Prologue
"Does it say in the legal books that a woman cannot become a surgeon?" Nora stabbed her finger down onto Doctor Finch's desk. "Show me where."
"Now, miss, there is no reason to become…."
"I'm a professional, and I demand to be addressed as such." Finch sighed heavily.
"Doctor… we cannot accept your training qualifications here. A little training at the local college of… where did you say you from again?"
"I have graduated from Vassar with honours, studied in France, England, and Maine, received my doctorate and practitioners license from Oxford, my surgical licence from Cornell, and have taken all of the classes required and have passed your tests to become a surgeon for the army. There are absolutely no loopholes you can throw me through saying that I'm 'not qualified enough' or 'don't have enough experience.'"
"A female surgeon, rather anyone in your rather… eccentric situation is unheard of as a member of a dispatched field unit," Finch handed Nora her files. "I'm sorry but there is no room for you here."
"But you will send famous athletes and correspondents and NURSES into danger."
"Those are special situations." She pushed the files back at Finch.
"Think again, Doctor Finch. The MASH units are more than short-staffed concerning surgeons, especially on the front lines. Just because of my particular situation, you have no right to keep me from letting me serve my country in how I see fit, and that concerns allowing me to practice medicine where they need it the most, on the front lines. How can you possibly deny those boys a chance at life just because of your timidity?"
"You haven't been trained in a field hospital."
"Then train me! I want to help. That's all."
"I understand that, Doctor, but we can't send you willy-nilly to any MASH unit when you aren't even a part of the army."
"That's why I'm here! Enlist me. Send me to basic training. I'm not afraid of hard work." Finch ran his fingers through his sparse hair. Obviously her hard, no-questions-asked attitude was getting her nowhere. She decided to turn on the charm.
"Doctor Finch, I know that you are scared to take on a female surgeon with my background, especially in such a terrible time as this. But all things have to happen eventually. I'm worth taking the chance, even if it's just to take the load of some of your better surgeons. Please. You need the help, I need the work."
"I don't know, Doctor Remington. If you bring bad publicity… we don't need any more of that. But you are right. We need as many surgeons in MASH units as possible."
"If anything it will bring good publicity, and show that all walks of life support Uncle Sam. I'm a bit a patriot, even if I do not entirely agree with our presence in Korea. Not only that, but my medicinal instincts have kicked in and I can't let any more boys die, if I can help it."
"Well…"
"Please, Doctor Finch. I am more qualified than most of your surgeons." Doctor Finch rubbed the bridge of his nose contemplatively.
"Alright. I'll approve you on your physical and your qualifications and I'm sending you into a two-month intensive training. Understand, though, one slip up, one tardy, one harmless misdiagnosis, you're gone. Do you understand?"
"Naturally."
"How much time do you need to bring your things down here to Georgia?"
"All of my worldly possessions are at the hotel across the street."
"Good, good. They are staring a new set tomorrow. Your report is a six am. You understand that your squad will most likely be all men, but there will be other girls in your platoon. Most of the women are staying stateside and don't have take intensive," Finch signed a slip of paper and handed it to her. "If you make it, you'll be entering as a, let me see here… a Sergeant. Unless you graduate top of your squad, then you'll be promoted to Lieutenant Captain."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Now understand your official title will be nurse but…" Finch held up a hand to stop Nora's already open mouth from spewing objections. "But, you are also being listed under 'special circumstances,' which will allow you to perform surgery, but will keep you from making any life or death decisions. So, basically, you will be treated as surgeon, just with out the title. As expected, other… irregularities in your background will also show up on your record, including your time in the French army, which should also make up for that small anomaly concerning your title. Or it could go against you. I don't know."
"Of course. You are a good man. Thank you."
"I'm regretting this already. Don't let me down."
"Not a chance."
"Not yet Beej. Timing is everything," Hawkeye whispered as he and Klinger applied the final touches of mascara to the sleeping form of Major Charles Emerson Winchester III. Hunnicutt stood near the door of the Swamp, jittering with excitement. With a final flourish, Klinger stepped back to admire their work.
"Not too bad. He could make quite a pretty woman," he observed.
"Ya, a cave woman," agreed Hunnicutt. "Can I give Radar the signal yet?" Hawkeye crawled into his cot and pulled the blankets up.
"Ok, go." Hunnicutt opened the door, gave a thumbs up to Radar, hiding a few tents down, and rushed Klinger out, before flinging himself onto his own cot. The recorded sound of a bugle came over the loud speakers, jolting the Major awake. He quickly pulled on his uniform, already set out the night before, as BJ and Hawkeye slowly went through the motions of putting on their infamous red robes. Winchester glanced warningly at these two louts he was forced (against his will, mind you) to bunk with. Once again, they had stolen his alarm clock, causing him to attended roll call with no shower, shave, or proper morning routine.
He pinged the front row of medical staff as the American flag was raised to sniggers, instead reverent silence. After the national anthem was played, he turned around to see what all the fuss was about only to see his fellow, Major Houlihan and practically every nurse of the 4077th MASH unit guffawing at him.
"What in the world could possibly possess you to…" he trailed off as nurse Kellye handed him her pocket mirror. With a screech that could have passed for a cat on a hot tin roof, he gazed admonishingly at his reflection. He handed the mirror back to Kellye and started back to the Swamp. He would show them what happened when you crossed the path of a Winchester!
He didn't have to go far. As he turned, a blinding flash greeted him. Once the spots in front of his eyes dissipated, he saw Klinger, Hawkeye, and Radar smiling in triumph, as Hunnicutt tenderly held a camera that had created the irritation.
"How'd ya like the makeover, Doc," Klinger inquired.
"Not your best work Corporal," Winchester steamed. "Hunnicutt, give the camera to me."
"What camera," he asked sheepishly.
"Come on Major. You've got to send your sister something from Korea," Radar teased.
"Hunnicutt. Hand. It. Over. Now," Charles hissed, slow and deliberate. BJ tossed the camera to Hawkeye, who sprinted for the outskirts of camp.
"Pierce," Winchester thundered, as he raced after him, leaving the laughing trio in a cloud of dust.