Disclaimer: Oh I'm fed up with these things, take it as read, OK?

The First Day

Later on in the day, Sally was in The Swamp adding a few more feminine touches when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she called, and the door swung opened to admit a very breathless Radar.

"Captain, Doctor, Lester, ma'am," he stuttered. "Colonel Potter would like to see you now, if you've got a minute, that is, ma'am." He almost curtseyed at her before dashing out as quickly as he'd come in.

Sally's heart sank. She was sure this meant a reprimand for her behaviour in surgery the night before. She pulled her fatigues into some semblance of order and strode across the compound to the Commanding Officer's quarters. Brushing through the office with a smile to Radar, Sally noticed with a giggle that he turned a delicate shade of pink. Pausing at the Colonel's door, she knocked and waited for a 'Come on in, whoever it is' before pushing the door open and standing before her superior with a salute.

"OK, Captain." he said brusquely, "Take a pew."

Sally sat down hard and waited while he finished off writing something before he looked up and beamed at her. Her heart began the slow descent from her throat back to her chest cavity in relief.

"Well," he said, "We kinda got caught short last night and I never got a chance to welcome you properly to the 4077th before you were introduced to the niceties of the OR."

"Yes, Sir." Sally began nervously, "About what happened last night…"

Potter cut her off before she could begin.

"Now I don't want to talk about last night, other than to say that I'm of the opinion that you did yourself proud in the circumstances. You'll get used to how we do things round here, but you've only just got here so I'm willing to make an exception." He glanced down at the papers in front of him, which were obviously her records. "I see you finished your final exams 6 months ago, and you've deferred a place at St Bartholomew's Hospital in London to come here."

Sally nodded in confirmation.

"Well, Lil Miss, I don't know much about the British Medical system, but I do know that you're the young by our standards. What in the name of sweet baby Jesus made you want to come here?"

Sally took a deep breath. She knew exactly why she'd wanted to come to Korea, but now she was here she began to wonder if her heart really was in the right place.

"Well, Sir" she began. "The news at home has been full of the war, and I began to think how awful it all was, not the whole communism thing, I don't really know much about that. But all the pictures of the young men coming home with such terrible injuries, the burns and the limbs missing. And I kept thinking, I should be doing something to help. I mean, I'm not the best surgeon. But I am newly qualified and we covered all the latest techniques and I thought I ought to put them to good use. My grandfather was a military doctor, and he pulled some strings to get me out here. And that's it really, here I am." She shrugged her shoulders non committally, as though it were perfectly normal to chose to come to the middle of a war zone.

Potter nodded slowly. He still couldn't work this kid out, but at the moment she was here and she was good, so he wasn't about to ask questions. He stood up from his desk and offered her his hand.

"Well, Lil Miss, welcome to 4077th, let's hope your stay is a happy one!"

Sally beamed in reply and shook his hand. She then saluted, turned on her heel and marched smartly from the room. She skipped past Radar and out into the yard. She was so relieved that he hadn't bawled her out for losing her temper the night before. As she walked past the rows of tents, she remembered the encounter she had had afterwards with Father Mulcahy, and she had promised him a drink. The sun was beginning to fade, and she decided to go and see if he wanted it now. She walked over to his tent and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" his ever-cheerful voice chirruped from within.

She pushed the door open and stuck her head around it. The Father was standing beside his bed, gathering together some items and placing them in a bag. He turned to greet his visitor, and smiled warmly when he realised it was Sally.

"I was just wondering whether you fancied that drink now, Father?"

The smile faded slightly, "Well, I do have to conduct Evening Mass first," he said. "But if you're willing to wait, I'll gladly join you afterwards."

Sally nodded happily. "That sounds fine. When will you be finished?"

"I shouldn't be more than an hour. The sheep get restless if I go on too long." he laughed. Then he paused slightly, "You are always welcome to join us, of course."

Sally was slightly taken aback. "Well," she mused, "I'm Church of England, but we started in the same place so I don't think it will do me any harm."

She followed the Father as he led her from the main part of the camp to a small area just behind the mess tent. There, someone had set up a small altar where Father Mulcahy placed a crucifix which he took from his bag. One by one, people began to arrive for the service, sitting down on the dirt while the priest stood with his back to them, gathering his thoughts. When he began the service, Sally found his recital of the Latin strangely comforting. His lilting voice sounded musical as it delivered Hail Marys and other things which she didn't understand. But she didn't need to understand what was being said, she only needed to draw comfort from the calming presence of Mulcahy. By the time the service was over, all thoughts of war had been filed away in her mind and she was left with a sense of peace which she had never experienced at any of the long Sunday Services she had attended in the cold and draughty village church in Hampshire. She told him as much as they walked to the Officers Club, and he visibly glowed with pride.

"We aim to please" he smiled.

oOo

Sitting at the bar, Mulcahy bought them both a beer, and they sat talking about their pasts. Sally told him about her village, and her parents. She told him about her brother Arthur, who was a University fellow. She told him about her education, a girls' boarding school which was turning out to be good preparation for life in camp. He told her about his sister who had become a nun, and his brothers who were more than a little surprised at his calling to the priesthood. He shared his own experiences of Britain from when he was at seminary and spent some time there. It was an easy conversation, and they chatted as though they had known each other for years. Sally found the priest captivating. He was obviously educated, but had a childlike quality about him, and came across as quite shy until he began to relax in her company. He, in turn, found the young surgeon an interesting companion. She was full of fun, and her face lit up when she spoke of her home and her history. She was also quite naïve, and he wondered whether she could know anything of the horrors which she would witness in the time she was to spend here. He remembered his own first experiences of death and wounded and realised sadly that there would be no way of preparing her. He could only support her as best he could, something which he promised himself he would do from the moment he saw her frightened eyes the previous night. He could also see she would be a welcome addition to the camp, thanks to her sense of humour. Mulcahy knew how important being able to laugh was. It was Hawkeye's sense of the absurd which helped most people in camp keep their sanity. That, and his still.

The conversation turned to pastimes, and they discovered a shared skill in piano playing. Suddenly, his face lit up.

"I've got a brilliant idea!" he exclaimed. "We should start a choir with the children!"

Sally looked at him in complete amazement. "Where on earth did that come from?" she asked, laughing.

"It's an idea I had a while ago, but there was no one else who was willing to join me. I thought that music would be an ideal way to communicate with the children at the orphanage. And if you're musical, then I thought you might be interested?" he looked at her, his pale blue eyes pleading with her to say yes. How could she refuse?

"Well, OK. It might be fun actually, and it would break the day up." She thought for a moment. "Yes! Let's form a choir!"

They clinked glasses to seal their agreement.

"Cheers!" Mulcahy said, as he touched his glass to hers

"Bottoms Up!" Sally replied, and she drained it with one swift movement.

She saw out the evening at the bar, joined later by Hawkeye and BJ. They were baiting Charles again, and later Margaret Houlihan became the subject of their jokes as they poured more and more gin down their throats. Sally sat back, letting the light-heartedness of their jesting wash welcomingly over her. This was going to be her home from now on, her stomping ground for the weeks and months to come. And despite the desperate circumstances they all found themselves in, she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be all bad.

Later on, as she was lying in bed listening to Charles snoring like a Gloucester Old Spot, she watched Hawkeye from the corner of her eye. His dark hair had fallen over his eyes and he looked so angelic in his sleep that it was little wonder than she had forgiven him for his merciless ribbing of her accent earlier that evening. She made her mind up to ask him why he was here in Korea. Despite his cruel streak, it was clear he was a pacifist. He had what her mother would describe as 'boyish charm' (although her father would call it 'bloody stupidity'). This charm was less boyish and more adolescent when he was chasing the nurses. What was his type, she wondered, when it came to women? Or was it a case of 'any port in a storm' with Hawkeye? Further thought on the subject was postponed as sleep overtook her once more, and she again drifted back to the meadow by her home. And so ended the first day.