Hawkeye was bored.

"Henry's giving a lecture."

This remark, delivered on a day not so far characterised by a proliferation of awe-inspiringly obvious statements, was received in a searing blaze of no excitement at all.

Lying on his cot, Trapper said, "Mmm."

Lying on his cot, Frank said the same, but with a lesser degree of eloquence.

Hawkeye sighed and tried again. "A lecture," he repeated. "You know, when we all sit and try to snore in the right places. Shall we go?"

Unexpectedly, Frank broke in. "It's not a subject for discussion," he said disapprovingly. "You two don't know the meaning of the world 'compulsory.'" He breathed in, and continued: "Sometimes, we all must do disagreeable things in the name of our country."

And with this poignant declaration, he stood up and stalked out. Hawkeye blinked. "The Frank Burns Commandments, number seven. Thou Must Do Disagreeable Things. Comes straight after Thou Must Not Admit Adultery and before Thou Must Never Request The Implement Thou Desireth, Yet Expect It Just The Same."

Frank was unfortunately too far away to hear this pronouncement.

Trapper groaned. "I'm not going to the lecture. I can sleep here in far more comfort." 

"Ah, come on, Trap," coaxed Hawkeye, very grateful his eyes were innocent blue, and not for the first time. "Henry won't like it if we're not there. Besides, I promised Father Mulcahy we'd go."

Trapper's expression suggested puzzlement.

"We might have a weekend in Tokyo coming up," – Hawkeye's pause was very significant – "and he says if we can't be good, we might as well be careful."

"Ah," said Trapper, equally significantly. He began standing up, and Hawkeye stood up with him, looping a casual arm around his friend's shoulders. When Trapper suddenly stopped moving, he stopped too.

"That means," Trapper said, suddenly sounding aggrieved in the extreme, "that means Henry's lecture's about…"

"Yeah."

"…again. I'm not going."

"Trapper!" Hawkeye said, then turned on the full force of his (considerable) charm. "Trapper… please. For the Padre. For Henry. For me. You love me, don't you? Come on. Please?"

Trapper groaned some more, and he resisted so much Hawkeye pulled him bodily to his feet, but he did go. Hawkeye had asked him very nicely, after all.

They arrived in the mess tent to face disapproving looks from Majors Burns and Houlihan for their lack of punctuality, and grateful looks from everyone else for their interruption. From the look of anguish on his and (and everyone else's) face, Colonel Henry Blake had had the stage for quite some time. Figures A and B hadn't stolen the show yet, however, and with a syringe in one hand and a pointer in the other, the colonel was attempting to inform, educate and entertain, and failing on two counts.

"Well, gentlemen… and ladies… as you've no doubt understood already, the topic I'm talking about today can be transmitted by last week's topic, namely…" He swallowed. "Fornication. And… yes, Radar?"

Radar's hand had shot up. "Excuse me, sir, what's fornication?"

"I'm sorry, Radar, we'll have all questions at the end, if you don't mind, and to go back to what I was saying, when I was saying it, which was before I was interrupted by a question which we'll have at the end, please, and what I was saying, or, rather, attempting to say, was that although our topics can be transmitted by each other, there are other ways to transmit them, and ah… I need a volunteer."

Dead silence.

"Don't all rush at once, please, people…" The colonel looked pained. "Ah… Pierce."

Hawkeye, who had at just this moment ducked in through the door with Trapper just behind, said something resembling, "What?"

"Just come up here, would you, Pierce?"

As Trapper went to sit down at the bench reserved for himself and his partner-in-fornication, Hawkeye strolled to the front, avoiding the enormous feet suddenly sprouted by the entire enlisted complement. Frank sniffed and whispered something in Margaret's ear. Hawkeye resisted the urge to blow in her other ear, and took his place beside Henry.

"As I was saying," Henry began, "transmission of… um… disease… can take place in more than one way, the demonstration of which Pierce is going to demonstrate."

"Ah… no." Hawkeye lifted a hand. "No transmission, Henry, please."

Ignoring this completely, Henry went on, "Now, Pierce, if you'll hold this…"

Hawkeye took the syringe that was mysteriously offered to him.

"And this," Henry said, pointing at the syringe with his pointer, "is another way transmission is… um… transmitted."

"You needed me to hold it so you could point at it?" Hawkeye demanded. "You needed me to hold it so you could point at it? A trained monkey could've done that! Frank could've done it!"

Frank stood up, his chin almost becoming visible in his indignation. Hawkeye waved him away. He sat down.

"Pierce…" Henry began warningly.

"I mean," Hawkeye began again, and the audience tensed themselves for a long and potentially comical Hawkeye-rant, "look at it. Just look…"

"Pierce!"

"…at it. The army seem to think…"

"Pierce!" Henry all but yelled. "Don't do that!"

Obviously, Hawkeye had already done it. Henry breathed a sigh deep enough to blow out the cobwebs from the depths of his lungs.

And as the audience watched, mesmerised, Hawkeye's eyes closed and he crumpled into a peaceful heap at his commanding officer's feet.