In a tent nearby, there was a disagreement taking place.
"What do you mean, they knew?" Margaret demanded of Frank, whose chin had all but vanished, as had most of his clothes.
"They knew!" Frank hissed. "The shrink knew!"
"Knew what, Frank?"
"Knew about us!"
"How?" Margaret was almost breathless with rage.
"McIntyre was talking… and he was sitting right there writing stuff down on his pad!"
"How could you be so stupid, Frank?" she demanded.
Frank was offended. "Stupid? Me, Margaret?"
"Yes, you, you overgrown rodent! How could you be so obvious? Do you know the regulations about fraternisation between officers?"
"But Margaret, darling…" Frank's hands were wandering.
"Stop that, Frank!"
He stopped.
"It's bad enough everyone here knows!" Margaret was fuming. "But he'll go back to Seoul tomorrow, did you know that, Frank? Then everyone will know!"
"I'm sure you're getting upset over nothing, darling…"
"It's not nothing! And I'm not getting upset!"
"I understand how distressing this might be for you…"
"No, you don't! You understand nothing!"
Frank suddenly appeared the victim of a great affront. "That was uncalled for, Margaret."
Margaret, suddenly realising she was venting all her various frustrations on the nearest animate object, decided to continue to do so. "Get out, Ferretface! Get out!"
"Margaret…"
"Get out!"
Colonel Blake was "otherwise occupied" when they went to see him.
"So wake him up, Radar!" Trapper demanded. Sidney made a note on his pad. He would have commented to Father Mulcahy, if he hadn't been a priest and if he'd been there at all. They'd bid farewell to him in the mess tent after thanking him for his input.
Radar shook his head. "It's not that kind of occupied, sir. He's on the phone to the MPs."
"Why?"
"No idea." Radar shrugged.
"Tell him to come to the poker game in the Swamp," Trapper said, giving it up as a bad job. "You're invited too, if you want."
"Won't it disturb Hawkeye, sir?"
"With any luck."
Before Radar could respond, they were gone. He wondered vaguely if any other company clerk in Korea had to cater for such general lunacy, but he never got beyond wondering vaguely about it, because his commanding officer chose that moment to come storming out of his inner office.
Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was almost foaming at the mouth.
"Um, sir…" Radar began, but was ignored.
"Klinger!" Henry yelled, and Radar felt he could make a guess at what had happened, with or without extra-sensory help.
The MPs arrived quickly, bearing gifts in the shape of Klinger and an inflatable dinghy. "Caught him trying to escape by river, sir," said the rather stoic representative of the military police to Colonel Blake. "We managed to stop him, but…" He lowered his voice. "I think he's crazy, sir!"
"Oh, he's not crazy," said Henry dangerously. "He's so sane, in fact, that I'm going to re-enlist on his behalf. Klinger, what the hell were you thinking?"
Klinger was a bedraggled figure. Miserably, he reached for a feather hanging off his latest adventure in millinery, pulled it out and wrung it out. Drops of water spattered the dust of the compound. "I had to get out somehow," he whispered hoarsely.
"You've ruined that hat," said the MP conversationally, suddenly taking another look at the corpsman. "That's the problem with those mail-order jobs, they don't hold water when you really need them to."
Henry rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you," he told the MP, who shrugged, said, "Any time," and with a last glance at Klinger's hat, swung himself back into the jeep and drove away.
"Klinger," said Henry finally, "what am I going to do with you?"
"Discharge me, sir," said Klinger hopefully.
"No."
Radar, who had been trying to get his commanding officer's attention for a few minutes now, managed to make himself heard. "Sir, the poker game's still on in the Swamp."
"Thanks, Radar. Tell 'em I'm on my way. Now, Klinger, I tell you what…"
Their voices faded into the distance as Radar hurried in the direction of the Swamp, the denizens of which had been watching all this in bemused amusement from behind canvas walls.
"That's what I love about this place," said Sidney wryly. "The human drama."
There was more human drama to come, in the shape of a muffled thump as Margaret threw Frank out of her tent. No-one noticed, but they did notice when the ferret slunk back into the Swamp, tail between legs and not wearing as many clothes as he did usually.