Chapter 4
Hawkeye was cold everything ached when he woke up. He remembered why he quit going to summer camp when he was younger. He saw the other three huddled around him, desperately trying to keep warm. Looking at his watch, he saw it was close to seven o'clock in the morning. They'd better wake up before the rest of the war did.
Hawkeye nudged Klinger. "Hey Klinger," he whispered hoarsely. "Time to get up."
"Already?" Klinger mumbled sleepily.
"Sorry, but we have to," Hawkeye replied. It was a wonder they'd survived as long as they had. They'd walked for a day, and then found a disused jeep and decided to spend the night beneath it, for safety. "Watch your head," he warned as Klinger slid out from beneath the disused vehicle. "Ginger, honey, you've got to get up now."
"Oh, okay," she murmured.
"You feeling okay?" Hawkeye asked.
"As well as could be expected," she replied, as she too slid out from beneath the vehicle.
Hawkeye was ready for the awakening of Trapper, who was prone to jumping with a start when he woke up. He put his hand an inch above Trapper's head.
"Trap," he said, and shook him slightly. Sure enough, Trapper shot straight up, crushing Hawkeye's hand between the head and the jeep.
"What?" Seeing Hawkeye's hand, he winced. "Ouch, did I do that? Sorry, Hawk."
"No trouble," Hawkeye grimaced, only comforted by the fact that it was his hand that was hurt and not Trapper's head.
They slid out from beneath the jeep. "Where's Klinger?" Hawkeye asked.
"Nature called," Ginger replied with a shrug.
"Hey, anyone know which way we're headed?" Klinger called as he came out from behind a tree.
"The way we were heading yesterday," Hawkeye informed them.
"Still on foot?"
"Not unless you've got a pair of roller-skates tucked away in your pocket," Trapper said sarcastically.
"Radar," BJ said as he walked into him office. The young clerk was not in his bed, but instead he was found asleep at his desk, the phone inches from his hand.
Radar heard the disturbance and woke up. "Sir?"
"Have you heard anything?"
"Wha. oh yeah, I'm waiting on a call, the guy said it might be important."
"When was that?"
Radar checked his watch. "About twenty minutes ago." The ring of the phone broke their conversation. "This is it."
Radar listened for a few seconds before turning a pale colour. "Yeah, I understand. Thank you."
As soon as Radar replaced the receiver, BJ asked him, "Was that them?"
Radar stammered, "They found the bus. what's left of it." BJ's heart sank to his boots. "It got hit by a shell. No dog-tags were found."
"Well, they're still out there, then," BJ stated firmly.
Radar stared at BJ. He's new. He has hope still somewhere inside him. Give him a few months, he thought to himself, and then he'll understand.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" BJ questioned, bringing Radar out of his trance. "They can't have gone far!"
"I've got to report to Colonel Blake," Radar told him, still in shock. He still had hope, of course, but not much.
"How long have we been walking for?" Ginger asked.
"Five hours," Hawkeye noted. "Time for a rest?" They had had rests every hour or so, because their injuries were still very much present.
"Hey, look," Klinger said. "A cart!"
"Like the ones the oxen pull along?"
"Yeah, but if two pull and two rest we'll get along much faster."
"Until we get to a hill," Trapper said, resting his aching back by lying on the ground.
"Or an ox," Ginger murmured. She had seen one, a hundred yards away in a field. She carefully picked her way along a path by the edge towards the ox.
"Ginger! What if you find a mine?"
"Then, since it's a mine, you aren't having it!" Ginger called back.
"Boy, she's got guts," Klinger murmured.
"If she's not careful we could be seeing them soon," Hawkeye murmured back.
Ginger coaxed the creature towards her, and led it down the path.
"This one's nice, seems friendly," she said as she attached it to the cart.
"A friend for Radar," Hawkeye remarked.
They all got in the cart, but the ox just stood there.
"Anyone got any keys?" Trapper asked.
"Wait, I can solve this," Klinger said. He hopped off of the cart and grabbed some grass from the field. He climbed onto the ox and stuck the grass out in front of it. The creature began to move at a steady pace, hungry for the grass.
"Nice work, Klinger," Hawkeye praised.
"Saw it in a movie once," Klinger explained.
"This is the life," Hawkeye proclaimed, sitting back with his arms behind his head and putting his feet on one of the bars of the cart.
"I could think of better places to be," Trapper grumbled.
"We'll be back soon," Hawkeye promised him, patting him on the shoulder. As he did, he felt a soft thump on the side of his own shoulder, and saw that Ginger had fallen asleep on him. He adjusted her slightly and let her sleep.
"She's been great through this," Trapper noted.
"Yeah, she's proven herself all right," Hawkeye agreed. He had a thought for a moment. "You know, with the right papers, we could make her a Captain."
"You think she'd like that? I mean, look where it got us!"
Why wasn't anyone searching for them, or at least doing something? BJ sat in the Swamp, drowning his sorrows.
"Attention, all personnel, incoming wounded within half an hour. All shifts report to OR on the double," came the PA announcement.
"Wounded?" BJ asked to himself. He wasn't drunk, but he was by no means sober enough to operate.
But what if Hawkeye or Trapper or Ginger or Klinger were with the wounded? He'd have to be there, just in case they were hurt.
BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and headed towards the OR. He tricked through the door and almost fell into Margaret's arms.
"BJ?" she asked. "Are you okay?" She could smell the alcohol. "You've been drinking!"
"What else is there to do in this damn war?" BJ asked, washing his hands.
"Are you fit to operate?" Margaret questioned.
"I'm going to operate, whether I'm drunk or not," BJ replied calmly. "Henry can't do it alone."
Margaret didn't like to admit it, but BJ was right. Henry couldn't do it alone, even with Margaret there to help. Margaret made up her mind to have her best nurse assist BJ, to keep him in check.
The wounded rolled in and rolled out, and BJ managed to keep his head throughout the surgery. Afterwards, he collapsed on the bench in Pre-Op. Henry came out to see him.
"You are very lucky," Henry growled. "I've been drunk on many, many occasions, but never once during surgery. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"I'm not drunk," BJ slurred slightly."
"Hunnicutt, you're a brilliant surgeon, but being drunk under any circumstances during surgery won't help anyone."
"These circumstances, as you call it, are not just any circumstances. I have been over here in Korea for a month, one whole month, and I have seen more blood, guts and death than I have seen since I started working to becoming a doctor. And then, just a month into it, four people, two of which are by best friends in this God-forsaken place, to missing, and no one seems to be doing anything about it. What am I meant to do? Try and get on with life whilst I have all that hanging over my head? It's just not possible!"
Henry stood his ground throughout the speech, and though he understood what BJ was going through it was still inexcusable to be under the influence of alcohol when operating.
"Dismissed," he said sternly, and BJ was inwardly surprised. He guessed that under the stress, Henry was beginning to act like a real commander.
Instead of taking Henry's advice and laying off the booze, BJ did the opposite. He went straight to the Swamp and poured himself a long drink.
More long drinks later, BJ tried to stand up for yet another, but thought better of it when the Still kept moving. He tried to clear his head and make some room for thought.
No one was out looking for them. Why? They were all too busy at the camp, with the wounded and stuff. He could do it! It would be so easy. He could just walk out of the camp, past Rosie's Bar and away into the world of Korea.
He stood up, took a moment to steady himself, and then started his aimless journey to find his missing friends.
"Captain McIntyre, sir, I'll go back on our ox friend if you want," Klinger suggested. He had taken a turn to sleep, as this was uncomfortable to do on an ox.
"Frank," Hawkeye said.
"Where?" All three of them asked suddenly.
"Frank the ox," Hawkeye explained.
"You named the ox after Frank?"
"No, no. Frank was named after the ox," Hawkeye clarified.
It was late in the evening, and the group had been travelling for several hours with the ox. They had stopped and asked for directions numerous times, and was finally pointed in the right direction by someone who spoke fairly good English.
"Hey," Hawkeye said suddenly. He was trying to listen out for something, but couldn't hear because of the ox's hooves. "Klinger, stop the ox."
Klinger too the grass away, but instead of doing what they wanted, the ox became angry, and took off at a furious pace. Not ready for the sharp change in velocity, both Trapper and Ginger were thrown off the cart.
"Oww," Ginger groaned. Her arm was in more pieces than it should have been. Trapper ran over on hearing her cry. "Hey, your head's bleeding," she informed him in a weak voice.
"Well, you still beat me on this one. I've just got one bleeding arm, and I'll need three of them to beat you broken arm," he told her, examining her as best he could. "I can't do anything for it now, but once we find the Lone Ranger and Tonto we'll fix it up good as new."
Meanwhile, the two in question were trying to think of what to do, whilst holding on for their lives.
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled through the commotion.
"What?"
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled again, louder.
"No, I think we should jump off!" Hawkeye yelled back.
"What?"
Hawkeye would have yelled back again, had he not seen a sight that was heaven to his eyes. There were the lights, sights and sounds of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit. Finally, they were back.
He also saw something else. It was just a glint, a mere fleck of light that caught his eye, but it was enough to investigate and find out more. With no hesitation, he jumped off of the slowing cart. Seeing this, Klinger did the same. He followed Hawkeye to where he was crouched on the ground.
"What is it?"
"From the smell of it, I'd say it was the contents of our Still," Hawkeye guessed. On closer inspection, he gasped. "It's BJ!"
"What's he doing here?"
"No idea, but he's probably not in the mood for questioning at the moment," Hawkeye decided, knowing the size of the hangover that his friend would have once he woke up.
BJ, as if on cue, opened his eyes a crack. "Uh, Hawkeye, I found you! I knew I would!"
Hawkeye chose not to argue and say that it was actually he and Klinger who did the finding. He turned to Klinger and said, "I saw the camp, did you?"
"You mean we made it home?" Klinger asked, not quite believing it.
Home. Hawkeye wondered about that. Could they really call it home? Well, it was better than the Korean wilderness. He decided that maybe it was home. After all, it was there that people cared for him, and he in turn cared for them.
Hawkeye was cold everything ached when he woke up. He remembered why he quit going to summer camp when he was younger. He saw the other three huddled around him, desperately trying to keep warm. Looking at his watch, he saw it was close to seven o'clock in the morning. They'd better wake up before the rest of the war did.
Hawkeye nudged Klinger. "Hey Klinger," he whispered hoarsely. "Time to get up."
"Already?" Klinger mumbled sleepily.
"Sorry, but we have to," Hawkeye replied. It was a wonder they'd survived as long as they had. They'd walked for a day, and then found a disused jeep and decided to spend the night beneath it, for safety. "Watch your head," he warned as Klinger slid out from beneath the disused vehicle. "Ginger, honey, you've got to get up now."
"Oh, okay," she murmured.
"You feeling okay?" Hawkeye asked.
"As well as could be expected," she replied, as she too slid out from beneath the vehicle.
Hawkeye was ready for the awakening of Trapper, who was prone to jumping with a start when he woke up. He put his hand an inch above Trapper's head.
"Trap," he said, and shook him slightly. Sure enough, Trapper shot straight up, crushing Hawkeye's hand between the head and the jeep.
"What?" Seeing Hawkeye's hand, he winced. "Ouch, did I do that? Sorry, Hawk."
"No trouble," Hawkeye grimaced, only comforted by the fact that it was his hand that was hurt and not Trapper's head.
They slid out from beneath the jeep. "Where's Klinger?" Hawkeye asked.
"Nature called," Ginger replied with a shrug.
"Hey, anyone know which way we're headed?" Klinger called as he came out from behind a tree.
"The way we were heading yesterday," Hawkeye informed them.
"Still on foot?"
"Not unless you've got a pair of roller-skates tucked away in your pocket," Trapper said sarcastically.
"Radar," BJ said as he walked into him office. The young clerk was not in his bed, but instead he was found asleep at his desk, the phone inches from his hand.
Radar heard the disturbance and woke up. "Sir?"
"Have you heard anything?"
"Wha. oh yeah, I'm waiting on a call, the guy said it might be important."
"When was that?"
Radar checked his watch. "About twenty minutes ago." The ring of the phone broke their conversation. "This is it."
Radar listened for a few seconds before turning a pale colour. "Yeah, I understand. Thank you."
As soon as Radar replaced the receiver, BJ asked him, "Was that them?"
Radar stammered, "They found the bus. what's left of it." BJ's heart sank to his boots. "It got hit by a shell. No dog-tags were found."
"Well, they're still out there, then," BJ stated firmly.
Radar stared at BJ. He's new. He has hope still somewhere inside him. Give him a few months, he thought to himself, and then he'll understand.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" BJ questioned, bringing Radar out of his trance. "They can't have gone far!"
"I've got to report to Colonel Blake," Radar told him, still in shock. He still had hope, of course, but not much.
"How long have we been walking for?" Ginger asked.
"Five hours," Hawkeye noted. "Time for a rest?" They had had rests every hour or so, because their injuries were still very much present.
"Hey, look," Klinger said. "A cart!"
"Like the ones the oxen pull along?"
"Yeah, but if two pull and two rest we'll get along much faster."
"Until we get to a hill," Trapper said, resting his aching back by lying on the ground.
"Or an ox," Ginger murmured. She had seen one, a hundred yards away in a field. She carefully picked her way along a path by the edge towards the ox.
"Ginger! What if you find a mine?"
"Then, since it's a mine, you aren't having it!" Ginger called back.
"Boy, she's got guts," Klinger murmured.
"If she's not careful we could be seeing them soon," Hawkeye murmured back.
Ginger coaxed the creature towards her, and led it down the path.
"This one's nice, seems friendly," she said as she attached it to the cart.
"A friend for Radar," Hawkeye remarked.
They all got in the cart, but the ox just stood there.
"Anyone got any keys?" Trapper asked.
"Wait, I can solve this," Klinger said. He hopped off of the cart and grabbed some grass from the field. He climbed onto the ox and stuck the grass out in front of it. The creature began to move at a steady pace, hungry for the grass.
"Nice work, Klinger," Hawkeye praised.
"Saw it in a movie once," Klinger explained.
"This is the life," Hawkeye proclaimed, sitting back with his arms behind his head and putting his feet on one of the bars of the cart.
"I could think of better places to be," Trapper grumbled.
"We'll be back soon," Hawkeye promised him, patting him on the shoulder. As he did, he felt a soft thump on the side of his own shoulder, and saw that Ginger had fallen asleep on him. He adjusted her slightly and let her sleep.
"She's been great through this," Trapper noted.
"Yeah, she's proven herself all right," Hawkeye agreed. He had a thought for a moment. "You know, with the right papers, we could make her a Captain."
"You think she'd like that? I mean, look where it got us!"
Why wasn't anyone searching for them, or at least doing something? BJ sat in the Swamp, drowning his sorrows.
"Attention, all personnel, incoming wounded within half an hour. All shifts report to OR on the double," came the PA announcement.
"Wounded?" BJ asked to himself. He wasn't drunk, but he was by no means sober enough to operate.
But what if Hawkeye or Trapper or Ginger or Klinger were with the wounded? He'd have to be there, just in case they were hurt.
BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and headed towards the OR. He tricked through the door and almost fell into Margaret's arms.
"BJ?" she asked. "Are you okay?" She could smell the alcohol. "You've been drinking!"
"What else is there to do in this damn war?" BJ asked, washing his hands.
"Are you fit to operate?" Margaret questioned.
"I'm going to operate, whether I'm drunk or not," BJ replied calmly. "Henry can't do it alone."
Margaret didn't like to admit it, but BJ was right. Henry couldn't do it alone, even with Margaret there to help. Margaret made up her mind to have her best nurse assist BJ, to keep him in check.
The wounded rolled in and rolled out, and BJ managed to keep his head throughout the surgery. Afterwards, he collapsed on the bench in Pre-Op. Henry came out to see him.
"You are very lucky," Henry growled. "I've been drunk on many, many occasions, but never once during surgery. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"I'm not drunk," BJ slurred slightly."
"Hunnicutt, you're a brilliant surgeon, but being drunk under any circumstances during surgery won't help anyone."
"These circumstances, as you call it, are not just any circumstances. I have been over here in Korea for a month, one whole month, and I have seen more blood, guts and death than I have seen since I started working to becoming a doctor. And then, just a month into it, four people, two of which are by best friends in this God-forsaken place, to missing, and no one seems to be doing anything about it. What am I meant to do? Try and get on with life whilst I have all that hanging over my head? It's just not possible!"
Henry stood his ground throughout the speech, and though he understood what BJ was going through it was still inexcusable to be under the influence of alcohol when operating.
"Dismissed," he said sternly, and BJ was inwardly surprised. He guessed that under the stress, Henry was beginning to act like a real commander.
Instead of taking Henry's advice and laying off the booze, BJ did the opposite. He went straight to the Swamp and poured himself a long drink.
More long drinks later, BJ tried to stand up for yet another, but thought better of it when the Still kept moving. He tried to clear his head and make some room for thought.
No one was out looking for them. Why? They were all too busy at the camp, with the wounded and stuff. He could do it! It would be so easy. He could just walk out of the camp, past Rosie's Bar and away into the world of Korea.
He stood up, took a moment to steady himself, and then started his aimless journey to find his missing friends.
"Captain McIntyre, sir, I'll go back on our ox friend if you want," Klinger suggested. He had taken a turn to sleep, as this was uncomfortable to do on an ox.
"Frank," Hawkeye said.
"Where?" All three of them asked suddenly.
"Frank the ox," Hawkeye explained.
"You named the ox after Frank?"
"No, no. Frank was named after the ox," Hawkeye clarified.
It was late in the evening, and the group had been travelling for several hours with the ox. They had stopped and asked for directions numerous times, and was finally pointed in the right direction by someone who spoke fairly good English.
"Hey," Hawkeye said suddenly. He was trying to listen out for something, but couldn't hear because of the ox's hooves. "Klinger, stop the ox."
Klinger too the grass away, but instead of doing what they wanted, the ox became angry, and took off at a furious pace. Not ready for the sharp change in velocity, both Trapper and Ginger were thrown off the cart.
"Oww," Ginger groaned. Her arm was in more pieces than it should have been. Trapper ran over on hearing her cry. "Hey, your head's bleeding," she informed him in a weak voice.
"Well, you still beat me on this one. I've just got one bleeding arm, and I'll need three of them to beat you broken arm," he told her, examining her as best he could. "I can't do anything for it now, but once we find the Lone Ranger and Tonto we'll fix it up good as new."
Meanwhile, the two in question were trying to think of what to do, whilst holding on for their lives.
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled through the commotion.
"What?"
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled again, louder.
"No, I think we should jump off!" Hawkeye yelled back.
"What?"
Hawkeye would have yelled back again, had he not seen a sight that was heaven to his eyes. There were the lights, sights and sounds of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit. Finally, they were back.
He also saw something else. It was just a glint, a mere fleck of light that caught his eye, but it was enough to investigate and find out more. With no hesitation, he jumped off of the slowing cart. Seeing this, Klinger did the same. He followed Hawkeye to where he was crouched on the ground.
"What is it?"
"From the smell of it, I'd say it was the contents of our Still," Hawkeye guessed. On closer inspection, he gasped. "It's BJ!"
"What's he doing here?"
"No idea, but he's probably not in the mood for questioning at the moment," Hawkeye decided, knowing the size of the hangover that his friend would have once he woke up.
BJ, as if on cue, opened his eyes a crack. "Uh, Hawkeye, I found you! I knew I would!"
Hawkeye chose not to argue and say that it was actually he and Klinger who did the finding. He turned to Klinger and said, "I saw the camp, did you?"
"You mean we made it home?" Klinger asked, not quite believing it.
Home. Hawkeye wondered about that. Could they really call it home? Well, it was better than the Korean wilderness. He decided that maybe it was home. After all, it was there that people cared for him, and he in turn cared for them.