Hawkeye's heard it said that politics make for strange bedfellows. He doesn't doubt it's accuracy; there's no other explanation for the alliances he's seen made in camp. Cynically, he wonders how literal that statement is meant to be, as he slips into the Swamp, another nurse behind him.
Trapper stirs in his cot. "Nurse Andes or Nurse French?"
"Neither." Carefully, Hawkeye strips out of his fatigues, eyes red with exhaustion. "Nurse Heathfield."
Trapper looks on thoughtful, holding the blanket up for Hawkeye to slide in beside him.
Yes, Hawkeye muses, politics make for strange bedfellows, and war even more so.