Chapter Four: Charles' Dilemma
~~
After saying goodbye to Father Mulcahy early that afternoon, Hawkeye strolled through the compound, cutting through a tense game of basketball, and made his way into Post-Op, where to his surprise he found BJ still working.
"What are you still doing here?" Hawkeye asked him, walking over to where the doctor was sitting at the desk, making notes.
"And good morning to you too," BJ said, pretending to be offended by this greeting.
"It's now the afternoon, and I thought that Charles was meant to relieve you about four hours ago," Hawkeye said, cross that his friend had apparently done more than his fair share of the work.
"I thought so too, but I guess Charles didn't," BJ said, finishing the form that he had been filling in.
"Well, where is he? We worked our butts off the four days he was lounging around in Tokyo, and is this how he repays you, by skipping his shift? Go out there and give him a piece of my mind before I do!"
"Leave it, Hawk, I don't mind doing the overtime, he can just make it up to me later," BJ said in a laid-back manner. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I can hear my cot calling."
"Get some lunch first, it's the chef's special, sandwiches," Hawkeye said. "It's a treat today, something to eat that's actually edible."
"Whatever happened to cooked food?"
"That went out when the stove did," Hawkeye explained, "Zale's still trying to mend it, but this is Zale we're talking about. We could be having good food for days yet, I don't think my body could adapt to the change."
"I'll wait for dinner, my sandwich will still be there," BJ said. "There haven't been any problems, but Martin hasn't regained consciousness yet."
"Still?" Hawkeye asking, concerned by this. Patients usually woke up, even if only for a few minutes, within twenty-four hours of being admitted to Post-Op. "And he's still stable?"
"Yeah," BJ confirmed.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Hawkeye decided. He looked up to see Klinger walking through the Post-Op ward, and he called out, "Hey, Klinger, can you find Major Winchester and ask him what happened to his shift four hours ago?"
"Oh no, no way," Klinger said firmly. "I have had enough of Major Winchester today, thank you very much. You're looking at a man who could be dead by now, thanks to Major Winchester."
"What if I gave you a direct order?" Hawkeye said, thinking it over like he was contemplating to stay in the war for the rest of his life.
"No way, sir," Klinger said, shaking his head. "How would it look if you had to write on my death certificate that you sent me to my demise, huh?"
"All right, Klinger, what's so wrong about Major Winchester, apart from the fact that he talks like he ate a dictionary for lunch?" Hawkeye asked, realising that Klinger was not being lazy, but there was a real reason for him staying away from Charles.
"I finally gave him his letter from home this morning, and I'm not back in my office a minute when he comes in, demanding that I call Boston for him, there's some desperate news. He looked upset, so I go and spend an hour calling the States, thinking that someone might have died or something important had happened like that. I finally get though, and I'm standing there filing and I overheard his conversation accidentally."
"Accidentally?" Hawkeye asked, thinking it more likely that Klinger had stayed to eavesdrop on the exchange.
"Yeah, well, it turns out that his sister's only got a touch of food poisoning, nothing big, and he thinks it's the end of the world! And that is why he didn't come to Post-Op duty this morning, because he's mourning or something."
"He'd better make up the time," Hawkeye said, slightly softened by Charles' reason for having missed his task. "I'll go and see if he's recovered later."
"He probably won't have, judging by the state I last saw him in. I heard him earlier, muttering to himself about telling his sister time and again not to go to some restaurant with a fancy name that I can't say. I think it was Spanish."
"Thanks, Klinger, see you later," Hawkeye said as Klinger left Post-Op. He turned to BJ and said, "you're shift's over, buddy, you can go home and put your feet up by the stove and read the three-week-old newspaper."
BJ nodded, and slowly got up to leave Post-Op. Hawkeye watched him go, thinking that there was something different about his friend, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was about to ponder it more when a nurse broke his thoughts. "Doctor, Martin is coming round," she informed him.
Hawkeye smiled, and walked over to the bed with the young soldier in. "Welcome back to the world," he greeted, still smiling.
~~
BJ should have really mentally prepared himself for one of Charles' bigger moaning episodes, but all he wanted was to sleep and it slipped his mind that he would be in for some upper class griping and complaining to reach his ears.
He walked into the Swamp and collapsed on his cot, not possessing the energy to remove his boots, or even to climb under the covers. He lay there for a moment, face down on his pillow, thinking he was alone when he heard a disgruntled cough from the other corner of the room. "Hi, Charles," BJ said, he voice muffled through his pillow.
"Hunnicutt," Charles replied in an even tone, and a blissful moment BJ thought that he was safe from conversation, but it was not to be.
"Have you ever eaten Chicken á la Crème Orange?"
"No," came BJ's muffled reply.
"Exactly, you see sense," Charles continued. "But Honoria, couldn't she have had something else on the menu, such as the duck? If I was at home now, then I could have told her not to go to that restaurant, I don't even want to know the name of it, I could have recommended the Park Hilton or something of that standard."
"She'll get better," BJ muffled, but Charles was evidently beyond reasoning.
"Sure, Hunnicutt, and of course you know exactly what it feels like to receive bad news from home," Charles retorted with sarcasm.
This immediately prompted BJ to get up from his cot and pour himself a drink. "No, of course I don't," he muttered to himself before taking a mouthful of the gin. In a louder voice he said, "I have a perfect life with my perfect family in this perfect world."
Charles was too wound up in his own problems to see that BJ spoke in a mocking tone and agreed with him. "Yes, exactly. And why in God's name are you drinking at half past two o'clock in the afternoon?"
BJ downed the rest of the glass and quickly poured himself another, determined to get as drunk as quickly as possible, if only to blur and block out Charles' incessant bemoaning before he went to sleep.
~~~~
~~
After saying goodbye to Father Mulcahy early that afternoon, Hawkeye strolled through the compound, cutting through a tense game of basketball, and made his way into Post-Op, where to his surprise he found BJ still working.
"What are you still doing here?" Hawkeye asked him, walking over to where the doctor was sitting at the desk, making notes.
"And good morning to you too," BJ said, pretending to be offended by this greeting.
"It's now the afternoon, and I thought that Charles was meant to relieve you about four hours ago," Hawkeye said, cross that his friend had apparently done more than his fair share of the work.
"I thought so too, but I guess Charles didn't," BJ said, finishing the form that he had been filling in.
"Well, where is he? We worked our butts off the four days he was lounging around in Tokyo, and is this how he repays you, by skipping his shift? Go out there and give him a piece of my mind before I do!"
"Leave it, Hawk, I don't mind doing the overtime, he can just make it up to me later," BJ said in a laid-back manner. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I can hear my cot calling."
"Get some lunch first, it's the chef's special, sandwiches," Hawkeye said. "It's a treat today, something to eat that's actually edible."
"Whatever happened to cooked food?"
"That went out when the stove did," Hawkeye explained, "Zale's still trying to mend it, but this is Zale we're talking about. We could be having good food for days yet, I don't think my body could adapt to the change."
"I'll wait for dinner, my sandwich will still be there," BJ said. "There haven't been any problems, but Martin hasn't regained consciousness yet."
"Still?" Hawkeye asking, concerned by this. Patients usually woke up, even if only for a few minutes, within twenty-four hours of being admitted to Post-Op. "And he's still stable?"
"Yeah," BJ confirmed.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Hawkeye decided. He looked up to see Klinger walking through the Post-Op ward, and he called out, "Hey, Klinger, can you find Major Winchester and ask him what happened to his shift four hours ago?"
"Oh no, no way," Klinger said firmly. "I have had enough of Major Winchester today, thank you very much. You're looking at a man who could be dead by now, thanks to Major Winchester."
"What if I gave you a direct order?" Hawkeye said, thinking it over like he was contemplating to stay in the war for the rest of his life.
"No way, sir," Klinger said, shaking his head. "How would it look if you had to write on my death certificate that you sent me to my demise, huh?"
"All right, Klinger, what's so wrong about Major Winchester, apart from the fact that he talks like he ate a dictionary for lunch?" Hawkeye asked, realising that Klinger was not being lazy, but there was a real reason for him staying away from Charles.
"I finally gave him his letter from home this morning, and I'm not back in my office a minute when he comes in, demanding that I call Boston for him, there's some desperate news. He looked upset, so I go and spend an hour calling the States, thinking that someone might have died or something important had happened like that. I finally get though, and I'm standing there filing and I overheard his conversation accidentally."
"Accidentally?" Hawkeye asked, thinking it more likely that Klinger had stayed to eavesdrop on the exchange.
"Yeah, well, it turns out that his sister's only got a touch of food poisoning, nothing big, and he thinks it's the end of the world! And that is why he didn't come to Post-Op duty this morning, because he's mourning or something."
"He'd better make up the time," Hawkeye said, slightly softened by Charles' reason for having missed his task. "I'll go and see if he's recovered later."
"He probably won't have, judging by the state I last saw him in. I heard him earlier, muttering to himself about telling his sister time and again not to go to some restaurant with a fancy name that I can't say. I think it was Spanish."
"Thanks, Klinger, see you later," Hawkeye said as Klinger left Post-Op. He turned to BJ and said, "you're shift's over, buddy, you can go home and put your feet up by the stove and read the three-week-old newspaper."
BJ nodded, and slowly got up to leave Post-Op. Hawkeye watched him go, thinking that there was something different about his friend, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was about to ponder it more when a nurse broke his thoughts. "Doctor, Martin is coming round," she informed him.
Hawkeye smiled, and walked over to the bed with the young soldier in. "Welcome back to the world," he greeted, still smiling.
~~
BJ should have really mentally prepared himself for one of Charles' bigger moaning episodes, but all he wanted was to sleep and it slipped his mind that he would be in for some upper class griping and complaining to reach his ears.
He walked into the Swamp and collapsed on his cot, not possessing the energy to remove his boots, or even to climb under the covers. He lay there for a moment, face down on his pillow, thinking he was alone when he heard a disgruntled cough from the other corner of the room. "Hi, Charles," BJ said, he voice muffled through his pillow.
"Hunnicutt," Charles replied in an even tone, and a blissful moment BJ thought that he was safe from conversation, but it was not to be.
"Have you ever eaten Chicken á la Crème Orange?"
"No," came BJ's muffled reply.
"Exactly, you see sense," Charles continued. "But Honoria, couldn't she have had something else on the menu, such as the duck? If I was at home now, then I could have told her not to go to that restaurant, I don't even want to know the name of it, I could have recommended the Park Hilton or something of that standard."
"She'll get better," BJ muffled, but Charles was evidently beyond reasoning.
"Sure, Hunnicutt, and of course you know exactly what it feels like to receive bad news from home," Charles retorted with sarcasm.
This immediately prompted BJ to get up from his cot and pour himself a drink. "No, of course I don't," he muttered to himself before taking a mouthful of the gin. In a louder voice he said, "I have a perfect life with my perfect family in this perfect world."
Charles was too wound up in his own problems to see that BJ spoke in a mocking tone and agreed with him. "Yes, exactly. And why in God's name are you drinking at half past two o'clock in the afternoon?"
BJ downed the rest of the glass and quickly poured himself another, determined to get as drunk as quickly as possible, if only to blur and block out Charles' incessant bemoaning before he went to sleep.
~~~~