Disclaimer: MASH ain't mine. D'ya think I'd be sitting here at this time of day if it was?

Not a Very British War

Whatever This Game Is, It's Not Cricket

Hawkeye Pierce leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the Swamp, a martini glass in hand. As he stood looking out over the camp of the 4077th MASH unit as it awoke to face another day in Korea, his closest friend, BJ Hunnicut, stepped through the door and took up a position similar to Hawkeye's on the other side of the opening. They looked across at one another and raised their glasses in a silent salute.

"Shall we do it?" asked Hawkeye.

"Yes, let's!" replied BJ.

They cleared their throats theatrically, and then yelled with deafening volume.

"ENEMY ATTACK! EVACUATE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

The door of the Swamp flew open, and a large, middle-aged man bounded through it, coming to rest a few paces forward in the middle of the compound. His hair, framing a smooth bald head, was standing at worrying angles, and he clutched his robe to him like an elderly lady clutching her handbag. His eyes were wide with fear and were darting nervously about the compound. It took a moment for him to register the hysterical laughter which was coming from behind him. Turning, he saw both Hawkeye and BJ clutching one another with tears rolling down their cheeks. This was Major Charles Emmerson Winchester III. And he'd just fallen for the latest episode of 'Chucklebaiting' by the two Captains. He was not amused.

"Sorry, Chuckles!" wheezed BJ, as Hawkeye slid to the ground and began pounding on the dirt. "Our mistake, it must've been a jeep backfiring!"

'Chuckles' was about to let the two manic surgeons in front of him know exactly what he thought of their 'mistake', but was stopped by a jeep coming skidding to a halt a few feet away. Wiping their tears, Hawkeye and BJ clapped Charles on his back as they walked over to find out what was going on. Company Clark Corporal Walter 'Radar' O'Reilly had already hurried out to greet the young woman who had stepped down from the jeep and was unloading her bags from the back. He was subjecting her to a barrage of information while she struggled with her case. Hawkeye thought that she couldn't be more than her mid-twenties, with dark hair tied neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her uniform indicated that she was not US Army, and its dark green serge looked almost colourful in comparison to the drab khaki which dominated life in camp.

"Well, hello Your Majesty! Welcome to our humble palace, Hawkeye Pierce at your service!" Hawkeye bowed low, and as he straightened he smiled wildly at the newcomer. She looked puzzled.

"Um, thank you. I'm Capt. Sally Lester, British Army Medical Corps." She looked around her new surroundings. "Wondering why the hell I'm here now…"

BJ laughed out loud, "Oh that's something we're all trying to work out, let's introduce you to Colonel Potter."

They led her over to the CO's tent, chatting as they went.

"So," said Hawkeye, "I'm guessing from your accent and uniform that you don't hail from one of the 48 states?"

"My goodness, you must be a doctor!" she laughed in response. "You'd be right, I'm from Hampshire. The original Hampshire, in England."

"Well, Sally, as I said I'm Hawkeye Pierce, and this is Capt BJ Hunnicut. We're the entertainment around here, and when we get bored with that we go shrapnel hunting in the bodies of young men!"

Sally winced at this comment. She looked closely at the gangly surgeon who was holding the door open for her. He was taller than her, and stooped slightly. His black hair flopped forward into his eyes, which were the bluest she'd ever seen. His smile threw her completely, it was magnetic. Suddenly aware of the fact she was gazing at him for longer than was polite, she snapped back into the real world and stepped through the doors to greet her new commanding officer.

As she passed in front of them, Hawkeye rubbed his hands together in delight. "Oh yeah, still got it baby!" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't say that too loud, Hawkeye" said BJ, "I don't think she'll want to catch whatever it is you've got!"

They were about to follow her through the door to eavesdrop, when Radar came flying out between them.

"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, breathlessly "Choppers! And they sound loaded!" He took off in the direction of the helipad, and the two men left standing at the tent door shrugged at each other as they headed towards the operation room. The tannoy crackled into life.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! GRAB YOUR PARTNERS FOR A MILITARY TWO-STEP! EVERYONE TO YOUR POSITION PLEASE!"

BJ looked over at his friend as they watched the stretchers being carried down the hill. "Not a very nice introduction for your little lady, is it?"

"She's a quick learner!" he yelled back, as the loaded jeeps pulled closer, "And I'm a good teacher!"

oOo

Eight hours later, they were finally coming to the end of the stream of blasted bodies which would haunt their dreams that night. Capt Lester was proving to be a deft surgeon, despite being inexperienced in some procedures. Her arrival gave them a surgeon over, which allowed her to call for help when she needed it. She was fiercely independent, however, and as soon as she got the gist of what was being said, she would take it up and carry on herself. She spent a large portion of her time in the OR barking instructions at the nursing staff, which more than upset some of them.

"Clamp, nurse. NOW!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"No need to be so forceful, Doctor" Margaret Houlihan replied in clipped tones, "Try and remember I am your superior in rank."

Sally's dark eyes flashed back at her over her mask. "And try and remember that I am trying to stop this young man bleeding to death whilst you daydream."

BJ and Hawkeye glanced at each other with a knowing look. This one was not going to be a push over.

The last patient was brought in and placed on Sally's table. When she opened him up, his condition was much worse than they'd thought.

"Dear God, it's like a colander in here," she whispered, "Where the blazes do I start?"

"You OK there?" BJ asked her. "I can assist if you like, I'm nearly done here."

"I'm fine," she relied, rather too abruptly. "Thank you, though." she added in a more gentle tone.

She began her work on what was left of the young man's bowel.

"Suction please, nurse" she said, as the cavity began to fill with blood. But as fast as it was removed, it began to fill up again. "Where the hell is that coming from?" she thought. Digging deeper, she was suddenly hit in the face by a spurt of very dark, red blood.

"Oh buggeration!" she exclaimed, "His liver's in pieces." She began to scrabble frantically in the depths of his abdomen, knowing full well that there was very little that could be done to save him.

"BP is dropping, Doctor" said the nurse at the head of the table.

"I know, I know," she snapped, never lifting her eyes from the tangled mess of bowel in her hands. "I can't see where it's coming from, I can't find it. More suction, for God's sake."

"I haven't got a pulse, Doctor" Sally's angry eyes began to fill up with tears. She began heart massage to try and pull this young soldier back from the brink. Again and again she pumped his chest in a desperate attempt to re-start his heart. At that moment, she wished she could be anywhere but here. She wished she was sitting at home with her family, having never heard of this god-forsaken war being waged by someone else's country. She kept up her relentless pounding, stopping to check then starting up again when she received a negative answer.

"Doctor, I think we should stop now." Margaret's voice was gentle now.

"I know!" yelled Sally, "I bloody KNOW that!" She let out an exasperated yell and threw the nearest thing to hand – a surgical swab – into the corner.

"Take him out," she said. "And bring in the next one, please."

Hawkeye spoke then, his voice full of sympathy for the terrified young doctor across from him. "He's the last one. You deserve a rest, go get cleaned up."

Sally sighed deeply, from the pit of her chest. As she turned to leave, she saw Father Mulcahy beginning the last rites over the body. "And what BLOODY use will that do, then?" she yelled at him, before kicking open the door and letting in bang shut behind her.

oOo

Once outside in the clean-up area, she sank down onto one of the benches and released the last 8 hours of emotion in one long wail. All the horror - the pallid stench of the blood and gore, the white death masks of the soldiers she had cut open - all released in great gulps which shook her whole body. The door from OR opened, and the priest whom she had yelled at sat beside her, and put a comforting hand on her shaking arm. She sat straight, and turned to look at him. His eyes looked so full of concern, his brow furrowed as he tried to gauge her mood.

He in turn looked back into her dark eyes. They were the eyes of a frightened child, and he had seen that haunted look many times on the faces of the peoples who had been caught up as innocents in this unholy war. She looked so much younger than she ought to be, and his heart went out to her. She shouldn't have to cope with this, he thought, it's just not fair.

They held each others gaze for a moment, before Sally gave in. Another sob wracked her body and she slumped herself on his shoulder as her reserve gave way to preserving her sanity. Mulcahy said nothing, but held her in his arms until her crying began to subside. It was an unnerving experience for the reserved chaplain. He wasn't used to young woman falling into his embrace – especially ones he didn't know from Adam. He thought about the stories he had heard about the British Army officers with their stiff upper lips and inability to show emotion. It was yet another indicator to him that this war was being fought by people who had no right being in that situation, and he found himself praying as he held her, for all the lost and damaged souls who would find their lives irreparably altered due to this horrific situation.

After some time, she sat up and looked at him again, the dark eyes now rimmed with red.

"I am so sorry, Father. I am truly sorry for the way I spoke to you in there. I just…" she trailed off, struggling for the words to explain her outburst.

"Don't worry, child." He soothed. "We've all been there. Every one of us felt like this the first time we had to face casualties. The difference with you," he said, as he handed her a clean hankie, "is that you have the ultimate responsibility of saving those young men. That makes you one of a very rare breed."

"I feel such a failure, though," she said, blowing her nose. "I mean, I'm a doctor and it's my job to fix people. Death comes as part of the package, why is this so different?"

"I don't know, child. Nothing here is what is seems. You will come to realise that during your time here. But what you must realise now is that there is no shame in feeling what you are feeling. It means that you are human, and that you care about your patients. If you stop feeling, then you start to worry." He smiled at her, and managed to coax a smile back.

"Thank you, Father." She said, laying her hand on his arm. Then she noticed the damp patch on his shoulder. "I'm sorry!" she said, "You've already seen me as a blubbering idiot and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Capt Sally Lester, BAMC."

Mulcahy smiled. "I guessed you were British. I'm Father Francis Mulcahy. I would love to talk to you more about your homeland. I spend a short time in Ireland and Britian when I was training to be a priest, you know."

"It's a small world," she said, and they laughed shyly at each other.

"I really need to get some sleep now," Sally yawned. "Maybe we can continue this discussion over a drink later on? I assume there is somewhere here you can get a drink?"

"Oh yes!" the priest laughed, as the other surgeons began coming through the doors. "I would like that very much! Now off you go and get some shut eye."

Hawkeye's worried face appeared above her. "Are you alright now?" he asked, his concern obvious in his voice.

Sally looked at Mulcahy and smiled. "I'm fine. I just… well, you know." Hawkeye nodded. "I'll feel better when I've had a few hours in bed." She stood up, then realised that she didn't know where she would be sleeping. "Eh, do I have a bed?"

Worried looks were exchanged when they realised that no one had really given much thought to that issue. Potter looked baffled.

"Well, lil miss, we thought you were going to be of the opposite persuasion, so we had an extra cot put in the Swamp with the other surgeons. But…"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence, as Sally linked arms with Hawkeye and invited him to lead the way. He, naturally, didn't think twice. Margaret began to stutter in protest.

"Sir, I really don't think that's appropriate, do you?"

Potter shrugged his shoulders. "Major, I'm not about to deprive that girl of sleep a moment longer. And if she can stomach that pit for more than one night, I'm sure she's more than capable of handling whatever Pierce throws at her!"

"Amen!" was Mulcahy's response.

oOo

An hour later, as she was trying to sleep, Sally kept fighting the image of the last young solider who had died in her care. She had never lost a patient right in front of her before, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't be the last. In a vain attempt to sleep, she clung to the one warm thought of the last few weeks – the feeling of Mulcahy's arms as her held her. This was not going to be easy, but if there were people like him around, she thought she might just about manage to get over whatever this war tried to throw at her. She turned over and went to sleep; she wanted to be ready to face her first full day at the 4077th.