FORTY TWO
Dec 26th: 0930 hours
The day after Christmas began as a relatively peaceful one at the 4077th. Thanks to the suggestion from a couple of British officers who had stopped by the previous day to deliver some gasoline for the generators, Colonel Potter had announced that the outfit would be celebrating Boxing Day. It was an English tradition, where classes of people switched positions for the day; in the Army's case, officers and enlisted men traded roles.
'Colonel' Maxwell Klinger posted a revised duty roster and the reversal in responsibilities began. The company clerk, Sherman Potter, was assigned the task of typing the weekly reports. Hawkeye Pierce, their newest orderly, was given the chore of changing sheets and bed pans. Officers Mulcahy, Hunnicutt and Houlihan were busy with their new duties, as well.
Even Charles Winchester, released from the sick list for half a day, was included in the rearrangement of duties. Thinking perhaps, that he would be able to teach the mess sergeant how to actually prepare an edible meal, he found himself serving oatmeal and scrubbing pots, instead. He was not enjoying Boxing Day.
The only officer not participating in the role reversal was the second-in-command charge nurse. She had so many reports for I-Corps that needed to be completed, that Colonel Potter had exempted her from the proceedings.
In the medical storeroom, she was sitting at her desk, with surgical records and patient charts in stacks everywhere around it, when 'Corpsman' Pierce located her. Taking a break, he was telling her about his day so far, "…And, 'Major' Kellye is so picky. She expects the beds to be made just right. What difference does it make? A sheet is a sheet, right? It still smells like Army laundry—no matter how you fold it."
"Can you bounce a quarter off of a bed after you make it?" Sarabeth MacAllister asked.
"No. Not even a dime," Pierce remarked.
"Then the corners aren't tight enough," the nurse replied with a grin. "You're going to have to do it over again."
"That's what she said," the man admitted with a smile. He continued with his accountings. Stopping when he noticed her frown, he asked if something was wrong. When the Texan didn't answer, he called her name, "Sarabeth?"
MacAllister startled and looked at the doctor apologetically, "Sorry. What were you saying?"
"Is something wrong?" He asked in concern.
"I'm all right. But something has happened. Crockett is absolutely furious about something! His anger is burning a hole in me, right here," she tapped her chest, "Something is really bothering him!"
"How can you read his thoughts like that?" Hawkeye questioned.
The Texan shook her head, "I can't read anybody's thoughts. But I can pick up very strong emotions from my brothers; like when they're sad or scared or happy. Right now, I don't know what the matter is. I just know that Crockett is very, very angry about something." She shrugged. She couldn't offer a better explanation. "I don't reckon this is going to turn out to be a good day," she added in warning.
Less than an hour later, Sarabeth MacAllister was called to the commander's office.
'Colonel' Klinger gave the phone to the woman, "It's for Yellow Rose," he announced. He moved away from the desk to continue his proof reading of 'Corporal' Potter's latest effort.
After giving her own counter codes, the Texan wrote down the information that was being dictated to her. "Message understood," she said, "Out." The lieutenant turned to the men standing near the filing cabinet, "Colonel?"
Both Maxwell Klinger and Sherman Potter looked in her direction and answered, "Yes?"
Despite her growing sense of apprehension, she had to smile at the response from the two of them. "It's for you," she handed the paper to the older man.
As he read the message, Potter knew he didn't need to have it translated. The note stated: "Very sharp eyes needed now. You must keep your mares in the corral. Be ready to move the whole herd."
"Looks like things are heating up," the colonel observed. "Klinger, tell Rizzo that I want every vehicle in this camp fueled, supplied and ready to roll. MacAllister, notify all the senior officers that I'm holding an emergency staff meeting, right now. I'll call HQ and see if I can get some additional information." He issued his orders and was already reaching for the communication handset.
Boxing Day was officially over.
"…All HQ will tell us is that we can expect heavy fighting in this area sometime soon," Colonel Potter was explaining. "They said they will call if they feel it is necessary for us to leave. In the meantime, I want everyone to prepare for a rapid evacuation. And, I want everyone, especially the nurses, to stay close to the hospital building or the mess tent."
"If," the man continued, "we receive the word to 'bug-out', the three patients we have in post-op, and our nurses, will leave on the ambulance bus. The rest of the camp will remain behind to pack up everything we can; then, we'll be leaving, as well. We'll set up a new hospital site somewhere further south, between here and the 425th Evac. Hospital."
"Now, we all know how fast rumors fly around here," Potter added. "It is up to all of you to keep panic down to manageable levels."
"So who's going to keep my panic manageable?" Hawkeye Pierce asked.
"…And, if we are ordered to leave, everyone has five minutes to pack all of the personal belongings you can get into one satchel," the charge nurse was explaining to her staff. "Five minutes; one satchel. After that, we load the patients on the bus and we leave. Do I make myself clear?"
"Shouldn't we be circling the wagons or something?" B J Hunnicutt asked his tent mates. The three surgeons were sorting through their possessions, readying themselves for a quick exit from the area.
"Or, at least, falling off the wagon," Hawkeye Pierce commented. "I need a drink. Anyone care to join me?"
As the morning progressed, more and more concerned faces were turned towards the countryside around the hospital compound. It was one thing to hear artillery barrages in the distance. It was quite another thing to hear the chatter of machine gunfire and the eruption of exploding grenades in the nearby hills. It was even more unsettling to realize they were getting louder and coming closer.
Inside the mess tent, Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had tried to a game of charades. Father Mulcahy's attempt to lead a sing-along failed for the same reason; the camp personnel were more interested in the war noises that were moving their way.
Inside his office, Colonel Potter hung up the phone. The people at Regimental were still telling him to 'sit tight'; and that 'every thing was going according to plan'. He had been in too many battles to believe that. His instincts and the hairs rising up on the back of his neck were telling him otherwise.
He was about to call for Klinger to bring him some more coffee, when the phone rang. Snatching up the handset, he listened to the man's voice on the other end: "This is an emergency message for Clay or Yellow Rose. Scalping parties heading your way; move your mares south to a new pasture…NOW. You need to move the whole herd; but get your mares to safety, immediately."
After acknowledging the information and disconnecting, Colonel Potter collected his thoughts for a moment. HQ had ordered him to stay put. MacAllister's man had told him to leave. Without any hesitation, the old soldier knew what he was going to do.
The 4077th MASH personnel packed up and left.
