"Attention, attention all personnel! The movie tonight is The Gold Rush,
with Charlie Chaplin. Father Mulcahy will accompany on piano. It's
tonight at 1900 hours. On another note, Lieutenant Campbell, your glasses
were found in the nurses' shower."
Trapper McIntyre looked up from the letter he was writing. "A silent? Haven't seen one of those since . . .since . . .ever!" "Better not fall asleep, everyone can hear your snores," Hawkeye Pierce said. Both Captains were sitting in their tent, affectionately called the "Swamp", just lounging around. "Pierce, McIntyre, has the mail arrived yet?" a voice bellowed. Hawk looked up at the door. Major Frank Burns, otherwise known as Ferret Face, stood there, blocking the sunlight. He squinted at Hawkeye. "Are you reading . . .what I THINK you're reading, Pierce?"
Hawkeye was holding a National Geographic in his hands. "Wrong mailbag came in. Someone at the 8063rd is now getting pleasure from my Joy Of Nudity. I was hoping there would be at least ONE girl in a bikini in this," Hawkeye stated, leafing through the magazine. "Disgusting!" Frank spat, and left, slamming the door behind him. "Hey, Hawk? You planning on going to the movie?" Trapper asked, signing his name with a flourish. "Yeah, sure. I'm bringing this just in case," Hawk said, brandishing the National Geographic.
"Mail call again, sirs!" Radar O'Reilly opened the door and immediately tripped over some clothes. "Nice, Radar. Give up my magazine!" Radar tossed Joy Of Nudity on Hawkeye's cot, and he eagerly snatched it up. "Nothing for you, Captain McIntyre sir. I'm sorry, sir." Trap shook his head. "It's alright, kid. Say, you going to the movie?" Radar paused. "I don't know sir. For some reason, silents make me nervous." He coughed, and then left. "I'm still bringing that National Geographic with me," Hawkeye said. "Why?" Hawk held up his magazine. It was in tatters. "Someone apparently went scissor-happy."
That evening . . .
"Need some help, Father?" Max Klinger asked. "Oh, no thank you, my . . .uh . . .son," the gentle chaplain said. Klinger was wearing a rather flattering white dress, complete with matching pumps and lace gloves. Father Mulcahy was struggling to pull the piano into the Mess Tent. He suddenly felt a push, and the piano slid easily through the door. "Evening, Father," Hawkeye said, smiling. The National Geographic was tucked under his right arm. "Why, thank you my son." "My pleasure." Trap appeared behind Hawk. "There are two empty seats right there," he said, pointing, "unless they're reserved for Ferret Face and Hot Lips." Hawkeye grinned. "I'm sure they can find a dark corner somewhere in the back." Hawk and Trap edged their way over and sat down. The commander, Henry Blake, made his way to the front of the room, and waved his arms for quiet. Sighing, he turned to Radar. "Quiet," Radar said shyly. Immediately, everyone stopped talking. Henry cleared his throat. "Uh, now, if Klinger will just hit the lights, we can start."
Klinger switched the movie projector on. The film got as far as the title and then the projector shut down. "It'll just be a minute, folks!" Klinger yelled as he bent down to examine the machine. Hawkeye groaned. "This is gonna be a long night." Klinger managed to restart the projector, but then sparks emitted from it, and an alarming sound came forth. Hawkeye yawned, and, turning to Trapper, asked, "Wake me when Miss Klinger gets the thing going again, kay?" Trapper nodded. Hawkeye lay down on the bench, and closed his eyes. Trap picked up the National Geographic and placed it on Hawk's face. He was already snoring, and the most bizarre dream Hawkeye would ever have was about to begin.
Trapper McIntyre looked up from the letter he was writing. "A silent? Haven't seen one of those since . . .since . . .ever!" "Better not fall asleep, everyone can hear your snores," Hawkeye Pierce said. Both Captains were sitting in their tent, affectionately called the "Swamp", just lounging around. "Pierce, McIntyre, has the mail arrived yet?" a voice bellowed. Hawk looked up at the door. Major Frank Burns, otherwise known as Ferret Face, stood there, blocking the sunlight. He squinted at Hawkeye. "Are you reading . . .what I THINK you're reading, Pierce?"
Hawkeye was holding a National Geographic in his hands. "Wrong mailbag came in. Someone at the 8063rd is now getting pleasure from my Joy Of Nudity. I was hoping there would be at least ONE girl in a bikini in this," Hawkeye stated, leafing through the magazine. "Disgusting!" Frank spat, and left, slamming the door behind him. "Hey, Hawk? You planning on going to the movie?" Trapper asked, signing his name with a flourish. "Yeah, sure. I'm bringing this just in case," Hawk said, brandishing the National Geographic.
"Mail call again, sirs!" Radar O'Reilly opened the door and immediately tripped over some clothes. "Nice, Radar. Give up my magazine!" Radar tossed Joy Of Nudity on Hawkeye's cot, and he eagerly snatched it up. "Nothing for you, Captain McIntyre sir. I'm sorry, sir." Trap shook his head. "It's alright, kid. Say, you going to the movie?" Radar paused. "I don't know sir. For some reason, silents make me nervous." He coughed, and then left. "I'm still bringing that National Geographic with me," Hawkeye said. "Why?" Hawk held up his magazine. It was in tatters. "Someone apparently went scissor-happy."
That evening . . .
"Need some help, Father?" Max Klinger asked. "Oh, no thank you, my . . .uh . . .son," the gentle chaplain said. Klinger was wearing a rather flattering white dress, complete with matching pumps and lace gloves. Father Mulcahy was struggling to pull the piano into the Mess Tent. He suddenly felt a push, and the piano slid easily through the door. "Evening, Father," Hawkeye said, smiling. The National Geographic was tucked under his right arm. "Why, thank you my son." "My pleasure." Trap appeared behind Hawk. "There are two empty seats right there," he said, pointing, "unless they're reserved for Ferret Face and Hot Lips." Hawkeye grinned. "I'm sure they can find a dark corner somewhere in the back." Hawk and Trap edged their way over and sat down. The commander, Henry Blake, made his way to the front of the room, and waved his arms for quiet. Sighing, he turned to Radar. "Quiet," Radar said shyly. Immediately, everyone stopped talking. Henry cleared his throat. "Uh, now, if Klinger will just hit the lights, we can start."
Klinger switched the movie projector on. The film got as far as the title and then the projector shut down. "It'll just be a minute, folks!" Klinger yelled as he bent down to examine the machine. Hawkeye groaned. "This is gonna be a long night." Klinger managed to restart the projector, but then sparks emitted from it, and an alarming sound came forth. Hawkeye yawned, and, turning to Trapper, asked, "Wake me when Miss Klinger gets the thing going again, kay?" Trapper nodded. Hawkeye lay down on the bench, and closed his eyes. Trap picked up the National Geographic and placed it on Hawk's face. He was already snoring, and the most bizarre dream Hawkeye would ever have was about to begin.