This who we are—a product of war.
MASH Unit 4077. March, 1951.
Virginia squirmed in the straight-back wooden chair. Having changed as quickly as possible into her uniform and followed Trapper to Henry's office, she'd had little time to dream up what possible assignment Henry could have in store. Now, while she waited for Henry to show, her mind churned with all the possibilities. Could she be transferred to another MASH unit? Shipped home? Worse yet—have her bunk moved to The Swamp now that the Special Forces were gone? She shuddered at the thought.
To her left, Trapper sat with his legs sprawled out, an orange Hawaiian shirt hanging loose around his shoulders. He picked at his teeth with a toothpick.
"Do you know why we're here?" she asked. The chair squeaked as she twisted to gauge his response. He gave none other than a noncommittal shrug.
"You and Hawk have fun last night?" There was nothing sarcastic about his tone, but Virginia couldn't help and take a defensive position.
She leaned back, arms folded over her chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Trapper moved his attention from his teeth to his nailbeds. He pushed along his cuticles and dug underneath his nails. "He didn't come back to homestead last night, that's all."
Virginia turned her nose skyward. "I don't see how that's any of your business."
He threw a lazy, almost smug glance her way. "So, he was with you?"
"Again, I don't—"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, kids." Henry ambled into the office and took his spot on the other side of the desk. His eyes were red and tired, his fishing hat pulled low to block the sun. "Got tied up in the latrine."
"Have a good time at the party, Henry?"
Henry blanched. "Don't talk about it." At Trapper's laughter, Henry shot him a dark look then seemed to think better of exerting the effort. He reached up to rub his forehead. "I don't want to talk about it."
"That's just fine, Coronel." Virginia kicked the back of Trapper's shin in an attempt to silence his amusement. It only turned Trapper's laughter into muffled chuckles behind his hand. "What is it you wanted to talk about, sir?"
At first, Henry gave her a blank stare. He blinked and Virginia swore she could see a tumbleweed blow across his empty head. She was about to ask again when he snapped his fingers and recognition sparked in his eyes.
"Oh yeah, I remember." He rifled across his scattered desk. Coming up empty handed, he shouted, "Radar, could you bring me that directive—"
Radar entered the room and finished the sentence as Henry continued to state his request. "—directive from General Baker? Yes, sir. Here it is, sir." He was gone just as soon as he came.
Henry pulled a letter out of its envelope, read it, then looked up. "Do you want the short explanation or the long one?"
In unison, Virginia and Trapper gave their answers.
"Short."
"Long."
Virginia frowned once she registered Trapper's answer. She stared at him. "What do you mean short?"
Trapper stared right back. "What do you mean long? I've got things to do!"
"So, you're telling me you'd rather go into an assignment blind?"
"Look, if there's some army mumbo-jumbo in that letter, I'm not gonna understand or care. But since Henry's gonna make me do it anyway then I'll save myself the effort of trying to wrap my head around it."
"That's not only idiotic but dangerous."
Trapper shrugged again, his grin lopsided. "Work harder not smarter, sweetheart."
Virginia huffed then turned to Henry. "Give us an average length explanation if you can."
"Oh, Henry's great at average!"
"Shut up, McIntyre." With blush rising to his forehead, Henry focused on the letter in his hand. He hemmed-and-hawed before raising his eyes a fraction. His voice was plaintive. "Basically, I've got to send two doctors up to the front. There's an aid station that lost two men in a recent attack, and they've asked for a little help. It's only temporary—three weeks at the most—but I volunteered the two of you."
Virginia couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. She held up a hand in confusion. "I'm sorry—you've done what?" The wheels in her brain struggled to comprehend his words.
Trapper didn't give Henry the opportunity to answer. He leaned forward, eyes sharp and angry. "Just how frontlines is this aid station, Henry?" His jaw tightened. A muscle on his chin twitched as he waited.
"It's about as frontlines at it gets," Henry said, his voice apologetic.
"Damn it, Henry!" Trapper slammed his hand on the edge of the desk. Virginia jumped, and Henry's face screwed tight at the sound. "I've got kids!"
"Don't you think I know that? Geez, what would you have me do, McIntyre? Pierce can't go up—he's chief surgeon—and Frank's downright boneheaded. That leaves you and Virginia." Henry pulled his fishing cap off and ran a hand through his hair. "I made do with what I have."
"So, we're expendable to you? Is that it?" Trapper rose from his seat. Anger turned his face red and his knuckles white. "You can make do without us, but not Pierce or Burns."
"No, of course not!" Henry's eyes darted to Virginia, as if searching for a way out, then back to Trapper. "But you can handle yourself up there. You work well under pressure."
"And me, Henry?" Virginia spoke up. "Why'd you pick me?"
"You're a good nurse and good surgeon. You can wear two hats at once if need be. That's the kind of help they need."
There was a pause. The magnitude of the assignment—practically a whole month at the front—hung in the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. Virginia nibbled on her pinky nail; Trapper shook his head back and forth in disbelief.
Perhaps in a last-ditch effort, Henry drove home the guilt. He kept his eyes trained on the desk, as if he were embarrassed to make the hard decision for them. "People are dying when they don't need to because there's not enough help up there…" He left the implication hanging: if they refused, any unnecessary deaths at the aid station would be on their conscience.
It was Trapper who broke first. He sighed and reached for a glass tumbler, motioning to a jar of whiskey behind Henry's shoulder. "When do we leave?"
.::.
Three days later, Virginia and Trapper were loading a Jeep just after dawn. A wash of red-orange light turned the compound hazy with humidity and the promise of rain, and a small crowd had gathered to see the pair off, nurses wrapped in brightly colored kimonos, officers and enlisted men in the tried-and-true pale army green. An unmistakable sense of worry permeated the group. No one voiced their fears or apprehension, but everyone was thinking the same thing: There was a good chance the departing doctors may not return in one piece.
For his part, Trapper played the same old game. He joked, wore a wide grin, and stuffed the ridiculous straw hat on his head. He looked like a man ready for a Sunday afternoon tailgate rather than a doctor on his way to an active combat zone. Virginia, on the other hand, was nauseous. She'd woken with bad stomach pains, but knew dinner the night before was not to blame. As she dropped her pack in the back of the Jeep, she couldn't help but wince at the trembling in her hand. She was afraid, to say the least.
"I think that's everything." Trapper tightened a strap once more and stepped away from the Jeep. He turned to Henry and held out his hand. "See ya later, boss."
Henry, seemingly uncomfortable or guilty or both, wouldn't look Trapper in the eye as he shook his head. "Yeah—see ya."
"Here, I want you to take this."
Virginia turned to see Margaret offering a small, single shot handgun. It was silver and engraved on the side with Margaret's initials. "I can't take that," Virginia said, shaking her head.
"No, I want you to." Margaret pushed it forward. "Please."
Biting her tongue, Virginia took the gun and tucked it in her waistband. It dug into her hip and increased her anxiety tenfold, but if it made Margaret feel better, she would keep it. She hadn't promised to use it.
"Take care of yourself."
"Don't find another roommate while I'm gone."
The women shared a smile. Virginia squeezed Margaret's arm then stepped to Hawkeye who had his head bent close to Trapper. Before she could reach him, a hand grabbed her elbow.
"Take this, too." Father Mulcahy held a black leather-bound Bible in his hand. It was the size of his palm, the edges of the pages dyed red.
Virginia slid the Bible in her pocket and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said.
Mulcahy made the sign of the cross before her, his face somber. "God be with you."
"Well, look at you, all grown up and ready to fly the nest." Hawkeye smiled down at her, though she noted the edges of worry around his eyes. He held the back of her neck in one hand and pointed at her with the other. "I expect you to be home before midnight, young lady."
Virginia should have known he would play her departure off with a casual joke—he was ready with a wisecrack no matter the time of day or occasion. Yet the gravity of her endeavor and the uncertainty of what could happen made his jokes seem ill-placed. She rolled her eyes in response, saying nothing, and he seemed to take the hint. He dropped his hold on her neck, his voice gone intense.
"You know I would trade places with you if I could."
"And let you have all the fun?" She shook her head. "No, this is for me to do."
He pulled her flush against his chest, and she could hear his heart beating hard against his ribcage. The corner of her eyes stung with tears but she refused to let them fall. Pulling back, she brushed imaginary dust from his shoulder.
"Hold down the fort while we're gone."
"Let me kiss you before you go."
Virginia untangled herself from his arms and slid into the seat beside Trapper. "Save it for when I get back."
Jaw tight, Hawkeye nodded. "I'll hold you to that."
The engine started with a sputter and Trapper threw the Jeep into gear. He lifted his hand in a final wave before pressing hard on the gas. Virginia lurched to the side, but kept her eyes on the compound—on Hawkeye—until the 4077 disappeared from view. She twisted and faced the open road, then.
Beside her, Trapper gripped the steering wheel tight. "Hi-ho, off to war we go!" There was no humor in his voice now.
A/N: Shorter chapter this week before it gets down and dirty. Send me your thoughts/predictions!