Chapter 2
Faint ripples of sunset could be spied if one was looking towards the horizon. The bus sped along the roads of Korea, with Klinger looking out for anyone or anything blocking the path before him. Trapper was making use of one of the stretchers and was making up for lost sleep. Hawkeye and Ginger chatted in the front seat, making mainly small talk.
"Since Major Houlihan and Captain McIntyre became an item, like as a nurse has sure been easier," Ginger admitted.
"For me, too," Klinger piped up. "She doesn't complain about my dresses anymore."
"She was probably jealous before," Hawkeye remarked. He was only half- listening to the conversation. His mind wondered why Ginger volunteered to go on the trip. He decided he had nothing to lose by asking.
"Ginger, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Captain."
"Please, call me Hawkeye." Ginger nodded. "I wanted to ask you, what made you decide to volunteer to come on this trip?"
Ginger thought about this for a moment. "Well, you know how when people talk about America going to war, they say how its our freckle-faced boys who are the brave heroes? Well, I'm not a boy and I sure as Hell don't have freckles, but I'm American and I'm at war, so can't I be brave too? I thought volunteering would show some of the ones who stereotype that I can be brave."
Hawkeye smiled at Ginger's courage and determination. She was absolutely right; people could be very stereotypical, as well as sexist and racist. "You've shown them already, you know. You came to this party, for starters." Now for the personal question. "Do the others in the camp give you trouble?"
"No," Ginger said. "They're all great. Well, Major Burns could be sometimes, for being a girl, but he was like that to all the girls. Not for my colour, though. Sexist but not racist."
"Frank was generally personist," Hawkeye said, making her laugh.
"He never liked me," Klinger pitched in. "He was always telling me to get out of my dresses."
"Never satisfied, was he," Hawkeye declared. "A wife, an affair with Margaret, AND he had his sights set on Klinger, too."
"Thank the Lord he left," Trapper thought to himself as he wordlessly listened to the conversation.
BJ stirred in his sleep as the stars twinkled in the Korean night sky. Thoughts began to enter his mind. The last place he remembered being was in surgery. Where was he now? He decided that from the familiarity he felt, he was in his cot. He finally opened his eyes to see if anyone was around.
"Hawkeye? Trapper?" Nothing. He thought they might have been in the Officer's Club, probably being swept out in their drunken states. He decided he'd get up later, and turned back over.
The bus eventually found the crash site. From what they could see in the darkness, they saw the area was a scene of devastation. The six casualties lay awaiting, with three young soldiers standing guard. One came up to the bus to greet the members, and reported that one of the casualties hadn't made it. Sergeant Willis' dog tags were handed over.
The personnel began to work on the five remaining casualties. It was very difficult, as they could only work under torchlight held by the soldiers. They did enough so that they could be stabilized for the trip to the nearest hospital.
"Klinger, you make a great nurse," Trapper commented as he worked on a corporal.
"Thank, doctor. Colonel Blake said that once, except that I haven't got the legs for it."
"How's it going over there?" Hawkeye asked, once he was finished with his second patient.
"Mid-way through here, but no problems so far," Trapper reported.
"Okay, I'll take the last guy," Hawkeye volunteered. "Okay, Ginger?"
"Yes, sir," Ginger replied.
"The girl's got the memory of a goldfish. Please, call me Hawkeye. It suits me better than Captain or Sir."
"Okay, I'll write it down when I get back, if I can remember by then," Ginger joked.
"Wow, sense of humour from a nurse! You'd better be careful. If you start playing poker and drinking, you'll be mistaken from a doctor!"
"What if someone asked me to operate? I wouldn't look much like a doctor then."
"Frank Burns operated on people, and we're still not convinced," Trapper said. "There, all done. Hey Klinger, you okay? You look a bit pale."
"Yeah, great. I'm just not so great with blood."
"You certainly came to the wrong place," Hawkeye remarked.
"Yeah, like I came here out of choice. Why do you think I've been wearing dresses since the day I got here? To make the ladies jealous of our clothes?"
"I thought it was because you lost your pants (trousers,)" Trapper said.
"I had to be sedated so that they could give me a physical, and even after that they had to tie me down!" Klinger continued, causing the surrounding staff to laugh.
"All right, done," Hawkeye said. "Let's get these guys to the bus."
"No need," a nearby Captain called. "We'll take them to a hospital by chopper."
Hawkeye looked dumbstruck. "I thought that the reason we came out here was because you guys couldn't get a chopper here. What changed since then?"
The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "The war moved? Don't ask me, I get the information from higher authorities. I don't run the war, you know."
Hawkeye muttered, "could you imagine it if you did?" Louder, he called, "All right, Trapper, Ginger, Klinger, let's get back to the rats, fleas and Mess tent again. All aboard!"
As the sky showed hints of sun, BJ decided he had better wake up. He was surprised to see that neither Hawkeye nor Trapper were back in the Swamp, and decided that either they had had better offers, or they were in the Mess Tent. He decided to check there first.
Inside, he saw the familiar face of Radar, eating for three as usual. He grabbed a trap and some slop, and went to join.
"Morning," he greeted.
"Mmfnd," Radar replied, his mouth full of food. He swallowed it and tried again. "Morning."
"Where are Hawkeye and Trapper?" BJ asked him.
"On a bus, near the front, treating casualties. I would have woken you, but you were asleep."
"I could have gone instead of one of them. Just because I'm the new guy doesn't mean that I can't handle the war, you know."
"I don't think it had anything to do with you being the new guy, sir, just the fact that you hadn't had any sleep."
"You know I could have still slept on the bus," BJ persisted crossly.
"All right already, don't shoot the messenger! I lost my appetite." With that, Radar stormed off.
Hardly a moment had passed before another voice remarked, "Radar? Lost his appetite? What would you have said to him for that to happen?"
BJ turned around and was faced with Margaret. "He was the messenger and I metaphorically shot him," BJ admitted sheepishly.
Margaret sat beside him with her cup of coffee. "What's up?"
"They went up to the front without me and I feel guilty for it."
"Guilty? Why?"
"Well, I mean, what if."
"BJ, hold it. Rule number one. In a war like this, you can't go through thinking 'what if?' You just have to let things happen."
BJ sighed. "You're right, and I know you're right. It'll just take a bit of getting used to, this whole war thing."
"Rule number two. No one gets used to war."
Their thoughts were broken by the PA system. "Attention, all personnel. Wounded coming in, left, right and centre. All shifts to OR, this one's gonna be a long one."
"More surgery?" And then it hit him. "There are only two doctors!"
Henry, who was in his office, realised the same thing. "Rad."
"No, I haven't heard from the guys on the bus yet, sir."
"Rats. Okay, tell Major Houlihan she'll be a doctor this morning. Is it morning?"
"Yes sir, just."
"Fine. Do you want a shot at being a doctor, Radar?" Henry asked, half joking.
"No thanks, sir. The only sick people I can deal with are the ones eating in the Mess Tent."
"How are you holding up, BJ?" Henry asked from his table.
"Just great, thanks," BJ replied, concentrating hard on what he was doing.
"And you, Margaret?" Henry enquired.
"Not bad, thank you," she replied politely. In truth she was scared. She left as though the life of her patient was solely in her hands, and it was not something you could get used to in mere hours.
"Suction, Radar. No, Radar, you can't do it with your eyes closed," Henry told him. Two nurses short, the camp elected Radar to fill in for the time being. He was not happy about the idea, but he was unable to ignore the command.
"Sorry, sir," he replied meekly.
Henry softened. "It's all right, Radar. We're all a bit on edge right now, I'm sorry for snapping. Oh boy, we got a bleeder." On hearing a thud, Henry asked, "Radar?" A second later, Henry yelled, "Father, get him to the side. Nurse Kellye, are you sterile? Good, gown and gloves, and you can assist me."
"Only Henry could pick a replacement nurse who's queasy," BJ remarked light- heartedly. The joke lightened the mood, but no one could forget the stressed placed upon them at that time. They concentrated on their work as the sun slowly began to rise.
Darkness was also beginning to fade for those on the bus. They were just over an hour away from camp. As usual, Klinger drove the bus. Hawkeye and Ginger indulged in a game of eye-spy, and Trapper was asleep again in one of the bunks. Hawkeye had caught some sleep earlier, and now it was Trapper's turn. Ginger did not take a turn, as she hated to sleep when travelling.
"I told you this short-cut would work," Klinger stated proudly.
"Yeah, okay. Now, you said something beginning with R?" Hawkeye pondered.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shell exploded in front of the bus. Klinger had to swerve to avoid damage, but almost immediately another shell caught them by surprise.
"Stop the bus!" Hawkeye shouted. "Everyone get out!" Klinger did not need to be told twice. Instantly he stopped the vehicle and ran out of the bus behind Ginger. They ran to a nearby patch of grass and kept low.
Hawkeye glanced to check that Trapper was awake before he followed suit. Moments after he stepped off, there was a huge explosion behind him that sent him flying. Klinger and Ginger looked up in horror to see that the bus burst into flames before their eyes.
Hawkeye, who had been flung by the blast, looked up. "Trapper," he muttered before he lost consciousness.
Faint ripples of sunset could be spied if one was looking towards the horizon. The bus sped along the roads of Korea, with Klinger looking out for anyone or anything blocking the path before him. Trapper was making use of one of the stretchers and was making up for lost sleep. Hawkeye and Ginger chatted in the front seat, making mainly small talk.
"Since Major Houlihan and Captain McIntyre became an item, like as a nurse has sure been easier," Ginger admitted.
"For me, too," Klinger piped up. "She doesn't complain about my dresses anymore."
"She was probably jealous before," Hawkeye remarked. He was only half- listening to the conversation. His mind wondered why Ginger volunteered to go on the trip. He decided he had nothing to lose by asking.
"Ginger, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Captain."
"Please, call me Hawkeye." Ginger nodded. "I wanted to ask you, what made you decide to volunteer to come on this trip?"
Ginger thought about this for a moment. "Well, you know how when people talk about America going to war, they say how its our freckle-faced boys who are the brave heroes? Well, I'm not a boy and I sure as Hell don't have freckles, but I'm American and I'm at war, so can't I be brave too? I thought volunteering would show some of the ones who stereotype that I can be brave."
Hawkeye smiled at Ginger's courage and determination. She was absolutely right; people could be very stereotypical, as well as sexist and racist. "You've shown them already, you know. You came to this party, for starters." Now for the personal question. "Do the others in the camp give you trouble?"
"No," Ginger said. "They're all great. Well, Major Burns could be sometimes, for being a girl, but he was like that to all the girls. Not for my colour, though. Sexist but not racist."
"Frank was generally personist," Hawkeye said, making her laugh.
"He never liked me," Klinger pitched in. "He was always telling me to get out of my dresses."
"Never satisfied, was he," Hawkeye declared. "A wife, an affair with Margaret, AND he had his sights set on Klinger, too."
"Thank the Lord he left," Trapper thought to himself as he wordlessly listened to the conversation.
BJ stirred in his sleep as the stars twinkled in the Korean night sky. Thoughts began to enter his mind. The last place he remembered being was in surgery. Where was he now? He decided that from the familiarity he felt, he was in his cot. He finally opened his eyes to see if anyone was around.
"Hawkeye? Trapper?" Nothing. He thought they might have been in the Officer's Club, probably being swept out in their drunken states. He decided he'd get up later, and turned back over.
The bus eventually found the crash site. From what they could see in the darkness, they saw the area was a scene of devastation. The six casualties lay awaiting, with three young soldiers standing guard. One came up to the bus to greet the members, and reported that one of the casualties hadn't made it. Sergeant Willis' dog tags were handed over.
The personnel began to work on the five remaining casualties. It was very difficult, as they could only work under torchlight held by the soldiers. They did enough so that they could be stabilized for the trip to the nearest hospital.
"Klinger, you make a great nurse," Trapper commented as he worked on a corporal.
"Thank, doctor. Colonel Blake said that once, except that I haven't got the legs for it."
"How's it going over there?" Hawkeye asked, once he was finished with his second patient.
"Mid-way through here, but no problems so far," Trapper reported.
"Okay, I'll take the last guy," Hawkeye volunteered. "Okay, Ginger?"
"Yes, sir," Ginger replied.
"The girl's got the memory of a goldfish. Please, call me Hawkeye. It suits me better than Captain or Sir."
"Okay, I'll write it down when I get back, if I can remember by then," Ginger joked.
"Wow, sense of humour from a nurse! You'd better be careful. If you start playing poker and drinking, you'll be mistaken from a doctor!"
"What if someone asked me to operate? I wouldn't look much like a doctor then."
"Frank Burns operated on people, and we're still not convinced," Trapper said. "There, all done. Hey Klinger, you okay? You look a bit pale."
"Yeah, great. I'm just not so great with blood."
"You certainly came to the wrong place," Hawkeye remarked.
"Yeah, like I came here out of choice. Why do you think I've been wearing dresses since the day I got here? To make the ladies jealous of our clothes?"
"I thought it was because you lost your pants (trousers,)" Trapper said.
"I had to be sedated so that they could give me a physical, and even after that they had to tie me down!" Klinger continued, causing the surrounding staff to laugh.
"All right, done," Hawkeye said. "Let's get these guys to the bus."
"No need," a nearby Captain called. "We'll take them to a hospital by chopper."
Hawkeye looked dumbstruck. "I thought that the reason we came out here was because you guys couldn't get a chopper here. What changed since then?"
The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "The war moved? Don't ask me, I get the information from higher authorities. I don't run the war, you know."
Hawkeye muttered, "could you imagine it if you did?" Louder, he called, "All right, Trapper, Ginger, Klinger, let's get back to the rats, fleas and Mess tent again. All aboard!"
As the sky showed hints of sun, BJ decided he had better wake up. He was surprised to see that neither Hawkeye nor Trapper were back in the Swamp, and decided that either they had had better offers, or they were in the Mess Tent. He decided to check there first.
Inside, he saw the familiar face of Radar, eating for three as usual. He grabbed a trap and some slop, and went to join.
"Morning," he greeted.
"Mmfnd," Radar replied, his mouth full of food. He swallowed it and tried again. "Morning."
"Where are Hawkeye and Trapper?" BJ asked him.
"On a bus, near the front, treating casualties. I would have woken you, but you were asleep."
"I could have gone instead of one of them. Just because I'm the new guy doesn't mean that I can't handle the war, you know."
"I don't think it had anything to do with you being the new guy, sir, just the fact that you hadn't had any sleep."
"You know I could have still slept on the bus," BJ persisted crossly.
"All right already, don't shoot the messenger! I lost my appetite." With that, Radar stormed off.
Hardly a moment had passed before another voice remarked, "Radar? Lost his appetite? What would you have said to him for that to happen?"
BJ turned around and was faced with Margaret. "He was the messenger and I metaphorically shot him," BJ admitted sheepishly.
Margaret sat beside him with her cup of coffee. "What's up?"
"They went up to the front without me and I feel guilty for it."
"Guilty? Why?"
"Well, I mean, what if."
"BJ, hold it. Rule number one. In a war like this, you can't go through thinking 'what if?' You just have to let things happen."
BJ sighed. "You're right, and I know you're right. It'll just take a bit of getting used to, this whole war thing."
"Rule number two. No one gets used to war."
Their thoughts were broken by the PA system. "Attention, all personnel. Wounded coming in, left, right and centre. All shifts to OR, this one's gonna be a long one."
"More surgery?" And then it hit him. "There are only two doctors!"
Henry, who was in his office, realised the same thing. "Rad."
"No, I haven't heard from the guys on the bus yet, sir."
"Rats. Okay, tell Major Houlihan she'll be a doctor this morning. Is it morning?"
"Yes sir, just."
"Fine. Do you want a shot at being a doctor, Radar?" Henry asked, half joking.
"No thanks, sir. The only sick people I can deal with are the ones eating in the Mess Tent."
"How are you holding up, BJ?" Henry asked from his table.
"Just great, thanks," BJ replied, concentrating hard on what he was doing.
"And you, Margaret?" Henry enquired.
"Not bad, thank you," she replied politely. In truth she was scared. She left as though the life of her patient was solely in her hands, and it was not something you could get used to in mere hours.
"Suction, Radar. No, Radar, you can't do it with your eyes closed," Henry told him. Two nurses short, the camp elected Radar to fill in for the time being. He was not happy about the idea, but he was unable to ignore the command.
"Sorry, sir," he replied meekly.
Henry softened. "It's all right, Radar. We're all a bit on edge right now, I'm sorry for snapping. Oh boy, we got a bleeder." On hearing a thud, Henry asked, "Radar?" A second later, Henry yelled, "Father, get him to the side. Nurse Kellye, are you sterile? Good, gown and gloves, and you can assist me."
"Only Henry could pick a replacement nurse who's queasy," BJ remarked light- heartedly. The joke lightened the mood, but no one could forget the stressed placed upon them at that time. They concentrated on their work as the sun slowly began to rise.
Darkness was also beginning to fade for those on the bus. They were just over an hour away from camp. As usual, Klinger drove the bus. Hawkeye and Ginger indulged in a game of eye-spy, and Trapper was asleep again in one of the bunks. Hawkeye had caught some sleep earlier, and now it was Trapper's turn. Ginger did not take a turn, as she hated to sleep when travelling.
"I told you this short-cut would work," Klinger stated proudly.
"Yeah, okay. Now, you said something beginning with R?" Hawkeye pondered.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shell exploded in front of the bus. Klinger had to swerve to avoid damage, but almost immediately another shell caught them by surprise.
"Stop the bus!" Hawkeye shouted. "Everyone get out!" Klinger did not need to be told twice. Instantly he stopped the vehicle and ran out of the bus behind Ginger. They ran to a nearby patch of grass and kept low.
Hawkeye glanced to check that Trapper was awake before he followed suit. Moments after he stepped off, there was a huge explosion behind him that sent him flying. Klinger and Ginger looked up in horror to see that the bus burst into flames before their eyes.
Hawkeye, who had been flung by the blast, looked up. "Trapper," he muttered before he lost consciousness.