Chapter One
The door to O.R. opened slowly as Radar, barely able to stand, walked in.
"Radar, put a mask on," said Trapper, his arms buried in some poor soldier's guts.
"If that's my discharge, give it to me straight," said Hawkeye. "I can take it."
"I have a message," Radar mumbled. With a heavy, tear-ladened sigh, he continued, "Lt. Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors." With that, he simply turned around and stumbled out of the room.
All a person could hear was tears being choked back, with the occasional surgical instrument clattering to the floor as the MASH surgeons continued to work, trying to save the patients that they were working on.
"It should have been ME on that plane!" yelled Hawk as he stripped off his blood-covered gown. "Why Henry? Huh? Why Trap?"
"If you had been on that plane, some of these boys we just worked on would have died right along with you, and you know it!" Trapper John answered.
"Pipe down, you two!" Frank spit out, his face coming up from the top of Margaret's shoulder. "We are all upset by his death. Why doesn't everyone just calm down? Go over to the Swamp and have a drink and toast him if you want, but keep quiet so we can mourn in peace!"
"You know, Frank, that is probably the best idea you have ever had," said Trapper. "Come on, Hawk. Listen to Frank for a change. Let's go."
Chapter Two
The empty martini glass slipped out of Hawk's fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred shards as he stood up, drunker than he had been in a long time, to pour another drink.
Major Burns entered the Swamp.
"I said one drink to toast him," he mumbled, eyes blood-shot from crying. "Boy, you two take the cake. Give you an inch and you take a mile! Is this how you guys are going to act when I'm in command? I'm not Henry. You will not walk all over me like you did him!"
"Shut up, Frank!" muttered Trap. He stood up just in time to catch Hawkeye as he started to fall to the floor. "Help me put him in his cot, will ya?"
"Drunk as a skunk! Again!" snapped Frank as he bent over to grab Hawk's ankles. "You won't be boozing it up anymore. Not with me running the ship! No sirree, bub."
"Take your own advice, Frank. Pipe down, pack up your gear, and move into your new 'home' so WE can mourn in peace!" Trapper bit out, his words slightly slurred as he was just as drunk as Hawkeye.
"You won't talk to me like that again! I am your commander, now! I'll let it slide tonight, but no more!"
"Out, Frank, out! Before Hawk wakes up and takes out your tonsils through your nose!"
Frank gathered up what he could carry and left, still uttering something about being ion charge and respect. He turned around long enough to say that he would be sending over a corpsman to get the rest of his gear. He was far enough away that he didn't hear Trapper's martini glass also shatter, this one against the door and still half full.
The door to O.R. opened slowly as Radar, barely able to stand, walked in.
"Radar, put a mask on," said Trapper, his arms buried in some poor soldier's guts.
"If that's my discharge, give it to me straight," said Hawkeye. "I can take it."
"I have a message," Radar mumbled. With a heavy, tear-ladened sigh, he continued, "Lt. Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors." With that, he simply turned around and stumbled out of the room.
All a person could hear was tears being choked back, with the occasional surgical instrument clattering to the floor as the MASH surgeons continued to work, trying to save the patients that they were working on.
"It should have been ME on that plane!" yelled Hawk as he stripped off his blood-covered gown. "Why Henry? Huh? Why Trap?"
"If you had been on that plane, some of these boys we just worked on would have died right along with you, and you know it!" Trapper John answered.
"Pipe down, you two!" Frank spit out, his face coming up from the top of Margaret's shoulder. "We are all upset by his death. Why doesn't everyone just calm down? Go over to the Swamp and have a drink and toast him if you want, but keep quiet so we can mourn in peace!"
"You know, Frank, that is probably the best idea you have ever had," said Trapper. "Come on, Hawk. Listen to Frank for a change. Let's go."
Chapter Two
The empty martini glass slipped out of Hawk's fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred shards as he stood up, drunker than he had been in a long time, to pour another drink.
Major Burns entered the Swamp.
"I said one drink to toast him," he mumbled, eyes blood-shot from crying. "Boy, you two take the cake. Give you an inch and you take a mile! Is this how you guys are going to act when I'm in command? I'm not Henry. You will not walk all over me like you did him!"
"Shut up, Frank!" muttered Trap. He stood up just in time to catch Hawkeye as he started to fall to the floor. "Help me put him in his cot, will ya?"
"Drunk as a skunk! Again!" snapped Frank as he bent over to grab Hawk's ankles. "You won't be boozing it up anymore. Not with me running the ship! No sirree, bub."
"Take your own advice, Frank. Pipe down, pack up your gear, and move into your new 'home' so WE can mourn in peace!" Trapper bit out, his words slightly slurred as he was just as drunk as Hawkeye.
"You won't talk to me like that again! I am your commander, now! I'll let it slide tonight, but no more!"
"Out, Frank, out! Before Hawk wakes up and takes out your tonsils through your nose!"
Frank gathered up what he could carry and left, still uttering something about being ion charge and respect. He turned around long enough to say that he would be sending over a corpsman to get the rest of his gear. He was far enough away that he didn't hear Trapper's martini glass also shatter, this one against the door and still half full.