Chapter 4
The Mess Hall was slightly more sombre that evening that it had been in the morning of the same day. The day had been long and eventful, not to mention moving by the end of the afternoon, and the camp was still trying to take it all in and wind down slowly.
Henry's sudden departure had been a shock, and it would take some adjusting to, for some more than others. They were all happy for him, though, and only wished that they could be going with him.
Radar was taking the news well, better than earlier, and although he missed Henry, he was ever thankful that his father figure had survived the war and was going home safely.
General Clayton, after he had finished settling into the VIP tent, went in search of a certain Head Nurse. She was found in her quarters, mending a hole in the shoulder of one of her shirts.
Clayton slipped through the door and crept over to where Margaret was sewing. He put his hands over her eyes and she gasped slightly.
"Guess who?" He purred lightly.
Margaret knew exactly who the hands belonged to, and she was less than happy. "I do not think that the way you are behaving is appropriate for a General, sir," she expressed. She was cross with herself for forgetting that she and the General tended to meet up like this, but that was before; before Frank left and before she fell in love with Trapper.
"You never complained before, why now? Why the sudden change of heart?"
Margaret decided that the truth was the best option in the given situation. "Sir, since your last visit, I've met someone."
The General sat down. "Are you married? Engaged? I can't see any rings."
"It's too soon for anything like that. Recently, he lost his wife and children, and I don't feel that he's ready to talk about marriage."
It was then that the General worked out whom Margaret was talking about. "You mean, you're with Captain McIntyre? Forgive me but you and he haven't exactly been the best of friends. Far from it, if I remember."
"I know, sir, but a lot can happen in a short space of time."
Clayton could see that Margaret was deeply in love with Trapper, more than she had been with any other man, least of all Frank, and he knew that he was wasting his time by pursuing anything with her. "He's a lucky man. Good evening, Major." With that, the General set off back to his quarters.
"And I'm a lucky woman," Margaret whispered to herself.
It was not much later that the lucky man himself dropped by for a visit. "Hey, honey," he greeted her with a kiss. "How are you?"
Margaret smiled. "I'm okay, how was surgery?"
"Only two cases, which was great. One, my one, was textbook and is doing fine. Unfortunately, BJ isn't having the same luck. He operated, but the guy isn't pulling through so great. BJ's been at his side since the minute the guy left OR."
Margaret was dismayed to hear this news, and nodded understandingly. "He's not had the best day," she said, remembering back to the morning.
"That's another thing," Trapper began, remembering an additional point. "He totally blames himself, because he felt that he was operating below standard what with the concussion and all. He only did it because Hawkeye was tired and had had something to drink. I don't think that was the reason though. The guy was just too far gone to get back to this side without a fight."
Margaret finished her sewing and joined Trapper on her cot. He took hold of her shoulders and gently undid the knots in them with his hands. She relaxed and smiled.
"I've needed that all day," she sighed.
"It's been a long day, but things will soon settle down again, I promise."
"You're really going to miss Henry, aren't you," Margaret stated, reading Trapper's thoughts.
"There's no one quite like him," Trapper answered. "He made it bearable as a commander. I remember being on the plane, on the way to Korea, and thinking that I'd go through hell with a really formal, strict, army guy. Henry made sure it was not like that, much to your dislike," he added cheekily.
His cheek earned him a soft slap around the face. "Okay, I know that to begin with, Henry wasn't my favourite guy in the war. But, once I opened my eyes, I saw how much he did for us."
"Most of it was Radar," Trapper recalled, grinning. "It has to be said, you missed out on some great lectures from Henry. They deserved awards!"
Margaret laughed. "So I've heard."
The couple continued to talk through the night, reminiscing about Henry and the good times.
"I remember getting drunk, and Henry's reaction to that was so funny," Margaret remembered.
"Yeah," Trapper agreed. "It's the best you two got on in ages. If I remember rightly, it was Hawk and I that had the job of sobering you up, because we had wounded coming in."
"And, if I remember rightly, it was you two that were the ones who got me drunk in the first place!"
Trapper laughed at the memory. "I still remember you coming onto me when we were in the showers."
Margaret smiled. "Ironic. I was drunk senseless, but I was doing something right, something any sane woman would do."
Trapper kissed her in reply. "You've done that more than once, and you weren't drunk on all occasions."
"When?"
"At my leaving party, for one time. That time it was the alcohol talking, but it wasn't when we were trapped in the Supply Tent."
"It was a two-way thing both times," Margaret reminded him.
The couple continued to talk through the night, and were not the only ones who were not getting any sleep. BJ could be found sat beside his patient, Private Terry Hammond, with a mixture of feelings containing frustration and concern. Post-Op was dim, a light only from the lamp on the desk used by the nurse on duty.
Hawkeye was strolling through the room when we saw BJ, much to his surprise. He walked over to the bed and sat beside him.
"You know, when that guy wakes up, he's gonna hear rumours that you two are going steady."
"What are you doing up?" BJ asked, not taking his eyes off of the patient in the bed.
"I thought I'd make use of Henry's office and show the new nurse the sights of the 4077th," Hawkeye told him. "I really hope you haven't been sitting here since the minute you got out of surgery." When BJ failed to reply, Hawkeye continued. "Well, that hope just left."
"He should be getting better," BJ murmured. "Why isn't he getting better?"
"Perhaps he's modest and likes to get better without people watching him," Hawkeye suggested. He became serious. "He will. You did everything right, and given time he will get better." Hawkeye yawned and stood up. "Wake me if you ever figure out how to get off that chair. Good luck."
Back in the Swamp, Hawkeye was not surprised to find that Trapper was not there. "Guess he's with Margaret," he murmured, pouring himself a small martini. He silently toasted Henry, and downed the drink.
Hawkeye spent the next hour or so dozing in his cot. He awoke from his slumber when he heard the slam of the door and the groan of a nearby cot.
"Beej? I guess he woke up and told you to get some sleep."
No reply told Hawkeye that he had just put his booted foot in it. He got up, put on his robe and sat beside BJ, who was lying face-up on his cot, staring at the ceiling.
"When?" Hawkeye asked.
BJ swallowed. "Ten minutes ago. He didn't have the will to go on."
Hawkeye stayed silent for a moment. "Some of them don't."
"You could have saved him. I messed up."
"How do you know that?" Hawkeye asked.
"I've seen you do it before. You've worked miracles."
"They're not miracles, they're just the ones that insist on living. It has little to do with capability when you reach a certain standard, one that you are definitely at. You did what you could, and you just couldn't do anymore. Now all you have to do is get your confidence back for all the other wounded guys that need your help."
For the first time that evening, BJ looked at Hawkeye and half smiled. "Thanks," he said.
"What are friends for? Now get some sleep." Hawkeye chuckled to himself as he settled back into his cot.
The next morning, the PA speakers awoke the unit. "Attention, all personnel. A treat from the North Koreans for breakfast this morning. It's incoming wounded. All shifts up and to OR."
Trapper and Margaret, who woke up in each other's arms, hastened towards Pre-Op, where they met up with Hawkeye and BJ.
"No guesses as to where you two have been together," Hawkeye joked lightly.
"In each others arms?" BJ suggested.
"Where else? They appear to mould into each other," Hawkeye added. For that he got water flicked at him, and nothing more.
In surgery, BJ worked alone, so that he could build his confidence back up. Hawkeye and Trapper worked together on a particularly tough case.
Halfway through the session, Radar stumbled into the room, not looking well.
"Radar, mask!" Trapper called.
"If it's my discharge, give it to me straight, I can take it," Hawkeye joked.
"I've got news. The Colonel."
"Henry?" BJ asked.
Radar shook his head. If only. "The new Colonel, he's arrived. He's in the Scrub Room, getting ready to operate."
Radar left, and a voice could be heard outside. "Watch where you're going, Corporal," the man snapped angrily.
Everyone heard the voice. BJ said nothing. Hawkeye's eyes widened beyond belief. Trapper gasped. Margaret dropped the retractor that she had just picked up.
"It can't be," Trapper whispered.
"Colonel Frank Burns," Hawkeye groaned.
The Mess Hall was slightly more sombre that evening that it had been in the morning of the same day. The day had been long and eventful, not to mention moving by the end of the afternoon, and the camp was still trying to take it all in and wind down slowly.
Henry's sudden departure had been a shock, and it would take some adjusting to, for some more than others. They were all happy for him, though, and only wished that they could be going with him.
Radar was taking the news well, better than earlier, and although he missed Henry, he was ever thankful that his father figure had survived the war and was going home safely.
General Clayton, after he had finished settling into the VIP tent, went in search of a certain Head Nurse. She was found in her quarters, mending a hole in the shoulder of one of her shirts.
Clayton slipped through the door and crept over to where Margaret was sewing. He put his hands over her eyes and she gasped slightly.
"Guess who?" He purred lightly.
Margaret knew exactly who the hands belonged to, and she was less than happy. "I do not think that the way you are behaving is appropriate for a General, sir," she expressed. She was cross with herself for forgetting that she and the General tended to meet up like this, but that was before; before Frank left and before she fell in love with Trapper.
"You never complained before, why now? Why the sudden change of heart?"
Margaret decided that the truth was the best option in the given situation. "Sir, since your last visit, I've met someone."
The General sat down. "Are you married? Engaged? I can't see any rings."
"It's too soon for anything like that. Recently, he lost his wife and children, and I don't feel that he's ready to talk about marriage."
It was then that the General worked out whom Margaret was talking about. "You mean, you're with Captain McIntyre? Forgive me but you and he haven't exactly been the best of friends. Far from it, if I remember."
"I know, sir, but a lot can happen in a short space of time."
Clayton could see that Margaret was deeply in love with Trapper, more than she had been with any other man, least of all Frank, and he knew that he was wasting his time by pursuing anything with her. "He's a lucky man. Good evening, Major." With that, the General set off back to his quarters.
"And I'm a lucky woman," Margaret whispered to herself.
It was not much later that the lucky man himself dropped by for a visit. "Hey, honey," he greeted her with a kiss. "How are you?"
Margaret smiled. "I'm okay, how was surgery?"
"Only two cases, which was great. One, my one, was textbook and is doing fine. Unfortunately, BJ isn't having the same luck. He operated, but the guy isn't pulling through so great. BJ's been at his side since the minute the guy left OR."
Margaret was dismayed to hear this news, and nodded understandingly. "He's not had the best day," she said, remembering back to the morning.
"That's another thing," Trapper began, remembering an additional point. "He totally blames himself, because he felt that he was operating below standard what with the concussion and all. He only did it because Hawkeye was tired and had had something to drink. I don't think that was the reason though. The guy was just too far gone to get back to this side without a fight."
Margaret finished her sewing and joined Trapper on her cot. He took hold of her shoulders and gently undid the knots in them with his hands. She relaxed and smiled.
"I've needed that all day," she sighed.
"It's been a long day, but things will soon settle down again, I promise."
"You're really going to miss Henry, aren't you," Margaret stated, reading Trapper's thoughts.
"There's no one quite like him," Trapper answered. "He made it bearable as a commander. I remember being on the plane, on the way to Korea, and thinking that I'd go through hell with a really formal, strict, army guy. Henry made sure it was not like that, much to your dislike," he added cheekily.
His cheek earned him a soft slap around the face. "Okay, I know that to begin with, Henry wasn't my favourite guy in the war. But, once I opened my eyes, I saw how much he did for us."
"Most of it was Radar," Trapper recalled, grinning. "It has to be said, you missed out on some great lectures from Henry. They deserved awards!"
Margaret laughed. "So I've heard."
The couple continued to talk through the night, reminiscing about Henry and the good times.
"I remember getting drunk, and Henry's reaction to that was so funny," Margaret remembered.
"Yeah," Trapper agreed. "It's the best you two got on in ages. If I remember rightly, it was Hawk and I that had the job of sobering you up, because we had wounded coming in."
"And, if I remember rightly, it was you two that were the ones who got me drunk in the first place!"
Trapper laughed at the memory. "I still remember you coming onto me when we were in the showers."
Margaret smiled. "Ironic. I was drunk senseless, but I was doing something right, something any sane woman would do."
Trapper kissed her in reply. "You've done that more than once, and you weren't drunk on all occasions."
"When?"
"At my leaving party, for one time. That time it was the alcohol talking, but it wasn't when we were trapped in the Supply Tent."
"It was a two-way thing both times," Margaret reminded him.
The couple continued to talk through the night, and were not the only ones who were not getting any sleep. BJ could be found sat beside his patient, Private Terry Hammond, with a mixture of feelings containing frustration and concern. Post-Op was dim, a light only from the lamp on the desk used by the nurse on duty.
Hawkeye was strolling through the room when we saw BJ, much to his surprise. He walked over to the bed and sat beside him.
"You know, when that guy wakes up, he's gonna hear rumours that you two are going steady."
"What are you doing up?" BJ asked, not taking his eyes off of the patient in the bed.
"I thought I'd make use of Henry's office and show the new nurse the sights of the 4077th," Hawkeye told him. "I really hope you haven't been sitting here since the minute you got out of surgery." When BJ failed to reply, Hawkeye continued. "Well, that hope just left."
"He should be getting better," BJ murmured. "Why isn't he getting better?"
"Perhaps he's modest and likes to get better without people watching him," Hawkeye suggested. He became serious. "He will. You did everything right, and given time he will get better." Hawkeye yawned and stood up. "Wake me if you ever figure out how to get off that chair. Good luck."
Back in the Swamp, Hawkeye was not surprised to find that Trapper was not there. "Guess he's with Margaret," he murmured, pouring himself a small martini. He silently toasted Henry, and downed the drink.
Hawkeye spent the next hour or so dozing in his cot. He awoke from his slumber when he heard the slam of the door and the groan of a nearby cot.
"Beej? I guess he woke up and told you to get some sleep."
No reply told Hawkeye that he had just put his booted foot in it. He got up, put on his robe and sat beside BJ, who was lying face-up on his cot, staring at the ceiling.
"When?" Hawkeye asked.
BJ swallowed. "Ten minutes ago. He didn't have the will to go on."
Hawkeye stayed silent for a moment. "Some of them don't."
"You could have saved him. I messed up."
"How do you know that?" Hawkeye asked.
"I've seen you do it before. You've worked miracles."
"They're not miracles, they're just the ones that insist on living. It has little to do with capability when you reach a certain standard, one that you are definitely at. You did what you could, and you just couldn't do anymore. Now all you have to do is get your confidence back for all the other wounded guys that need your help."
For the first time that evening, BJ looked at Hawkeye and half smiled. "Thanks," he said.
"What are friends for? Now get some sleep." Hawkeye chuckled to himself as he settled back into his cot.
The next morning, the PA speakers awoke the unit. "Attention, all personnel. A treat from the North Koreans for breakfast this morning. It's incoming wounded. All shifts up and to OR."
Trapper and Margaret, who woke up in each other's arms, hastened towards Pre-Op, where they met up with Hawkeye and BJ.
"No guesses as to where you two have been together," Hawkeye joked lightly.
"In each others arms?" BJ suggested.
"Where else? They appear to mould into each other," Hawkeye added. For that he got water flicked at him, and nothing more.
In surgery, BJ worked alone, so that he could build his confidence back up. Hawkeye and Trapper worked together on a particularly tough case.
Halfway through the session, Radar stumbled into the room, not looking well.
"Radar, mask!" Trapper called.
"If it's my discharge, give it to me straight, I can take it," Hawkeye joked.
"I've got news. The Colonel."
"Henry?" BJ asked.
Radar shook his head. If only. "The new Colonel, he's arrived. He's in the Scrub Room, getting ready to operate."
Radar left, and a voice could be heard outside. "Watch where you're going, Corporal," the man snapped angrily.
Everyone heard the voice. BJ said nothing. Hawkeye's eyes widened beyond belief. Trapper gasped. Margaret dropped the retractor that she had just picked up.
"It can't be," Trapper whispered.
"Colonel Frank Burns," Hawkeye groaned.