The usual chatter and clinking of tin utensils on tin trays filled the mess
tent.
"Yeah, pass the ketchup. What IS this stuff? Oh. Hi, Hawkeye."
"Pierce! What in the name of the late, great Douglas Adams happened to you? You look like you've been to hell and back-- oh, sorry, Padre."
"No need. A startling and perhaps overly negative allusion, but not altogether... not apt."
"Huh?"
"I think what he's trying to say, Colonel, is that Hawkeye never went to bed last ni-- this morning."
"How'd you know that, Hunnicutt?"
"Easy. His bed's made."
"Huh?"
"His bed's never made. I knew something was off when I saw the hospital corners."
"Out carousing, Pierce? And taking our chaplain with you?"
"Well, you know me, Colonel, dreamer of a thousand dirty dreams."
"And owner of a thousand dirty socks."
"Sidney, over here!"
"Freedman, you look like death warmed over. Need some coffee?"
"No thanks, Colonel, your shower just graced me with the first hailstorm of the season. Sorry for the dark circles, I didn't catch a wink, I--"
"Let me guess. Were out with my surgeon and my priest, wherever the three of you were."
"Is that where we were?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. And there were four of us, actually."
"Pray tell, who's the fourth zombie I should be on the lookout for today amongst my upright and dedicated staff?"
"He's not coming... Boy! And if I had any good sense, I'd learn how to live on gin and kindred blood: this food!"
"No need to comment. Coffee, Pierce?"
"Please."
"Padre?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"Hey! You are! Look at that, no crust in his eyes, no pillow-wrinkles on his cheek, not so much as one little dark circle! Who do you know?"
"*chuckle* Oh, Hawkeye..."
"Well, obviously not the person who made this bacon. And I use the term 'made' in its least divine sense. After all, no deity in the world would nod his head and say let there be THIS stuff... I'm talking hammers and nails!"
"Do you always sniff your food?"
"What?"
"Nevermind. Just, nevermind."
"What's with you, Hunnicutt?"
"Don't mind him, Colonel, he just woke up on the wrong side of the war."
"Oh. Well, at least here's a member of my staff who looks to have slept today. Have a seat, Radar."
"Oh, thank you, sir. Yeah, I slept real great, you know, those new blankets from HQ are nice and warm."
"Radar.... We haven't gotten the new blankets from HQ yet."
"Oh, well, I guess I slept well just dreaming about them! H-Heh!"
"Right. Sidney, could I bother you for some pointers on how to get a section eight across?"
"What, for Klinger?"
"No, for my company clerk!"
"Aww, Colonel, how can you look at that sweet little face, those maniacal little eyes... and call our lovable little Radar "crazy?" Why, he's no crazier than I am!"
"Make that two section eights!"
"A section sixteen, sir?"
"Radar!"
"Better make that a section 24."
"Sidney..."
"32, actually."
"Et tu, Padre?"
"A matter of faith, Colonel. I've long been trained to believe in things that can't be proven."
"I think I'll take my chances on some more bacon. You all can tell me what the heck you're all going on about later."
"Later-- hey, that reminds me, Beej, what time is it?"
"About 1930 hours... why?"
"Hey, Radar, you want to do me a favor?"
"Sure, sir..."
"I asked Nurse Kellye for an evening report on Klinger. Mind going over and picking it up for me?"
"No problem! Least I can do after that big bash you threw today."
"Well, looks like you got to him, too, Pierce. Is my entire staff going to be corrupted?"
"Well, with a little bit of luck..."
~
"Yeah, pass the ketchup. What IS this stuff? Oh. Hi, Hawkeye."
"Pierce! What in the name of the late, great Douglas Adams happened to you? You look like you've been to hell and back-- oh, sorry, Padre."
"No need. A startling and perhaps overly negative allusion, but not altogether... not apt."
"Huh?"
"I think what he's trying to say, Colonel, is that Hawkeye never went to bed last ni-- this morning."
"How'd you know that, Hunnicutt?"
"Easy. His bed's made."
"Huh?"
"His bed's never made. I knew something was off when I saw the hospital corners."
"Out carousing, Pierce? And taking our chaplain with you?"
"Well, you know me, Colonel, dreamer of a thousand dirty dreams."
"And owner of a thousand dirty socks."
"Sidney, over here!"
"Freedman, you look like death warmed over. Need some coffee?"
"No thanks, Colonel, your shower just graced me with the first hailstorm of the season. Sorry for the dark circles, I didn't catch a wink, I--"
"Let me guess. Were out with my surgeon and my priest, wherever the three of you were."
"Is that where we were?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. And there were four of us, actually."
"Pray tell, who's the fourth zombie I should be on the lookout for today amongst my upright and dedicated staff?"
"He's not coming... Boy! And if I had any good sense, I'd learn how to live on gin and kindred blood: this food!"
"No need to comment. Coffee, Pierce?"
"Please."
"Padre?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"Hey! You are! Look at that, no crust in his eyes, no pillow-wrinkles on his cheek, not so much as one little dark circle! Who do you know?"
"*chuckle* Oh, Hawkeye..."
"Well, obviously not the person who made this bacon. And I use the term 'made' in its least divine sense. After all, no deity in the world would nod his head and say let there be THIS stuff... I'm talking hammers and nails!"
"Do you always sniff your food?"
"What?"
"Nevermind. Just, nevermind."
"What's with you, Hunnicutt?"
"Don't mind him, Colonel, he just woke up on the wrong side of the war."
"Oh. Well, at least here's a member of my staff who looks to have slept today. Have a seat, Radar."
"Oh, thank you, sir. Yeah, I slept real great, you know, those new blankets from HQ are nice and warm."
"Radar.... We haven't gotten the new blankets from HQ yet."
"Oh, well, I guess I slept well just dreaming about them! H-Heh!"
"Right. Sidney, could I bother you for some pointers on how to get a section eight across?"
"What, for Klinger?"
"No, for my company clerk!"
"Aww, Colonel, how can you look at that sweet little face, those maniacal little eyes... and call our lovable little Radar "crazy?" Why, he's no crazier than I am!"
"Make that two section eights!"
"A section sixteen, sir?"
"Radar!"
"Better make that a section 24."
"Sidney..."
"32, actually."
"Et tu, Padre?"
"A matter of faith, Colonel. I've long been trained to believe in things that can't be proven."
"I think I'll take my chances on some more bacon. You all can tell me what the heck you're all going on about later."
"Later-- hey, that reminds me, Beej, what time is it?"
"About 1930 hours... why?"
"Hey, Radar, you want to do me a favor?"
"Sure, sir..."
"I asked Nurse Kellye for an evening report on Klinger. Mind going over and picking it up for me?"
"No problem! Least I can do after that big bash you threw today."
"Well, looks like you got to him, too, Pierce. Is my entire staff going to be corrupted?"
"Well, with a little bit of luck..."
~