Disclaimer: None of the main characters are mine.
Colonel Sherman T. Potter, commanding officer of the MASH-4077, was having a rotten day.
First that wisecracking upstart Pierce had started a hailstorm of a food fight at breakfast. Then a large wave of casualties arrived halfway through, forcing the officers to leave the mess tent in a state that honored its name. Then the colonel had listened to Major Winchester complain about Pierce's "immaturity", "lack of seriousness", and "unprofessionalism" until his ears ached. Then Klinger had strolled in wearing (on duty!) the most blindingly clashing outfit he could find: a checked pink and green dress, a navy blue pillbox hat, and a pair of flowery yellow stockings. Then, to top it all, Sophie had picked up a stone in her hoof and could not be ridden for the next few days. Colonel Potter had just about had it by afternoon. He sat at his desk with his head in his hands, determined not to be perturbed by any future incidents.
A timid knock on the door alerted him of Radar's presence. As usual, the clerk's uncanny sixth sense had warned him of the colonel's bad mood.
"Come in, son," Potter called. "I'm all used up from biting the heads off Pierce, Winchester, and Klinger. I don't have the the time or the energy to bite off yours."
Emboldened, Rader shuffled into the cramped office, pushing his glasses higher up his nose as he squeaked, "I just got word from the 4122, sir. A civilian village was bombed near them but they can't spare any surgeons."
"There's got to be another MASH closer to them than us," Potter protested.
"All the others are swamped with casualties of their own," Radar explained. "There's a battle going on in that area."
"Probably why the village was hit in the first place," murmured the colonel. "All right. Me, Pierce, and some nurses will take a couple of choppers and check it out. Call up Father Mulcahy, too. We have to expect the worst for some of the poor devils."
"Yessir. I'll call Captain Pierce and the father on the PA."
"Tell them to report--"
"To the landing pad," Radar finished his sentence.
"Let's go," said Potter, squaring his shoulders and running to fetch his medical bag.
In next to no time the two helicopters were in the air, carrying the selected doctors and nurses to the site of the bombed-out town. As they set down, Captain Hawkeye Pierce jumped from the copilot seat of his chopper, brow furrowed as he looked over the desolate scene before him. Charred wrecks of homes still smoldered on both sides of the pitted dirt road that ran through the village. A miraculously unharmed housedog picked its way around the shrapnel and debris to paw at one of the still forms lying on the ground. All around was the acrid smell of blood and burning. "Damn war," the captain muttered under his breath as he checked the pulse of the nearest body.
"Fan out, everybody," ordered Colonel Potter, blinking as bits of ash floated by on the breeze. "Find anyone who's alive and call for a doctor."
The group spread out, filtering into the houses. Father Mulcahy stumbled over an overturned table, wondering how it survived the fires. On the other side he discovered a limp figure of a young woman. He knelt by her side and pressed a hand against her wrist, discovering a feeble thread of a heartbeat. "I found someone!" he cried.
Hawkeye ran over to him, leaping a broken stone wall on the way. He immediately began searching through his bag.
"Hawkeye," the priest exclaimed, "I think she might be pregnant."
"There's no 'might' about it, pops," the doctor said shortly. "She's in labor. There's nothing I can do for her, but I got to get that baby before it's too late."
"What can I do to help?" Mulcahy said urgently.
"Hold her still and try to keep her calm," Hawkeye answered. "Hell, I'm no head of a maternity ward. Why is it always me who has to handle things like this?"
"When have you ever delivered a baby?" asked his companion incredulously.
"Never. That's the problem."
The priest silently did the Sign of the Cross and clasped his hands together, saying, "I'm afraid I may trust the Lord more than you in this situation."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now keep your mouth shut and hold this woman's head for me."
A little ways off Colonel Potterwas standingready to load the wounded into carrying pods on the choppers. He waited, but none came. "There aren't any survivors?" he asked his team.
"No, sir," said a nurse. "But Hawk and Father Mulcahy are still looking. Maybe they'll find someone."
Just as she spoke, a high-pitched sound broke the silence: a child's cry.
"What the devil is that?" said Potter. "Is it a villager?"
"One villager, sir, packaged and delivered," said an approaching voice. The colonel turned to see Hawkeye with an armful of something wrapped in his olive green jacket and Father Mulcahy trotting at his side.
"Well, where is he?" the colonel barked, looking around for a stretcher.
"Actually, 'he' happens to be a she," said Hawkeye, turning to reveal a miniature figure enfolded in the jacket. The baby's oversized liquid black eyes, framed by velvety lashes, were set at a delicate tilt in her tiny face.
"How old is this little nipper?" inquired Potter incredulously, hiding a smile as the infant yawned sleepily, weary from her short bout of crying.
Father Mulcahy looked at his watch and answered, "About a minute old, sir. Captain Pierce delivered her."
"And the mother?" asked the colonel.
Hawkeye shook his head, careful not to disturb the dozing baby.
Potter sighed and said, "Pierce, you hold her in the chopper. Let's move it, people. We'll decide what to do with the kid once we get back home."
All of them nodded in agreement as they boarded the helicopters.