FOURTEEN


Nov. 19th: 1300 hours

"Corn on the cob."

"Sweet and sour pork."

"Peach cobbler."

"Sushi."

The 4077th personnel were naming the foods they missed the most. Hoping to drown out the war noises bellowing in the background, Captain Pierce had started the menu recital at his table. For a change, Major Houlihan had allowed her nurses to participate. Everyone had contributed once to the game. It was going around the tables a second time. It was Doctor Winchester's turn.

Lieutenant Campbell, the anesthetist for his team, was sitting on her stool at the head of the table. She was leaning against her equipment. She was asleep. The surgeon and his nurse were sitting on a bench. Both of them had their feet elevated. Both of them had their eyes closed. All three were on a ten minute break.

The surgical teams had been operating for fifteen hours. With less than an hour's sleep, they had been called back on duty. This was their seventh hour of the second OR session.

"Lobster Newburgh," Charles Winchester contributed.

Taking her turn, Sarabeth MacAllister said, "Fried green tomatoes."

"Fried green tomatoes? What's that?" Nurse Thompson asked.

"Just what it sounds like," the woman replied. She didn't bother to open her eyes. "You take a green tomato with just a suggestion of pink on it. Slice it thin. Dip it in batter. Fry it. And eat it hot. It's delicious."

"That's weird," Lieutenant Baker commented with a laugh.

"No weirder than eating cooked eel wrapped in rice and sea weed," MacAllister answered. She opened one eye to check the clock on the wall. "Four minutes left, sir."

Her surgeon nodded.

"A baked potato; with lots of butter, sour cream, cheese and chives."

"Manicotti."

The game continued.


"I have one for y'all," Lieutenant MacAllister spoke as another patient was being prepared for surgery. "What type of food is a lighthouse, a rose trellis, a windstorm and a sand dune?"

Major Winchester was examining a set of x-rays the camp priest was holding up for him. "That woman takes delight in my misery," he commented. Neither man could see the other's smile behind his mask.

The nurse winked at her doctor before adding, professionally, "Your patient's ready, sir."

Several guesses were made. "Y'all are all wrong," Sarabeth replied. "May I continue, sir?" she asked her surgeon. Winchester nodded his permission. "Are y'all ready for this?" Hearing a soft-spoken 'no' from her doctor, she laughed. "It's a beacon, lattice and tornado sand ridge."

Moans of protests filled the operating room. So did the laughter.

"Here's another one. What's another name for...?"

"…A nurse who's talking while she has a patient on the table?" Major Houlihan finished her question for her.

"Mud?" MacAllister suggested.

"Close enough," Houlihan agreed.

"Closing mouth, Major," the woman answered. She had been allowed to talk more than usual. She was content with that.


Nov. 20th: 0700 hours

Once again, the ambulances started arriving at the medical unit. Once again, the sound of artillery fire was heard from a few miles away.

"They're starting early today," B J Hunnicutt noted. He was taking a break on top of his table. His nurse was sitting on a nearby stool. She was yawning and trying to stay awake.

"That's because they get paid overtime for that. Give me those sutures, faster," Hawkeye told his surgical nurse. "That's better." He was working as he talked, "Their shelling explains why we get to work overtime. Which reminds me, Colonel; I expect to be compensated for this."

"You'll have to talk to the shop foreman about that," Potter commented as he waited for another soldier to be brought to his table.

"Lieutenant MacAllister," Corporal Klinger called to her. He was standing just inside the operating room doors.

"Present," she answered in a very soft whisper. She didn't look up from her patient. Her ankle was hurting and she was trying not to move any more than necessary.

"No presents, ma'am. Just a strange message."

"From Crockett?" She glanced up in sudden concern.

"From the supply sergeant at Kimpo," Klinger reported. "He says your medical supplies have arrived. And you are to come get them---immediately."

"I haven't ordered any medical supplies."

"It's your name and serial number on the shipping label. And he says that some of the crates are marked 'keep refrigerated'. He doesn't have the space to store them."

"Medical supplies that need to be refrigerated? How many crates are there?" MacAllister asked.

Still holding the surgical mask over his face, Klinger looked at his sheet of paper, "Fifteen all total."

"Fifteen!" Sarabeth was still confused. "But I didn't... Wait a minute!" She was getting excited, "Corporal, what's the origin of shipment for those medical supplies?"

"I don't know."

"Find out!" She ordered.

The company clerk hurried back to his office to follow her instructions.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" Colonel Potter asked.

"I'm not sure, sir. Except that, I've written to my folks about how bad the food is here; especially the meat---when we have any---where we have to check it for shoelaces or collars---before we eat it. So, maybe..."

"Your family sent some food? Real food?" Major Houlihan asked with eagerness.

"With any luck, ma'am."

"What would they send?" B J Hunnicutt questioned.

"We do raise cattle, you know," MacAllister arched her eyebrow in response.

"You mean---like steaks?"

"And ribs?"

"And roasts?"

"And hamburger meat?"

Other people were getting excited, as well.

"If my daddy found a way to send us some of our melt-in-your-mouth, so-delicious-it's-sinful, corn-fed, Texas-bred MacAllister steers, he'll send everything but the hide, the horns and the holler," she assured them. "And the brains," the Texan added with a chuckle. "He knows I hate to even look at the brains. They remind me of scrambled eggs!"

The company clerk returned and announced, "The point of origin is: Big Oak, Texas, USA."

Sarabeth laughed in delight. "Thank the Lord! We're going to be carnivores again!"

"What are you waiting for? Go! Go!" Captain Pierce urged.

She looked down at the injured man on the operating table, "I'm kinda busy right now, sir."

"Klinger, can anyone else pick up those supplies?" Potter asked.

"I already asked that, sir. He said he'll release them only to Lieutenant MacAllister."

"Then tell him that she'll be there as soon as she can. And have him put those crates outside, if he needs the room. It's cold enough out there to freeze a fire."

"And tell him to guard them with his life!" Hawkeye added.