Chapter 2
It was just gone seven in the morning when Hawkeye began to leave the world of slumber. He had tried to move in his sleep, but found he couldn't, so he had involuntarily woken up to find out why. When he eventually opened his eyes, he wondered why he could not move. He wanted to stretch his arms and legs, but found that they were not going anywhere.
"Hey," he murmured not altogether alert yet. He tried to roll over, but again nothing. "Hey," he moaned, louder this time. When he tried to sit up, he finally yelled, "Hey!"
BJ was woken by this. He was startled, but when expected to jump from his rude awakening, he was surprised to find that he didn't. "Huh?" he muttered. He tried to remember back to the few hours previous. He recalled untying his boots, and then nothing. And now, he couldn't move. Was he paralysed? In a coma? Incredibly drunk?
"Hawkeye?" BJ called out, not sure whether he would hear an answer. "I can't move!"
"Neither can I," Hawkeye voiced. "I can just see the ceiling, and what likes a huge white rug or something over me."
BJ tilted his head, and was taken aback to see a large, white log shape where his arm was meant to be. It was the same on the other side. "I think I'm in a body cast!"
Hawkeye decided that he too was in the same predicament. "Next question. Why?"
"You weren't in one earlier, at about five in the morning. What time is it now?"
"Sometime after six, since the Sun's up," Hawkeye worked out. "What were you doing up at five in the morning?"
"Not sleeping. Speaking of which, is Trapper up?"
"Good question. Trap!"
After a moment, a grunt could be heard, followed by a questioning sound, then a gasp, and ending in, "Hey, I can't move!"
"He's up," BJ concluded flippantly.
"Trap, we got a visit from the body cast fairy in the night," Hawkeye informed him.
Trapper was lost for words before he finally asked, "Why?"
"I wondered that, and still don't know."
"I think that before we ask that we should think about how we are going to get out of the casts," Trapper suggested.
"That's another good question. How?" Hawkeye asked.
BJ was already trying something. It was taking a long time, but he using the little space between the cast and his legs to manoeuvre the cast so it hung over the side of the bed. Once he was satisfied, he lunged forward so that all the weight went to his legs, and he was in a standing position.
Hawkeye saw the end result of this and asked, "now what?"
Unfortunately, BJ's journey was not yet over. As rules of physics, especially gravity and moment, took their toll, BJ found himself falling forwards, his head going straight towards the stove. He was blessed that it was not hot, but he still took an almighty crack to his head.
Hawkeye and Trapper winced as the crash filled the air. "Beej?" Trapper asked.
On hearing no answer, Hawkeye growled, "all right, the joke just stepped over the line." At the top of his voice, he yelled, "HELP!"
Trapper caught on. "HELP!"
Margaret, who had just left the Mess tent after some kind of breakfast, ran towards the cries. She could not believe the sight she was greeted with as she entered the Swamp.
"Margaret, help BJ," Hawkeye commanded, frustrated at being unable to do anything himself.
As she checked him over, Margaret asked, "What on earth happened to you?"
"You know about as much as we do," Trapper told her.
"No one can even begin to understand how much I need to scratch my nose," Hawkeye moaned.
"Oh, here," Margaret said as she aided Hawkeye.
"How's Beej?"
"Concussed," BJ moaned as he came round.
"Never mind your head, look at that dent in the stove," Trapper joked.
"Shall I get someone to get you free?" Margaret asked, trying and failing to withhold her laughter.
"Nah, don't worry, get yourself some breakfast first, have a shower maybe, do some Post-Op duty if you like, heck just go home to the States, we're all quite comfortable here!" BJ griped with sarcasm.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Ignore him," Hawkeye advised. "He's concussed. But, please do get us out of these soon."
"Sure, I'll go get someone," Margaret replied, heading out of the Swamp and laughing to herself.
"It's not funny!" BJ yelled at the top of his voice, and immediately regretting it as his head thumped.
After what seemed like hours, the three captains were free. BJ's head injury was taken care of, and he was ordered, by Hawkeye and Trapper, to rest for the remainder of the day.
"You think I'm going back to that bed again? Are you nuts?! Last time I tried that, I woke up following mummification!"
"Look, how about we post someone outside the Swamp, to keep guard," Hawkeye suggested.
"We were gonna do that anyway, to make sure you didn't run off into another war."
"Fine, fine, whatever." BJ put his hand to his head. "Man, I really need to lie down somewhere."
"Margaret, can you take him back to the Swamp and make sure he's okay?" Trapper asked. "Hawk and I are gonna find out who the joker is."
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"Going to Radar, because he knows everything. He's going to write an encyclopaedia on the war when it's over."
"Or a book at least."
"He told us so."
"Klinger's going to be in it."
"All right," Margaret interrupted. "Find him before the book gets published." She gave Trapper a kiss before she escorted BJ to the Swamp for some well-deserved sleep.
It was a little after midday before Hawkeye and Trapper found the young corporal. He was patching up a hole at the back of the Ladies' Showers.
"Awh, Radar, don't do that," Hawkeye whined.
"Do what?" Radar asked innocently.
"Do what you're doing now. Fixing that hole. It's sacred, even got an imprint of my eyelid in it."
"There'll be others," Radar consoled him. "Anyway, do you guys want something?"
"Yeah, information," Trapper stated.
"So why come to me?"
"Because you are the eyes, ears and even the nose of the camp," Hawkeye enlightened him.
"I am?" Radar asked suspiciously. "Is that a good thing?"
"It is for us, since we want information," Trapper said, seeing how the plan was working. They would get Radar's head to swell enough for the two surgeons to burst it and gather the information that leaked from it, metaphorically speaking.
"Yeah, we are but humble drinkers of you, the fountain of knowledge."
"This camp wouldn't be able to run itself with out," Trapper added, thinking about the ring of truth in that statement.
"So, can you help?"
"Sure," Radar gushed, his pride taking over. "What do you want to know?"
"Who pulled that prank?"
"Prank? Oh, you mean." Radar stopped, knowing that he had just landed himself in it.
"All right, Radar. Who did it?"
"Did what?" Came the feeble and futile reply.
"Too late for that, Radar," Hawkeye warned. "Who was it, before we make you three foot five instead of the your usual five foot three."
Now was not the time to argue with the livid captains about things as trivial as his height. Radar decided that the only option was to give in and reveal all. "All right, you got me. It was Colonel Blake. He did it." Radar hung his head in shame.
Hawkeye and Trapper looked at each other. "Henry?" They both burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Radar looked up. "I helped him," he bravely stated.
The two captains stopped laughing. "Ah, now it makes sense."
"I think we should go to pay Henry a little visit," Hawkeye decided.
Henry was struck dumb. It couldn't be. Could it really be true?
"Could it be?" he whispered in a voice that was barely audible.
Henry had finally found and opened the letter that he had forgotten about whilst he was in surgery. His only regret was that he hadn't opened it earlier.
It was then that Hawkeye and Trapper barged in. "Henry, we'd like a word with you about what we woke up with this morning," Trapper began.
"Yeah, the nurses were great, but our attire was really not to our liking," Hawkeye added. Henry was still staring into space, unaware of the presence of the two displeased Captains.
"Hey, Henry?" Trapper asked.
"Earth to Henry," Hawkeye called, waving his hand in front of the Colonel's eyes.
"We've driven him mad."
"Guess that explains his behaviour."
"The appendix must have been the last straw."
"I'll get some more straws."
"I told you the appendix was a bad idea," Trapper reminded him. "He definitely wanted his tonsils back more."
"You guys," Henry began acknowledging their presence for the first time.
"What is it, Henry?"
"This letter," he began. "It. it says."
"Come on, Henry. Spit it out!"
Henry took a deep breath. "I'm going home."
It was just gone seven in the morning when Hawkeye began to leave the world of slumber. He had tried to move in his sleep, but found he couldn't, so he had involuntarily woken up to find out why. When he eventually opened his eyes, he wondered why he could not move. He wanted to stretch his arms and legs, but found that they were not going anywhere.
"Hey," he murmured not altogether alert yet. He tried to roll over, but again nothing. "Hey," he moaned, louder this time. When he tried to sit up, he finally yelled, "Hey!"
BJ was woken by this. He was startled, but when expected to jump from his rude awakening, he was surprised to find that he didn't. "Huh?" he muttered. He tried to remember back to the few hours previous. He recalled untying his boots, and then nothing. And now, he couldn't move. Was he paralysed? In a coma? Incredibly drunk?
"Hawkeye?" BJ called out, not sure whether he would hear an answer. "I can't move!"
"Neither can I," Hawkeye voiced. "I can just see the ceiling, and what likes a huge white rug or something over me."
BJ tilted his head, and was taken aback to see a large, white log shape where his arm was meant to be. It was the same on the other side. "I think I'm in a body cast!"
Hawkeye decided that he too was in the same predicament. "Next question. Why?"
"You weren't in one earlier, at about five in the morning. What time is it now?"
"Sometime after six, since the Sun's up," Hawkeye worked out. "What were you doing up at five in the morning?"
"Not sleeping. Speaking of which, is Trapper up?"
"Good question. Trap!"
After a moment, a grunt could be heard, followed by a questioning sound, then a gasp, and ending in, "Hey, I can't move!"
"He's up," BJ concluded flippantly.
"Trap, we got a visit from the body cast fairy in the night," Hawkeye informed him.
Trapper was lost for words before he finally asked, "Why?"
"I wondered that, and still don't know."
"I think that before we ask that we should think about how we are going to get out of the casts," Trapper suggested.
"That's another good question. How?" Hawkeye asked.
BJ was already trying something. It was taking a long time, but he using the little space between the cast and his legs to manoeuvre the cast so it hung over the side of the bed. Once he was satisfied, he lunged forward so that all the weight went to his legs, and he was in a standing position.
Hawkeye saw the end result of this and asked, "now what?"
Unfortunately, BJ's journey was not yet over. As rules of physics, especially gravity and moment, took their toll, BJ found himself falling forwards, his head going straight towards the stove. He was blessed that it was not hot, but he still took an almighty crack to his head.
Hawkeye and Trapper winced as the crash filled the air. "Beej?" Trapper asked.
On hearing no answer, Hawkeye growled, "all right, the joke just stepped over the line." At the top of his voice, he yelled, "HELP!"
Trapper caught on. "HELP!"
Margaret, who had just left the Mess tent after some kind of breakfast, ran towards the cries. She could not believe the sight she was greeted with as she entered the Swamp.
"Margaret, help BJ," Hawkeye commanded, frustrated at being unable to do anything himself.
As she checked him over, Margaret asked, "What on earth happened to you?"
"You know about as much as we do," Trapper told her.
"No one can even begin to understand how much I need to scratch my nose," Hawkeye moaned.
"Oh, here," Margaret said as she aided Hawkeye.
"How's Beej?"
"Concussed," BJ moaned as he came round.
"Never mind your head, look at that dent in the stove," Trapper joked.
"Shall I get someone to get you free?" Margaret asked, trying and failing to withhold her laughter.
"Nah, don't worry, get yourself some breakfast first, have a shower maybe, do some Post-Op duty if you like, heck just go home to the States, we're all quite comfortable here!" BJ griped with sarcasm.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Ignore him," Hawkeye advised. "He's concussed. But, please do get us out of these soon."
"Sure, I'll go get someone," Margaret replied, heading out of the Swamp and laughing to herself.
"It's not funny!" BJ yelled at the top of his voice, and immediately regretting it as his head thumped.
After what seemed like hours, the three captains were free. BJ's head injury was taken care of, and he was ordered, by Hawkeye and Trapper, to rest for the remainder of the day.
"You think I'm going back to that bed again? Are you nuts?! Last time I tried that, I woke up following mummification!"
"Look, how about we post someone outside the Swamp, to keep guard," Hawkeye suggested.
"We were gonna do that anyway, to make sure you didn't run off into another war."
"Fine, fine, whatever." BJ put his hand to his head. "Man, I really need to lie down somewhere."
"Margaret, can you take him back to the Swamp and make sure he's okay?" Trapper asked. "Hawk and I are gonna find out who the joker is."
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"Going to Radar, because he knows everything. He's going to write an encyclopaedia on the war when it's over."
"Or a book at least."
"He told us so."
"Klinger's going to be in it."
"All right," Margaret interrupted. "Find him before the book gets published." She gave Trapper a kiss before she escorted BJ to the Swamp for some well-deserved sleep.
It was a little after midday before Hawkeye and Trapper found the young corporal. He was patching up a hole at the back of the Ladies' Showers.
"Awh, Radar, don't do that," Hawkeye whined.
"Do what?" Radar asked innocently.
"Do what you're doing now. Fixing that hole. It's sacred, even got an imprint of my eyelid in it."
"There'll be others," Radar consoled him. "Anyway, do you guys want something?"
"Yeah, information," Trapper stated.
"So why come to me?"
"Because you are the eyes, ears and even the nose of the camp," Hawkeye enlightened him.
"I am?" Radar asked suspiciously. "Is that a good thing?"
"It is for us, since we want information," Trapper said, seeing how the plan was working. They would get Radar's head to swell enough for the two surgeons to burst it and gather the information that leaked from it, metaphorically speaking.
"Yeah, we are but humble drinkers of you, the fountain of knowledge."
"This camp wouldn't be able to run itself with out," Trapper added, thinking about the ring of truth in that statement.
"So, can you help?"
"Sure," Radar gushed, his pride taking over. "What do you want to know?"
"Who pulled that prank?"
"Prank? Oh, you mean." Radar stopped, knowing that he had just landed himself in it.
"All right, Radar. Who did it?"
"Did what?" Came the feeble and futile reply.
"Too late for that, Radar," Hawkeye warned. "Who was it, before we make you three foot five instead of the your usual five foot three."
Now was not the time to argue with the livid captains about things as trivial as his height. Radar decided that the only option was to give in and reveal all. "All right, you got me. It was Colonel Blake. He did it." Radar hung his head in shame.
Hawkeye and Trapper looked at each other. "Henry?" They both burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Radar looked up. "I helped him," he bravely stated.
The two captains stopped laughing. "Ah, now it makes sense."
"I think we should go to pay Henry a little visit," Hawkeye decided.
Henry was struck dumb. It couldn't be. Could it really be true?
"Could it be?" he whispered in a voice that was barely audible.
Henry had finally found and opened the letter that he had forgotten about whilst he was in surgery. His only regret was that he hadn't opened it earlier.
It was then that Hawkeye and Trapper barged in. "Henry, we'd like a word with you about what we woke up with this morning," Trapper began.
"Yeah, the nurses were great, but our attire was really not to our liking," Hawkeye added. Henry was still staring into space, unaware of the presence of the two displeased Captains.
"Hey, Henry?" Trapper asked.
"Earth to Henry," Hawkeye called, waving his hand in front of the Colonel's eyes.
"We've driven him mad."
"Guess that explains his behaviour."
"The appendix must have been the last straw."
"I'll get some more straws."
"I told you the appendix was a bad idea," Trapper reminded him. "He definitely wanted his tonsils back more."
"You guys," Henry began acknowledging their presence for the first time.
"What is it, Henry?"
"This letter," he began. "It. it says."
"Come on, Henry. Spit it out!"
Henry took a deep breath. "I'm going home."