11. Small Family
Hawkeye couldn't remember spending a finer evening in the officer's club. BJ had started out looking tired, but he seemed to get more lively every half hour. The sling was off his arm; three small bandages on the fingers of his right hand were the only physical reminders of his recent adventure.
They were a fairly ratty-looking crew, overall. The side of Hawkeye's face was raw where the dirt sprayed from Stranges' close-hitting bullet had driven itself in, although his cuts had scabbed over in the two days since the attack. Radar sported a black eye and a thick piece of tape over the bridge of his nose; the corporal squinted at them through his backup glasses. His regular ones were probably at the bottom of the canyon, but none of the folks who'd recovered Stranges' body had reported finding any glasses down there, not that they'd particularly been looking. Margaret had not been physically hurt, but the emotional strain showed in her unusually wan complexion. Klinger on the other hand looked stunning. He'd chosen to attend this informal gathering wearing a low-shouldered purple satin gown topped with a rhinestone tiara. Hawkeye couldn't help glancing at him curiously sometimes as the soldier tossed down a shot, holding the stubby glass expertly despite his white long-sleeved evening gloves.
They had pulled a couple of tables together to accommodate their party. Potter was there, of course, as well as Hung Pak. The chief of police had very graciously delivered BJ to the camp personally earlier that evening, and stayed to fill them in on the latest details of the case. Bigelow and Wilson hovered in chairs just beyond each of Hawkeye's shoulders, while in the tables behind them everyone else listened, even though some of them pretended not to. BJ's release celebration had been going on for over an hour now, with everyone's various suppositions and revelations blending into the general buzz of the room.
Suddenly BJ waved at the door. Hawkeye turned around to look.
Father Mulcahy was pushing his way through the throng, nodding or waving cheerily at those he passed. Flanking him, keeping his head down and looking even more nervous than usual, was Frank Burns. Hawkeye wouldn't have known that they were together, except that Mulcahy snagged Burns' elbow at one point to guide him closer to their table.
Mulcahy reached them at last and tipped his hat. "Good evening, all! How is everyone tonight?"
BJ beamed. "Fantastic, Father! Why don't you pull up a chair?"
"I'd love to. But first, someone here has something that he'd like to say to you." Mulcahy nudged a reluctant Frank forward to face the crowd.
Frank bobbed on his toes and thrust his hands in his pockets. His beady gaze darted from the table to the expectant faces around it to the floor. "Uh, somebody in camp ... suggested that I might ... sort of, possibly, want to ... apologize."
Hawkeye felt a grin spread over his face. "To anyone in particular, Frank?"
BJ's smile was broad. "Or just to the universe in general?"
Hawkeye bobbed his eyebrows at BJ and said in his Groucho Marx voice, "The universe in general has been waiting for an apology about Frank Burns for ages."
Frank's fidgeting increased. "Well, as a matter of fact --" He looked away, only to meet Father Mulcahy's placid expression, urging him on. Frank looked back toward BJ. "The truth is, I thought I might apologize to you, Captain. Maybe. In a way."
BJ shot Hawkeye a knowing glance. He'd heard all about the comments Frank had made about him in his absence. "What, maybe, might you want to say to me if you did, in fact, apologize, theoretically?"
BJ's leg pulling went right over Burns' head. In fact, Frank even relaxed a little in response to BJ's obfuscation. "Well, perhaps I leaped a little too quickly to the conclusion that you were guilty. Although it was completely understandable, based on the evidence that was available at the time. Faced with the facts that I was faced with, I believe that anyone else in my shoes, or in shoes closely resembling mine, would have concluded what I naturally concluded, rationally and logically -- that you were, in fact, a murderer."
"Serial murderer," Hawkeye put in. BJ shot him a mock glare.
"Serial murderer," said Frank. "I mean, you have to admit that things did look a little, uh, condemning in terms of your behavior, guiltwise. I for one am not a believer in blind faith -- except during officially sanctioned occasions such as those that Father Mulcahy conducts where disbelief would be frankly wrong. Not so regarding a person's character! No-sir-ee, Bub, except for those cases where blind faith is completely acceptable, I always find it totally unacceptable. In fact, if you're ever arrested again under similar circumstances, I'm sure that I'd come to the same conclusion all over again."
BJ listened to this prattle with seeming good grace, although others at the table weren't so restrained. Potter was biting his cheeks not to smile, and Radar was actually giggling into his hand. Klinger rolled his eyes, while Margaret tried to act offended -- although Hawkeye thought he could detect a suppressed smile there, too.
BJ's eyes twinkled. "Okay, Frank, let me get this straight. What you seem to be saying is -- and correct me if I'm wrong -- that if you said or did anything wrong in any way concerning me, at any time in the past or future, as far-fetched as such a notion might be, then you might consider being sorry for it."
Frank was immune to irony. "That's right, that's exactly what I was saying."
BJ lifted his drink. "In that case, if you ever were to offer an apology, I might consider accepting it."
Frank wasn't so pleased with BJ's last statement. He furrowed his brows, trying to decide whether he agreed with it or not. Finally he said, "I did bring your stuff back from the storage room, didn't I?"
BJ saluted drunkenly. "You did indeed, and I'm eternally grateful."
Frank stared at him. "Well, good."
Potter leaned an elbow on the table, giving himself over entirely to amusement. He sent up a languid puff from his cigar. "So, Major, do you have any other apologies to offer that are equally sincere?"
"Um, yes." Frank's eyes darted toward Father Mulcahy, then back to the table. "Captain Pierce --"
"Yes?" Hawkeye drawled, picking up his drink.
"Regarding my failure to send anyone after you that afternoon -- well, not really failure, but my executive decision to not reinforce unauthorized behavior with authorized reinforcements -- I want you to understand that no one could possibly have predicted that anything like what happened could ever possibly have happened -- except for Major Houlihan, who did in fact guess it, but in a completely unpredictable way. There's no reasonable basis for anyone to assume that I could ever be held accountable for such unpredictacality actually occurring."
Hawkeye waved him away. "That's all right, Frank. No one expected that."
"I mean, it wasn't my intention that Major Houlihan and Corporal Klinger would also unauthorizably leave and place themselves in danger -- danger that in no way could have been foreseen by anyone operating from a sound basis of thought."
"No one's blaming you," said Margaret.
"See," Frank continued, "I didn't really mean to have let you died. Almost died. Almost to have let you died, although you didn't really. And Corporal O'Reilly, too. It was an accident! Well, murder is no accident, but then you didn't get killed anyway, not that it would have been my fault even if you had. So all's well that end's well, don't you think?" He emitted one of his nervous cackles that sounded like a whinny.
Hawkeye twirled his drink against the light. "Frank, that is the most heart-warming apology that I have ever heard in my entire life."
Frank's face went slack. "It is?"
"Uh huh. And just to show you how much it means to me, I'm going to reveal something to you that I never thought I would." Hawkeye met his eyes. "Tonight, when you go to bed..?"
Frank's eyes grew round. "Yes?"
"Check your sheets first. There might be a rat in there."
Frank's voice hit a new high note. "A dead rat?"
"Well, unless there's been some divine intervention, it ought to be. It was dead when I put it in."
BJ's shoulders were shaking; Radar snickered and slid down in his chair.
Margaret sat up straight and put both her hands on the table. "Captain! You didn't really put a dead rat in his bed, did you?"
Hawkeye raised his drink, enjoying the commotion he was causing. "You're right, Major. I didn't." He took a sip. "I just held the sheet up. The rat definitely crawled in under its own power, although it died pretty quickly afterwards. Frank, you really ought to consider improving your foot care."
Frank's face went scarlet. He balled his fists. "You ... you --"
"Me, me?" mocked Hawkeye. "What, are you seeing double? Or perhaps we're starting vocal lessons?"
Frank hollered, "I hope you take a few lessons from that dead rat!"
"Major," said Mulcahy gently. "Remember your resolution."
"What resolution?" Frank shouted.
Mulcahy raised his brows. "You remember ..."
"Oh." Frank jerked his uniform straight in an effort to regain control. "Well, in token of my good faith --"
BJ burst out laughing.
"-- I'm going to do a good deed. For no reason at all! Just because I'm nice!" Frank yelled into BJ's ear.
"What's the good deed?" Potter asked.
"Well, I how am I supposed to know?" Frank seemed honestly puzzled. "Father Mulcahy wouldn't tell me."
Hawkeye was getting bored. "Hey, Frank. You want to do a good deed?"
Frank fiddled with his buttons. "Yes."
"Then blow." Hawkeye waved toward the door. "Go resuscitate a rat or something."
Frank leaned down to shout in his ear. "Just you see if I ever fail to not save your life again!" He shouldered his way through the crowd and banged out the door.
Potter looked at Mulcahy curiously. "He's really going to do a good deed?" he asked the priest.
Mulcahy removed his hat. "I thought that it might have more of an effect if I asked Major Burns to come up with a good deed on his own."
BJ shook his head. "That's like asking an arsonist to come up with a particularly good flame retardant."
"Captain," Margaret remonstrated. "I'm sure that Major Burns is quite sincere. After all, he did voluntarily decide to atone for something that no one here asked him to."
"That's true," said Hawkeye. "The only problem is that Frank's idea of a good deed would be to have Radar reorganize all the patient files in alphabetical order according to the type of wounds they received."
"I hope not," said Radar, rather blearily after his second beer. "I can't spell most of that stuff, even when I do use the alphabet."
Hawkeye said to BJ, "That explains all the hieroglyphics I've been seeing in the files."
"Really?" said BJ. "I thought that was just your lousy handwriting."
Potter pushed out a chair with his foot. "Take a load off, Padre. Chief Pak was just giving us the latest low-down on the police investigation."
"Why, thank you. I would very much like to hear that." Mulcahy tossed his hat onto the table and pulled the chair around. "I understand that you brought Private Panatela in for questioning this morning?"
"Yes," Chief Pak answered. "After Private Stranges attacked your party two days ago, it became important to know how deeply Private Panatela was involved in these activities. We did not locate him until today, but we did search his quarters yesterday. We found a note addressed to him from Lieutenant Carlyle, asking him to meet her at `the usual place' at oh-two-hundred hours that morning -- which turned out to be the morning she was murdered."
Bigelow jumped in, having heard the story from Pak earlier. "She wrote that it was urgent that she see him, and to not tell Tall, that is, Private Stranges, about it."
"Unfortunately," continued Pak, "Private Stranges saw the note and read it in his roommate's absence -- the `Three Strangers' were billeted together. Fingerprints proved that it was Lieutenant Carlyle who had stolen the supplies. She had apparently turned these over to Panatela, believing that Panatela was distributing them to needy local villagers."
Hawkeye mumbled to BJ, "Not that anyone else here was ever guilty of doing the same thing."
Potter perked up. "What was that, Pierce?"
Hawkeye paused; he hadn't expected to be overheard among all the side conversations. Potter had never heard about Captain Tuttle, Hawkeye's fictional do-gooder that had occasionally redirected some of the MASH's inventory to worthy causes before his grisly fictional death. Hawkeye had been hoping to keep someone like him in reserve for future opportunities, but the colonel's alertness had put him on the spot. Fortunately, a slightly sauced Radar came to his rescue.
"Colonel Blake did that," said Radar. "He ordered extra supplies and gave them to Nurse Cratty."
"Colonel Blake," said Margaret, "had the advantage of ordering extra supplies. Lieutenant Carlyle simply stole them." From the hardness of her voice, Hawkeye suspected that Margaret was still irritated at the lieutenant for putting a kink in her well-run operation -- never mind that the poor girl had paid for her lapse of judgment with her life.
"At least she meant well," said BJ, in Carlyle's defense.
"I really think she did," said Bigelow. "She thought she was helping hurt villagers and orphans. Panatela's first gift to her, the bracelet, was nice, but it wasn't outrageous. But when Panatela gave her the jeweled ring, Ellie knew that there was no way he could afford something like that unless he'd been dealing on the black market. She'd probably heard enough rumors by then about the Three Strangers to make her suspicious. So she wrote her note to him later that day, probably intending to confront him about it."
"That's why she was so upset," Gwen Wilson interjected. "She'd only gotten the ring the night before, when she'd `borrowed' the jeep to meet Danny, probably to deliver more supplies to him. But the more she thought about it afterwards, the more upset she became. Still, she wanted to discuss it privately with him first. Even though she knew Tall and Handsome, she probably thought a lot less of them than she did of Danny."
"That's pretty likely," said Hawkeye. "The first time I met Private Stranges -- Sergeant High -- I had an uneasy feeling about him. I thought I was only picking up his nervousness about being AWOL. I had no idea that he'd just committed a murder, and was intending to commit another."
"Several more," corrected Margaret.
"One more that day," said Hawkeye.
"The sad thing is," Gwen said, "that Stranges saw this note before Danny did. He didn't see it as Ellie's request for a private meeting about their relationship. When Stranges read, `Don't tell Tall,' he probably thought that she'd gotten cold feet, and was planning to turn him in."
Pak said, "That sounds exactly right. Stranges would have seen in the note not only an end to a steady source of supplies, but also a threat to his freedom. We believe that he came to the MASH that night to confront her. He must have known from Panatela that their `usual place' was behind the motor pool. He met her there, realized that she had discovered the scam, murdered her, then strung up her body with his own rope."
Mulcahy was listening with a furrowed brow. "You seem to know an awful lot about these people's dealings."
"We've been piecing it together for the last hour," said BJ. "Chief Pak was busy collecting additional evidence yesterday, so he could arrest Panatela for his black market activities." BJ's smile turned sour. "We already know that Pak didn't have any reason to hold him for murder."
"It was your lousy blood type that got you into so much trouble," said Hawkeye. "B positive. Why didn't you sign up for O negative while you had the chance?"
BJ looked at him. "You know, there's a lesson in my blood type."
Hawkeye suddenly got the pun. "What, `be positive?'"
BJ smiled and nodded.
Mulcahy said, "So, Chief Pak, you arrested Private Panatela this morning, when he came in from maneuvers?"
"Actually, we only brought him in for questioning," said Pak. "It turns out that Private Panatela knew nothing about the murders. When he found out about Lieutenant Carlyle's death, he became quite distressed. He made a full confession about his share of the black market scheme. In his view, more than half the material was going to the local villagers. In fact, Stranges and Randall took most of these goods and sold them themselves. Panatela never realized how few of the drugs ever reached the people he thought he was helping. He knew that his companions sold some of the supplies, but thought that he was entitled to a small reward after doing so much good."
"He was the original ignorant stooge," said Bigelow.
Margaret said, "Now I see why the other soldiers called him `Dumb.'"
"He doesn't exactly shine," said Mulcahy. "Still, it is heartening to hear that neither Lieutenant Carlyle nor Private Panatela was acting solely out of personal greed."
"Lieutenant Carlyle's actions could have led to numerous deaths here," said Margaret, "if her thefts hadn't been discovered in time for us to replenish our stock."
"Unfortunately, Private Stranges' actions were more reprehensible still," said Pak sadly. "We have learned, by inquiring among the villagers, that Stranges would often take medicine to a village in need. He would approach some young lady and offer to sell her the medicines -- in exchange for her services."
Margaret slammed down her hands on the table. "That's the lowest thing I've ever heard -- that, that -- slime bucket!" Her eyes blazed.
Hawkeye appreciated how she felt. He set down his glass. The sudden unsettled feeling in his stomach made him not want to drink any more. Everyone else around the table looked solemn, except for Radar, who looked scared.
"Now, Corporal Randall was aware of this," Pak continued. "He complained of Stranges' behavior to other members of his unit, but he could not convince Stranges to change his ways. Because both men are now dead, we can only speculate about what happened between them at the end. It is my belief that Stranges approached a girl who would not yield to him, even out of fear or duty to her family. Enraged by her resistance, he killed her and then fled, as witnessed by Mrs. Han. In some way, Randall found out about the murder. Perhaps he was on the grounds at the time; perhaps someone else told him. It is a funny thing about a person's conscience -- the things that each person can permit themselves to overlook. While Randall could apparently tolerate a systematic method of rape, he could not condone the killing. He may have threatened Stranges in some way, perhaps to expose him, or to drop him from their black market ring.
"The day after the girl's murder, Thursday, their squad was involved in a reconnaissance maneuver. Stranges was the last to return, saying that the Chinese had closed in before Randall could make it out. His story was that the rope they had used to rappel down the ridge broke, making it impossible for Randall to escape. In retrospect, it is more likely that Stranges abandoned Randall to the Chinese, or perhaps even cut the rope himself. However, another squad in the area was able to get Randall out before he was killed. In my opinion, Stranges knew that he must silence Randall to prevent him from reporting this attempt on his life. Stranges may have planned to come to the MASH and remove his rival, even before he saw Lieutenant Carlyle's note to Private Panatela. At the time, he must have felt that everyone had turned against him, and his actions reflect his desperation. But his greed was stronger still. Panatela has identified a jeweled ring we found hidden among Private Stranges' effects as the one he bought for Lieutenant Carlyle. Even after murdering her, Stranges could not resist taking this valuable piece of jewelry, even though he must have known that it would incriminate him if it was found before he could sell it."
Pak's statement had stunned the table into silence. BJ looked slightly sick. Klinger sat there with stark anger on his face, his eyes smoldering in vivid contrast to the shiny satin gown.
Margaret slowly shook her head. "I can't believe how ... depraved that animal was. It's just ... unbelievable."
Pak's eyes glistened sadly behind his glasses. "Unfortunately, Major Houlihan, Stranges is not unique. All too often we see soldiers take advantage of the hardships of war to let loose their carnal urges."
Colonel Potter sighed heavily. "I'm sorry to agree with you, Chief. The atrocities of war are bad enough without the criminals and the profiteers trying to cash in on their share of the action. It's a sad fact of war that the people who often suffer the most are the innocent bystanders."
"You are too correct, Colonel," said Pak. "I have spent many years in this world, and I have seen many crimes. To you, such actions are unthinkable. To me, they are only too common. Unfortunately, stories such as this have led my people to develop prejudices of our own. You were upset over the arrest of your Captain Hunnicutt. You saw in him a kind man, perhaps a brave man, a doctor. I saw a foreigner to my country who may have acted in the cruelest way toward its citizens, as had so many others before him. I have already apologized to Captain Hunnicutt, but I will tell you all now: I am happy to learn that so many of you share my feelings, and that not all Americans are so foul as those who give your people this evil name."
"I hope we can do a bit better than `not so foul,'" said Potter.
Pak raised his hand. "Of course. Please forgive me. I have said that our prejudices run deep. I see now that many of you are willing to die for your beliefs, and to serve the cause of justice -- the same justice and beliefs that I myself follow."
"Amen to that," said Potter. "We have some jim-dandy people here. I hope you'll get to see more of that over time."
"We aren't all animals," said Margaret strongly.
"Yes," said Hawkeye. "Even BJ isn't that bad, once you get to know him."
BJ gave Hawkeye a dirty look.
"I believe that, Doctor," said Pak. "Please accept my apologies once again for the delay in releasing you. We needed to present our additional evidence in order to clear you. As some of you heard earlier, Mrs. Han was no longer certain about her identification after she saw Stranges' body. She felt that she could not positively swear which one of you she had seen that night. I am sorry to say it, but one tall, blond American looks very like another, to people who have seen very few."
"I understand, Chief." BJ rubbed his forearm. "I just wish that you could have discovered who the real culprit was before you plucked my arm half bare."
"Count your blessings, Beej," said Hawkeye. "You could have been on the cliff with Radar and me."
"Ooh, I didn't like that cliff part," said Radar. "I know you said sir that it was almost impossible to fall off the edge, but look what happened to Stranges and he wasn't even trying to fall, plus he didn't lose his glasses which turns out to be a good thing because who knows how scared I woulda been if I'd been able to see what was really going on."
Margaret said sharply, "You would have seen enough to not shoot at me!"
Radar turned pale. "Oh, no, m'am, I would never have shot in your direction because I think I would have gotten woozy on that ledge on the cliff and fallen right off, if I'd been able to see how far down it was."
"Then I'm glad you lost your glasses," said Hawkeye. "We wouldn't have wanted you to fall off the cliff -- would we, Major?"
Margaret spun her glass around on the table.
"Major?" Hawkeye prompted.
Margaret gave him a narrow look. "I'm thinking about it."
Radar huddled in his chair. "I'm glad there isn't a cliff right here."
"Nonsense." Hawkeye reached over to clap the corporal's shoulder, giving Margaret a significant look. "I'm sure that, underneath it all, the Major is grateful for your help."
Margaret only glared at him, refraining from comment.
BJ said, "Well, even if she isn't, I'm certainly grateful for her help. Yours too, Radar, and Klinger especially, for finding that bracelet." The enlisted men beamed. BJ turned toward the police officer. "No offense, Chief Pak, but if it wasn't for my friends here, I'm not sure whether or not I'd still be in prison."
"Your case had not yet come to trial," said Pak. "I am certain that we would have learned more about these Three Strangers before that came to pass."
"I have to agree with you there," said Potter. "The scales of justice sometimes take a while to balance, Hunnicutt. However, I have to believe that the system is generally sound. What you ran into, Captain, was a bad case of timing, with the unit being away for those few days, preventing Pak's people from getting the full picture."
"Not to mention a case of bad identification," said Hawkeye. "BJ and I barely escaped from that village with our lives."
"Thanks to your crazy driving."
"And your running interference."
BJ shook his head. "So, Hawkeye, how many times does this make that you've saved my life since I came to Korea?"
"Seventeen and three-quarters, but who's counting?"
Radar blinked back to awareness. "What's the three-quarters one?"
BJ held up his bandaged hand. "I had to dock him a few points when I didn't escape personal injury."
"Klinger, on the other hand, gets extra bonus points," said Hawkeye. "Not only did he personally save all of our necks, but he did it wearing saddle shoes."
"There are times," said Klinger, "when it's just more practical to wear a sensible heel."
Hawkeye said, "You haven't seen anything, Beej, until you've witnessed hand-to-hand combat with some guy wearing a dress."
"Actually," said Klinger, "I did feel very free, movement-wise."
BJ scrubbed his neck. "I think that was more information than I needed to know."
"Me, too," said Margaret. "All kidding aside, Colonel, I think that Corporal Klinger should be recognized for his contributions to this case. And please don't say anything," she added, as the rest of the table gawked at her. "I feel foolish enough already for suggesting it."
"Corporal Klinger, well." Colonel Potter harrumphed. Hawkeye grinned at BJ, enjoying the moment. The old soldier looked across to where Klinger sat, grinning broadly, his eyes sparkling enough to rival his rhinestone tiara. The colonel cleared his throat again. "So, Corporal..."
"Yes, Colonel?" said Klinger brightly.
"What, uh..." Potter fiddled with his empty glass. "What kind of recognition would you prefer?"
Radar mumbled out of the side of his mouth, "More pay."
"Tokyo," Hawkeye whispered across to him. "Three days."
"Four," said BJ. "I'll give you some cash."
Klinger pondered their suggestions with a solemn intensity that was comical considering his outfit. At last he lifted his eyes. "Colonel Potter, there's one thing that I want more than anything else."
Potter sighed. "Klinger, I can't get you a Section 8 discharge."
Klinger looked honestly surprised. "Oh, no, sir, I wasn't going to ask for that. I mean, I woulda asked if I'd thought it was possible, but I didn't think it was, so I didn't."
BJ asked, "So what do you want?"
Klinger faced him with glittering eyes. "A fashion show!"
Margaret sat up. "What?"
"I can see it now." Klinger's hand swept out, making Margaret and Hung Pak duck out of the way. "A long runway, lights, music -- me, in the latest fashions, parading out to the applause of my colleagues."
Hawkeye was unsuccessfully fighting the urge to laugh. "What if your colleagues don't applaud?"
"They will," said Klinger enthusiastically, "if they're under the direct orders of their commanding officer to give my outfits the recognition they deserve!"
Colonel Potter's face was twisted with reluctance. "You're sure about this, Klinger? Wouldn't you like something more along the lines of, say, a three-day pass?"
"The only lines that I care about are these." Klinger leaped to his feet, sweeping his hand down the side of his gown. "Look at this cut. The style, the flair. In every way, it's perfect!" He held his chin high.
Margaret held her head. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Potter relented. "All right, Klinger, you can have your fashion show. Radar, can you handle the logistics?"
Radar murmured, "Just so long as I don't have to handle any of the dresses."
Hung Pak stared with amazement. He leaned closer to Potter. "Colonel, is this quite appropriate?"
Potter waved him off. "We'll bill it as an entertainment for the men."
"And women," Klinger interrupted, still standing tall. "My creations can bridge the often tragic gap between the genders."
Margaret growled, "Oh, go bridge the gap in your mouth, Corporal."
BJ chuckled. "Major, this was your idea."
Margaret waved her hand at the hairy nymph beside her. "Yeah, well, who would have thought ..." She lost steam, then subsided onto the table. "Never mind."
Hawkeye said to Potter, "You're sure you don't want to give him that Section 8?"
Potter said, "It would make life a lot simpler, wouldn't it?"
"But not nearly so interesting," said BJ.
"All right," said Hawkeye, raising his glass. "Here's to Klinger, the best-dressed corporal ever to drive his jeep full-tilt at a maniac!"
"And to Hawkeye," responded BJ, holding his glass high. "The best maniac ever to tilt out of his jeep and land right on his crooked little head."
Margaret clicked her tongue. "Don't be ridiculous."
"And to Margaret!" cried Hawkeye. "The best major ever to wrestle with one maniac while being saved by two others -- or should I say, three?"
Radar was uncertain about all this toasting. "Just leave me out of this, Hawkeye, okay?"
"To Radar!" cried Father Mulcahy, getting into the spirit. "The bravest soul ever to stand up to adversity that he couldn't even see."
"I can see some adversity coming your way if you all don't settle down," said Potter, apparently noticing how tight-lipped Margaret was becoming.
"To all of you," announced BJ. "For your efforts at finding out the truth in order to set me free. I thank you, and my wife thanks you. I'll never forget it."
"Hear, hear!" called Father Mulcahy. At last the group clinked their glasses, and everyone tossed back a belt.
Hung Pak pushed back his chair and rose. "I, too, wish to thank you all for your graciousness in handling this misunderstanding. I hope that we can work effectively together in the future."
"I'm sure we will, Chief," said Potter. "Please feel free to drop by any time."
Pak cast a dubious look at Klinger, now slightly bombed and smug with it. "I may look in now and then, if my duties permit."
Hawkeye leaned an elbow on the table, feeling mellow. "Oh, come on, Chief. Don't be frightened off just because we're a bunch of maniacs. After all, we're nice maniacs."
"Speak for yourself," said Margaret.
"I meant, we're all nice except for Major Houlihan," corrected Hawkeye. "She's tough!"
Margaret swelled with indignation. "You --!" She flung her empty glass at Hawkeye, who barely ducked out of the way in time.
Hung Pak looked concerned. "I did not mean to start an argument."
"That argument's been going on from Day One," said Potter mildly.
"Besides," said BJ, "we're not really arguing."
Radar looked worried as Hawkeye peeked through his hands, wondering if it was safe to sit up. Radar said, "That looked like a pretty convincing argument to me."
"Nope," said Potter decisively. "We're all good friends here."
"We're more than that, Colonel," said BJ. "We're family."
"Family!" Margaret snapped. "You mean this ... this --"
BJ put one arm around Hawkeye and another around Radar, who were sitting closest to him. "I mean these people right here. Finest kind -- right, Hawk?"
Hawkeye felt all the previous week's tension melt away in the warmth of BJ's happiness. He grinned. "Right, Beej."
Klinger's eyes misted. "Captain Hunnicutt, that was beautiful!" He dabbed at his eye with his glove.
Margaret looked revolted. "Now I'm really going to be ill."
"You see how it goes," Potter said to Pak. "Drop in any time. We'd always love to see you."
The End
