just as eagerly.
All the loneliness and hopelessness they both endured on a day-to-day basis increased their desire for comfort as they recklessly threw caution to the wind and clung to each other desperately, searching for reassurance.
She could taste the tears he had shed, and for some strange reason, that only made her want him more.
You're going to regret this, the little sing-song voice in her head kept whispering. But, she found it easy to disregard, along with the fear and anxiety that had been her constant companions since she set foot in Korea, especially when he found the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck. She gasped, her muddled brain trying to remember if Mark – or any other guy, for that matter - was ever this tuned in to her needs.
It surprised Radar to realize he knew what she wanted - pure, raw instinct that always seemed to elude him in the past kicking in with gusto. It didn't escape him that perhaps he just needed to find the right woman first.
Wait a minute . . .
Unexpectedly and to her disappointment, he stopped.
She struggled to catch her breath. "What is it?" She strained to listen as she steadied herself by grasping his arms, but all she heard was water dripping off the tent.
"Choppers." Suddenly embarrassed in a situation he had only dreamed about being in, he stepped away from her, also trying to catch his breath as the sound of helicopter blades filled the air. Without another word, he disappeared into the night, leaving her to wonder what in the world just happened.
***********************************
"Suction."
"Suction."
Col. Potter deftly sewed up a bleeding artery as Jessie assisted. The rain had started up again and pattered cheerfully on the metal roof of OR. But, the scene inside was anything but cheerful. Once again, they had withstood hours of operating. It seemed there was no end to the number of wounded the orderlies kept bringing inside. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep.
Klinger and Radar brought in a wounded soldier and put him at B.J.'s table. "Colonel, that's the last one." Radar said.
"Good. I don't think my corns can take much more of this."
"Yes sir."
Jessie glanced up from sewing the last of the soldier's wounds and saw Radar watching her from across the room. Quickly, she averted her eyes, feeling her face grow warm.
I wonder what would have happened if the choppers hadn't shown up . . .
Honestly - she had a pretty good idea.
"Lieutenant, are you coming down with something? You look mighty peaked."
"N-no sir. Just tired." She refused to meet his gaze.
Col. Potter didn't believe her for a moment. He snapped his gloves off his hand, flexing his fingers. "Radar, help the Lieutenant here clean up. She looks like she must be coming down with something."
He had seen Radar emerge from Jessie's tent, looking more than a little disheveled, then Jessie rushing into the rain, looking just as tousled. At Jessie's horrified look, his suspicions were confirmed.
"I'm fine, Colonel!" she protested, glancing over at Radar, who had the same deer-in-the-headlight look.
Major Houlihan startled her from behind. "Lieutenant, if you are getting ill, you are not to be in her contaminating the patients!"
Jessie wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. "I'm fine, Major, really! It's just stuffy in here, and I got a little hot, that's all!"
Hawkeye spoke up from across the room. "First time I've heard someone say there were hot since summer. What about you, Beej?"
"I haven't been warm in weeks."
"Stay out of this, Captain!" Margaret ordered sharply. She glanced at Radar. "Corporal, are you ignoring the Colonel's order? He said to help the Lieutenant!"
Flummoxed, Radar reddened. "No, ma'am. Sir. I mean yes, ma'am . . . sir." Obediently, he began to help Jessie as she sorted used surgical equipment to be sterilized. But, he didn't dare look at her.
Jessie tried to hurry. She felt like all the eyes in the room were on the two of them. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.
Not paying attention, they both reached for the same utensil, and their fingers touched. Both of them jumped backwards like scalded cats, the clamp clanging loudly back onto the tray.
Now, Jessie knew all eyes were on them.
She swallowed. "Sorry," she muttered, doggedly returning to the task.
"Yeah, me, too," Radar whispered hoarsely.
Jessie wondered what exactly they were apologizing for.