Part 4
All was frantic in the OR. It was two days after Frank left, and a sudden deluge of wounded had poured in. With still no replacement surgeon, Hawkeye and Henry were finding it difficult to cope.
"It'll be fine, he says. We can cope without Frank, he says. Unless there's a deluge of wounded, he says," Henry mumbled in a sarcastic voice as he picked fragments out of a patient.
"Oh no, don't you start. You asked for my opinion, and that's all. You made your part of the decision by signing his papers," Hawkeye reminded him. "All right, this guy's all stitched up, lets have the next one in."
"How are we going?" Henry asked, referring to the number of patients.
"Slowly," Hawkeye said gravely as he was gowned and gloved.
"We're doing well for supplies and there is still a lot of whole blood," Margaret informed them.
"Do my ears deceive me or did that just sound like some good news? I've forgotten what it sounds like since I haven't heard it in a while," Hawkeye quipped as he looked at the X-rays of the patient in front of him and tried to figure out where to start.
"Klinger!" Henry yelled.
"You called?"
"What's the situation on the new surgeon?"
"Radar's gone to get him, but it could be a while yet," Klinger reported.
"Ah, there we go. The familiar sound of bad news again," Hawkeye grumbled. He would have gone on, had he not heard raised voices coming from the scrub room. "What's that?" he asked. After the voices died down, the curtain of the OR crept back and a sterile Trapper entered the OR.
"Gown and gloves, Kellye," he commanded. Knowing not to argue with the officer, she ran to fetch them.
"McIntyre, what do you think you are doing?" Henry growled.
"Preparing to operate," Trapper put simply.
"With a leg in a cast?"
"I'll manage."
"Trapper," Hawkeye began. "How do you plan on standing on one leg for so long?"
"I'll manage," Trapper repeated. He limped, unaided by crutches, to the nearest table. "Okay, lets have a patient, a nurse, and some cutlery."
"McIntyre," Henry began in a warning tone.
"You can kill me later, Henry. Just let me save some lives first, okay?"
Henry couldn't argue with that, so all carried on. Some hours later, all the wounded had been cared for, and the lights of the OR were flicked off for another day.
Hawkeye and Henry cornered Trapper as soon as they entered the scrub room.
"I don't know what you were thinking. You're not fully fit, and you know it. You could have jeopardized the lives of those wounded." Henry was lost for words.
"Yeah, but not helping," Trapper retorted. "If I hadn't have helped out, the surgery would have gone on for a lot longer, making both of you tired and below standard. I think I did the right thing, but I guess our views of that are different."
Radar entered at that moment. "Sir," he addressed Henry, "the new surgeon has arrived."
Henry looked relieved. "You're lucky he's here, so you don't have to pull another stunt like that again." With that final comment, he left to meet the new surgeon, with Radar following.
Trapper was left in the Scrub Room with Hawkeye. "Go ahead, it's your turn to tell me I did the wrong thing. Join the club that Henry just started." Trapper sat heavily on the bench, folded his arms and waited.
Hawkeye sighed. "I can't do that. I would have done the same thing as you. Come on, you deserve a date with your cot."
Meanwhile, in Henry's office, the newest 4077th recruit had just met the CO of the camp.
"Well, Captain," Henry began. "It's good to meet you. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, and welcome to the Korean War. You came at a hectic time, but I'm sure that everyone will make you feel welcome. Now, what was your name again?"
"BJ Hunnicutt, sir," the Captain saluted.
"Okay Hunnicutt, no need to worry about the formalities around here. Pretty much everyone around here calls me Henry, and even less people salutes. Now, Radar will show you to your tent. Ra…"
"Sir?"
Henry jumped and took a moment to recover himself. "Radar, show Captain Hunnicutt to his tent. You'll be meeting two other Captains there, Pierce and McIntyre. They'll make you feel right at home."
"Thank you," BJ replied, following Radar to the Swamp.
"Here you are," Radar said, placing the bag by what was once Frank's cot. "Hawkeye, this is Captain Hunnicutt. Sir, this is Hawkeye Pierce. See you later," he said, leaving the Swamp.
"Please, call me BJ," the new surgeon insisted.
"Nice to meet you, BJ," Hawkeye began. "In that cot over there is Trapper John McIntyre, who will also be pleased to see you as and when he wakes up."
"You got some interesting names. In fact, so far Henry is the only one with a normal name."
"His name is the only normal thing about him," Hawkeye remarked dryly. "Besides, BJ isn't exactly average."
"True, but its not Radar, Hawkeye or Trapper. Plus, it doesn't have an interesting story behind it, as I am sure your names do."
"Well, Hawkeye came out of a book, 'The Last of the Mohicans', which is as interesting as that one gets. Radar is so called because he knows things that happen before they actually happen."
"I noticed that earlier. Scared the life out of Henry Blake," BJ remembered.
"So, about you. You need to go through the Official Swamp Interview. If you sound like the last guy who was here, you fail."
"All right, so what do you want to know? My family consists of me, my gorgeous wife Peg and my equally as gorgeous one-year-old daughter, Erin. We're from California, and I love my family with all my heart. By the way, let me know if it bugs you when I talk about my family."
Hawkeye smiled. "I like you already. You're in."
BJ grinned. "Good to know. Enough about me, tell me what kind of place I ended up in."
"This place could easily be mistaken for a nuthouse. We're all mad here, but don't worry, we're harmless. You'll get to know everyone pretty soon. Oh, hey, have a drink. Meet the Still, one of your best friends in the war. Produces the ingredients of sanity. Warning though, it'll hit you hard on your first taste."
BJ found this out for himself when he drank it. "This stuff will dissolve my guts!"
"You need nerves of steel and a liver of something similar to drink this. You get used to it though. Hey, I'd love to stick around, but I got Post-Op duty. Make yourself at home, if you can. I'm still trying to."
Over the next few days, BJ began to find his way around. The staff at the hospital took a liking to the down-to-earth doctor, who was a breath of fresh air after what they had endured whilst putting up with Frank.
Although the camp did all they could to make their new comrade feel at home, BJ could not help but feel dreadfully homesick. He missed his wife and daughter desperately, and felt as if there was a piece of him missing. He decided to write to his wife in the hope that he would feel better.
"Dearest Peg," he began.
"I'm not brilliant at writing letters, but I guess now is a good time to start. I made it safely to Korea, and have been posted to the 4077th M*A*S*H. I have only been here for a couple of days, but already I've been made to feel very welcome. I am in a tent called 'The Swamp,' which I share with two other captains.
"Hawkeye Pierce of one of them. He is outgoing, and makes a habit out of chasing nurses and/or getting drunk. Don't get me wrong, though, he is one of the most dedicated and compassionate doctors I have ever met, and he has been a great friend to me in helping me settle into this, this place. That's without mentioning his skill as a surgeon, which is superb.
Another skilled surgeon, and the other person who shares my tent, is Trapper John McIntyre. He has been through a lot recently. I was informed that his wife and two daughters were killed in a fire whilst he was here. Later, coming back from leave in Tokyo, his jeep crashed. Listening to his story, I realise that no matter how bad this place gets, it could be so much worse.
The other people at the 4077th are as follows. Colonel Henry Blake is the CO of the outfit. He is lax with rules, making it easier for the rest of us. He may also be absent-minded or vague at times, but he is good company. Radar O'Reilly is his Company Clerk, and is brilliant at his work. He keeps Henry in check, and makes sure that everything around the camp gets done.
"The other officer in the camp is Major Margaret Houlihan. Apparently she used to be impossible, but since my predecessor left, she has improved. Personally, I saw her as a kind, compassionate human being from the start, but I can't judge as I never saw her before. Somehow, though, I think she's hiding something."
BJ then went into telling his overall impressions of Korea before closing his letter and sending his love to Erin.
On finishing his letter, his spirits felt only slightly raised. Being so far away from home was definitely not fun, so he decided to have a drink to hopefully lightened his mood.
Countless glasses later, BJ was having trouble figuring things out. Nothing would hold focus, and things kept moving. In the end, he decided that sleep was the best thing. Only later did he discover that he would face problems trying to sleep standing in the middle of the Swamp.
Hawkeye and Trapper had just left the Mess Tent when they heard the crash. They made a beeline for the Swamp, and were staggered to find BJ in a heap on the floor.
"Is he okay?" Trapper asked as Hawkeye checked his vital signs.
"Yeah, but I think he must have drunk the contents of the Still."
"Probably got homesick," Trapper said, thinking back to the times he had felt the lack of his family. He remembered one time he was so drunk that he decided to pack up and go home. Of course, at least then he had a family to go home to.
"Trap? Earth to Trapper?"
Trapper snapped out of his daydream and back into reality. "Well, at least we aren't expecting wounded for a while," he said.
"Don't you dare even think that! It's those kinds of comments that cause accidents!"
Radar then chose that moment to poke his head into the Swamp. "Sirs, there are reports that we should be expecting wounded in about an hour."
"Terrific," Hawkeye sighed. "Famous last words."
BJ began to stir, and his eyes opened. "Hey! Hawker and Trapeye! How you doin'?"
Hawkeye and Trapper looked at each other. "I do believe that he is drunk, Trapeye."
"Definitely, Hawker," Trapper replied.
"How much did you have?" Hawkeye asked BJ.
"Some."
"I think this calls for the Houlihan Sobering treatment. Head in the shower."
"All right," Trapper agreed. "But, if he comments on my body like she did, you're on your own, Hawk."
An hour later, BJ had been given his sobering treatment, and now had a hand on his thumping head. "I can't believe I did that. Thanks again for helping me."
"No problem. I did the same thing once. I missed my family so much that I got drunk and packed my stuff up, ready to catch the next flight home," Trapper admitted. "Luckily, someone stopped me before I left the Swamp."
"My arm hasn't been the same since. And don't give him ideas, else next thing we know he'll be packing his things up."
"Me give him ideas? Who was it that tried to send the Officers Latrine to the North Koreans to try and get the war to end?"
"Children, please, don't fight so loud, daddy has a hangover," BJ joked as he laid down on his cot.
"Hey, if you plan on going to sleep, the North Koreans have other ideas for you. We've got wounded to stitch up," Trapper reminded him.
"We? You, my broken-legged friend, will not be operating. You're on triage."
Trapper nodded, and set off to start the welcome party for the incoming wounded.
Hawkeye turned to BJ. "You'll get used to it here. And if you find you don't, then talk to someone about it. One more drinking binge like that and your liver might expire."
BJ nodded as they made their way towards the OR, and thought to himself that he could not have ended up in a better place.
"Sidney," Hawkeye greeted. "Good to see you. How's work?"
"The usual, patients that drive me crazy," Sidney Freedman said. "Yours?"
"Some of my patients have me in stitches," Hawkeye quipped. "Where's Sam?"
"On his way. So, who's in the poker pack tonight?"
"Me, you, Sam, Trapper, and BJ Hunnicutt, the new cutter on the block. Henry has Post-Op duty, but sends his love. He could have just sent his money."
"BJ Hunnicutt? Is that Frank's replacement? How's he settling in?"
"He had a rough first few days, but he's doing better. He's a good surgeon."
"Better than Frank?"
"My grandmother could operate better than Frank, and she's been six feet under for twenty years," Trapper said, limping in. He was rid of his cast now, but was still weak on the leg.
"Talking about an unskilled surgeon again? Major Burns, I presume?" That was Sam Pak, entering the Swamp, bringing chairs from Henry's office with him.
"Frank's got quite a reputation, hasn't he," Sidney remarked.
"Does Henry know you've got his desk chair?" Hawkeye asked.
"He will do, but only when he finds himself sitting on the floor," Sam replied. "Is this everyone?"
"Still waiting for BJ. He was finishing dinner in the Mess Tent, but we can wait."
"Sure, it doesn't take too long for someone to get reincarnated these days," Sidney said sardonically.
"Sirs," Klinger walked into the Swamp and saluted. "This is some kind of food that Colonel Blake said you could have."
"Great diagnosis," Hawkeye muttered, staring intently at the chunks of brown.
"Hey, Klinger, join the game," Trapper invited. "You got money, right?"
"Yeah, let me go and get it," Klinger started.
"Don't worry, we're playing with chips for now. Money later," Hawkeye corrected.
"Am I late? I just finished dinner, you see," BJ said, running into the Swamp.
"Yep. Finished, digested, threw up and put on that plate," Sidney said, nodding towards the brown chunks that Klinger had brought in.
"What was that?" BJ asked.
"We're not sure, but there's a prize for anyone who can guess right," Hawkeye replied. "All right, all present and correct. Cut for dealer." Hawkeye cut the highest card and proceeded to deal. "All right, the game is five card, deuces wild."
Several hours later, members of the poker group were feeling considerably bankrupt, with the exception of Sidney and Klinger, who were having a good game.
"Who's idea was it to invite Klinger?" Sam asked as Klinger collected yet another lot of winnings.
"For someone who curls their hair and paints their nails, you play a great game of poker," Hawkeye complimented.
"He's probably got cards up his skirt," Sidney said.
"I'd rather continue my losing streak than look up there," Trapper said, shuffling the cards.
"I have nothing up my skirt," Klinger said indignantly.
"That worries me even more," Hawkeye yawned. He looked at his watch. "It's only ten! Why am I so tired?"
"It's been a long war," Sam said.
"I think we should call it a night. I need to be off early tomorrow," Sidney suggested.
"Not staying for breakfast?"
"You mean another look at tonight's dinner? I could do without it. I'll collect my winnings later, if you please."
The poker players began to disperse, much to Klinger's annoyance, who felt that he could win a lot more money, given the chance.
As Trapper put the chairs away, Sidney joined him. "Let me give you a hand," he offered.
"Thanks," Trapper replied.
"You're holding up well, I notice. Better than you were on your last visit."
"I thought there would be an ulterior motive in there somewhere. You psychiatrists are all the same."
"Of course. And your answer?"
"Yeah, I'm doing better. It's not a great thing to know that when the war is over, I'll have to go home to nothing, but I know I'm needed where I am right now, and that keeps me going."
"Anything else? Anything else troubling you?"
Trapper stopped, and sat in one of the chairs that he had taken back to the office. Sidney did the same. "Yeah, there is something. After the jeep accident, I had some kind of strange dream. I saw my wife and my girls. Louise told me that there is someone else, someone close to me, who I can make happy. I just passed it off as something caused by the drugs that I got during surgery, but lately it's been getting to me."
Sidney paused as he took this in. "Did you tell anyone about this?"
"No one, not even Hawk."
"I'm afraid that I don't have an answer for you, Trapper. There are some things that doctors, all doctors, are unable to explain. Sometimes they are as you say, caused by drugs, but sometimes they aren't."
"I hope you won't be charging me for this," Trapper joked.
"After my winnings today, I sure don't need to," Sidney replied. "But seriously, if you need to talk, I'm trained to listen."
"Thanks, Sid," Trapper said, getting up to leave.
Sidney was not the only one listening and trying to help that night. As Hawkeye walked across the compound, he saw Margaret walk into her tent after completing a night of Post-Op duty. Her head was low, and her shoulders looked like they carried the weight of the world on them.
"Hey, Margaret," he called. "Long shift?"
"Fairly long. Come in," she said, opening the door for him. "How was the game?"
"I had a bad night, and it looks like I wasn't the only one. Want to talk about it?"
Margaret was beginning to crack. "I need your help. I don't know what to do. Who can I talk to? I can't help it…"
"Shh, it's okay," Hawkeye soothed, putting his arms around her.
"It's not okay, though. You won't like it, and I know it."
"It's not up to me to like or dislike whatever it is that's troubling you."
"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you. I think I'm in love."
"Well, what's so bad about that? Who do you think you are in love with?" As the words passed his lips, he suddenly got a mental picture in his head, and he realised.
"You've just figured it, I can tell," Margaret sighed.
"Trapper," Hawkeye answered.
All was frantic in the OR. It was two days after Frank left, and a sudden deluge of wounded had poured in. With still no replacement surgeon, Hawkeye and Henry were finding it difficult to cope.
"It'll be fine, he says. We can cope without Frank, he says. Unless there's a deluge of wounded, he says," Henry mumbled in a sarcastic voice as he picked fragments out of a patient.
"Oh no, don't you start. You asked for my opinion, and that's all. You made your part of the decision by signing his papers," Hawkeye reminded him. "All right, this guy's all stitched up, lets have the next one in."
"How are we going?" Henry asked, referring to the number of patients.
"Slowly," Hawkeye said gravely as he was gowned and gloved.
"We're doing well for supplies and there is still a lot of whole blood," Margaret informed them.
"Do my ears deceive me or did that just sound like some good news? I've forgotten what it sounds like since I haven't heard it in a while," Hawkeye quipped as he looked at the X-rays of the patient in front of him and tried to figure out where to start.
"Klinger!" Henry yelled.
"You called?"
"What's the situation on the new surgeon?"
"Radar's gone to get him, but it could be a while yet," Klinger reported.
"Ah, there we go. The familiar sound of bad news again," Hawkeye grumbled. He would have gone on, had he not heard raised voices coming from the scrub room. "What's that?" he asked. After the voices died down, the curtain of the OR crept back and a sterile Trapper entered the OR.
"Gown and gloves, Kellye," he commanded. Knowing not to argue with the officer, she ran to fetch them.
"McIntyre, what do you think you are doing?" Henry growled.
"Preparing to operate," Trapper put simply.
"With a leg in a cast?"
"I'll manage."
"Trapper," Hawkeye began. "How do you plan on standing on one leg for so long?"
"I'll manage," Trapper repeated. He limped, unaided by crutches, to the nearest table. "Okay, lets have a patient, a nurse, and some cutlery."
"McIntyre," Henry began in a warning tone.
"You can kill me later, Henry. Just let me save some lives first, okay?"
Henry couldn't argue with that, so all carried on. Some hours later, all the wounded had been cared for, and the lights of the OR were flicked off for another day.
Hawkeye and Henry cornered Trapper as soon as they entered the scrub room.
"I don't know what you were thinking. You're not fully fit, and you know it. You could have jeopardized the lives of those wounded." Henry was lost for words.
"Yeah, but not helping," Trapper retorted. "If I hadn't have helped out, the surgery would have gone on for a lot longer, making both of you tired and below standard. I think I did the right thing, but I guess our views of that are different."
Radar entered at that moment. "Sir," he addressed Henry, "the new surgeon has arrived."
Henry looked relieved. "You're lucky he's here, so you don't have to pull another stunt like that again." With that final comment, he left to meet the new surgeon, with Radar following.
Trapper was left in the Scrub Room with Hawkeye. "Go ahead, it's your turn to tell me I did the wrong thing. Join the club that Henry just started." Trapper sat heavily on the bench, folded his arms and waited.
Hawkeye sighed. "I can't do that. I would have done the same thing as you. Come on, you deserve a date with your cot."
Meanwhile, in Henry's office, the newest 4077th recruit had just met the CO of the camp.
"Well, Captain," Henry began. "It's good to meet you. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, and welcome to the Korean War. You came at a hectic time, but I'm sure that everyone will make you feel welcome. Now, what was your name again?"
"BJ Hunnicutt, sir," the Captain saluted.
"Okay Hunnicutt, no need to worry about the formalities around here. Pretty much everyone around here calls me Henry, and even less people salutes. Now, Radar will show you to your tent. Ra…"
"Sir?"
Henry jumped and took a moment to recover himself. "Radar, show Captain Hunnicutt to his tent. You'll be meeting two other Captains there, Pierce and McIntyre. They'll make you feel right at home."
"Thank you," BJ replied, following Radar to the Swamp.
"Here you are," Radar said, placing the bag by what was once Frank's cot. "Hawkeye, this is Captain Hunnicutt. Sir, this is Hawkeye Pierce. See you later," he said, leaving the Swamp.
"Please, call me BJ," the new surgeon insisted.
"Nice to meet you, BJ," Hawkeye began. "In that cot over there is Trapper John McIntyre, who will also be pleased to see you as and when he wakes up."
"You got some interesting names. In fact, so far Henry is the only one with a normal name."
"His name is the only normal thing about him," Hawkeye remarked dryly. "Besides, BJ isn't exactly average."
"True, but its not Radar, Hawkeye or Trapper. Plus, it doesn't have an interesting story behind it, as I am sure your names do."
"Well, Hawkeye came out of a book, 'The Last of the Mohicans', which is as interesting as that one gets. Radar is so called because he knows things that happen before they actually happen."
"I noticed that earlier. Scared the life out of Henry Blake," BJ remembered.
"So, about you. You need to go through the Official Swamp Interview. If you sound like the last guy who was here, you fail."
"All right, so what do you want to know? My family consists of me, my gorgeous wife Peg and my equally as gorgeous one-year-old daughter, Erin. We're from California, and I love my family with all my heart. By the way, let me know if it bugs you when I talk about my family."
Hawkeye smiled. "I like you already. You're in."
BJ grinned. "Good to know. Enough about me, tell me what kind of place I ended up in."
"This place could easily be mistaken for a nuthouse. We're all mad here, but don't worry, we're harmless. You'll get to know everyone pretty soon. Oh, hey, have a drink. Meet the Still, one of your best friends in the war. Produces the ingredients of sanity. Warning though, it'll hit you hard on your first taste."
BJ found this out for himself when he drank it. "This stuff will dissolve my guts!"
"You need nerves of steel and a liver of something similar to drink this. You get used to it though. Hey, I'd love to stick around, but I got Post-Op duty. Make yourself at home, if you can. I'm still trying to."
Over the next few days, BJ began to find his way around. The staff at the hospital took a liking to the down-to-earth doctor, who was a breath of fresh air after what they had endured whilst putting up with Frank.
Although the camp did all they could to make their new comrade feel at home, BJ could not help but feel dreadfully homesick. He missed his wife and daughter desperately, and felt as if there was a piece of him missing. He decided to write to his wife in the hope that he would feel better.
"Dearest Peg," he began.
"I'm not brilliant at writing letters, but I guess now is a good time to start. I made it safely to Korea, and have been posted to the 4077th M*A*S*H. I have only been here for a couple of days, but already I've been made to feel very welcome. I am in a tent called 'The Swamp,' which I share with two other captains.
"Hawkeye Pierce of one of them. He is outgoing, and makes a habit out of chasing nurses and/or getting drunk. Don't get me wrong, though, he is one of the most dedicated and compassionate doctors I have ever met, and he has been a great friend to me in helping me settle into this, this place. That's without mentioning his skill as a surgeon, which is superb.
Another skilled surgeon, and the other person who shares my tent, is Trapper John McIntyre. He has been through a lot recently. I was informed that his wife and two daughters were killed in a fire whilst he was here. Later, coming back from leave in Tokyo, his jeep crashed. Listening to his story, I realise that no matter how bad this place gets, it could be so much worse.
The other people at the 4077th are as follows. Colonel Henry Blake is the CO of the outfit. He is lax with rules, making it easier for the rest of us. He may also be absent-minded or vague at times, but he is good company. Radar O'Reilly is his Company Clerk, and is brilliant at his work. He keeps Henry in check, and makes sure that everything around the camp gets done.
"The other officer in the camp is Major Margaret Houlihan. Apparently she used to be impossible, but since my predecessor left, she has improved. Personally, I saw her as a kind, compassionate human being from the start, but I can't judge as I never saw her before. Somehow, though, I think she's hiding something."
BJ then went into telling his overall impressions of Korea before closing his letter and sending his love to Erin.
On finishing his letter, his spirits felt only slightly raised. Being so far away from home was definitely not fun, so he decided to have a drink to hopefully lightened his mood.
Countless glasses later, BJ was having trouble figuring things out. Nothing would hold focus, and things kept moving. In the end, he decided that sleep was the best thing. Only later did he discover that he would face problems trying to sleep standing in the middle of the Swamp.
Hawkeye and Trapper had just left the Mess Tent when they heard the crash. They made a beeline for the Swamp, and were staggered to find BJ in a heap on the floor.
"Is he okay?" Trapper asked as Hawkeye checked his vital signs.
"Yeah, but I think he must have drunk the contents of the Still."
"Probably got homesick," Trapper said, thinking back to the times he had felt the lack of his family. He remembered one time he was so drunk that he decided to pack up and go home. Of course, at least then he had a family to go home to.
"Trap? Earth to Trapper?"
Trapper snapped out of his daydream and back into reality. "Well, at least we aren't expecting wounded for a while," he said.
"Don't you dare even think that! It's those kinds of comments that cause accidents!"
Radar then chose that moment to poke his head into the Swamp. "Sirs, there are reports that we should be expecting wounded in about an hour."
"Terrific," Hawkeye sighed. "Famous last words."
BJ began to stir, and his eyes opened. "Hey! Hawker and Trapeye! How you doin'?"
Hawkeye and Trapper looked at each other. "I do believe that he is drunk, Trapeye."
"Definitely, Hawker," Trapper replied.
"How much did you have?" Hawkeye asked BJ.
"Some."
"I think this calls for the Houlihan Sobering treatment. Head in the shower."
"All right," Trapper agreed. "But, if he comments on my body like she did, you're on your own, Hawk."
An hour later, BJ had been given his sobering treatment, and now had a hand on his thumping head. "I can't believe I did that. Thanks again for helping me."
"No problem. I did the same thing once. I missed my family so much that I got drunk and packed my stuff up, ready to catch the next flight home," Trapper admitted. "Luckily, someone stopped me before I left the Swamp."
"My arm hasn't been the same since. And don't give him ideas, else next thing we know he'll be packing his things up."
"Me give him ideas? Who was it that tried to send the Officers Latrine to the North Koreans to try and get the war to end?"
"Children, please, don't fight so loud, daddy has a hangover," BJ joked as he laid down on his cot.
"Hey, if you plan on going to sleep, the North Koreans have other ideas for you. We've got wounded to stitch up," Trapper reminded him.
"We? You, my broken-legged friend, will not be operating. You're on triage."
Trapper nodded, and set off to start the welcome party for the incoming wounded.
Hawkeye turned to BJ. "You'll get used to it here. And if you find you don't, then talk to someone about it. One more drinking binge like that and your liver might expire."
BJ nodded as they made their way towards the OR, and thought to himself that he could not have ended up in a better place.
"Sidney," Hawkeye greeted. "Good to see you. How's work?"
"The usual, patients that drive me crazy," Sidney Freedman said. "Yours?"
"Some of my patients have me in stitches," Hawkeye quipped. "Where's Sam?"
"On his way. So, who's in the poker pack tonight?"
"Me, you, Sam, Trapper, and BJ Hunnicutt, the new cutter on the block. Henry has Post-Op duty, but sends his love. He could have just sent his money."
"BJ Hunnicutt? Is that Frank's replacement? How's he settling in?"
"He had a rough first few days, but he's doing better. He's a good surgeon."
"Better than Frank?"
"My grandmother could operate better than Frank, and she's been six feet under for twenty years," Trapper said, limping in. He was rid of his cast now, but was still weak on the leg.
"Talking about an unskilled surgeon again? Major Burns, I presume?" That was Sam Pak, entering the Swamp, bringing chairs from Henry's office with him.
"Frank's got quite a reputation, hasn't he," Sidney remarked.
"Does Henry know you've got his desk chair?" Hawkeye asked.
"He will do, but only when he finds himself sitting on the floor," Sam replied. "Is this everyone?"
"Still waiting for BJ. He was finishing dinner in the Mess Tent, but we can wait."
"Sure, it doesn't take too long for someone to get reincarnated these days," Sidney said sardonically.
"Sirs," Klinger walked into the Swamp and saluted. "This is some kind of food that Colonel Blake said you could have."
"Great diagnosis," Hawkeye muttered, staring intently at the chunks of brown.
"Hey, Klinger, join the game," Trapper invited. "You got money, right?"
"Yeah, let me go and get it," Klinger started.
"Don't worry, we're playing with chips for now. Money later," Hawkeye corrected.
"Am I late? I just finished dinner, you see," BJ said, running into the Swamp.
"Yep. Finished, digested, threw up and put on that plate," Sidney said, nodding towards the brown chunks that Klinger had brought in.
"What was that?" BJ asked.
"We're not sure, but there's a prize for anyone who can guess right," Hawkeye replied. "All right, all present and correct. Cut for dealer." Hawkeye cut the highest card and proceeded to deal. "All right, the game is five card, deuces wild."
Several hours later, members of the poker group were feeling considerably bankrupt, with the exception of Sidney and Klinger, who were having a good game.
"Who's idea was it to invite Klinger?" Sam asked as Klinger collected yet another lot of winnings.
"For someone who curls their hair and paints their nails, you play a great game of poker," Hawkeye complimented.
"He's probably got cards up his skirt," Sidney said.
"I'd rather continue my losing streak than look up there," Trapper said, shuffling the cards.
"I have nothing up my skirt," Klinger said indignantly.
"That worries me even more," Hawkeye yawned. He looked at his watch. "It's only ten! Why am I so tired?"
"It's been a long war," Sam said.
"I think we should call it a night. I need to be off early tomorrow," Sidney suggested.
"Not staying for breakfast?"
"You mean another look at tonight's dinner? I could do without it. I'll collect my winnings later, if you please."
The poker players began to disperse, much to Klinger's annoyance, who felt that he could win a lot more money, given the chance.
As Trapper put the chairs away, Sidney joined him. "Let me give you a hand," he offered.
"Thanks," Trapper replied.
"You're holding up well, I notice. Better than you were on your last visit."
"I thought there would be an ulterior motive in there somewhere. You psychiatrists are all the same."
"Of course. And your answer?"
"Yeah, I'm doing better. It's not a great thing to know that when the war is over, I'll have to go home to nothing, but I know I'm needed where I am right now, and that keeps me going."
"Anything else? Anything else troubling you?"
Trapper stopped, and sat in one of the chairs that he had taken back to the office. Sidney did the same. "Yeah, there is something. After the jeep accident, I had some kind of strange dream. I saw my wife and my girls. Louise told me that there is someone else, someone close to me, who I can make happy. I just passed it off as something caused by the drugs that I got during surgery, but lately it's been getting to me."
Sidney paused as he took this in. "Did you tell anyone about this?"
"No one, not even Hawk."
"I'm afraid that I don't have an answer for you, Trapper. There are some things that doctors, all doctors, are unable to explain. Sometimes they are as you say, caused by drugs, but sometimes they aren't."
"I hope you won't be charging me for this," Trapper joked.
"After my winnings today, I sure don't need to," Sidney replied. "But seriously, if you need to talk, I'm trained to listen."
"Thanks, Sid," Trapper said, getting up to leave.
Sidney was not the only one listening and trying to help that night. As Hawkeye walked across the compound, he saw Margaret walk into her tent after completing a night of Post-Op duty. Her head was low, and her shoulders looked like they carried the weight of the world on them.
"Hey, Margaret," he called. "Long shift?"
"Fairly long. Come in," she said, opening the door for him. "How was the game?"
"I had a bad night, and it looks like I wasn't the only one. Want to talk about it?"
Margaret was beginning to crack. "I need your help. I don't know what to do. Who can I talk to? I can't help it…"
"Shh, it's okay," Hawkeye soothed, putting his arms around her.
"It's not okay, though. You won't like it, and I know it."
"It's not up to me to like or dislike whatever it is that's troubling you."
"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you. I think I'm in love."
"Well, what's so bad about that? Who do you think you are in love with?" As the words passed his lips, he suddenly got a mental picture in his head, and he realised.
"You've just figured it, I can tell," Margaret sighed.
"Trapper," Hawkeye answered.