Dreaming of a Brand New Day
I had a strange feeling that Margaret was just ignoring the two of them, that is, Frank and the new nurse, necking in the corner of the movie tent. She had the most solid poker face on I had ever seen her wear. To be honest, I was worried. I approached the seat that Frank was supposed to be in and occupied it as best I could.
"Hey, hot-lips," I said, keeping a cheerful tone to my voice.
"Hawkeye." She acknowledged without looking away from the screen.
"Interesting movie." I started, making petty conversation. From the second I sat by her, I had the feeling that she was on to me. A chill went up my back as wind blew through a rip in the canvas. Incidentally, that rip didn't used to be in that canvas. Lets just say that Trapper and I had more "Medicinal" martinis than our civility would allow.
I looked back at them, still going at it. Radar happened to be sitting by them. He was getting annoyed, as his glasses kept fogging over.
"Come on, you guys!" He whined. Of course they ignored. Why would they pay attention in the throes of passion? Ick.
Anyway, I was beginning to get cold, and so was Margaret, so we moved in close and even wrapped our arms around each other... for warmth.
"I love the Maltese Falcon. I always wanted to be the bad girl in the movie. She always gets the hero at least once." She stated sadly.
"Oh, me too." I quipped. I was happy to hear her giggle a little and see her radiant smile, but the monster was still trying to rear its ugly head. "Are you okay?" I finally asked, unable to silently acknowledge any longer.
"He's doing this just to hurt me." She softly cried, "I did something that made him mad."
I, being the ultimate gentleman in the face of a woman's distress, wiped an escaped tear from her cheek and whispered in her ear: "How could you make him mad? He thinks you are an angel."
"I stood up for you when I knew you were right." She whispered her reply, which was in pieces. I was taken aback. Hell, I just about fell out of my seat at those words.
"Hey, why don't we go to the mess tent and talk about this over an ice cold cup of coffee?"
"I'll talk, but I'd rather have a stiff drink at this point." That was so unlike her. It intrigued me, so I granted her wish and we went hand in hand to the officer's club instead so we could have a drink.
I noticed as we walked through the door that Radar had given up on the movie and he sat, as usual, alone at a table, nursing down a Grape Nehi. We took a table in the least crowded part of the club and sat.
"Martini, please." I ordered.
"Double mudslide." Margaret muttered. The bartender heard both and began working away at our mixed spirits. Radar kept looking over at the both of us, curiously, might I add, so I invited him over to sit with us. What would it hurt?
"Hiya." He chirruped as he swaggered toward us.
"Hey, kiddo. Why'd ya skip out on the movie? I thought it was your favorite." Margaret asked, lifting herself out of limbo. She beamed a smile at him. Those things are contagious. Pretty soon I was wearing one just from watching hers. She was beautiful. I had always noticed that. Didn't think I was ready to act upon it though.
"I figured that if I couldn't see it, I didn't wanna hear it either. I also needed a drink to erase the effects of forced voyeurism." I laughed at this, for two simple facts. The first being the slur already in his voice from just one part vodka. Ah, youth. The second was because he actually knew the word voyeurism. Margaret giggled lightly and patted his head. "Thanks." He mumbled.
The bartender brought Margaret and I our drinks and once Radar could get a hold of his, we toasted silently. Another tear slipped down Margaret's cheek out of pretty much nowhere.
"What's eatin' at you kitten?" Radar asked, getting brave as well as drunk.
She quickly wiped it away. "Nothing, I'll be fine, thank you." Margaret Houlihan couldn't even lie to a drunken teenager.
I looked straight into her magnificent eyes and asked: "May I tell him? I'm sure he won't remember in the morning."
"I suppose." She said with a half-smile.
"Radar," I began. He looked in my opposite direction, "Hey, over here, kid.... Hi there."
"Oh, hullo." He said, surprised I was sitting there.
"Frank is being mean to Margaret again and she's a little put off by it."
"Ohhh. Hey, sorry to hear that, beautiful." He got up from his place, apparently deciding he'd had enough, and kissed Margaret's forehead. He toddled out the door and toward his bunk for a good few hours sleep.
"That was cute." I snickered.
"That was certainly different." She added. "I'm feeling a little bit better." She said as she downed the rest of her mudslide.
"He's gonna ache something awful in the morning." I pointed out. She could smell the grape syrup in his drink and from the look on her face, something was missing. She reached for his drink, took a tiny sip and began to laugh almost hysterically.
"What?" I asked, startled.
"It's virgin." She and I screamed with laughter. "It's a good thing you weren't specific with the little guy." She sighed happily.
"It's nice to see you smile. No matter how we fight, I hate to see you upset."
"You're just saying that." She blushed.
"Nope." I yawned, feeling satisfied with the effects of the drink. "I'm really beat. I'm surprised I stayed up after all those casualties we had to work on."
"I wish the bunks were co-ed." She blurted out.
"Huh?" Now that I think back on it, I wish I had gotten that on paper.
"I wish the bunks were co-ed so you could sleep beside me tonight. I don't feel like being alone, Hawkeye."
"Well, if you really want me to, I can make sure Trapper knows where I am and we can go from there." I offered politely.
"Thank you." She whispered. Her breath smelled of sweet Kalhua. (For those of you not in the know, Kalhua is a chocolate drink mixer.) I stood from my place first, going around the table and pulling her chair out for her. I offered her my hand and she accepted. Together, hand in hand we left the officer's club. We weren't intoxicated, which was something rather foreign to me but I got used to it.
I walked her to her bunk on the way to my own. We stopped at the doorway and I flipped her hand over, lifting it to my lips, kissing the open palm.
"If I am asleep when you get here, you can either go back to your bunk or wake me up. I'd really rather you'd wake me up than anything else."
"Okay."
I watched her go inside, and when the door was closed I headed for the swamp. I looked forward to sleeping somewhere warm for once. When I got there, I was aware that Trapper had gone to bed. Tonight was just getting weirder by the moment.
"Hey, Trapper."
"Ohuh?" He said, sleep drowned.
"I'm going to stay up with Margaret tonight, just so you know where I am."
At hearing the name he sat up. "You are staying up with Margaret... Why?"
Frank wasn't in his bunk, so I assumed he was still with the nurse and continued.
"Margaret was in tears because Frank's being a jerk again. This time he was..."
"I know. Everyone saw. Poor Radar got a full frontal."
"The nurse?" I asked hopefully.
"No. Frank."
I winced, now understanding the full extent of Radar's trauma. "Like I said, I'll be sitting up with her tonight. Nothing physical, just something to help her sleep through the night."
"Okay, Hawk. I have 3 a.m. Post-op duty, so if you need me, that's where I'll be."
"You're a good man, Trapper."
"Eh, whatever..." He said playfully as he dozed off.
I made my way back over to Margaret's tent. The light was still on, and that relieved me somewhat. I knocked, and I knocked. I even knocked some more, and I would have left, but something didn't seem right.
My first intent was to open the door and to my horror it wouldn't budge. I held my breath and pressed my ear to the door.
"Tell him you're okay." Someone hissed. It sounded remarkably like Frank.
"I'm okay, Hawkeye, you can sleep in your own bunk tonight." She said. There was more terror in her voice than in that of Peter Lorre's when he woke up from the beating Bogie gave him and found blood on his new white shirt.
"Tell him to go away." The voice hissed again.
"Gah! You cut me! *Choke* I'm okay, please just go... I'll see you tomorrow morning..." I could hear her crying again, but this time there was genuine fear in her voice instead of hurt.
"Please don't do this..." She choked out.
" I.... Have.... No.... Choice." I noticed he had begun to cry now, but of course, his was out of hurt and anger. I had ruled it down to being Frank until I heard something peculiar come from Margaret.
"Go back home and flounce around with your little tramp!" She spat lividly. I heard him slap her sharply across the face. That's when I snapped.
I backed away from the door, hearing him point out my retreat; I then ran at my fastest pace and slammed my entire body into the door, breaking it down and perhaps my shoulder too.
"Hawkeye, run!" Margaret shrieked. My jaw dropped at the sight of her captor. It was none other than her divorcée Major Donald Penobscott. He had her arm tweaked up behind her back; she winced in pain at the slightest movement. There was blood all over her nightshirt; he had nicked her flesh with the very knife that would soon find itself imbedded in my right thigh.
"I told her to make you leave! Why are you here?!" He strained to piece together an intelligible sentence. He ran toward me. From the angle he arched the knife at, I saw all it's saw-blade like features. It made a nauseating tearing sound as it hit my right thigh with all the force of a bullet. I remember screaming and that's about it.
I don't know if it was the next morning or the morning after that I finally greeted the post-op crew with a big Benjamin Franklin Pierce brand grin. Either way, I did, and my leg was still there, so all was swell. Margaret was eager to see that I was awake. She ran to my side, long blonde hair flowing modelishly behind her. I couldn't tell if it was the morphine or just me falling for her, but I liked it.
"Are you okay, Margaret?" I asked, surprised at the hoarseness of my voice.
"Am I okay? What about you?"
"I'm okay. Just a little out of commission." I brushed her hair aside and couldn't help but tense up at the sight of the thirteen little sutures in her neck.
"Did he try to cut your..." I began, quite offended.
"Shh!" Margaret cut me off.
Her chin trembled as she began to cry. She was a mess. She leaned over to me and let me hold her, not even wincing when I accidentally brushed her wound. "He came back last night and the night before at midnight exactly and told me, reminded me repeatedly not to tell or he's finish the job on both of us. I know he's coming back for me tonight."
I couldn't stand to see her this way. The problem was I couldn't stand. Period. Exclamation point even.
"Is that what he told you?" I asked, again brushing her tears away, this time fighting my own.
"Worse."
"How could this get any worse?" I exclaimed.
"Shh! If anyone finds out, I'm... dead." She said this as though she were discovering it for the first time.
I just happened to spot Radar wandering aimlessly by and so I decided to take action starting with the company clerk.
"Radar! In here!" I called. He looked at me through the mesh screen as though he was in pain. I had to stifle a laugh in order to get what I wanted.
"Not so loud, sir." He whined hoarsely.
"Radar, can you get Blake in here?" I asked in a low whisper.
"No!" Margaret began to panic. "No! Not Blake! Please! Not Blake!!!" She began to thrash around, looking for a quick escape.
"Radar! Grab a hold of her!" I ordered. He winced, but did as I said.
"Let go of me! Let go! I'll scream!!!" She threatened. Her eyes were wild with fear and fury at me, at Radar, at Donald, but especially at Frank.
"It couldn't be any worse than what you are doing now." Radar cracked. "Sit still, Major!"
I could tell that she'd had just about enough of everything, only because she elbowed poor Radar in the ribs and bolted out of Post-op.
"Sorry, kid." I said. I didn't have to bother asking Trapper because he had already gone out the door after her.
"That's the last time I hold a captive audience for you!" Radar wheezed.
I got up from the bed and limped over to him and rubbed his belly. He looked at me like I had just performed a miracle.
"It's called walking, Radar. The Neanderthals perfected it; I've almost got it down."
"Sir, you shouldn't oughta get out of bed. That was a nasty stab wound."
He had a point, but I really didn't have much time to care about it. I had Radar grab a pair of crutches from the supply, and I hobbled off to make sure Margaret was safe.
"Hawkeye! You're gonna hurt yourself!" Radar yelled after me. I hobbled back over to him.
"All you need to worry about is telling Colonel Blake that something potentially dangerous is going to happen to Margaret tonight at midnight."
"Potentially dangerous?! Did Frank bust a spring?" He asked, genuinely concerned.
"No. Not Frank. You'll find out all the details later tonight. Now go, and don't you dare tell anyone but Colonel Blake, got it?"
He saluted proudly, that was all I needed...
... "Thank god I found you." I breathed a deep sigh of relief and put my arms around her. I found her in my bunk, curled up on Trapper's bed. I sat down in a free space next to her.
"I'm sorry Hawkeye. I really didn't mean to act that way. You've gotta understand how scared I am. You do, don't you?"
"Am I human?" I remarked, and I should have known that sarcasm wasn't the right way to go yet. She bowed her head. "Sorry." I said, slightly embarrassed.
"No. Don't be. I just want to stay in here tonight with you."
"Are you sure he won't come looking for you? And what about Frank? He'll throw a huge tizzy."
"I DON'T CARE!" She cried with her face in the pillow. "Let that son of a bitch throw a fit! He hurt me over simple civics, damn it!"
"Okay, honey, I get it." I comforted her like a good little Captain. Things would have been better had I known Donald was listening close by...
The Second and Final Part Coming Soon!
I had a strange feeling that Margaret was just ignoring the two of them, that is, Frank and the new nurse, necking in the corner of the movie tent. She had the most solid poker face on I had ever seen her wear. To be honest, I was worried. I approached the seat that Frank was supposed to be in and occupied it as best I could.
"Hey, hot-lips," I said, keeping a cheerful tone to my voice.
"Hawkeye." She acknowledged without looking away from the screen.
"Interesting movie." I started, making petty conversation. From the second I sat by her, I had the feeling that she was on to me. A chill went up my back as wind blew through a rip in the canvas. Incidentally, that rip didn't used to be in that canvas. Lets just say that Trapper and I had more "Medicinal" martinis than our civility would allow.
I looked back at them, still going at it. Radar happened to be sitting by them. He was getting annoyed, as his glasses kept fogging over.
"Come on, you guys!" He whined. Of course they ignored. Why would they pay attention in the throes of passion? Ick.
Anyway, I was beginning to get cold, and so was Margaret, so we moved in close and even wrapped our arms around each other... for warmth.
"I love the Maltese Falcon. I always wanted to be the bad girl in the movie. She always gets the hero at least once." She stated sadly.
"Oh, me too." I quipped. I was happy to hear her giggle a little and see her radiant smile, but the monster was still trying to rear its ugly head. "Are you okay?" I finally asked, unable to silently acknowledge any longer.
"He's doing this just to hurt me." She softly cried, "I did something that made him mad."
I, being the ultimate gentleman in the face of a woman's distress, wiped an escaped tear from her cheek and whispered in her ear: "How could you make him mad? He thinks you are an angel."
"I stood up for you when I knew you were right." She whispered her reply, which was in pieces. I was taken aback. Hell, I just about fell out of my seat at those words.
"Hey, why don't we go to the mess tent and talk about this over an ice cold cup of coffee?"
"I'll talk, but I'd rather have a stiff drink at this point." That was so unlike her. It intrigued me, so I granted her wish and we went hand in hand to the officer's club instead so we could have a drink.
I noticed as we walked through the door that Radar had given up on the movie and he sat, as usual, alone at a table, nursing down a Grape Nehi. We took a table in the least crowded part of the club and sat.
"Martini, please." I ordered.
"Double mudslide." Margaret muttered. The bartender heard both and began working away at our mixed spirits. Radar kept looking over at the both of us, curiously, might I add, so I invited him over to sit with us. What would it hurt?
"Hiya." He chirruped as he swaggered toward us.
"Hey, kiddo. Why'd ya skip out on the movie? I thought it was your favorite." Margaret asked, lifting herself out of limbo. She beamed a smile at him. Those things are contagious. Pretty soon I was wearing one just from watching hers. She was beautiful. I had always noticed that. Didn't think I was ready to act upon it though.
"I figured that if I couldn't see it, I didn't wanna hear it either. I also needed a drink to erase the effects of forced voyeurism." I laughed at this, for two simple facts. The first being the slur already in his voice from just one part vodka. Ah, youth. The second was because he actually knew the word voyeurism. Margaret giggled lightly and patted his head. "Thanks." He mumbled.
The bartender brought Margaret and I our drinks and once Radar could get a hold of his, we toasted silently. Another tear slipped down Margaret's cheek out of pretty much nowhere.
"What's eatin' at you kitten?" Radar asked, getting brave as well as drunk.
She quickly wiped it away. "Nothing, I'll be fine, thank you." Margaret Houlihan couldn't even lie to a drunken teenager.
I looked straight into her magnificent eyes and asked: "May I tell him? I'm sure he won't remember in the morning."
"I suppose." She said with a half-smile.
"Radar," I began. He looked in my opposite direction, "Hey, over here, kid.... Hi there."
"Oh, hullo." He said, surprised I was sitting there.
"Frank is being mean to Margaret again and she's a little put off by it."
"Ohhh. Hey, sorry to hear that, beautiful." He got up from his place, apparently deciding he'd had enough, and kissed Margaret's forehead. He toddled out the door and toward his bunk for a good few hours sleep.
"That was cute." I snickered.
"That was certainly different." She added. "I'm feeling a little bit better." She said as she downed the rest of her mudslide.
"He's gonna ache something awful in the morning." I pointed out. She could smell the grape syrup in his drink and from the look on her face, something was missing. She reached for his drink, took a tiny sip and began to laugh almost hysterically.
"What?" I asked, startled.
"It's virgin." She and I screamed with laughter. "It's a good thing you weren't specific with the little guy." She sighed happily.
"It's nice to see you smile. No matter how we fight, I hate to see you upset."
"You're just saying that." She blushed.
"Nope." I yawned, feeling satisfied with the effects of the drink. "I'm really beat. I'm surprised I stayed up after all those casualties we had to work on."
"I wish the bunks were co-ed." She blurted out.
"Huh?" Now that I think back on it, I wish I had gotten that on paper.
"I wish the bunks were co-ed so you could sleep beside me tonight. I don't feel like being alone, Hawkeye."
"Well, if you really want me to, I can make sure Trapper knows where I am and we can go from there." I offered politely.
"Thank you." She whispered. Her breath smelled of sweet Kalhua. (For those of you not in the know, Kalhua is a chocolate drink mixer.) I stood from my place first, going around the table and pulling her chair out for her. I offered her my hand and she accepted. Together, hand in hand we left the officer's club. We weren't intoxicated, which was something rather foreign to me but I got used to it.
I walked her to her bunk on the way to my own. We stopped at the doorway and I flipped her hand over, lifting it to my lips, kissing the open palm.
"If I am asleep when you get here, you can either go back to your bunk or wake me up. I'd really rather you'd wake me up than anything else."
"Okay."
I watched her go inside, and when the door was closed I headed for the swamp. I looked forward to sleeping somewhere warm for once. When I got there, I was aware that Trapper had gone to bed. Tonight was just getting weirder by the moment.
"Hey, Trapper."
"Ohuh?" He said, sleep drowned.
"I'm going to stay up with Margaret tonight, just so you know where I am."
At hearing the name he sat up. "You are staying up with Margaret... Why?"
Frank wasn't in his bunk, so I assumed he was still with the nurse and continued.
"Margaret was in tears because Frank's being a jerk again. This time he was..."
"I know. Everyone saw. Poor Radar got a full frontal."
"The nurse?" I asked hopefully.
"No. Frank."
I winced, now understanding the full extent of Radar's trauma. "Like I said, I'll be sitting up with her tonight. Nothing physical, just something to help her sleep through the night."
"Okay, Hawk. I have 3 a.m. Post-op duty, so if you need me, that's where I'll be."
"You're a good man, Trapper."
"Eh, whatever..." He said playfully as he dozed off.
I made my way back over to Margaret's tent. The light was still on, and that relieved me somewhat. I knocked, and I knocked. I even knocked some more, and I would have left, but something didn't seem right.
My first intent was to open the door and to my horror it wouldn't budge. I held my breath and pressed my ear to the door.
"Tell him you're okay." Someone hissed. It sounded remarkably like Frank.
"I'm okay, Hawkeye, you can sleep in your own bunk tonight." She said. There was more terror in her voice than in that of Peter Lorre's when he woke up from the beating Bogie gave him and found blood on his new white shirt.
"Tell him to go away." The voice hissed again.
"Gah! You cut me! *Choke* I'm okay, please just go... I'll see you tomorrow morning..." I could hear her crying again, but this time there was genuine fear in her voice instead of hurt.
"Please don't do this..." She choked out.
" I.... Have.... No.... Choice." I noticed he had begun to cry now, but of course, his was out of hurt and anger. I had ruled it down to being Frank until I heard something peculiar come from Margaret.
"Go back home and flounce around with your little tramp!" She spat lividly. I heard him slap her sharply across the face. That's when I snapped.
I backed away from the door, hearing him point out my retreat; I then ran at my fastest pace and slammed my entire body into the door, breaking it down and perhaps my shoulder too.
"Hawkeye, run!" Margaret shrieked. My jaw dropped at the sight of her captor. It was none other than her divorcée Major Donald Penobscott. He had her arm tweaked up behind her back; she winced in pain at the slightest movement. There was blood all over her nightshirt; he had nicked her flesh with the very knife that would soon find itself imbedded in my right thigh.
"I told her to make you leave! Why are you here?!" He strained to piece together an intelligible sentence. He ran toward me. From the angle he arched the knife at, I saw all it's saw-blade like features. It made a nauseating tearing sound as it hit my right thigh with all the force of a bullet. I remember screaming and that's about it.
I don't know if it was the next morning or the morning after that I finally greeted the post-op crew with a big Benjamin Franklin Pierce brand grin. Either way, I did, and my leg was still there, so all was swell. Margaret was eager to see that I was awake. She ran to my side, long blonde hair flowing modelishly behind her. I couldn't tell if it was the morphine or just me falling for her, but I liked it.
"Are you okay, Margaret?" I asked, surprised at the hoarseness of my voice.
"Am I okay? What about you?"
"I'm okay. Just a little out of commission." I brushed her hair aside and couldn't help but tense up at the sight of the thirteen little sutures in her neck.
"Did he try to cut your..." I began, quite offended.
"Shh!" Margaret cut me off.
Her chin trembled as she began to cry. She was a mess. She leaned over to me and let me hold her, not even wincing when I accidentally brushed her wound. "He came back last night and the night before at midnight exactly and told me, reminded me repeatedly not to tell or he's finish the job on both of us. I know he's coming back for me tonight."
I couldn't stand to see her this way. The problem was I couldn't stand. Period. Exclamation point even.
"Is that what he told you?" I asked, again brushing her tears away, this time fighting my own.
"Worse."
"How could this get any worse?" I exclaimed.
"Shh! If anyone finds out, I'm... dead." She said this as though she were discovering it for the first time.
I just happened to spot Radar wandering aimlessly by and so I decided to take action starting with the company clerk.
"Radar! In here!" I called. He looked at me through the mesh screen as though he was in pain. I had to stifle a laugh in order to get what I wanted.
"Not so loud, sir." He whined hoarsely.
"Radar, can you get Blake in here?" I asked in a low whisper.
"No!" Margaret began to panic. "No! Not Blake! Please! Not Blake!!!" She began to thrash around, looking for a quick escape.
"Radar! Grab a hold of her!" I ordered. He winced, but did as I said.
"Let go of me! Let go! I'll scream!!!" She threatened. Her eyes were wild with fear and fury at me, at Radar, at Donald, but especially at Frank.
"It couldn't be any worse than what you are doing now." Radar cracked. "Sit still, Major!"
I could tell that she'd had just about enough of everything, only because she elbowed poor Radar in the ribs and bolted out of Post-op.
"Sorry, kid." I said. I didn't have to bother asking Trapper because he had already gone out the door after her.
"That's the last time I hold a captive audience for you!" Radar wheezed.
I got up from the bed and limped over to him and rubbed his belly. He looked at me like I had just performed a miracle.
"It's called walking, Radar. The Neanderthals perfected it; I've almost got it down."
"Sir, you shouldn't oughta get out of bed. That was a nasty stab wound."
He had a point, but I really didn't have much time to care about it. I had Radar grab a pair of crutches from the supply, and I hobbled off to make sure Margaret was safe.
"Hawkeye! You're gonna hurt yourself!" Radar yelled after me. I hobbled back over to him.
"All you need to worry about is telling Colonel Blake that something potentially dangerous is going to happen to Margaret tonight at midnight."
"Potentially dangerous?! Did Frank bust a spring?" He asked, genuinely concerned.
"No. Not Frank. You'll find out all the details later tonight. Now go, and don't you dare tell anyone but Colonel Blake, got it?"
He saluted proudly, that was all I needed...
... "Thank god I found you." I breathed a deep sigh of relief and put my arms around her. I found her in my bunk, curled up on Trapper's bed. I sat down in a free space next to her.
"I'm sorry Hawkeye. I really didn't mean to act that way. You've gotta understand how scared I am. You do, don't you?"
"Am I human?" I remarked, and I should have known that sarcasm wasn't the right way to go yet. She bowed her head. "Sorry." I said, slightly embarrassed.
"No. Don't be. I just want to stay in here tonight with you."
"Are you sure he won't come looking for you? And what about Frank? He'll throw a huge tizzy."
"I DON'T CARE!" She cried with her face in the pillow. "Let that son of a bitch throw a fit! He hurt me over simple civics, damn it!"
"Okay, honey, I get it." I comforted her like a good little Captain. Things would have been better had I known Donald was listening close by...
The Second and Final Part Coming Soon!
