THIRTY THREE


December 10th: 0730 hours

"Gentlemen, I apologize for having to wake y'all. However, I received an important message from Crockett that requires immediate attention," Lieutenant MacAllister explained to the men gathered behind the closed doors in Colonel Potter's office.

"We understand, Lieutenant. Continue," Potter ordered.

"Yes, sir. This is in code...so let me read it to y'all first. And then I'll decipher it," MacAllister took the paper from her pant pocket and read out loud:

Rattlesnake with tail buzzing. Clay: Previous chats confirmed. Scalping parties will be riding. All best cares need sharp eyes out from now on. Travel by covered wagon only. Keep your mares in the corral. You may have to move the herd to another pasture. All who sunburn should wear sunbonnets. No one should go to the Lone Star Prom. Trey: Green eyes and Pennant watching required. If sighted together, notify. Camel: Relief pitcher for T. Learn the language. Brazos: Top three informed together. Confirm understanding. Hair must be like a pill bug. Remember bait talk? Instigators are working again. If you won't switch trains, at least, don't roam. Lava and Brazos: don't expect the Pony Express to run for a while. Prickly Pear

MacAllister looked up from her paper, "That's all of it."

"You actually understand any of that?" Corporal Klinger asked in confusion.

Sarabeth grinned, "Oh, sure. This is one of Crockett's simpler codes. However, if you don't know what to associate with each phrase---it's gibberish."

"It certainly is," Klinger agreed. He poured everyone a cup of coffee before sitting down again.

"Now, for what it means," the lieutenant tasted her coffee, grimaced and set the cup aside, "the line about the rattlesnake means that the danger is very real and very close. And the first part of the message is for you, sir," MacAllister looked at her commanding officer who indicated she should continue.

"Wait," the clerk asked, "why is Colonel Potter...Clay?"

"That should be obvious, Klinger," Major Winchester replied. "A potter works with clay."

"Exactly," the woman agreed. "Even when he's dead dog serious, Crockett has a warped sense of humor. What he's telling you, sir," she returned to her explanation, "is that whatever y'all have talked about previously, has now been verified. And the conditions are right for enemy attacks. He wants every medical outfit to post, and keep, some very good guards around the camps. We shouldn't use open air vehicles, like jeeps. Our nurses should stay within the compound. And we might all have to be moved elsewhere. Fair-skinned people also need to wear hats. And finally, no one should go anywhere alone."

"I was able to follow all of that, except for the Lone Star Prom, lieutenant. What's the connection there?" The commanding officer asked.

"Well, sir, when I was in junior high, I was invited to that dance. But some of my stinking brothers managed to scare off the boy who had asked me. By then, my Mama and I had already made my dress, and I really wanted to go, so I went to the Lone Star Prom...alone. "

The Texan continued, "Now, the second message is for you, Major."

Winchester nodded, "I think I may be able to translate: Colonel Flagg is working this area, again. If he appears in camp, I am to notify Colonel MacAllister. Correct?"

Smiling, the woman agreed. "The colonel also wants me to keep an eye on a certain green-eyed lady. That shouldn't be too difficult," the major added with a small grin.

Amused by his statement, the commanding officer and the company clerk hid their own smiles behind their coffee cups.

"Camel has to mean me," Corporal Klinger observed. "There's just something about MacAllisters and camels. But I don't understand the message."

"Crockett wants you to be our backup. If the major can't notify him about Colonel Flagg---if he's in the OR, for example---then he wants you to call him. He has a special code set up for that. I'll teach it to you today."

"The rest of this is for me," the woman looked at her note again. "I'm to make sure y'all understand his messages. I'm to stay in camp and to use caution whenever I go outside." Sarabeth shrugged. "Do you want me to go over them in detail, sir?"

"I don't believe it's necessary," Colonel Potter replied. "Now, the contents of that message must remain inside this office, understood?"

"Yes, sir," three voices solemnly agreed.

The phone rang in the outer office. Corporal Klinger jumped up to answer it. Moments later, he returned, "Sir, HQ is on the phone. They want to speak to you---right away!"

"I'll take it in here. We are going to have a senior staff meeting in a few minutes. Klinger, I want more guards posted around the camp. And tell them to be very alert or they'll be wearing my boot prints," the colonel issued orders. "MacAllister, tell Major Houlihan about the staff meeting. Winchester, you escort the lieutenant around the compound and notify Mulcahy. Then all of you come back here. Dismissed."

"Sir, if Corporal Klinger has time, maybe he can brew some fresh coffee for our meeting?" MacAllister suggested. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"And, this time, Klinger, filter it through clean socks," Major Winchester added. He stood and helped the woman to her feet, "All right, lieutenant; time for our appointed rounds."


"Lava must be Kellye," Charles Winchester commented as they walked away from the commander's officer. "And, are you Brazos?"

"Brazos is the name of a river in Texas," Sarabeth MacAllister informed him with a grin. She headed towards her own tent. Confused by her detour, the major followed her. "You're right, though," she replied as she opened the door to her quarters. "That's me. Crockett has a code name for almost everyone in camp."

Stepping back to allow her to enter, the man asked, "What is Pierce's code name?" He quickly closed the door behind them against the cold wind.

"You're reasonably intelligent," she teased. "I reckon you can figure that one out by yourself." MacAllister reached for the canvas hat that was hanging on a nail beside her bed. Also retrieving her hair brush, she spied the small dog that had moved from his bed near the heater to the top of her bed. Speaking sternly, she said, "Ernie...I told you...that's off limits."

Offended by her tone, the animal hopped down from her cot and walked over to the water bowl. He drank noisily. Sarabeth smiled at the dog and looked at the man standing next to her. "Beware of lifting legs," she warned.

"The same could be applied to Pierce," Winchester grinned. "For him, however, the adjectives infuriating, immature and irresponsible do come to mind as possible code choices."

"Sorry, wrong letter of the alphabet," Sarabeth informed him. She was busily brushing her red hair as they talked. When she finished, she began to braid it.

"You won't tell me?"

"Nope. But I will tell you if you guess correctly."

"Very well; I shall have to think about that one awhile longer. Out of curiosity, does Lieutenant Parnelli have a code name?"

Sarabeth had a wide grin on her face. "She sure does: slug," she answered in amusement.

Winchester smiled in delight, "Appropriate; but, why slug?"

The woman shrugged, "I'm not sure if it's because she belongs under a rock or if it's because Crockett knows I'd like to slug her one."

Shaking his head at her, he continued his questions, "Perhaps you will explain some of your more cryptic instructions. What does 'hair like a pill bug' mean?"

"What I'm doing right now," MacAllister explained. She twisted her hair up, placed the hat on her head and began pushing the strands trying to escape back under the material. "Crockett wants me to wear a hat anytime I go outside. And he wants me to tuck my hair in it. I reckon he thinks red hair is too conspicuous around here."

"In the middle of a land filled with dark-haired people, I wonder why he would think that?" The major questioned with a grin.

"I haven't the foggiest," she replied.

"And what does 'switching trains' mean?"

"My big brother has been after me to transfer out of here since I first arrived. I'm been resisting his suggestions."

Major Winchester proclaimed, "Given these new dangers, I would not make it a suggestion; I would make it an order."

"He also knows I don't follow orders, too well," Sarabeth admitted. "Right now, it's a moot point. Crockett's very busy. Any transfers will have to wait."

"Don't you mean a moo-o-ot point?" The man quipped.

The corner of the Texan's mouth started quivering. When she glanced at Winchester, her eyes were sparkling with laughter, "And you claim my puns are bad!"

"I've had very little sleep. What else can I say?"

"I'd say, let's go talk to Major Houlihan, now." MacAllister replied with a grin.


"I-Corps has ordered every commanding officer in this sector to attend a meeting this morning," Colonel Potter explained as he buttoned his Class A jacket. "They say there are some important new developments that we need to know about. In the meantime, Winchester, as second-in-command, you'll be in charge. Keep guards posted at all times. No one---male or female---is to go beyond the confines of the camp," the senior officer instructed.

"And, if you get a message from Colonel MacAllister to 'bug out'; don't hesitate—even if you haven't received orders from HQ, yet. I want everyone packed and gone before the end of that phone call. Understand me?"

"Certainly, Colonel," Major Winchester replied gravely. "I will see to the safety of camp personnel."

"And, I'll review my nurses on evacuation procedures," Major Houlihan contributed. "We'll be ready, Colonel."

"Good. I'm hoping it won't be necessary," Potter replied. "I'll have more information when I return."


When the commander of the 4077th returned, he called for another staff meeting.

After he finished his briefing, he sent his officers on their assignments; MacAllister to inventory current supplies; Pierce and Houlihan to prepare a list of everything they might need; Klinger to start requisitioning everything they suggested---as much as he could get away with; Mulcahy to talk his black market contacts to get every box of antibiotics he could get his hands on; and Winchester to read everything available in the manuals on evacuating an entire hospital.

Alone at his desk, Sherman Potter sipped the whiskey that he had prescribed for himself.

He wondered about the people in Regimental Headquarters, sometimes. They were willing to believe the AI reports that there had been a shakeup in the Chinese army and that this new commander would bring more fighting to this sector---with probably more vicious results than ever before. But, they were less willing to believe that medical units, recognized neutral private care organizations, even the few monasteries left standing, could also be considered targets; despite the chilling background information and fact-based suppositions that Colonel MacAllister had patiently presented to them.

At least, HQ had agreed to assign Military Police to provide extra sentries for every MASH unit, and that some of the NATO outfits would be directed to make routine sweeps around each camp.

Personally, Potter trusted MacAllister's judgment. The 4077th would go on full alert; with blackout conditions and travel restrictions in place. He knew there would be grumblings amongst his people but he was going to be prepared for possible enemy action.