SIX
Nov. 6th: 1530 hours
Dear Sis,
Today has been one of the most terrifying days of my life! In my letter that I wrote to you a couple of days ago, I described the artillery attacks that have been occurring regularly at the front only two or three miles from here. Today---instead of merely hearing the shelling and seeing the results when the ambulances pull in---we experienced this horror for ourselves.
It started at lunch. I was in the serving line behind Sarabeth MacAllister and Lieutenant Cochlan (the Australian soldier I wrote to you about, earlier.) He was visiting her for the day. They were standing there, with much jocularity, laughing and teasing each other.
Sarabeth had just poured herself some coffee, when, suddenly, she tilted her head as if she were listening intensely to something. And, then, she gasped and dropped her mug. I've heard of people turning white as a sheet. But this was the first time I actually witnessed it. Her face was so pale, you couldn't see her freckles. She wasn't even aware of the hot liquid that had splattered on her legs.
"INCOMING!" she shouted. "Y'all get out of here! NOW!" Her words were as sharp as a crack from a whip.
Colonel Potter didn't hesitate. "OUT! People, move it! Clear out! NOW!" He ordered. Trays were dropped and benches overturned as everyone ran frantically to escape.
I saw Cochlan grab Sarabeth and the two of them dove through the tent screen into the mud. Other people who couldn't reach the exits in time followed their example.
We had barely gotten out of the mess tent when we heard the howl of a descending mortar shell. In less than a heartbeat, we were enveloped in that explosion.
The sound was unbelievable! A thousand firecrackers, all exploding at the same time, in a metal building, couldn't even begin to describe that loudness. I could barely hear the screams of the people over the ringing in my ears.
Debris began falling all around us. Chunks of metal, splinters of wood and burning canvas started raining down. The rest of the time is rather blurred: roaring explosions...shaking ground...blinding lights...air being sucked out of lungs...pressure pounding against eardrums...metal pieces ripping through buildings and through flesh...the frightened looks in everyone's faces...screams of pain and cries of fear...
Words truly can not describe it accurately.
During that constant bombardment, Colonel Potter and Corporal Klinger were trying to contact HQ to get them to stop the shelling. Or, as Hawkeye Pierce said, as he grabbed the phone, at one point,and shouted into it, "We surrender, already!"
I tried to give everyone spiritual guidance and comfort. Usually, I feel so useless here: but not this time. Everyone was looking to me for courage and strength. I hope I was able to give them some.
Mercifully, the attack lasted less than an hour. It seemed MUCH longer, however.
There were few serious injuries here. And, we were even more blessed by having no outside casualties, either.
I have already thanked the Lord several times for our deliverance. And, I have said a special prayer for the continued safety for each and every member of this MASH unit, tonight.
Because these people are so dear to me, I have asked Max Klinger and Sarabeth MacAllister to help me with a special project. I hope everyone will like their Christmas surprises.
Remember us in your prayers. Here, in this dreadful place, we need all the spiritual intervention we can get.
I have to go. Colonel Potter has just called a meeting for the entire outfit. I hope my next letter will be more cheerful.
Take care---my sister, the Sister. Love---from your brother, the Father. Those two lines always make me smile. So I just read them again. We all need an extra smile tonight.
Yours in Christ,
Francis John Patrick
Nov. 6th: 1530 hours
Limping slightly, the commander of the 4077th had surveyed the damage done to his
medical unit. The whole camp smelled scorched.All the tents had been flattened by the
concussions. The mess tent was gone. The generator shed had been destroyed; although
the back-up generator was still working. The hospital windows were gone. His office
was missing part of its roof.
And, Sophie, his wonderful mare, was missing, as well. Looking at the enormous hole
in the middle of the corral, he was thankful MacAllister and Cochlan had managed to
open the gate and send the horse, bolting in terror, to the relative protection of the
surrounding countryside. I hope you are safe, dear girl," he whispered.
This was his third war. He was tired of the destruction; tired of the death; tired to
death. Resolutely, he straightened his shoulders before entering the post-op building. He
knew he would be facing the group of forlorn, frightened people for whom he was
responsible. He couldn't---he wouldn't---let them down.
Stepping through the doors, he was greeted by the sound of laughter. A bit forced, a bit
weary, but laughter, all the same. The tall Texan, assigned to his outfit, was obviously
concluding some tall tale.
She heard him enter the room and, balancing on her crutches, turned to greet him. "And,
now, let's give a warm welcome for Colonel Potter!" MacAllister led the applause
before returning to her seat next to the Australian soldier.
"Come on in, Colonel." Hawkeye Pierce called to him. "Grab a cot and get comfy."
The post op room was crowded with all of the medical and enlisted personnel. And the
few chairs were already taken. Those beds not occupied by patients were being used as
couches by the rest.
"Thanks. I'll stand."
The senior officer studied the wounded first. Major Winchester had returned from Tokyo
in time to catch a piece of shrapnel above his left knee. He was still sleeping off the
anesthesia. Despite having his arm around Nurse Thompson, Captain Pierce was sitting
near his patient, monitoring his condition. Lieutenant Kellye was wincing as Doctor
Hunnicutt examined the bandage to her head. Private Starr waved his broken arm at his
commander, cheerfully. Sergeant Rizzo's growling Cajun accent was heard from his bed,
"What's the word, Colonel? Are we bugging out?"
"No need. We're staying put, Sergeant." he replied. He looked at the rest of his crew.
Almost everyone had some kind of scrape or scratch from the attack. He searched their
eyes. They were filled with fear, with pain, with exhaustion. But they were not defeated.
He had a good bunch of people. "All right: let's start rebuilding the 4077th. The first
order of business is to set up those tents again…."
Captain Hunnicutt walked over to Lieutenant MacAllister's tent. Hearing the friendly
chatter coming from inside her quarters, he grinned. Friends and family; when it came
down to it; that was all that really mattered.
"Howdy, B J," the woman greeted her visitor as he knocked at her door. "Come on in,"
she gestured to the man who hurried inside the warm tent. "Have a chair."
"Aren't you the one supposed to be in a chair?" The doctor asked and smiled at the
women who were with her. "I do remember giving some instructions regarding that."
"That's why we're here, B J." Liza Campbell announced with a grin. She and
fellow nurse, Linda Hernandez, had stopped by to help MacAllister with her own
salvage attempts. "We know she doesn't always follow 'doctor's orders' so we showed
up at her doorstep to do all the lifting and shifting."
"And I appreciate it," the Texan grinned. "The ranch house was definitely in need of a
good spring cleaning."
"If you two ladies are through with your house keeping, I'd like to talk to
Sarabeth for a minute…."
Nov 6th: 2200 hours
Sitting in his cot, B J Hunnicutt put the finishing touches to the long letter he had been writing:
I don't think I have ever been that scared, my darling. And, it made me realize how quickly everything can change. No matter how carefully you plan, you can lose friends and family in a heartbeat. I don't want to lose you, Peg. Not now: not ever. I also don't want to miss any opportunity to be with you. I would like for you, and Erin, to come to Tokyo.
I know I'm asking a lot. That's a long flight and there is some danger. I think it's worth it---but only if you are in complete agreement. We have always made the major decisions together. So think about it some more and let me know.
Sarabeth has assured me that we do not need to worry about expenses or arrangements. She says the hardest thing on my end will be convincing Hawkeye that I don't know what is going on—because he thinks he can keep this a secret from me. I'm going to have to think of a good practical joke to pay him back for putting me through this.
All my love, Peg. Hug and kiss Erin for me. Call me soon.
B J
