"Well, thanks, Radar," Nurse Kellye murmured sweetly, "I don't know what I
would have done if you hadn't come along."
"Oh, it wasn't nothing," Radar replied, slowly letting the sleeping patient he'd earlier levitated to the ceiling descend back onto the newly made bed that Kellye had done up.
Several other patients were looking on anxiously.
"While you're here..." the nurse began again, somewhat wheedlingly...
~
In the mess tent, Sidney leaned over to Hawkeye and tilted his head towards the door. "What was that all about?"
That hadn't been part of their clever little plan.
The hunter was improvising. Hawkeye and Sidney exchanged a worried look.
B.J. and Colonel Potter, on the other hand, looked between themselves with less concern.
~
"Fourteen boxes of syringes over here," Radar reported, "And two of broken tongue depressors."
Radar looked up at the clock as Nurse Kellye laughed.
~
Frank peeked out from under the little khaki flap that covered the screen in Margaret's door as he fumbled with getting himself dressed.
"Margaret? Who's that out there with Father Mulcahy?"
"Frank, you're buttoning your pants up to your shirt."
~
"What do you mean, you don't have it?!" Radar whined indignantly.
"I mean Dr. Pierce never told me to write it all down... I've got it all--" Nurse Kellye tapped her temple, "Up here."
Radar sighed and flopped down at the post-op desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil that was little more than a nub.
"Okay, go ahead," he stated, and poised himself to write.
"Patient name: Maxwell Q. Klinger."
Radar looked up at her incredulously. She waited for him to write it.
~
Hawkeye slammed his fork down on the tin tray in front of him, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the table. He stormed up out of his seat and was two steps closer to the door when he heard the monosyllable from their new commander:
"Pierce."
He wheeled around.
"They need to deal with this themselves." "Oh, no..." Pierce started to shake his head with near violence, "There's no way I'm just going to sit here and--"
"Yes, there IS a way you're just going to sit here and. It's called my giving you a direct order. Park it, Pierce."
What was this? A direct order? Bah, Hawkeye had heard plenty of them before. From Ferret-Face: easy to ignore. From Henry Blake: easy to laugh at, and easy to follow when rephrased in the form of a polite request.
So why was he just standing here? Why was he coming creeping back to the table like a dog with his tail between his legs? Why was this different? Hawkeye burned with anger, glaring at the C.O.
~
"No test results indicate neurofibromatosis..."
Radar belabored under the onslaught of words the nurse was throwing at him, now trying to abbreviate them only to have her repeat the word with a slightly different collection of vowels a minute later, so that he had to go back and ask for the spellings of each. His hand was beginning to cramp, and he began to feel a little suspicion as he suspected such rote listing of medical terms would bore him to tears, but no such boredom came. He almost felt something familiar in the way Nurse Kellye was talking to him.
"A-a PO2 gradient apical."
Across a void somewhere, one liar reached out to the other.
~
"Hi, honey," the dusky-skinned woman swooned, "Pardon me, soldier," she commented to the wounded man in the next bed as she nestled onto the side of his bed, leaning over to look at her husband, whose eyes opened to look at her with a frightened and distraught look.
"God, you're such an idiot," she began to inform the silent corporal. "They've taken you out of that fucking dress, at least. Changed your underwear, too. You know you'd made mess on yourself? I can't believe you. You really married me wearing that thing? If that vampire had told me that over the phone, I would have hung up. You called me collect for that call, too. I paid over ten dollars on it, including the extensions to my parents. And then they had to sit there and comfort me when our connection cut out. They shouldn't have bothered. I shouldn't have waited. I should have known you'd never do anything right in your life. How was I supposed to expect you to do right for me? How should the army have expected anything of you, either? They should have gotten rid of you when they had the chance."
His wife's bitching voice faded away as a nurse came to sedate Klinger again and wipe the new-sprung tears off of his cheeks.
~
"He's right, Hawkeye," Sidney sighed, sitting down next to Hawkeye after a few more minutes of the terrible silence. "Those two have issues they need to work out between themselves. Our interfering wouldn't help anything."
"Like hell they need to work things out!" Hawkeye spouted, his fuming quietude burst by Sidney's statement.
"Henry's leaving tonight! They might never have to see each other again! Why do they suddenly need to "resolve their issues?" This isn't a marriage, Sidney, you don't need to worry about their "going to bed angry!" You know as well as I do that they'll end up pulling out their mongoose and cobra act, and who knows but that they'll end up killing one another? Or worse?!"
He wasn't sure what exactly he meant by "worse," but he figured, considering the strange nature of the week's happenings, he'd leave it as a catch-all category.
The door opened, and those who weren't facing it spun around, those who were craning their necks to look hastily.
Radar, looking more than a little disgruntled, came in and silently passed a sheaf of paper to Hawkeye. Only then did he look around, the eyes on him making his brow furrow with a notion.
He turned his head and peered back outside into the darkness worriedly.
"Where's the Colonel?"
~
"Oh, it wasn't nothing," Radar replied, slowly letting the sleeping patient he'd earlier levitated to the ceiling descend back onto the newly made bed that Kellye had done up.
Several other patients were looking on anxiously.
"While you're here..." the nurse began again, somewhat wheedlingly...
~
In the mess tent, Sidney leaned over to Hawkeye and tilted his head towards the door. "What was that all about?"
That hadn't been part of their clever little plan.
The hunter was improvising. Hawkeye and Sidney exchanged a worried look.
B.J. and Colonel Potter, on the other hand, looked between themselves with less concern.
~
"Fourteen boxes of syringes over here," Radar reported, "And two of broken tongue depressors."
Radar looked up at the clock as Nurse Kellye laughed.
~
Frank peeked out from under the little khaki flap that covered the screen in Margaret's door as he fumbled with getting himself dressed.
"Margaret? Who's that out there with Father Mulcahy?"
"Frank, you're buttoning your pants up to your shirt."
~
"What do you mean, you don't have it?!" Radar whined indignantly.
"I mean Dr. Pierce never told me to write it all down... I've got it all--" Nurse Kellye tapped her temple, "Up here."
Radar sighed and flopped down at the post-op desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil that was little more than a nub.
"Okay, go ahead," he stated, and poised himself to write.
"Patient name: Maxwell Q. Klinger."
Radar looked up at her incredulously. She waited for him to write it.
~
Hawkeye slammed his fork down on the tin tray in front of him, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the table. He stormed up out of his seat and was two steps closer to the door when he heard the monosyllable from their new commander:
"Pierce."
He wheeled around.
"They need to deal with this themselves." "Oh, no..." Pierce started to shake his head with near violence, "There's no way I'm just going to sit here and--"
"Yes, there IS a way you're just going to sit here and. It's called my giving you a direct order. Park it, Pierce."
What was this? A direct order? Bah, Hawkeye had heard plenty of them before. From Ferret-Face: easy to ignore. From Henry Blake: easy to laugh at, and easy to follow when rephrased in the form of a polite request.
So why was he just standing here? Why was he coming creeping back to the table like a dog with his tail between his legs? Why was this different? Hawkeye burned with anger, glaring at the C.O.
~
"No test results indicate neurofibromatosis..."
Radar belabored under the onslaught of words the nurse was throwing at him, now trying to abbreviate them only to have her repeat the word with a slightly different collection of vowels a minute later, so that he had to go back and ask for the spellings of each. His hand was beginning to cramp, and he began to feel a little suspicion as he suspected such rote listing of medical terms would bore him to tears, but no such boredom came. He almost felt something familiar in the way Nurse Kellye was talking to him.
"A-a PO2 gradient apical."
Across a void somewhere, one liar reached out to the other.
~
"Hi, honey," the dusky-skinned woman swooned, "Pardon me, soldier," she commented to the wounded man in the next bed as she nestled onto the side of his bed, leaning over to look at her husband, whose eyes opened to look at her with a frightened and distraught look.
"God, you're such an idiot," she began to inform the silent corporal. "They've taken you out of that fucking dress, at least. Changed your underwear, too. You know you'd made mess on yourself? I can't believe you. You really married me wearing that thing? If that vampire had told me that over the phone, I would have hung up. You called me collect for that call, too. I paid over ten dollars on it, including the extensions to my parents. And then they had to sit there and comfort me when our connection cut out. They shouldn't have bothered. I shouldn't have waited. I should have known you'd never do anything right in your life. How was I supposed to expect you to do right for me? How should the army have expected anything of you, either? They should have gotten rid of you when they had the chance."
His wife's bitching voice faded away as a nurse came to sedate Klinger again and wipe the new-sprung tears off of his cheeks.
~
"He's right, Hawkeye," Sidney sighed, sitting down next to Hawkeye after a few more minutes of the terrible silence. "Those two have issues they need to work out between themselves. Our interfering wouldn't help anything."
"Like hell they need to work things out!" Hawkeye spouted, his fuming quietude burst by Sidney's statement.
"Henry's leaving tonight! They might never have to see each other again! Why do they suddenly need to "resolve their issues?" This isn't a marriage, Sidney, you don't need to worry about their "going to bed angry!" You know as well as I do that they'll end up pulling out their mongoose and cobra act, and who knows but that they'll end up killing one another? Or worse?!"
He wasn't sure what exactly he meant by "worse," but he figured, considering the strange nature of the week's happenings, he'd leave it as a catch-all category.
The door opened, and those who weren't facing it spun around, those who were craning their necks to look hastily.
Radar, looking more than a little disgruntled, came in and silently passed a sheaf of paper to Hawkeye. Only then did he look around, the eyes on him making his brow furrow with a notion.
He turned his head and peered back outside into the darkness worriedly.
"Where's the Colonel?"
~