Chapter Thirteen
Colonel Potter shielded his tired eyes against the brilliant glare of the rising sun and stared fondly off across a makeshift corral, at his beautiful lady.
"She looks good, Colonel-san?" the young Korean boy at his side hopefully inquired.
"She looks good, Wang," Potter assured him with a smile, and ruffled the boy's raven black hair. "You've done a fine job of taking care of her, son. I couldn't've done better, myself."
A smile crossed the boy's face and he literally radiated with pride.
At the sound of Potter's voice, the mare's head had perked up. Her ears flicked back and forth and from side to side, in an attempt to hone in on the source of the sound. Her eyes riveted on a familiar figure and she momentarily froze all motion. Then, satisfied that her memory hadn't failed her, as to her master's appearance, she let out an exuberant whinny and came trotting up to the fence.
"Ahhh, Sophie girl," the Colonel softly declared. "Thanks! I'm glad to see you again, too!"
The mare nuzzled his shoulder, affectionately and stood there, visibly trembling with excitement.
Potter patted her sleek, well-muscled neck. "Thanks, girl. It's good to be back."
The boy gave them both a wondering stare.
The mare nickered, softly.
"She says she missed me," he explained, for the boy's benefit.
Wang's wide eyes filled with even greater wonder.
The soft orange glow of the sunrise struck the mare's sleek red coat. The effect was stunning.
Potter ran his hand over her silky hide.
"Wang brush 3 times a day," the young groom proudly announced. "Ladies plenty fussy about their hair."
The Colonel chuckled delightedly. "Ain't that the truth!" He turned to the road, as Sergeant Klinger came driving up in a jeep.
"Thought I'd find you here, sir!" Klinger confessed and climbed stiffly out.
Potter gave his Sergeant a thorough scrutinization and didn't like what he saw.
Klinger's face was unshaven, his look was drawn and haggard, and his shoulders sagged with fatigue.
Why, it was almost like looking in a mirror!
Their tired, bloodshot eyes met.
"I hate to bother you, Colonel. But, the docs over at the 8063rd just called. They wanna know if we're ready for the first EVACs, yet."
His C.O. looked curious. "Are we?"
"How should I know? I'm just a clerk…sir."
Sophie tugged playfully at the Colonel's sleeve and let out several more low nickers.
Potter grinned. "Sophie says that clerks know more than colonels do. She says that clerks are the ones who really run things. And, she says that if you can't answer those doctors, I certainly can't."
Both the boy and Klinger were staring wonderingly at the horse.
The Sergeant looked a little uncertain. But then, he gradually came to accept the noble looking beast's rather lofty opinion of him. He drew his weary shoulders back and exhibited an aura of recently acquired self-confidence. "Well, we've got our old Post Op just about set up. Those guys from Seoul are still hammering the materials for the new Post Ops together. That means we have 12 beds ready and we can have another 12 ready, by the time the first choppers get here." He brightened. "I'll call the 8063rd and tell them we're ready for the first EVACs, sir."
Potter nodded approvingly. "And, when the ladies get here, we men-folk can get some sorely-needed shut-eye."
Klinger grinned and started heading for the jeep. "Want a lift back to camp, Colonel?"
"Thanks, Sergeant! But, Sophie's already volunteered to get me back. And, I prefer her one horsepower to your forty."
"I understand, sir!" the Sergeant assured him, as he climbed in behind the wheel. "Giddy up!" he ordered his forty horses…and they did.
Major Houlihan left some last minute instructions with her nurses. Then she clutched her cap to her head and went running over to the warming-up EVAC chopper in a crouched position, one she had perfected through years of practice.
"I'll be with you all the way!" she informed Lieutenant Ames, as his stretcher was strapped to one of the carriage racks on the sides of the 'copter.
"And, I'll be with you all the way!" her patient painfully shouted back, over the loud, rhythmic whirring of the rapidly rotating blades. He grinned, as his nurse was forced to smile.
Margaret checked to make sure all the straps were pulled snugly. She gave her patient's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Then she scrambled up into the empty seat beside the pilot, and strapped herself in.
Lieutenant Mullen finished speaking into his headset's mouthpiece and turned to the pretty blonde in the seat beside him. "Sorry, Major!" he shouted. "But, I gotta head this thing North in a big hurry! Empty!" The chopper pilot motioned for the orderlies to unload the stretchers they'd just finished loading.
"Wha-at? Why-y?" the nurse angrily demanded.
Mullen tapped his headset. "Just got word from HQ! The 8th Regimental Combat Division reports a casualty needing an immediate airlift!"
'A casualty?' They weren't expecting any casualties. The nurse's anger returned. "Well, couldn't they send someone else?"
The pilot gave her an apologetic shrug. "I must be the closest available chopper!"
The miffed Major stomped her foot. "Oo-ooh, the Army!" she bitterly declared and began unstrapping herself from her seat. "Alright! Go, Mullen! But, hurry back!"
The Lieutenant signaled 'okay'.
Margaret jumped out, ducked down and scrambled clear of the chopper's rotor wash.
Mullen throttled up. His aircraft began to rise. It hovered at near ground level, until the whine of its engine reached a satisfactory pitch. The pilot pulled the chopper up and away.
The Major hung onto her cap with one hand and shielded her eyes from the windblown debris with her other. "Leave it to the Army, to screw things up!"
"They're alive!" Lieutenant Davis breathlessly announced, as she came running up.
Houlahan turned to the nearly hysterical nurse and gripped her trembling arms with trembling hands. "Hawkeye? And B.J.? And Charles?"
Davis nodded, vigorously and grinned from ear to ear.
"They're alive," Margaret dared to repeat. Then she flung her arms around the bringer of such gloriously good news and jumped for joy.
The two deliriously happy nurses stood there, jumping up and down and hugging each other.
They were but a miniature model of the large-scale rejoicing going on among the members of the 4077th, both in Seijo and Wau-Jam-Bou.
Lieutenant Mullen skimmed over the treetops. Suddenly, the river was below him. He swung south and followed the murky-brown ribbon of water to the little village of Weiku. The casualty's location was five bridges north of Weiku, he'd been told. He turned his craft around and started counting bridges.
"Five!" the pilot said aloud and brought his chopper around to hover directly over the fifth bridge north of Weiku. Mullen stared disbelievingly down at the small group of GIs crouched below him. Two of the faces were terribly familiar to him and there was something frighteningly familiar about the casualty's mustache, as well. "Don't that beat all!" he muttered to himself, and gently set down in the center of the wooden-beamed bridge. He watched them strap Doctor Winchester and Doctor Hunnicutt onto his carriage racks.
Doctor Pierce tossed a sack and a medical bag aboard and then climbed into the empty seat beside him. "Get this thing in the air!" he ordered and started strapping himself in.
"Yes, sir!" the pilot acknowledged and began easing the throttle forward. "Where to, sir?" he wondered, as they started gaining altitude. "Half of the 4077th is in Seijo with Major Houlihan and half is in Wau-Jam-Bou with Colonel Potter!"
Pierce looked perplexed, but refrained from questioning the pilot. "Take us to the half that's closest!" he solemnly requested.
Mullen nodded and headed his helo' in the direction of Seijo.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Major Houlihan curtly addressed the 8063rd's company clerk.
The cowering Corporal reluctantly lowered the clipboard he'd been hiding behind and forced himself to face the aggravated woman. "I mean, ma'am, that HQ doesn't know."
The Major looked even more upset. "Well, how can they know they're alive, if they have no clue where they are?"
An excited female came barging into the office just then and saved him from having to answer. "Forget it, Major!" Lieutenant Davis breathlessly advised. "I know where they are! They're here! I just saw Hawkeye climb out of Mullen's chopper!"
Margaret's soaring spirits suddenly stalled. 'Davis must be mistaken,' she assured herself and followed the Lieutenant out the door, praying that she was mistaken. Mullen's chopper was bringing in a…casualty. 'Yes. That's it. Pierce is a doctor. He must have decided to leave the others and accompany the casualty back to camp.' She saw Charles follow a stretcher into the 8063rd's Pre-Op.
Hawkeye was right behind him.
But there was no sign of B.J..
Hawkeye shrugged off an affectionate embrace from Lieutenant Kelly, apologized to the puzzled woman and then brushed past several other shaken, solemn members of their all-female welcoming committee.
Margaret caught up to him, just as he was about to enter the 8063rd's Pre-Op, and latched onto him by the arm. "Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice an equal mixture of joy and aggravation.
Hawkeye reluctantly came to a halt and even more reluctantly turned to face her.
Their eyes met and the physically and emotionally drained man gave her the most penetrating…the most moving look she'd ever witnessed. A knot began to form in the nurse's stomach.
"Later," he told her, his usually vibrant voice sounding hollow.
The knot in her stomach tightened. "Where's B.J.?" she nervously inquired and stood there, dreading his answer.
Hawkeye slowly turned his solemn gaze to the open door to Pre-Op.
She released his arm and started brushing past him.
He grabbed her, this time. "If you wanna help, find us some ice. Crushed ice…and lots of it," he added, as an afterthought, and then entered the Pre-Op.
Margaret stood frozen for a few moments. Then, she semi-recovered from her shock and forced herself to move. "Come with me!" she ordered, motioning to several of the still-stunned nurses.
They glanced uncertainly at one another and then did.
Pierce stepped into Pre-Op. He found the 8063rd's entire surgical staff already working on the…casualty. There were five doctors, counting Winchester, and eight nurses treating his friend.
Speaking of B.J….His boots had been removed and his clothes and bandages cut away. The unconscious Captain's completely nude body was covered, from head to toe, with contusions. Speaking of toes…With the exception of his feet, there wasn't an area on B.J.'s entire body that wasn't black and blue!
Hawkeye leaned forward and hurled the remains of his rice cake meal into a small wastebasket, at his feet.
And, he wasn't the only one sickened by the ghastly sight of his friend's tortured form.
Several of the surgeons cut loose with some rather colorful oaths and a few of the nurses had to step out for some air.
Oxygen was administered, IVs were started, blood was drawn, and tests, antibiotics and x-rays were ordered.
Hawkeye watched a nurse squeezing an ambu-bag over the patient's motionless mouth.
His favorite favorite friend was fighting for his life.
'Dead people don't talk.' Hunnicutt had spoken truthfully.
Tears formed and fell, silently, down Hawkeye's grimy, unshaven face. B.J.'s ashen-complexion became a bluish-gray blur. The room started spinning. He felt his legs giving way and the Pre-Op floor came rushing up to meet him.
"Da-amn!" Charles had tried, unsuccessfully, to grab the fainting physician under the arms and prevent his falling. He had, however, managed to keep the collapsing doctor's head from striking the edge of an examination table. "Stretcher!" he anxiously requested, and positioned Pierce's crumpled body comfortably on the floor.
He examined the motionless man and then sighed in relief, as he realized that Captain Pierce had just passed out cold. 'Just passed out cold?' He thought of the heinous ordeal they'd just endured together…and its affects on them.
As a direct result of it, one of them was deathly ill…one of them was dead beat…and one of them was…a little of both.
"Give him intravenous fluids and a mild sedative," he prescribed, as Pierce was lifted onto a stretcher. "Get him cleaned up and put him to bed. Then, I want you to see to it that he stays there!"
The nurses nodded and the orderlies obediently carted the collapsed Captain from the room.
A medical technician entered Pre-Op. "We're ready for 'im!"
"Start with his lungs and right shoulder," Winchester suggested. "We already know that his left wrist and several ribs are broken. Someone mix up some plaster!" he requested and then followed Captain Hunnicutt's stretcher into X-Ray.
"Major, Lieutenant Mullen is waiting for you!" Nurse Davis announced, stepping into Post-Op.
"Let 'im wait!" Margaret barked back. "Where's Pierce? The ice is melting!"
As if in answer, the doors to the O.R. swung open and a freshly-bathed, but mildly sedated and so still unconscious, Captain Pierce was carried into the room, accompanied by a couple of 8063rd nurses. One of whom was carrying an inverted IV bottle.
"What happened to him?" Houlahan anxiously demanded.
"Captain Pierce passed out, Major," one of the nurses promptly explained. "Major Winchester ordered sedation and fluids intravenously. He's not to get out of bed."
That was not a satisfactory answer, as far as Margaret was concerned. "Where is Major Winchester?"
"He's in the Lab with Major Eaden, waiting to read Captain Hunnicutt's x-rays."
Major Houlahan marched into the O.R..
Captain Hunnicutt was lying, unconscious, on an operating table, with a bevy of doctors and nurses working on, over and around him.
Margaret saw B.J. for the first time in two days. His present physical condition shocked her so greatly that she exhaled an audible gasp of horror.
The comatose Captain's ashen complexion contrasted nicely with the deep purple bruise on his cheek. His right shoulder was immobilized with a clean, white cravat. His left wrist sported a pearly-white cast of still-drying plaster. His right wrist bore a neat, white gauze dressing and the rest of him was wrapped, head-to-toe, with white strips of bandages. They had B.J. bound up like an Egyptian mummy!
Margaret at last found her voice. "What are all those bandages for? Has he been burned?"
"These are pressure dressings, Major," the 8063rd's Captain McMaster solemnly informed her.
'Pressure dressings?' Major Houlahan stared at the young doctor in confusion. Pressure dressings were applied to help heal hematomas and severe contusions… The nurse's dazed gaze returned to the deep bruise on B.J.'s cheek.
Lieutenant Davis gazed sadly down at Captain Pierce's uncharacteristically still form.
Oh, the three of them were back, all right! But this was definitely not the way she had envisioned their reunion would be! She had expected a lot of laughter and embracing and tears. But all she'd seen of her vision so far were the tears…and even they were not of the proper variety!
She sighed in frustration and disappointment. She was frustrated that she couldn't change matters any and disappointed that things hadn't turned out the way she'd hoped…and prayed they would.
She saw one of the 8063rd's nurses preparing to shave Hawkeye's sedated, expressionless face. "Allow me," she told her and snatched the razor from the woman's hand before she could protest. 'It's not much. But it's more constructive than crying,' she reasoned to herself.
Major Winchester jerked, startled, as the door to X-Ray flew open with a forceful 'boof'.
Major Houlahan came stomping in. "Cha-arles! Where have you been? And, what on earth happened to B.J.?" she angrily demanded, in one lo-ong breath.
There was a dull 'thud-thud-thudding' as the abused doors gradually swung to a standstill.
'The woman enters a room with all the grace and dignity of a North Korean soldier,' Charles thought, sarcastically. He noticed the nurse's cold, hostile stare and gave voice to his sarcasm. "Ahhh, Margaret! I see you have come to celebrate our safe return. Thank you for your concern! It is wonderful to see you again, as well."
Margaret caught the hurt and sarcasm in Winchester's words. She suddenly felt like a first-class heel. She hadn't meant to come across so callously. It was just that her emotions were wreaking havoc with her actions. She gasped in exasperation. "I apologize. It's just that first, I thought you were all dead. And then, I thought you were all alive. Then, Mullen brings in a casualty…and it turns out to be one of you!" She stopped for air and stood there, feeling even more exasperated.
Charles gave the exasperated woman a sympathetic, understanding, forgiving smile and opened his arms.
She rushed into them and the two recently reunited friends gave each other a proper greeting.
Her eyes moistened. "Hawkeye looked so…so done in," she quietly continued. "And B.J…." She slowly lifted her head from the doctor's comforting shoulder. "I saw the bruise on his cheek and all those bandages. And I got to thinking of the horrible time you must have—"
"—There, there, Margaret," Charles suddenly interrupted. "It is all in the past. We are here now," he reassured her and reached up to tenderly brush a tear from her cheek.
She noticed the strange burn mark that encircled his wrist.
He saw that she saw the scar and started to pull his hand back.
She latched onto his wrist and stood there, recalling the gauze bandage on B.J.'s right wrist. Was it concealing an identical scar? Her stomach retched. "Tell me this is not a rope burn!" she begged.
The scar's owner hung his weary head and remained silent.
Margaret dropped his rope-burned wrist, covered her mouth with her hands and then hurried from the room, looking like she was going to be sick.
"He stepped in front of a bus!" Charles shouted and took several steps after her. He stopped at the doors and stood there, cursing to himself. He stared at the closed doors for a rather long time, lost in thought. Then he gasped in exasperation and slowly reached up to massage the taut tired muscles in the back of his stiff neck. "Da-amn!"
"Hey, Major—" Private Benson steadied the pale, shaken nurse as she came stumbling out of some bushes on the edge of the 8063rd's compound, "—are you alright?"
The woman turned slowly to face him and nodded, numbly.
"I've been trying to find you," Benson went on. "It's the Lieutenant. I think somebody told him about the doctors being missing and all. We gotta ship out a' here in just a few more minutes. I was wonderin' if you could sort a' look after him for us. Yah see, he was okay, when we said goodbye before. But now…I don't think he's feelin' so hot."
Major Houlahan wasn't exactly feelin' so hot, herself. The two of them would make good company. "Of course, Benson," she softly assured him and started stumbling off in the direction of her waiting ride. "We'll take good care of each other! Good luck, Private!" she called back over her shoulder.
"Thank you, ma'am! Good luck to you, too!"
"Colonel Potter, sir! I've been looking all over for you!" Klinger told his C.O., when he finally came cantering up. "They're alive!" he exclaimed, looking and sounding deliriously happy.
Potter stiffened in his saddle and stared incredulously down at his company clerk. "You mean, Hawkeye…and B.J….and Cha-arles?"
Klinger nodded vigorously and stood there, grinning from ear to ear.
The Colonel let out a rather undignified, "Yahoo-oo!" and tossed his cavalry cap in the air. He then leaned forward and hugged his horse. "Sorry, Old Girl, but I lied!" He saw his Sergeant giving him a strange stare and smiled. "I told her that nothing made me happier than a nice morning ride!" he explained. He immediately dismounted and stepped up to his nodding clerk for some more hugging…and even a little backslapping.
When the exuberance died down some, Potter stepped back and stared the teller of glad tidings straight in the eyes. "Well, c'mon, son! Let's have it! Give me all of the glorious details!"
Klinger's grin slowly vanished. "I just did, sir. HQ doesn't know any more than that."
His C.O.'s own grin disappeared and his look of incredulity returned. "Balderdash! They must at least know where they are!"
"That's what I thought, too, Colonel," Klinger confessed. "But I called all over and no one seems to know anything…except that they're alive," he summed up and his smile reappeared. His smile did another disappearing act. "I don't know where the EVACs are, either, sir. They should have been here by 0-800 hours."
Potter gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed into steely-blue slits. "Sergeant, I don't know about you. But I've had about all I can take of this Army's pitiful breakdown in communications! Nobody tells us to bug-out! Nobody tells us where our doctors are! Heck, we don't even know where our patients are, no-ow!"
Klinger gave his steamed C.O. one last disgusted nod of vehement agreement.
The Camp's Commander stopped shouting and turned back to his mount. "Get General Embrey on the line! No use wasting all this anger on us! We already know how bad the situation is!"
"Yes, sir!" Klinger acknowledged, wholeheartedly. He was just about to leave, when a familiar 'chop-chop-chopping' sound came wafting through the air. He turned to his C.O.. "You still want me to call the General, sir?"
"Damn straight!" Potter replied and kept right on unsaddling his horse. "One out of three is lousy odds!"
The Colonel greeted Major Houlahan as she descended the trail from the heli-pad to the camp. "Welcome home, Margaret! Have you heard the good news?"
"Thank you, Colonel. It's good to be back here. Yes, I have," she coolly replied and stepped right on past him, carrying Lt. Ames' inverted IV bottle in her raised right hand.
Potter found the woman's impersonal attitude annoying, if not confusing. "I don't suppose you happen to know where they are?" he called hopefully after her.
"Yes. I do!" she shouted back.
The Colonel found the female's less than enthusiastic reply so out of place that, for a moment, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "You do-o?" he exclaimed and ran to catch up with her. "Have you seen them? Are they alright?"
The Major sighed and forced herself to reply. "Yes. I've seen them…" she hesitated. "Look, sir…How 'bout we talk after I put this patient to bed?"
Potter suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "That'll be fine, Major."
End of Chapter Thirteen