Chapter 2:
Margaret swiftly opened the door to her tent as the three men struggled inside with their precious Still. "You make it okay? Oh, put it down there for now, I'll make room later, when you've recovered."
They put it on a sheet on the ground and took a moment to rest. "I'll go back and get the glasses," BJ volunteered, heading back out of the tent.
"How do you like your new room-mate, Margaret?" Hawkeye asked.
"Just don't get too friendly," Trapper added, grinning.
Margaret chuckled. "Don't worry, I couldn't drink the whole Still to myself."
"Although you have tried," Hawkeye muttered loudly enough for everyone present to hear.
Margaret gave him a look and was about to retort when BJ ran in. "Quick, Frank's heading this way!"
Panic ensued. In a flash, the Still was hidden, partly under Margaret's bed and partly under some dirty clothes. Whilst the hiding took place, Hawkeye found a table and dealt some cards. Grabbing anything they could find to sit on, the four flustered friends began to play Gin. Voices neared the tent as they settled.
"Sir, I keep telling you, I don't belong in the Army," Klinger whined.
"Too right you don't, and that's exactly why you're going to stay there," Frank declared as he walked. He had spotted light from Margaret's tent and intended to find out what was occurring. Klinger, however, had other plans.
"Sir! Look at me! I'm wearing a tiara! I'm wearing gold earrings! I'm wearing an evening bra and matching underwear, a red cocktail dress, pantyhose and white pumps. Don't you think there's something wrong there?"
After a moment, Frank replied, "Yes. Your pumps don't match your dress, and your pantyhose has a ladder in."
Klinger looked insulted as Frank continued. "Anyway, I thought you gave all that up, that crazy-stuff. That's what the rumour was, anyway."
"That was until you came back," Klinger retorted dryly.
Frank was angered at this comment. "To your quarters, soldier. Lights out. Dismissed!"
Good old Klinger, Hawkeye thought to himself. He had bought them enough time to escort the Still and hide it.
Frank did not bother to knock on the door of the tent. When he entered, he was taken aback to find the four staff playing a game of cards.
"Don't believe in knocking, Frank?" Hawkeye asked innocently.
"What are you doing?" Frank asked, ignoring the previous question.
"Losing at Gin," BJ muttered, looking at his hand.
"All four of you?"
"You're flaunting your mathematic skills again, Frank," Trapper informed him.
"It's lights out; to your quarters," Frank ordered, barging out of Margaret's tent.
Putting the table away, Hawkeye said, "We'll be back in the morning to hide it properly."
"Okay, good night," she called as the three captains left.
Whilst the other two slept soundly, BJ remained awake. He was mentally planning the sequence of practical jokes that he would play on Frank. He decided that he would start off small, by sewing the cuffs of Frank's jacket together. An oldie, but a goodie, BJ thought to himself. With this idea in mind, he too drifted off to sleep.
Frank could not sleep. He had a feeling, one that refused to leave him alone. He had suspected since the day he had arrived back at the camp that Margaret, HIS Margaret, was romantically involved with one of the doctors. He did not suspect BJ Hunnicutt, because he was too new to the camp, and did not have any real basis for a lasting relationship.
He also did not think it was Trapper John McIntyre. He did not think that Trapper would be in a relationship so soon after the death of his wife and children, unless there was something special, and Frank doubted that there could be anything special between Trapper and Margaret.
That left only Pierce. Of course, it had to be him! He remembered the incident when he had bawled at him for attempting to win Margaret back. It had to be jealousy that had ignited that tantrum. That smut-master and Margaret! "Boy, did she lower her standards," Frank thought to himself.
With anger brimming, he plotted. He would watch Pierce's every move, and then catch him in the act. He would find a way to bring up charges against the Captain, get him a dishonourable discharge, or even executed or something, and then Margaret would be his once again.
At breakfast the next day, three bleary-eyed doctors and one yawning nurse munched at their food.
"I wonder where Igor hid the taste," Hawkeye muttered, spearing something on his tray.
"Or the actual food," BJ added, looking under a stale slice of toast to see if there was any sign of it.
From a distance, Frank watched closely. Joking, chatting, laughing. There was nothing unusual or even unlawful about that. He was waiting for one of them to show any sign of something more than friendship with HIS Margaret.
Trapper and BJ left the table and went their separate ways. If Frank had any idea of what was going on, it would have been in his best interest to follow either one of the two. But, he suspected Pierce, and he was going to watch him like a hawk.
Meanwhile, the newest of the Swamp inmates was carrying out the first of his practical jokes. Frank's coat pockets and sleeves were now sewn together. A childish prank, he knew, but he was starting small. There would be more to come.
Hawkeye relieved Trapper from Post-Op duty just after lunch. Frank had followed him, and had taken up a perch at one end of the room.
"Frank, I thought you would have learned by now that the patients don't get better just by looking at them."
"Foo you," Frank retaliated. It was not the patients that he was watching.
One of the patients beckoned Hawkeye over to him. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need something?" Hawkeye asked with concern.
"You see that guy over there? The one with no lips?" Hawkeye nodded, trying to smother a smirk. "He's watching you," the soldier continued. "Do you know that?"
"I think he's hot for me, but doesn't want anyone to know," Hawkeye joked.
"Is he a doctor, like you?" The young man asked.
"Not a doctor like me. I'm a good doctor. He's not, and the fact that someone else operated on you is the reason you and I are having this conversation. Most unfortunately, he's our CO."
"Tough break," the Private sympathised.
Hawkeye nodded. "Is there anything else you should warn me about?"
"Yeah, there is. I'm not sure that nurse over there is a girl."
On cue, Klinger turned around. "Is the patient in bed five okay to be moved, sir?"
"Yes, Klinger, that's fine," Hawkeye replied. He turned back to the boy. "Don't mind her, she's just having one of those days."
Trapper, meanwhile, was visiting Margaret in her tent. "He's getting to you, isn't he," Trapper stated, massaging Margaret's shoulders.
"He's getting to everyone," Margaret reminded him. "You included."
Trapper sighed. It was true. Within mere days, the camp morale had plummeted, as had the survival rate of the patients that rolled through the OR doors. No one knew how much trouble one snivelling simpleton could cause, Trapper thought to himself.
"How's Radar doing?" Margaret asked.
"He's been better," Trapper replied. "Henry did him a lot of good. Actually, I think that the fact that Henry was so lax and scatterbrained about the admin side of this unit meant that Radar could virtually run the place, leaving Henry to worry about the patients. Now that Frank is in charge, Radar is too scared to do his duties properly. I don't blame him, though."
"No one is to blame, except maybe Frank," Margaret consoled. "I really honestly have no idea how this unit can function for much longer. My nurses are in a state. They dread the OR in case they have to work with Burns."
"He's not planning to give anyone leave, to either Seoul or Tokyo," Trapper added. "He's nuts! Totally mad!"
"And there's not a thing we can do about it," Margaret finished. "Mutiny would be our best option, except that we run the risk of receiving the death penalty for our efforts."
Trapper just shook his head. He still feared one thing. Frank had still not found out that he and Margaret were an item. He hated to imagine Frank's reaction if he did find out. The chances were, it would not be good.
Margaret swiftly opened the door to her tent as the three men struggled inside with their precious Still. "You make it okay? Oh, put it down there for now, I'll make room later, when you've recovered."
They put it on a sheet on the ground and took a moment to rest. "I'll go back and get the glasses," BJ volunteered, heading back out of the tent.
"How do you like your new room-mate, Margaret?" Hawkeye asked.
"Just don't get too friendly," Trapper added, grinning.
Margaret chuckled. "Don't worry, I couldn't drink the whole Still to myself."
"Although you have tried," Hawkeye muttered loudly enough for everyone present to hear.
Margaret gave him a look and was about to retort when BJ ran in. "Quick, Frank's heading this way!"
Panic ensued. In a flash, the Still was hidden, partly under Margaret's bed and partly under some dirty clothes. Whilst the hiding took place, Hawkeye found a table and dealt some cards. Grabbing anything they could find to sit on, the four flustered friends began to play Gin. Voices neared the tent as they settled.
"Sir, I keep telling you, I don't belong in the Army," Klinger whined.
"Too right you don't, and that's exactly why you're going to stay there," Frank declared as he walked. He had spotted light from Margaret's tent and intended to find out what was occurring. Klinger, however, had other plans.
"Sir! Look at me! I'm wearing a tiara! I'm wearing gold earrings! I'm wearing an evening bra and matching underwear, a red cocktail dress, pantyhose and white pumps. Don't you think there's something wrong there?"
After a moment, Frank replied, "Yes. Your pumps don't match your dress, and your pantyhose has a ladder in."
Klinger looked insulted as Frank continued. "Anyway, I thought you gave all that up, that crazy-stuff. That's what the rumour was, anyway."
"That was until you came back," Klinger retorted dryly.
Frank was angered at this comment. "To your quarters, soldier. Lights out. Dismissed!"
Good old Klinger, Hawkeye thought to himself. He had bought them enough time to escort the Still and hide it.
Frank did not bother to knock on the door of the tent. When he entered, he was taken aback to find the four staff playing a game of cards.
"Don't believe in knocking, Frank?" Hawkeye asked innocently.
"What are you doing?" Frank asked, ignoring the previous question.
"Losing at Gin," BJ muttered, looking at his hand.
"All four of you?"
"You're flaunting your mathematic skills again, Frank," Trapper informed him.
"It's lights out; to your quarters," Frank ordered, barging out of Margaret's tent.
Putting the table away, Hawkeye said, "We'll be back in the morning to hide it properly."
"Okay, good night," she called as the three captains left.
Whilst the other two slept soundly, BJ remained awake. He was mentally planning the sequence of practical jokes that he would play on Frank. He decided that he would start off small, by sewing the cuffs of Frank's jacket together. An oldie, but a goodie, BJ thought to himself. With this idea in mind, he too drifted off to sleep.
Frank could not sleep. He had a feeling, one that refused to leave him alone. He had suspected since the day he had arrived back at the camp that Margaret, HIS Margaret, was romantically involved with one of the doctors. He did not suspect BJ Hunnicutt, because he was too new to the camp, and did not have any real basis for a lasting relationship.
He also did not think it was Trapper John McIntyre. He did not think that Trapper would be in a relationship so soon after the death of his wife and children, unless there was something special, and Frank doubted that there could be anything special between Trapper and Margaret.
That left only Pierce. Of course, it had to be him! He remembered the incident when he had bawled at him for attempting to win Margaret back. It had to be jealousy that had ignited that tantrum. That smut-master and Margaret! "Boy, did she lower her standards," Frank thought to himself.
With anger brimming, he plotted. He would watch Pierce's every move, and then catch him in the act. He would find a way to bring up charges against the Captain, get him a dishonourable discharge, or even executed or something, and then Margaret would be his once again.
At breakfast the next day, three bleary-eyed doctors and one yawning nurse munched at their food.
"I wonder where Igor hid the taste," Hawkeye muttered, spearing something on his tray.
"Or the actual food," BJ added, looking under a stale slice of toast to see if there was any sign of it.
From a distance, Frank watched closely. Joking, chatting, laughing. There was nothing unusual or even unlawful about that. He was waiting for one of them to show any sign of something more than friendship with HIS Margaret.
Trapper and BJ left the table and went their separate ways. If Frank had any idea of what was going on, it would have been in his best interest to follow either one of the two. But, he suspected Pierce, and he was going to watch him like a hawk.
Meanwhile, the newest of the Swamp inmates was carrying out the first of his practical jokes. Frank's coat pockets and sleeves were now sewn together. A childish prank, he knew, but he was starting small. There would be more to come.
Hawkeye relieved Trapper from Post-Op duty just after lunch. Frank had followed him, and had taken up a perch at one end of the room.
"Frank, I thought you would have learned by now that the patients don't get better just by looking at them."
"Foo you," Frank retaliated. It was not the patients that he was watching.
One of the patients beckoned Hawkeye over to him. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need something?" Hawkeye asked with concern.
"You see that guy over there? The one with no lips?" Hawkeye nodded, trying to smother a smirk. "He's watching you," the soldier continued. "Do you know that?"
"I think he's hot for me, but doesn't want anyone to know," Hawkeye joked.
"Is he a doctor, like you?" The young man asked.
"Not a doctor like me. I'm a good doctor. He's not, and the fact that someone else operated on you is the reason you and I are having this conversation. Most unfortunately, he's our CO."
"Tough break," the Private sympathised.
Hawkeye nodded. "Is there anything else you should warn me about?"
"Yeah, there is. I'm not sure that nurse over there is a girl."
On cue, Klinger turned around. "Is the patient in bed five okay to be moved, sir?"
"Yes, Klinger, that's fine," Hawkeye replied. He turned back to the boy. "Don't mind her, she's just having one of those days."
Trapper, meanwhile, was visiting Margaret in her tent. "He's getting to you, isn't he," Trapper stated, massaging Margaret's shoulders.
"He's getting to everyone," Margaret reminded him. "You included."
Trapper sighed. It was true. Within mere days, the camp morale had plummeted, as had the survival rate of the patients that rolled through the OR doors. No one knew how much trouble one snivelling simpleton could cause, Trapper thought to himself.
"How's Radar doing?" Margaret asked.
"He's been better," Trapper replied. "Henry did him a lot of good. Actually, I think that the fact that Henry was so lax and scatterbrained about the admin side of this unit meant that Radar could virtually run the place, leaving Henry to worry about the patients. Now that Frank is in charge, Radar is too scared to do his duties properly. I don't blame him, though."
"No one is to blame, except maybe Frank," Margaret consoled. "I really honestly have no idea how this unit can function for much longer. My nurses are in a state. They dread the OR in case they have to work with Burns."
"He's not planning to give anyone leave, to either Seoul or Tokyo," Trapper added. "He's nuts! Totally mad!"
"And there's not a thing we can do about it," Margaret finished. "Mutiny would be our best option, except that we run the risk of receiving the death penalty for our efforts."
Trapper just shook his head. He still feared one thing. Frank had still not found out that he and Margaret were an item. He hated to imagine Frank's reaction if he did find out. The chances were, it would not be good.