"Klinger?" Father Mulcahy called through the office door.
"Come in, Father," Klinger said, not bothering to hide the dress. He had wanted it to be a secret until morning, that's why he'd waited until most for the camp was asleep before pulling it out. However, he trusted Father Mulcahy, and knew he'd understand why he was doing this.
"I saw your light on," Father Mulcahy said, stepping into Klinger's office. "I- Oh." He stopped and looked at the long, red dress on the mannequin. "That's a dress," he said eventually.
"Yes it is, Father," Klinger said, not stopping his sewing.
"This is about Lona, isn't it?" Father Mulcahy said.
"Better believe it," Klinger replied.
"I understand you're upset about this whole thing," Father Mulcahy said.
"Father Mulcahy, I'm more than upset," Klinger said, putting down the needle and turning to face the chaplain. "I'm torn up inside. I feel like I'm going to die as well. When I used to feel like this, my dresses comforted me. They were going to be my ticket home. I want those days back. I want Radar to come back to his old job and let me get back into a dress and get my section eight."
That morning
Charles knew Klinger had connected with Lona, and it killed him inside to have to tell him the bad news. He'd known Klinger for what seemed like years, and despite treating him the way he did, he felt like they were almost friends.
"Corporal Klinger," Charles said when Klinger walked in the door. "May I have a word with you?" Klinger's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over at Lona's cot. Charles led Klinger to the corner.
"What's wrong?" Klinger demanded.
"She's caught an infection, a bad one," Charles said softly. "Her chances of survival are slim, becoming slimmer. There isn't a lot we can do, Klinger." Klinger's mouth slowly dropped as the Major talked, and he glanced over at Lona for a second.
"No," he whispered.
"I'm going to leave the room for a moment," Charles said, "Give you a moment's time with her." Klinger nodded vaguely, and he walked over to Lona's cot, still in a daze. Charles watched him walk to the cot, then slipped out the door. Outside, he closed his eyes and slowly counted to two hundred. It was an old trick he'd learnt when he was younger, to calm him before and after giving a patient bad news. When he reached two hundred, he opened his eyes and raised his hand to his temples. His trick hadn't worked that time. Charles sighed, then went into Post op again.
The far door was swinging closed when he went in, and Lona was sleeping peacefully, a blanket pulled up to her chin. No doubt Klinger would be hiding away somewhere, refusing to talk to anyone. A classical reaction to this sort of thing. Sighing, Charles went about his duties, trying not to think about Klinger or Lona.
"Lona – I may call you Lona, right?" Hawkeye said. Lona just nodded her head. "Lona, I don't know how I can break this to you, but you've got an infection, a bad one, and there's a good chance you won't be going home."
"Max said I was going to be ok," Lona said.
"When Klinger found out about this infection, he was torn up inside. He probably told you that you were going to be fine for his benefit, more than yours," Hawkeye explained. "We still haven't found him since the Major told him."
"I want to talk to him," Lona said.
"Right, the moment we find him, we'll tell him," Hawkeye said.
"No I want to talk to him now," Lona said. She closed her eyes for a moment. "He's behind Rosie's, thinking about getting his dresses out again." Hawkeye raised an eyebrow.
"He tell you that's where he'd be?" he asked. Lona opened her eyes again and shook her head. She smiled up at Hawkeye, the same sad smile she gave everyone.
"I just know," she said simply.
"Right," Hawkeye said, thinking for a moment. "I'll go look for Klinger, ask the nurse if you need anything." Lona nodded, and Hawkeye walked out the door. There was no possible way she could know where Klinger was. Out of morbid curiosity, Hawkeye walked towards Rosie's bar.
"Hello, Hawkeye. The usual?" Rosie asked when Hawkeye stuck his head into the bar.
"Not right now, Rosie. I'm looking for Corporal Klinger," Hawkeye said. "You haven't seen him, have you?"
"Guy who used to wear dresses?" Rosie asked. "I think I saw him head out in the field behind here. You could try there."
"Thanks, Rosie," Hawkeye said, going back outside. He walked around the back of Rosie's, and over the small rise there.
"Heads I go back to the dresses, tails I ask Potter for a hardship discharge."
"Klinger, is that you?" Hawkeye called. "Klinger, it's me, Hawkeye. Can I talk to you?"
"Go away," Klinger called back from where ever he was. "I'm sick of this war. I've seen my last death."
"Klinger, she isn't dead yet," Hawkeye said. Klinger poked his head out from behind a large tree.
"Yeah, but what chance does she have? None. I might as well be back home, away from the war," he said. Hawkeye walked over to the tree. There was a fur stole on Klinger's lap, and his cheeks were wet from crying. "You wouldn't have a quarter, would you?" he asked.
"Lona wants to talk to you," Hawkeye said. "I'm not sure how she'd handle seeing you in a dress." Klinger just sat there in a sullen mood. Sighing, Hawkeye pulled some coins out of his pocket. "Flip a coin. Except, it's heads you stay sane, tails you try the crazy gimmick again," he said. Klinger took the coin from Hawkeye.
"Alright," he said, flicking the coin into the air. Catching it again, he looked at the coin face.
"So?" Hawkeye asked.
"Heads," Klinger sighed. "I guess you win."
"Course I win. This is my lucky coin," Hawkeye said. "I use it to decide who goes first when I play chess with BJ." Klinger flipped the coin over.
"It's got two head sides!" Klinger exclaimed.
"See, it's a lucky coin," Hawkeye said, helping Klinger up. "Talk to Lona, she'd love it if you did."
"Fine. I'll give company clerk another go," Klinger said, wiping his face dry. "But what do I do with this?" He held up the fur stole. Hawkeye took it from him and wrapped it around his own neck.
"We'll just say it's mine," he said, leading Klinger back towards camp.
"Hey, you found Klinger!" BJ said, coming into the post op. "Where was he?"
"Behind Rosie's, about to pick up the crazy act again," Hawkeye said, giving Lona a funny look as he led BJ back outside the Post op to give Klinger and Lona space. "I'll tell you about it later."
"I'm glad you came back," Lona said to Klinger.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about what was happening," Klinger said. "I was upset, I didn't want to believe it myself. I don't want you to die."
"Max, even if I did die, what would it matter? Your life would go on, the world will continue to turn. I am but one person on an Earth of many," Lona said.
"You sound like you should be taking sermons," Klinger said. She smiled sadly.
"Max, I didn't want to live any more just a few days ago. All this needless death, people who'll have memories that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. I couldn't take it any more."
She paused. "When I came here, to this MASH outfit, I was in pain. But it was distant, someone else's pain, like I was already dead. You saved me, Max. You helped me inside, showed me people were still able to show compassion. It brought me back, and I didn't want to die any more, because of you." She paused again and looked up into Klinger's eyes.
"I'm not scared of dying, like I was when I first came into this war," she said. "I just accept it."
"But I can't," Klinger said.
Klinger pulled out his old mannequin doll from under his cot. Dusting it off, he stood it up and looked at it. He had made so many dresses on this thing, and it had served as a great helmet and bra stand. Readjusting it so it was a smaller size, he picked up Lona's ripped bra and fitted it onto the mannequin to make sure he'd estimated the right size. After a few more adjustments, he went to his footlocker and took out a roughly tied up brown package and an assortment of needles and threads.
Inside the package was a pale red dress that had he had ordered just before Radar went home, never worn. His heart ached when he saw the dress, in a strange way he missed them. Putting it on the mannequin, he began making the necessary adjustments to the dress so it would fit. Klinger was used to making adjustments to new dresses and skirts he'd ordered by catalogue, they never fit quite right, and usually he'd have to widen the waist, bring up the hem, and once, even take it in at the sides. This dress was no different, if Radar hadn't gone home, Klinger would have adjusted it when it first arrived. He was glad he hadn't thrown it out when it got to him just two days after he decided to give up the section eight thing, it was pretty and he was glad to be able to use it.
"Klinger?" Father Mulcahy called through the office door.
"Come in, Father," Klinger said, not bothering to hide the dress. He had wanted it to be a secret until morning, that's why he'd waited until most for the camp was asleep before pulling it out. However, he trusted Father Mulcahy, and knew he'd understand why he was doing this.
"I saw your light on," Father Mulcahy said, stepping into Klinger's office. "I- Oh." He stopped and looked at the long, red dress on the mannequin. "That's a dress," he said eventually.
"Yes it is, Father," Klinger said, not stopping his sewing.
"This is about Lona, isn't it?" Father Mulcahy said.
"Better believe it," Klinger replied.
"I understand you're upset about this whole thing," Father Mulcahy said.
"Father Mulcahy, I'm more than upset," Klinger said, putting down the needle and turning to face the chaplain. "I'm torn up inside. I feel like I'm going to die as well. When I used to feel like this, my dresses comforted me. They were going to be my ticket home. I want those days back. I want Radar to come back to his old job and let me get back into a dress and get my section eight."
"Klinger," Father Mulcahy started, unsure what to say.
"Relax, I'm not going back to wearing dresses. This is for Lona," Klinger explained, pointing to the dress. "Why should she spend her last few days in fatigues?"
"That's very noble, Klinger," Father Mulcahy said, sounding slightly relieved.
"I don't want her to die," Klinger said. "How do all those people back home cope when they get told their kid has died? I barely know Lona, and I feel my world is gonna end if she dies."
"Sometimes, I wonder if all this death is necessary for His plans," Father Mulcahy said.
"What do you end up deciding?" Klinger asked.
"It must be, otherwise why would He take those that mean so much to us?" Father Mulcahy replied. "Goodnight, Klinger. I'll be praying for Lona."
"Thank you, Father," Klinger said, turning back to the dress. Father Mulcahy quietly left, leaving a silent pray with Klinger before closing the door after him. When he heard the door shut, Klinger put the needle and thread down again and stared at the dress for a few moments. He took the dress off the mannequin and packed everything away, the dress folded up neatly on the top of his belongings in his footlocker. Klinger lay down on his cot, turned out the light, and spent an hour looking at the ceiling before finally falling asleep.
