Chapter 3
"There you go, Frank," BJ murmured. "Sweet dreams." He slipped the cap back onto the needle of the syringe and deposited it back into his pocket.
He waited patiently for a few minutes for the drug to settle in before he got to work. He tucked Frank's blanket tightly around him, leaving an inch around the edge. He took up the first cold, steel nail, positioned it, and used a hammer to pound it into the blanket, securing it to the cot.
Four nails later, BJ looked up, startled, to see a figure standing inside the tent, just in front of the door.
"Radar?" BJ asked.
"I heard the banging. I didn't know. I thought."
"Hey, Radar, it's okay," BJ told him.
"What are you doing?" Radar asked him.
"Tucking Colonel Burns into bed," BJ replied.
Radar gasped in realisation. "You sewed his cuffs together! He was not very happy when he found out. I had to unpick them all."
BJ frowned. "I'm sorry, Radar. That was not part of my plan."
"I don't mind. Why are you doing this, anyway?"
"I'm hoping that before Frank can sort his personality out and make himself to be a decent human being, he needs to be able to laugh at himself. I thought I'd help him along with that."
Radar nodded. BJ's plan, in the short-term, seemed to provide some amusement for the staff in the unit, but in the long-term, the effects could cause some problems.
"Radar, please don't tell anyone about this. The longer it goes on, the more effective this could turn out to be."
Radar agreed. It would be a big responsibility, keeping the secret from everyone in the camp, including Hawkeye and Trapper, but the consequences, if he did not, would not be good.
The Company Clerk stayed to watch the rest of the show, grinning at what he imagined the end result of the prank would be like.
"There," BJ announced, standing back to admire his now-finished work. "I can't wait until morning."
Some hours later.
"LET ME OUT!!"
"Radar, when Frank and Margaret used to complain about us, who did they call.?"
"General Thorpe's aid, Major Spicer, sir," Radar cut in, knowing exactly what Hawkeye wanted and why. He passed him the receiver.
"Major Spicer here," a military voice greeted.
"Major, this is Captain Pierce of the 4077th M*A*S*H," Hawkeye began in a no-nonsense tone.
"What can I do for you, Captain?"
"I wish to lodge a complaint against our newly-appointed CO, one Colonel Frank Burns. Actually, there are more complaints than just one."
"What seems to be the problem?" The Major asked.
"In the few days that he has been here, the camp morale has at least halved. Burns is power-hungry, and will do anything to make sure everybody knows that. I won't go into his surgical skills, which are non-existent."
"I think that the CO is just having trouble finding his feet, being new."
"You don't get it! Lives are at risk!"
"I think that you are exaggerating this, Captain," Major Spicer told Hawkeye. "Goodbye."
"But you." Hawkeye's final plea was cut by the phone line going dead.
"I hate the Army," Hawkeye muttered, dropping the phone back into the bag and dropping his head into the crook of his arm on the desk.
Hawkeye did not know what he expected to receive from higher army officials, but it was worth a try.
Radar returned to the office with a piece of paper. "Hawkeye, I need to make an announcement. Are you done?"
Hawkeye nodded, his head still cradled in his arm, and used his other hand to pass Radar the microphone to make public addresses to the camp.
Radar shortly blew into the microphone twice before beginning. "Attention, all personnel. By order of Colonel Frank Burns, may the person or persons responsible for the recent rash of practical jokes own up within the next twenty-four hours. If this does not occur, the entire camp will suffer. That is all."
"We couldn't suffer anymore if we tried," Hawkeye muffled to his sleeve.
Radar said nothing, as he had promised. He hoped Frank would forget his threat, before the camp had more hassle to endure.
He knew it now. He knew it for sure. He found it out by listening to a conversation between some nurses at lunch. He could not hear all of it, but he heard enough to know for sure.
"You never met her before it happened, our Major Houlihan," one woman directed to the new nurse.
"She was so strict, never allowed us to get away with anything."
That was the way I loved Margaret, Frank thought to himself.
"Since she and him got together, she's changed for the good."
"You could see it sometimes before they got together, that there was definitely chemistry between them."
"The Captain has done her good."
So it was true. It was a Captain, and there were three in the camp. One, Hunnicutt, was no longer any kind of suspect, as the nurses had talked about a history previous to the start of the relationship, and Hunnicutt was too new to fall into this category. That left Pierce or McIntyre. Frank still had a gut feeling that it was Pierce. Well, who else?
Perhaps confronting Margaret about it, Frank pondered. Confronting Pierce would never work. Denial, or a joke to pass it off would be all he would receive from the Captain.
Tonight, Frank thought, he would go to Margaret and talk to her. Even if it took all night, he would get the truth out of her. He had to know for sure that Hawkeye was responsible before he took any action.
Frank had planned to do this in the evening, but fortunately for Margaret and the man whom she was really dating, he never got the chance.
Colonel Burns was walking out of Post-Op and towards his office when he saw BJ sneak in. Wondering what the Captain wanted from his office, he peered through the small window in the door. From there he could see the Captain fiddling with his chair. It looked familiar.
Frank noticed Radar, who was practically squirming in his seat in front of the typewriter. "O'Reilly," Frank began. "What is Hunnicutt doing in my office?"
Radar was on the spot, and Frank knew that the Corporal knew more than he had let of with the shrug of his shoulders.
"We'll find out, shall we?"
Knowing that the question had no answer, Radar followed as Frank barged into his office. Radar threw BJ an apologetic look before Frank began talking.
"What's all this, Hunnicutt?"
BJ swallowed, "I've read somewhere that putting talcum powder on your chair is better for you," he explained calmly.
Not trusting the Captain, Frank said, "Fine. Test it for me."
Sure enough, BJ sat on the chair. "See, it's fine," he told him.
Now trusting that BJ was telling the truth, Frank went to do the same. BJ stopped him. "Oh, wait a minute, Colonel. You should have more than a wooden chair to sit on. Here, I put some on a cushion for you." He placed it on the seat for him.
Frank nodded his approval and sat heavily on the seat. "Hmm, not bad," he began before he stopped. A burning sensation took over his backside, and he stood up quickly. He remembered why the powder had seemed familiar - it was itching powder, which had been used on him in a practical joke in his youth. Fuming he snarled, "You will live to regret this Hunnicutt."
Trying not to laugh, BJ innocently asked, "Regret what?"
Frank then saw the means of getting what he wanted. "O'Reilly!" He barked. "Look me in the eye."
"Careful, Radar, you might turn to stone." BJ warned.
"O'Reilly, look me in the eye and tell me who it was who sewed my jacket sleeves up, who nailed me to my bed and who put itching powder on my chair." Burns growled.
Radar gulped. He had promised BJ he would not say anything. But, it was an order. What was he meant to do?
Radar glanced over to BJ, who nodded solemnly, knowing that the game was over.
Gravely, Radar admitted, "Captain Hunnicutt, sir."
Frank frowned and smiled at the same time. "You will surely regret this, Hunnicutt. Your punishment for playing practical jokes on your superior commanding officer is guard duty shifts, until further notice, the night shifts."
"There you go, Frank," BJ murmured. "Sweet dreams." He slipped the cap back onto the needle of the syringe and deposited it back into his pocket.
He waited patiently for a few minutes for the drug to settle in before he got to work. He tucked Frank's blanket tightly around him, leaving an inch around the edge. He took up the first cold, steel nail, positioned it, and used a hammer to pound it into the blanket, securing it to the cot.
Four nails later, BJ looked up, startled, to see a figure standing inside the tent, just in front of the door.
"Radar?" BJ asked.
"I heard the banging. I didn't know. I thought."
"Hey, Radar, it's okay," BJ told him.
"What are you doing?" Radar asked him.
"Tucking Colonel Burns into bed," BJ replied.
Radar gasped in realisation. "You sewed his cuffs together! He was not very happy when he found out. I had to unpick them all."
BJ frowned. "I'm sorry, Radar. That was not part of my plan."
"I don't mind. Why are you doing this, anyway?"
"I'm hoping that before Frank can sort his personality out and make himself to be a decent human being, he needs to be able to laugh at himself. I thought I'd help him along with that."
Radar nodded. BJ's plan, in the short-term, seemed to provide some amusement for the staff in the unit, but in the long-term, the effects could cause some problems.
"Radar, please don't tell anyone about this. The longer it goes on, the more effective this could turn out to be."
Radar agreed. It would be a big responsibility, keeping the secret from everyone in the camp, including Hawkeye and Trapper, but the consequences, if he did not, would not be good.
The Company Clerk stayed to watch the rest of the show, grinning at what he imagined the end result of the prank would be like.
"There," BJ announced, standing back to admire his now-finished work. "I can't wait until morning."
Some hours later.
"LET ME OUT!!"
"Radar, when Frank and Margaret used to complain about us, who did they call.?"
"General Thorpe's aid, Major Spicer, sir," Radar cut in, knowing exactly what Hawkeye wanted and why. He passed him the receiver.
"Major Spicer here," a military voice greeted.
"Major, this is Captain Pierce of the 4077th M*A*S*H," Hawkeye began in a no-nonsense tone.
"What can I do for you, Captain?"
"I wish to lodge a complaint against our newly-appointed CO, one Colonel Frank Burns. Actually, there are more complaints than just one."
"What seems to be the problem?" The Major asked.
"In the few days that he has been here, the camp morale has at least halved. Burns is power-hungry, and will do anything to make sure everybody knows that. I won't go into his surgical skills, which are non-existent."
"I think that the CO is just having trouble finding his feet, being new."
"You don't get it! Lives are at risk!"
"I think that you are exaggerating this, Captain," Major Spicer told Hawkeye. "Goodbye."
"But you." Hawkeye's final plea was cut by the phone line going dead.
"I hate the Army," Hawkeye muttered, dropping the phone back into the bag and dropping his head into the crook of his arm on the desk.
Hawkeye did not know what he expected to receive from higher army officials, but it was worth a try.
Radar returned to the office with a piece of paper. "Hawkeye, I need to make an announcement. Are you done?"
Hawkeye nodded, his head still cradled in his arm, and used his other hand to pass Radar the microphone to make public addresses to the camp.
Radar shortly blew into the microphone twice before beginning. "Attention, all personnel. By order of Colonel Frank Burns, may the person or persons responsible for the recent rash of practical jokes own up within the next twenty-four hours. If this does not occur, the entire camp will suffer. That is all."
"We couldn't suffer anymore if we tried," Hawkeye muffled to his sleeve.
Radar said nothing, as he had promised. He hoped Frank would forget his threat, before the camp had more hassle to endure.
He knew it now. He knew it for sure. He found it out by listening to a conversation between some nurses at lunch. He could not hear all of it, but he heard enough to know for sure.
"You never met her before it happened, our Major Houlihan," one woman directed to the new nurse.
"She was so strict, never allowed us to get away with anything."
That was the way I loved Margaret, Frank thought to himself.
"Since she and him got together, she's changed for the good."
"You could see it sometimes before they got together, that there was definitely chemistry between them."
"The Captain has done her good."
So it was true. It was a Captain, and there were three in the camp. One, Hunnicutt, was no longer any kind of suspect, as the nurses had talked about a history previous to the start of the relationship, and Hunnicutt was too new to fall into this category. That left Pierce or McIntyre. Frank still had a gut feeling that it was Pierce. Well, who else?
Perhaps confronting Margaret about it, Frank pondered. Confronting Pierce would never work. Denial, or a joke to pass it off would be all he would receive from the Captain.
Tonight, Frank thought, he would go to Margaret and talk to her. Even if it took all night, he would get the truth out of her. He had to know for sure that Hawkeye was responsible before he took any action.
Frank had planned to do this in the evening, but fortunately for Margaret and the man whom she was really dating, he never got the chance.
Colonel Burns was walking out of Post-Op and towards his office when he saw BJ sneak in. Wondering what the Captain wanted from his office, he peered through the small window in the door. From there he could see the Captain fiddling with his chair. It looked familiar.
Frank noticed Radar, who was practically squirming in his seat in front of the typewriter. "O'Reilly," Frank began. "What is Hunnicutt doing in my office?"
Radar was on the spot, and Frank knew that the Corporal knew more than he had let of with the shrug of his shoulders.
"We'll find out, shall we?"
Knowing that the question had no answer, Radar followed as Frank barged into his office. Radar threw BJ an apologetic look before Frank began talking.
"What's all this, Hunnicutt?"
BJ swallowed, "I've read somewhere that putting talcum powder on your chair is better for you," he explained calmly.
Not trusting the Captain, Frank said, "Fine. Test it for me."
Sure enough, BJ sat on the chair. "See, it's fine," he told him.
Now trusting that BJ was telling the truth, Frank went to do the same. BJ stopped him. "Oh, wait a minute, Colonel. You should have more than a wooden chair to sit on. Here, I put some on a cushion for you." He placed it on the seat for him.
Frank nodded his approval and sat heavily on the seat. "Hmm, not bad," he began before he stopped. A burning sensation took over his backside, and he stood up quickly. He remembered why the powder had seemed familiar - it was itching powder, which had been used on him in a practical joke in his youth. Fuming he snarled, "You will live to regret this Hunnicutt."
Trying not to laugh, BJ innocently asked, "Regret what?"
Frank then saw the means of getting what he wanted. "O'Reilly!" He barked. "Look me in the eye."
"Careful, Radar, you might turn to stone." BJ warned.
"O'Reilly, look me in the eye and tell me who it was who sewed my jacket sleeves up, who nailed me to my bed and who put itching powder on my chair." Burns growled.
Radar gulped. He had promised BJ he would not say anything. But, it was an order. What was he meant to do?
Radar glanced over to BJ, who nodded solemnly, knowing that the game was over.
Gravely, Radar admitted, "Captain Hunnicutt, sir."
Frank frowned and smiled at the same time. "You will surely regret this, Hunnicutt. Your punishment for playing practical jokes on your superior commanding officer is guard duty shifts, until further notice, the night shifts."