Chapter 5
As soon as Hawkeye got out of surgery, the first thing he did was write a letter to his father. He always did this when he needed to explain the war to someone who was not part of it, in order to let off steam in a way.
"Dear Dad," he began, as always.
"Yesterday, I wrote to you about the shock of Henry Blake leaving our unit, getting his discharge and going back to home. This was saddening news, but with a happy ending for Henry. Today, we got another shock, but this one contained happiness for no one."
"Remember me ever writing about Frank Burns, a doctor whose diploma is just about good enough for use in the latrines? The weasel to whom the Hippocratic oath means as much as a hairdryer does to a bald man? He left our midst some months ago, and he is unfortunately back, now a Colonel, and in command of our camp."
"No one has taken the news well. BJ, the man who replaced Frank, is indifferent at the moment, having only just met him, but he says he understands why we were never exactly fond of him."
"When I said that no happiness came of this event, I lied. One small, tiny and absolutely microscopic piece of good news is that I now have someone who I can meaningfully play practical jokes on. Apart from that, the news is intolerable."
"The two who are not taking the news as well are Trapper and Margaret. Trapper, apart from disliking the man, is afraid that Frank is going to take back Margaret from him. I know that is never going to happen, but Trapper needs to be sure of that for himself before he will rest assured."
"Margaret is the most unhappy of the camp. She was comfortable after Frank left, like a huge worry had left her. Now that he's back, the worry is back, and there are probably going to be fireworks around camp for the foreseeable future."
"There is just one other concern, and that is the guys that come through the O.R. doors day in and day out. Not only have we gained a surgeon with less qualifications than a domestic cat, but also someone who eats up at moral like someone who has just finished forty days of fasting. If the North Koreans could see us now, they'd be laughing themselves through the rest of the war. Like I said, Dad, fireworks."
It was late evening when Frank strolled through the camp. He had one destination in mind, one target, one goal. He knocked on Margaret's door, goal firmly set in mind.
"Yes?" Margaret queried.
"It's Colonel Burns, I would like a word."
Margaret was in a most difficult predicament. He outranked her, so she had to obey him, no matter how much she just wanted him to disappear.
"Come in," Margaret sighed. She was still in her army fatigues, which she felt made it feel a more official, less social visit.
Frank walked in, and there was an awkward pause before Margaret asked, "Did you want something, sir?"
"You," Frank whispered, trying to be seductive.
Margaret said nothing until Frank wrapped his arms around her. She pulled away and spun around fast.
"Frank, why are you back here? You asked to be transferred, so why come back three months later?"
"I was promoted, for my excellence in discipline," Frank explained. "They gave me a list of places I could command at. There were three, and when the 4077th came up I took the chance. Colonel Blake, as nice as he was, was really not the sort of commander that I can be."
Margaret had to speak up. "Henry was a good commander."
Frank looked astounded. "What?"
"It was people like you that made his job tough."
Frank rolled his eyes. "You're still different. Pierce and McIntyre have been at you since I left, I suppose. Blinded you," he muttered.
"Blinded me? You think they blinded me?" Margaret spluttered. "They opened my eyes. My life, since they talked to me, had been worth living."
"And it wasn't when I was here?"
"No, Frank. I thought it was, but now that I've seen the real thing, I can safely say that being with you was not my idea of a worthy life."
Frank was lot giving up. "Let me give you what you want." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
After a few muffled cries, Margaret pushed him away. "Colonel Burns, please leave now!" It was the second night in a row that a superior officer had advanced upon her, and it was getting tedious.
Frank was ruffled by being pushed away. "I think I'll phone my wife. Good night." For once, the mention of Mrs Burns had absolutely no affect on Margaret.
Margaret became unsettled by Frank's visit, so much so that she had to go and talk to someone about it. She knocked on the door of the Swamp, and Trapper's familiar voice called, "Come in, if you don't mind sharing a chair with the rats."
The Major walked I to see Trapper alone. "Man, you sure know how to attract tourists." She attempted to the joke, but her voice wavered.
Trapper was immediately on his feet. "Honey, are you okay? What's up?"
Margaret sat down on Trapper's cot. "Frank came to see me. He wants me back. He tried to kiss me." Trapper had to withhold his anger as she went on. "He left, he was really upset. He doesn't know about us, and I know that if he found out, he'd make our lives a living hell, especially yours."
Trapper took a moment to absorb this. "I don't want to lose you, Margaret, and I'll do anything to keep you. If that means that Frank spends the rest of the war making my life a living hell, then let him. But, I don't want you to get hurt either, so its up to you to decide if you want to stay with me or not."
There was no hesitation as Margaret looked deep into Trapper's eyes. "Of course I'll stay with you."
"Well, that's settled, I guess. Go on, Frank," he yelled aloud, letting his anger and emotion out. "Bring it on!"
On arriving that day, Frank found he had a lot to sort out, a lot of things that Henry Blake had left in a mess. In reality, Radar had kept everything in order, and there was nothing to be done, but after the upset with Margaret an hour previously, Frank wanted to be busy and doing things.
He was heading in the direction of the Officer's Club, where preparing to show the three Captains the new duty roster. He would have gone to the Swamp, had he not been told that Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt were there by Klinger. Indeed, both Captains were there, sipping martinis at the bar.
"Hi Frank," Hawkeye greeted cheerfully, whilst BJ waved a casual salute his way.
"No respect," Frank tutted. "Pierce, and, erm."
"Hunnicutt, BJ, MD, Captain, married, one daughter, six feet three, blonde."
"All right, Hunnicutt, I don't need your life story," Frank groaned.
"You just got it. There's not much to tell," Hawkeye joked, receiving a mild punch in the shoulder.
"Where's McIntyre?"
This caught Hawkeye and BJ off their guard. Should they tell Frank that he was with Margaret, in the Swamp? They knew the two were there, and that was the very reason that they went to the OC. No, telling Frank was definitely not a wise move.
"X-ray, I think," Hawkeye said.
"Yeah, guy with a broken femur came in yesterday, and Trapper wanted to make sure he set it right, because the soldier was complaining of bad pain."
"Just so you can keep up with the conversation, Frank, the femur is the bone in the top of your leg," Hawkeye added.
"I know that," Frank snapped. He shoved the duty roster in Hawkeye's face. "Show McIntyre when you see him." With that, he left abruptly.
"What's his problem?" BJ wondered.
"My guess is, he's probably seen Margaret," Hawkeye mused.
Radar sat by himself as the sun set. Alone in the empty Mess Tent, hugging his knees up to his chest. Never had he felt so helpless, so alone. He shouldn't be crying, so why was he crying? People in the Army never cried.
He didn't know he would miss Henry this much. Sure, the war had to end sometime, and everyone had to go home and go back to their own separate ways, but Henry's leaving was so sudden. The fact that Frank had returned as their commanding officer just worsened the ordeal.
"I shouldn't be crying," he scolded himself. "I should not be crying."
Who could he talk to? There wasn't really anyone. They all missed Henry, so why should he miss him more?
The worst part was the note he had found on his bed that evening. He read it again to himself.
'Corporal O'Reilly, 'I have confiscated your bear. Colonel F. M. Burns.'
Radar put the crumpled letter back in his shirt pocket. How could he do that? He had no right to take it; it did not belong to him. It wasn't fair. Radar never did anything bad to Colonel Burns, at least not this bad.
His train of thought was broken when he heard the Mess Tent door swing open. Radar held his breath - perhaps this person wouldn't see him, he hoped. Radar shut his eyes tight, but he could still hear the footsteps coming closer and closer.
As soon as Hawkeye got out of surgery, the first thing he did was write a letter to his father. He always did this when he needed to explain the war to someone who was not part of it, in order to let off steam in a way.
"Dear Dad," he began, as always.
"Yesterday, I wrote to you about the shock of Henry Blake leaving our unit, getting his discharge and going back to home. This was saddening news, but with a happy ending for Henry. Today, we got another shock, but this one contained happiness for no one."
"Remember me ever writing about Frank Burns, a doctor whose diploma is just about good enough for use in the latrines? The weasel to whom the Hippocratic oath means as much as a hairdryer does to a bald man? He left our midst some months ago, and he is unfortunately back, now a Colonel, and in command of our camp."
"No one has taken the news well. BJ, the man who replaced Frank, is indifferent at the moment, having only just met him, but he says he understands why we were never exactly fond of him."
"When I said that no happiness came of this event, I lied. One small, tiny and absolutely microscopic piece of good news is that I now have someone who I can meaningfully play practical jokes on. Apart from that, the news is intolerable."
"The two who are not taking the news as well are Trapper and Margaret. Trapper, apart from disliking the man, is afraid that Frank is going to take back Margaret from him. I know that is never going to happen, but Trapper needs to be sure of that for himself before he will rest assured."
"Margaret is the most unhappy of the camp. She was comfortable after Frank left, like a huge worry had left her. Now that he's back, the worry is back, and there are probably going to be fireworks around camp for the foreseeable future."
"There is just one other concern, and that is the guys that come through the O.R. doors day in and day out. Not only have we gained a surgeon with less qualifications than a domestic cat, but also someone who eats up at moral like someone who has just finished forty days of fasting. If the North Koreans could see us now, they'd be laughing themselves through the rest of the war. Like I said, Dad, fireworks."
It was late evening when Frank strolled through the camp. He had one destination in mind, one target, one goal. He knocked on Margaret's door, goal firmly set in mind.
"Yes?" Margaret queried.
"It's Colonel Burns, I would like a word."
Margaret was in a most difficult predicament. He outranked her, so she had to obey him, no matter how much she just wanted him to disappear.
"Come in," Margaret sighed. She was still in her army fatigues, which she felt made it feel a more official, less social visit.
Frank walked in, and there was an awkward pause before Margaret asked, "Did you want something, sir?"
"You," Frank whispered, trying to be seductive.
Margaret said nothing until Frank wrapped his arms around her. She pulled away and spun around fast.
"Frank, why are you back here? You asked to be transferred, so why come back three months later?"
"I was promoted, for my excellence in discipline," Frank explained. "They gave me a list of places I could command at. There were three, and when the 4077th came up I took the chance. Colonel Blake, as nice as he was, was really not the sort of commander that I can be."
Margaret had to speak up. "Henry was a good commander."
Frank looked astounded. "What?"
"It was people like you that made his job tough."
Frank rolled his eyes. "You're still different. Pierce and McIntyre have been at you since I left, I suppose. Blinded you," he muttered.
"Blinded me? You think they blinded me?" Margaret spluttered. "They opened my eyes. My life, since they talked to me, had been worth living."
"And it wasn't when I was here?"
"No, Frank. I thought it was, but now that I've seen the real thing, I can safely say that being with you was not my idea of a worthy life."
Frank was lot giving up. "Let me give you what you want." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
After a few muffled cries, Margaret pushed him away. "Colonel Burns, please leave now!" It was the second night in a row that a superior officer had advanced upon her, and it was getting tedious.
Frank was ruffled by being pushed away. "I think I'll phone my wife. Good night." For once, the mention of Mrs Burns had absolutely no affect on Margaret.
Margaret became unsettled by Frank's visit, so much so that she had to go and talk to someone about it. She knocked on the door of the Swamp, and Trapper's familiar voice called, "Come in, if you don't mind sharing a chair with the rats."
The Major walked I to see Trapper alone. "Man, you sure know how to attract tourists." She attempted to the joke, but her voice wavered.
Trapper was immediately on his feet. "Honey, are you okay? What's up?"
Margaret sat down on Trapper's cot. "Frank came to see me. He wants me back. He tried to kiss me." Trapper had to withhold his anger as she went on. "He left, he was really upset. He doesn't know about us, and I know that if he found out, he'd make our lives a living hell, especially yours."
Trapper took a moment to absorb this. "I don't want to lose you, Margaret, and I'll do anything to keep you. If that means that Frank spends the rest of the war making my life a living hell, then let him. But, I don't want you to get hurt either, so its up to you to decide if you want to stay with me or not."
There was no hesitation as Margaret looked deep into Trapper's eyes. "Of course I'll stay with you."
"Well, that's settled, I guess. Go on, Frank," he yelled aloud, letting his anger and emotion out. "Bring it on!"
On arriving that day, Frank found he had a lot to sort out, a lot of things that Henry Blake had left in a mess. In reality, Radar had kept everything in order, and there was nothing to be done, but after the upset with Margaret an hour previously, Frank wanted to be busy and doing things.
He was heading in the direction of the Officer's Club, where preparing to show the three Captains the new duty roster. He would have gone to the Swamp, had he not been told that Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt were there by Klinger. Indeed, both Captains were there, sipping martinis at the bar.
"Hi Frank," Hawkeye greeted cheerfully, whilst BJ waved a casual salute his way.
"No respect," Frank tutted. "Pierce, and, erm."
"Hunnicutt, BJ, MD, Captain, married, one daughter, six feet three, blonde."
"All right, Hunnicutt, I don't need your life story," Frank groaned.
"You just got it. There's not much to tell," Hawkeye joked, receiving a mild punch in the shoulder.
"Where's McIntyre?"
This caught Hawkeye and BJ off their guard. Should they tell Frank that he was with Margaret, in the Swamp? They knew the two were there, and that was the very reason that they went to the OC. No, telling Frank was definitely not a wise move.
"X-ray, I think," Hawkeye said.
"Yeah, guy with a broken femur came in yesterday, and Trapper wanted to make sure he set it right, because the soldier was complaining of bad pain."
"Just so you can keep up with the conversation, Frank, the femur is the bone in the top of your leg," Hawkeye added.
"I know that," Frank snapped. He shoved the duty roster in Hawkeye's face. "Show McIntyre when you see him." With that, he left abruptly.
"What's his problem?" BJ wondered.
"My guess is, he's probably seen Margaret," Hawkeye mused.
Radar sat by himself as the sun set. Alone in the empty Mess Tent, hugging his knees up to his chest. Never had he felt so helpless, so alone. He shouldn't be crying, so why was he crying? People in the Army never cried.
He didn't know he would miss Henry this much. Sure, the war had to end sometime, and everyone had to go home and go back to their own separate ways, but Henry's leaving was so sudden. The fact that Frank had returned as their commanding officer just worsened the ordeal.
"I shouldn't be crying," he scolded himself. "I should not be crying."
Who could he talk to? There wasn't really anyone. They all missed Henry, so why should he miss him more?
The worst part was the note he had found on his bed that evening. He read it again to himself.
'Corporal O'Reilly, 'I have confiscated your bear. Colonel F. M. Burns.'
Radar put the crumpled letter back in his shirt pocket. How could he do that? He had no right to take it; it did not belong to him. It wasn't fair. Radar never did anything bad to Colonel Burns, at least not this bad.
His train of thought was broken when he heard the Mess Tent door swing open. Radar held his breath - perhaps this person wouldn't see him, he hoped. Radar shut his eyes tight, but he could still hear the footsteps coming closer and closer.