FORTY
Dec. 25th: 0830 hours
With excited chatter, the members of the 4077th began filing into the mess tent. It was finally Christmas! A day of hope, peace, good will and…presents. The small tree that had been decorated for the orphan's party was still standing in the corner. It was almost invisible behind all of the gifts that were piled around it. People moved around it, calling out remarks as they recognized names on some of the packages. A bowl of eggnog was sitting next to the coffee urn. The table was covered with tins of cookies, cakes and other care package treats sent from home. There were plenty of smiles on tired faces, as well.
Waiting for the last of the MASH personnel to arrive, Hawkeye Pierce took the opportunity to speak to the crowd. He stood on a bench and announced, "I suppose you all are wondering as to the real reason I brought you here, today."
"You're going to reveal the identity of the murderer," B J suggested with a smile of his own.
"Not this time; my faithful, but wrong, companion. Today is the reading of Uncle Wilbur's will. I bet he left me his mansion. I was his favorite, you know. Of course, I don't know how I'll be able to give all this up," Pierce gestured at the canvas tent surrounding them.
"Don't move into that mansion just yet, Reginald," Sarabeth warned with a laugh. "Uncle Wilbur never forgave you for Fluffy."
"Who's Fluffy?" Max Klinger asked.
"Uncle Wilbur's cat," MacAllister explained. "The one Reginald ran over. Remember, big brother?"
"Well, you know how he mumbles, Regina," Hawkeye shrugged. He seized the opportunity she was presenting, "I misunderstood him. I thought he said he wanted flat-cats for breakfast. Not flap-jacks."
"I bet you served them with a side order of hash hounds, didn't you?" B J quipped.
"And cat-sup?" Colonel Potter offered with a grin.
"No, I think the cat's down," Corporal Klinger added to their hilarity.
"I bet the fur really flew when your uncle found out," B J contributed.
Laughing, Sarabeth responded, "Oh, it did. It was a very cat-astrophic event."
"Well, that was certainly cat-thartic," Father Mulcahy announced. He had arrived with another box of gifts that he placed beside the tree. "My friends," he addressed the crowd, "I want to thank you for making yesterday's party such a success. I know that most of you came directly from the operating room and were already tired. However, to see the faces of the children light up when the presents were given out---and to see them play, and to hear them laugh, meant so much to me! And to them. Thank you! Thank you all, very much."
"We should be thanking you, Padre," Colonel Potter countered. "It was wonderful to hear children laughing again."
"It certainly did wonders for my morale," Hawkeye Pierce agreed. "Now, if I could only convince some nurse to work on the rest of me. How about it, ladies? Any takers?" He asked the nursing staff. The responses were not favorable.
"Now, now," Hawkeye reminded them. "If you want any presents, you have to be good to Santa's Helper."
"Speaking of Santa," a red headed woman called to the surgeon, "Don't you reckon it's time he made his appearance?" She hinted.
"Right. I'll go see what's keeping him," Pierce helped himself to another cup of eggnog before he and B J Hunnicutt left the mess tent.
A few minutes later, a commotion at the door made them turn to see who was entering. A tall, odd-looking man in a red-dyed lab coat and a white-cotton ball beard walked in. He was carrying a bulging duffel bag. He looked suspiciously like B J Hunnicutt. He was followed by a dark-haired man with a green pointed cap and bells on his combat boots. He looked very much like Hawkeye Pierce.
When everyone finally quit laughing, the man who called himself St. Nick spoke to the people inside the tent, "Merry Christmas, boys and girls in funny green uniforms! I understand all of you have been very good this year."
"Oh, they have," the camp priest assured the visitor. "These are very good children; sometimes."
The people, enjoying the fun, laughed and began clamoring for their gifts. St. Nick adjusted his slipping belly and continued, "Because you have been so good and have worked so hard, I have a treat for each of you. My helper, Hawk Elf, will give out the presents. However, I don't want anyone to open them until everyone has a gift. Understand?"
"Sure thing, Santa," Colonel Potter answered. "But your helper seems to have his hands full, already."
Santa's Helper was observed with his arms around a shapely nurse. Seeing everyone staring at him, he held up a spray of shrubbery, "Look. I found some Korean mistletoe. It seems a shame to waste it."
"Looks more like poison ivy to me," Margaret Houlihan retorted.
"Oh, Hawk Elf," St. Nick called, "Leave Nurse Sandra Smith alone and come over here."
"In other words, get your Sandy Claws off her," Sarabeth MacAllister called out. She dodged the things that were thrown at her.
After all of the presents in the duffel bag were delivered, the white-whiskered gentleman explained their origins, "These gifts are from the camp personnel to the camp personnel. Each of us has one gift that is not---I repeat, not---olive drab. It's not even Army issued!"
Everyone cheered in response.
"So, on the count of three, let's open our presents together. One. Two..."
He was interrupted by the sound of tearing paper and excited cries. Displaying a colorful pair of argyle socks, a set of ear muffs, a cap or a muffler, the people began modeling their new fashion accessories.
"Good work," Potter spoke to the organizers of the party. "You must have purchased every winter item from here to Tokyo. Or were they purloined?" He asked with a grin.
"You probably don't want to know," Corporal Klinger advised. "Although, I must admit most of these came from the big-in-generosity, small-in-size-town known as Big Oak."
"What did you do?" The colonel asked the woman, "Ask everyone in your home town to send something?"
The Texas grinned, "Something like that, sir. I'm just glad the roads were finally cleared for travel. These have been sitting in the warehouse in Kimpo for days. We were fixing to hire a farmer to haul them here with his ox cart."
Gesturing for silence, Father Mulcahy spoke again, "And now, my dear friends. We have a special surprise for you. Lieutenant MacAllister will explain," he motioned for the woman to stand beside him.
Smiling happily at them, she addressed the group with her familiar drawl, "Back in October, Father Mulcahy asked Klinger and me to help him with a project. He wanted to contact each of your families and ask them to send something that would remind y'all of better times back home. I was glad to help...because I wanted to show my appreciation to the people here."
"So, we have been corresponding with your kinfolk over the past two months. We've asked them to send some little something that was special to y'all...as a morale booster. The response has been overwhelming. We've been receiving lots of packages. And, during all of this, with only a few near-disasters, we've even managed to keep these plans a secret."
"I knew I recognized my dad's handwriting on that package," Captain Pierce interrupted. "But when I finished being side-tracked by that crafty company clerk, it was gone. And no one knew anything about it."
MacAllister grinned at him, "Fancy that. Anyway, what we would like to do; is to have each person come up and open his or her gift---and explain its significance. Of course, if y'all don't want to open it in front of us, or tell us the story behind it---that's okay, too. However, some of the things we've received are so strange! And I have to admit that I'm very curious as to why they sent what they sent!"
"So, Santa, if you will grab a present and start calling out the names, we'll get on with Mulcahy's Morale Maintainer."
"No time like the present to hand out presents," Hunnicutt remarked as he reached for the closest package, "And the winner is...Kellye Tanakhamara."
Amidst the applause, the nurse came forward to claim her gift. She eagerly opened the small box. She gasped and carefully lifted the item---a lava rock---to display to her friends. With tears in her eyes, she tried to speak.
Sarabeth walked over and put her arm around her. "Remember, you don't have to tell us, if you don't want to. This is supposed to make you happy. Not unhappy," she told her softly.
Kellye shook her head, "I am happy! This just means so much to me!" She wiped her eyes and smiled. Holding onto her piece of lava securely, she began her story, "About four days before my father went into the hospital for the last time, he took my little brother and me for a walk," the woman explained.
"We walked along the beach. We had to stop often because he was so weak. Every time we rested, he would tell us some of the old sea legends. We walked along the forest trails, too. And he recited all the animal and creation stories, as well."
"He gave us each a piece of lava; and told us...that these were magical rocks that kept memories alive. And that as long as we kept them, and remembered this day, he would never be too far away from us."
"I carried mine with me for years. But when I was assigned here, I left my rock back in Honolulu because...I didn't know what to expect from this place. And, once I got here, I didn't send for it because...I wanted to keep it safe from this place. But, seeing it now," the woman was smiling through her tears, "I realize that not even this horrible place can take away my favorite memories."
"Thank you, Sarabeth. Thank you, Father Mulcahy. Thank you very much!" She hugged both of them and grasped her treasure tightly, "This is the best Christmas present I could ever get!"
"...And the next present goes to...Igor Stimenski." B J announced.
"…Roy Goldman, come claim your prize."
"…This teeny-tiny box belongs to Margaret Houlihan."
As each present was opened, Lieutenant Parnelli's expression changed from eager anticipation to bitter disappointment. She should have known. Eyes filling with unexpected tears, turning to leave the mess tent, the woman missed her name being called.
Gently catching her arm, MacAllister asked, "Monica, don't you want your gift?"
"My gift?" She asked in confusion.
"Well, it's a letter, actually," the priest confessed as he brought the envelope over to the nurse. "It's from a Michael Joseph Parnelli, in Smithville, North Dakota."
"Michael Joseph? That's my brother's name. But I haven't heard from him since they sent us to different foster homes.…" She reached for the envelope to read the name for herself. "You located my brother?" Parnelli asked the clergyman in disbelief.
"Thanks to some very good detective work from Corporal Klinger, Lieutenant MacAllister and practically every priest in South Philadelphia," Mulcahy replied. "Oh, and, Colonel MacAllister helped us, as well."
"Colonel MacAllister, too?"
"Yes," a red-haired Texan replied, "my brother instructed us in the best ways to track down the family who took in your brother." She had only a hint of reproof in her drawl.
Then, with a smile, she changed the subject, "So, are you going to open it?"
"Yes. But not here. Is that all right?" Parnelli asked.
"Of course it's all right, my child," Mulcahy assured her.
Moving towards a corner of the tent, stroking the letter affectionately, Monica Parnelli sat on a bench. For the first time, in a long time, she looked happy.
No one noticed as Lieutenant MacAllister buttoned up her coat, picked up two packages that had been placed to one side and slipped out of the door. Accompanied by her armed escort, she stopped by her quarters first. Exiting it, with more packages in her arms, she made visits to some of the tents, leaving a gift behind in each one. Her final destination was the Swamp.
The gift distribution resumed.
"…Jeanette Thompson. Uh oh, I hope yours was supposed to rattle."
"…Here's one for Luther Rizzo."
"…This good smelling one is for Linda Hernandez."
"…Hey, here's another one for Monica Parnelli. This one feels like a shirt or something."
…Christie Baker's our next lucky recipient."
"…And here are two packages for our uns-elf-ish Hawkeye Pierce. How did you get so lucky?"
"I'm really identical twins," the surgeon answered. He quickly tore into his presents, "This is so exciting!" Pierce began to laugh when he saw the contents. From one box, he pulled a battered tobacco can stuffed with tangled fishing lines and lures. From the other, he pulled a plug of tobacco.
"What kind of fish are you after, Hawkeye?" B J asked. "Smoked salmon?"
"My dad is reminding me of the time my friends, Toby and Dickey, and I decided to try some chewing tobacco. We went to the drugstore, paid for it with the pennies we had managed to scrape together and told Old Man Balanger that it was for my dad. But before we could try any of it, my dad caught us."
"He didn't yell at us or anything. He just cut us all a thick slice of it and told us to enjoy ourselves. And he sat there and watched us."
Colonel Potter was grinning, "And then what happened?"
"After awhile, my dad told us to swallow some of the juice." Those in the tent who knew from experience what happened next groaned in sympathy. Hawkeye was laughing as he tried to explain, "All of us turned green! We were so sick! And we stayed queasy for days."
"One good thing came out of that experience, however," the doctor held up the can. "I got a great tackle box that I could carry in my pocket."
St. Nick continued to call out the names on the packages. Some of the explanations for the gifts were even more unbelievable than the gifts themselves. The laughter, and sometimes the tears, filled the mess tent.
