TWELVE


Nov. 15th: 1200 hours

"…Now that we've all been introduced," Hawkeye Pierce addressed the gathering, "welcome to the 4077th 'Dining and Dancing Extravaganza'. Food and drinks can be purchased in the mess tent. You need a ticket for each dance. And, remember, we only have three hours…."

Major Winchester was sitting alone in the Swamp. Claiming that his leg prevented him from dancing, and that he was feeling poorly, he had declined to participate in the fund raiser. He listened as Pierce explained the charities that were to benefit.

He heard Margaret Houlihan warn the men to behave themselves around her nurses. She gave them several rules of conduct they were expected to follow. "...And, if any man gets too fresh, my nurses have my permission to flatten him," Houlihan noted.

"So do mine," Major Parker, the head nurse from the 8063rd MASH unit, added.

"And mine," Captain Markenson, from 121st evac. hosp chimed in.

The music began.

Struggling to his feet, the major walked to the door of his tent. Through the screen, he searched the crowd for a particular woman. He caught glimpses of her as she waltzed with her brother.

When that record ended, Hawkeye Pierce asked her for the next dance. The next one was with a surgeon from another hospital unit; then B J Hunnicutt; and Colonel Potter; and then a British officer. Her hair, escaping from its braid, was shining golden-red in the sunlight. He could see her happy smile.

Turning away, Major Winchester moved to his desk and picked up a book to read. He couldn't concentrate. Finally, annoyed with himself in particular, and with the world in general, he threw the book across the room.

He tended to his grooming, grabbed his cane and headed for the festivities.


Appropriating a bench near the dance area, Major Winchester sat down and watched the activities. He noticed Lieutenant MacAllister making her way towards him. Ernie, the camp mongrel, was following her, as usual.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Charles," her smile was warm with welcome.

"I find it impossible to sleep with that racket," he replied as he lowered his leg off the bench to make room for her. "Please, sit down."

Sarabeth smiled. "Want some rum punch? Watch it," the woman warned, "it will punch back." She handed him one of the drinks she was carrying and sat beside him. "It's a good thing we've had sunshine for a couple of days. Otherwise, we would have had mud wrestling instead of a dance," she joked.

"Something Pierce would, no doubt, enjoy."

Hearing the coldness in his voice, MacAllister lifted an eyebrow in response. She looked away and then said, still not looking at him, "I'm not sure what I've done to make you mad at me. However, I apologize, Major."

He sighed. "It is I who must apologize. I am not angry at you, Sarabeth. I am angry at myself."

"Whatever for?" she gazed at him in surprise.

"I am angry at myself for listening to gossip," he admitted. "I am even angrier for allowing it to affect me."

"Well, I'm glad it didn't affect you too much," the woman declared. Seeing her brother's approach, MacAllister smiled at him, "Howdy, brother mine. Did you enjoy your dance with Monica?"

"At least, she doesn't step on my feet, like you do, sister mine," he replied with a grin. He nodded at the other man. "Major, glad you could make it. I was going to buy y'all a drink, but I see that my sister has already beaten me to it."

The Texan sat beside them on the bench. "Howdy, pup," he reached down to scratch the dog behind its ears. "Sarabeth," he asked as he carefully scrutinized the compound, "do you have anyone working crowd control?"

"I sure do. Who do I need to take care of?"

"That Marine sergeant over there," MacAllister indicated the direction. "He's working himself into a mean mood."

"Already onto him, big brother," she replied. As they were talking, a man had come up beside the soldier. He started up a conversation and then, laughing at some comment, put his arm on the man's shoulder and casually led him away.

"Very nicely done, little sister," Crockett praised her.

"Thanks. I learned from a master," she grinned at him. "Anyone else I need to know about?"

"Not at the moment."

Changing the subject, Sarabeth asked, "You couldn't persuade Fannin to come? I sure wanted to see him."

Crockett shrugged. "I could have ordered him to come, but he would have been so surly that everyone would have been miserable. Fannin hasn't really been interested in anything---except flying---ever since you had to take him down to the hospital morgue three years ago."

"I know," she sighed. Her expression was sad as she thought about her sibling. "But, I was hoping." Reaching for her, Crockett gave his sister a reassuring hug. She smiled at him. "That's one of the few good things about having a brother," Sarabeth admitted, embracing him in return.

When the record ended, the older MacAllister stood, "Now that I've complied with the 'can't dance with the same nurse twice in a row' rule, I reckon I'll go ask a certain young lady if she'd like to dance with me...again."

"And again?" his sister teased.

"And again," her brother responded with a lop-sided grin. "Excuse me," he nodded to them and strolled towards a pretty, dark haired nurse.

"Your British major is returning," Winchester informed her as he saw the man approaching behind her. "Are you aware that the English call all Americans Yankees?" he asked her with a returning hint of humor.

"Me? A Yankee?" She laughed at him. "Them's fighting words, mister."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," the officer from England spoke to her. His accent made the woman hide her grin behind her glass. "Would you care for another dance with me?"

"I'd like that, sir." Sarabeth turned to the man beside her. "May I keep this here," she indicated her drink, "and finish it later?"

"Certainly, my dear," the New Englander responded graciously.

The officer held out his arm and the woman slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow. As they walked away, the doctor heard him comment, "You Yanks certainly throw a good party."

Winchester enjoyed hearing her laughter.


"We're in the money!" Hawkeye Pierce exclaimed excitedly. He was waving a large amount of military script around as he danced a jig in the mess tent. The party had ended and the guests had returned to their own outfits and the clean up had been completed. He, Mulcahy and Sarabeth were now counting the party proceeds.

"Not so fast, Rockefeller," the woman declared. She grimaced as she adjusted the ice pack on her ankle. "We still have to pay for the beer and the liquor we requisitioned from the PX; and for the food; and the records," she read over her list. "And, most importantly, we still have to pay the off-duty MPs for their time."

"If we pay all that, we're only going to have enough for the plane tickets," Pierce protested. "We won't be able to pay for the hotel and the restaurants. And we just have to do this for B J. We have to!"

"Ok," the nurse shrugged, "you tell those tanks we're not going to pay them."

"Well," the doctor reconsidered, "maybe we should pay them. For doing a good job keeping the peace…and to keep from being torn to pieces," he added with a grin.

"Yes, I strongly recommend paying the MPs," Crockett MacAllister's voice came from the doorway. He was casually leaning on the framework of the tent. "Military Police place great importance on their professions, and their paychecks." Moving towards them, the senior officer announced, "Sarabeth, I have to leave. Do you reckon you can walk to my jeep with me?"

"I reckon I can." Her brother helped her into her coat held the door for her. "That's what Plan B is for, Hawk," she called over her shoulder, "Trust me; we'll have enough money."


The two Texans walked slowly across the compound, holding onto each other affectionately. "Why didn't you ask me for some help, instead of paying those MPs?" he asked. "I could have sent a couple of men to help and it wouldn't have cost you anything."

"Brother mine, I've already asked enough favors of you. You're going to provide Peg Hunnicutt with an escort from the airport. And you found us a baby-sitter in Tokyo. Not to mention everything else you've done so far."

"So don't mention it, sister mine," Crockett told her with a grin. He kissed her forehead. "I enjoyed the dance. Thanks for inviting me."

"I'm so glad you were able to come! I wish you could stay longer." Sighing, the younger Texan held her brother in a tight embrace. "Be careful out there!" she instructed him.

"I reckon you're in more danger here from wolves like Pierce than I am out on the front lines," he teased.

Sarabeth laughed, "Not while I have a very wonderful big brother I can use as a club."

"Any time, little sister, any time." Suddenly more solemn, Crockett looked at his sibling.

"Sarabeth, promise me, you won't go anywhere outside the confines of the camp without a guard. Even if you're only going out to see Sophie or down to Rosie's bar. Don't go anywhere alone. You hear me?" he demanded sternly.

Matching his seriousness, she nodded in agreement, "I hear you." Hesitantly, the woman asked, "It's going to get worse?"

"It's going to get worse," Colonel MacAllister agreed grimly.