From the shower tent of the M.A.S.H. 4077th came not only a generous amount of steam but also two loud male voices singing various mispronounced Italian phrases. The bevy of nurses outside the tent rolled their eyes at the indication that Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce and Captain B.J. Hunnicutt were still not done showering, managing to step to the side to allow their commanding officer Colonel Potter through.
"Will you two spare me the concomitant caterwauling?" Charles groaned, combing his wet hair as he adjusted his blue robe over his itchy chest, his two surgeon bunkmates currently showering and singing at the tops of their lungs. "My ears cannot bear the simultaneous destruction of two beloved operas."
"Beloved?" Pierce said with a big smile, tossing the soap to B.J.. "My, my, Beej, looks like that Boston ice has finally melted."
"Ha," Charles deadpanned. "Carmen's death was not so tragic as this."
Hawkeye laughed, shaking his head.
"And here, I thought you'd be too Bizet to notice, Charles. Don't you have somewhere to be—like, I dunno, giving your ears an overdose of Berlioz in the Swamp?"
Charles's retort was cut short by the sudden presence of Colonel Potter, who strode into the shower tent, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Just who I was looking to find," he said, giving the three surgeons a little close-mouthed grin. "I'm lookin' for a volunteer for what you might call a business trip."
"Yeah, well, count me out," B.J. said, frowning. "After how they packed me out and shipped me away in the name of volunteerism, the army should've gotten the draft by now."
"Anyway," Potter continued, looking towards Pierce and Winchester, "the 8063rd is keen to see our arterial transplant technique in saving otherwise amputated legs. They've no more patience and it's now the third time they've requested a demo—"
"No more patients?" Hawkeye said with a little coy sneer, shrugging. "Then why bother?"
"Ha, very clever, Pierce," Charles answered dryly, scratching his chest. "Colonel Potter, please continue. Feel free to ignore the crude little boys making sarcastic little remarks."
"You do realize, Winchester, that kissing my behind isn't getting you that one-way ticket to Tokyo anytime soon," Potter replied, "but I appreciate the effort anyhow."
"If you want to kiss anyone's behinds, Charles, it should be ours," Hawkeye said, turning around in his stall with a big smile. "At least you know they're squeaky clean."
Charles rolled his eyes, disgusted by it all.
"Nincompoop."
"I think I just washed that down the drain," Pierce retorted with a sneer, taking a peek below him. Charles ignored the comment, again looking at his C.O.
"Colonel Potter, you were saying…"
"Thank you, Major. Even so, it's still a no-go to Tokyo, no matter how many parries you take in my name."
"Well, as the most skilled surgeon here, by far," Charles snapped, "I deserve respite from these two clowns. Not only that, but the soap here itches like mad." Now he was digging at his chest, his blue robe wide open on top, red scratches appearing on his skin. "Tell me, how am I supposed to function under these appalling conditions?"
"And just like that," Potter said with a yip, patting the major on his back, "we have ourselves a volunteer! Much obliged to ya, Major!"
"Now, Colonel, I—"
"You said it yourself, you deserve respite! What better way to get away from it than to get away from it!"
As Charles's shoulders slumped, a sour look on his face, Pierce looked positively gleeful.
"Enjoy your well-deserved breather from us mouth-breathers, Charles! And, uh, maybe you could get us some new soap from the 8063rd—you're right; this stuff itches like hell."
The major could only manage a weak sneer in reply, jumping at the sound of a sudden angry female voice.
"Get a move on!" Margaret yelled through the door. "Your time was up almost ten minutes ago!"
Colonel Potter gave Winchester a patronizing pat on the back.
"Aw, look on the bright side, Major. You get to choose your nurse for tomorrow, and the two of you will head out at 0800 hours."
"I barely know these nurses," Charles groaned, "let alone their names. How am I supposed to choos—"
"Just pick someone you could see under you," Pierce cackled, "professionally speaking, of course. Or personally speaking. As long as it doesn't overlap with my own picks… Plenty of laps to be over these next couple of days… or under."
"I would argue that Charles believes everyone to be under him," B.J. added, looking satisfied.
"Is that right. Have you gotten a turn yet?" Hawkeye said with a laugh, looking at the moustached surgeon. "Because I haven't."
"He did only just get here two months ago," B.J. mentioned.
Charles allowed Colonel Potter to slowly lead him towards the door of the shower tent, but before he opened it, the tall surgeon turned to look at his bunkies, a sneer on his face.
"Somehow I am looking forward to this foray more and more every second."
"Then our job is done," Hawkeye said, grinning. "So, uh, back to the opera, Beej?"
"Put a cork in it for the time being," Potter replied, shaking his head tersely. "I gotta talk to the nurses waiting outside, and I don't wanna have to yell over your yodeling."
Charles stood outside the shower tent beside Colonel Potter, self-consciously pulling his blue robe back together on top, though his chest still itched terribly. Before him stood nearly every nurse of the 4077th, all clad in their robes as well, their impatience readily apparent.
"Now, ladies," Colonel Potter began, "before you go in there and wash away your own little slice of Uijeongbu, we have a request from the 8063rd for one doctor and one nurse to run a demo of our arterial transplant technique. Major Winchester will be the doctor. And one of you folks will be the nurse." He turned to look at the tall surgeon beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "So, who'll it be, Major?"
Charles's blue eyes widened as he peered down at his CO and then out at the sea of annoyed female faces, clearly taken aback to be put on the spot in such a way. The only nurse he'd really gotten to know in this camp was none other than Major Houlihan, the head nurse. And yet, the last time they'd spent any time together, he'd given them both food poisoning from his canned Devonshire pheasant.
"The nurse needs to be able to explain this procedure quickly and succinctly," Potter added. "I am confident that Major Winchester will—"
Now Pierce appeared in the door behind Potter and Winchester, wrapped in his customary maroon robe.
"While you're all here," Pierce said, sneering, "I just wanted to invite any and all of you who decide to stay to be the guest of honor on Charles's cot tonight and the next. If there's more than one, we can play musical beds. You'll get to find out tonight what the loser has to do—not to mention, the winner!"
"Might you allow me a moment to think?!" Charles groaned, rubbing his own forehead. "Ugh…"
"I'll be the nurse," Major Houlihan announced, stepping forward. Charles could only blink several times in surprise. Apparently he'd been mistaken in thinking the bad bird marked the end of Margaret's flirtations with him.
"So Major Houlihan has volunteered. That okay with you, Winchester?" Potter asked, looking up at the silent surgeon. Charles's mouth had since gone slightly ajar, as he continued to process this information.
"Looks like a done deal," Potter said with a smile. "Now, the two of you will depart the 4077th at 0800 hours. Be sure to pack the jeep beforehand. Got it?"
At 7:45 am the next morning, Charles Winchester placed the last of his Boston gourmet food and drink into his messenger bag, the corner of his lip twitching. This time there was no Devonshire pheasant, rather a bottle each of cognac and wine, some glasses, several tins of various expensive consumables, and a can opener. It was too bad he could not pack his phonograph as well, but space on the jeep was tight. He'd not gone on a trip before of this nature, and oddly enough, it was with the only army woman that had managed to spur his interest, in spite of her being a married woman. The tall surgeon could feel his lips curling up into a smile; perhaps he could finally and completely draw Margaret to his side, the side of civilization, sophistication, and class, and have an ally against the uncouth Pierce and Hunnicutt. Clearly by her volunteering herself to be his travel partner, she felt the same way, right?
As Charles reached the jeep with his food and drink in tow, his little smug grin disappeared instantly. Margaret was frowning deeply, poring over a letter in her hand, the envelope tucked behind it. As he reached the jeep, she tucked the paper back in its envelope and shoved it deep inside her jacket pocket, a groan escaping her lips.
Colonel Potter stood at the back of the jeep as Charles placed his items in the jeep. As soon as he'd carefully set his food bag snugly in the back seat, Charles could see through the tent wall of the Swamp that Pierce and Hunnicutt were waking up.
"Here they come for their parting shots," he muttered, shaking his head. Now his eyes moved to Margaret. "Might we, ah, get a move on?"
"Fine by me," was her terse reply. She crossed her arms across her chest, looking disgusted. He'd have to figure out if it was something he'd done that was causing her anger, or if it had something to do with what she'd just been reading.
"Alright, you two," Colonel Potter said, handing Winchester the keys, "Chop chop!"
Charles slipped his arms into the jacket he'd shoved under an arm and grabbed the keys as he slid into the driver's seat. Now he could see Pierce and Hunnicutt emerging from the tent.
"Weren't you going to say goodbye?" B.J. asked, faking a hurt look, his clothes all askew. "After all we've been through…"
"I wished to let you catch up on your beauty sleep, Hunnicutt," Winchester snapped back. "Clearly you've been deprived of it for far too long."
"Ouch," B.J. commented good-naturedly. "Just a friendly reminder that you yourself volunteered for this, Buddy. Not sure what you're sniping at me for."
Pierce's eyes went from Charles to Margaret and back. "Well, looks like you two are getting a good start," he said, glancing at the clearly aggravated Margaret. "Like, geez, what did you do to her, Charles? Were you being yourself again?"
"That's none of your business," Margaret snarled, scowling at the dark-haired surgeon. "Let's go."
Charles shoved the key into the ignition and the jeep roared to life.
"Wow, I didn't know there was a He-Man Hunnihawk Haters club meeting today, did you, Beej?" Pierce commented loudly.
Charles shifted into gear and the pair took off in a cloud of dust, leaving the 4077th and the pair of surgeon jokesters behind.
"I bet I know who'll do the paddling," Hunnicutt remarked in regards to Pierce's Our Gang reference, scratching his head as he watched the jeep depart.
"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm regretting not going, if that's the case," Pierce commented, shrugging. "Guess I'll have to live vicariously through Charles when he sits down."
"Well, according to Spanky, apparently I have some beauty sleep to catch up on," B.J. said with a little bow, his eyes moving from Colonel Potter to Hawkeye Pierce. "Good night you two—err, morning."