Apologies for the delay: real life has a habit of jumping up & biting you when you're not expecting it.
TWENTY FIVE
Jan. 28th: 0730 hours
"Okay, that's it for now," Lieutenant MacAllister announced as she looked at the men who were sitting at the table with her. "Y'all are doing great. Don't forget y'all have your first interviews with the review board at 0800 in the Officer's Club. Wear your Class A's and don't be nervous," she smiled in encouragement.
The woman quit smiling as she noticed who had entered the mess tent and was walking towards their table.
"Great," Klinger muttered, "King Kong has arrived." He tried to blend in with the furnishings as the other two corporals searched for escape routes. Ernie, who had been lying peacefully at the nurse's feet, crawled under the bench and began to growl as the fourth member of the study group approached.
"Hey, Igor," the muscular man called to the assistant cook, "I see that mutt's in here. So, what are you serving today…hot dogs?" He was enjoying his own joke even though none of the others seemed amused.
Reaching down to give the small animal a reassuring pat, the Texan asked, "Hitalski, how do you expect to pass the Sergeant's exam if you don't study for it?"
He shrugged, unconcerned, "I'll pass that test…Lieutenant. You can count on it."
"…Happy days are here again…." Hawkeye Pierce, while dressing near the warmth of the heater, was alternately singing and humming cheerfully.
Charles Winchester, attending to his own grooming, looked at the man in disgust, "Pierce, cease that caterwauling, at once!" He ordered. Ignoring him, the dark-haired surgeon continued his serenade.
"Hey, Hawk, why are you so chipper this morning?" B J Hunnicutt asked in amusement.
"Because, my fellow camp mates and curmudgeons, I haven't seen Flagg's scowling countenance for three whole days, now. And, any day without Colonel Flagg, is a day worth celebrating." He danced around the Swamp in his delight.
"Better save the celebrating until after the review board this morning," B J advised. "We're going to be late."
"Yes, time to cross-examine our corporals," Winchester agreed as he buttoned his coat. "Although I fail to see the necessity of this committee; it is far better than conducting latrine inspections. Gentlemen," the man from Boston pulled on his leather gloves, opened the door and gestured for them to follow, "let's get this over with."
Jan. 28th: 0900 hours
Cautiously opening the latrine door, Corporal Klinger scanned the area. This was becoming a nightmare. He hadn't realized he was going to have enemies on both sides of the war. Satisfied that he was alone, he stepped outside.
"Corporal," the unexpected voice startled the company clerk. He whirled to see who was behind him.
"Father Mulcahy!" The man panted in his fright. "Please, don't ever sneak up on me like that, again!"
"I'm sorry, my son," the priest apologized. "The coast is clear. I saw Corporal Hitalski talking with Major Winchester near the Officer's Club," he reported.
"Do you think we need to rescue him?" The clerk asked in concern.
"I'm certain he's all right. Klinger, while I do not condone violence; I can teach you a few boxing maneuvers, if you like," Mulcahy offered.
"Thanks, Father; but I can handle it…I think," the man replied with a shake of his head.
"Well, if you change your mind, come see me," the clergy man stated. With a smile, he changed the subject, "So, how was your interview?"
His expression brightening, Corporal Klinger said, "I think it went all right. This one was just to confirm our eligibility…."
As the two men walked towards the hospital building, another conversation on the other side of camp was also occurring.
"I've got to pass the Sergeant's exam. This is my last chance," Corporal Hitalski was saying. He and Major Winchester were the only ones remaining near the Officer's Club.
Perturbed at being delayed, Winchester stared at the enlisted man standing nearby, "Then I suggest, Corporal, that you attend the study sessions, remove the wrinkles from your Class A uniform, and," the man looked at the mechanic's oil stained fingers in disdain, "clean your fingernails." He stepped around the larger man.
"No, you don't understand!" Hitalski moved to block his path. "I am going to pass this exam! And you're going to make sure of it."
"Corporal," the officer replied in a even tone, "the only thing I am going to make certain of; is to put you on report if you do not move out of my way."
"Okay," the enlisted man took one step backwards. "Just be careful, Major. With that bum knee of yours, I'd hate for you to fall and have an accident." With that, Hitalski walked away.
Once he was alone, Charles Winchester leaned against the metal wall of the building. He was pale and his heart was pounding. He knew that he had just been threatened; although the words themselves were innocuous. Drawing a ragged breath, he forced himself to regain his composure. Maybe he should have chosen the latrine duty, instead. It might have proven to be less hazardous.