We rounded the corner and the 4077th came into full view. I put the jeep in park and sighed.
"There she is, in all her glory," he said.
"I still can't believe this is all actually happening," I said. "I feel like I'm wading through a dream. One of those dreams that feels like life, but deep down in some corner of your mind you know it's not real."
"I felt the same way when I first came here," he said quietly.
I turned to him. "Does it ever go away?"
"It all switches around. After a while you feel like this is all there is to your reality and the life you led before is the dream."
"That sounds awful."
He put his hands on the dashboard and leaned forward. "It is." But he chuckled to himself. "Of course, that's just my opinion. You can always talk to Burns and Houlihan if you want the other side. They both love it here."
"That's only because they have each other," I replied.
"Are you telling me you already know about Houlihan and Burns?" BJ asked. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"All the nurses do in their free time is gossip. I hate that kind of prattle myself, but I do listen. Apparently, Hotlips and Ferret-Face are a hot topic of conversation."
BJ laughed, his smile warming my heart. "Why don't we grab something to eat at the mess tent?" he suggested.
"Good thinking," I replied. I shifted the jeep into gear and drove it to the spot where we found it. I put it in park, turned it off, and hopped out of the car feeling very good-humored. BJ slowly stepped out of the jeep and turned to me as I bounded up to him. He looked sad and I stopped. "You ok?" I asked.
He gingerly put his hand on my shoulder. "Enjoy this energy while you can, ok?"
"I plan to have it for a while, BJ," I said.
"I hope so." He shook his head. "Sorry. Why don't we go and get some food?"
"Sure," I said, trying to figure him out. He was a very confusing person. One second he was in high spirits and the next he looked like someone had just killed his dog. Maybe it's a byproduct of life here, I thought. I shook my head and followed him to the mess tent.
A group of nurses crossed our path of which the only one I recognized was Sherry. The other nurses clustered in a small group while Sherry stepped out.
"So, Nightingale," Sherry said, smiling. "How are my fatigues going for you?"
"They certainly got me some unwanted attention," I replied, tugging on the tight uniform.
"Let me guess, from Hawkeye?" The nurses in the group behind her all looked up at the mention of Hawk's name. I laughed.
"Well, Hawkeye and I knew each other before I came here. I lived in Boston when he was in residency."
"Is that so?" Sherry asked.
BJ touched me on the shoulder. "I'll go get us some seats, ok?"
"Thanks, BJ," I said. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and strode into the mess tent. I smiled and turned back to Sherry.
"You do know that one is taken?" she asked once BJ was out of earshot. "That's Mr. Happily Married MD."
"I know. He's just a friend."
"You guys got chummy fast," she said a little nastily.
"Well, Hawkeye introduced us," I informed her. The nurses in the group looked up a second time when they heard Hawkeye's name.
She stepped closer to me. "Let me give you a nickel's worth of free advice, ok Linda? No man and woman in this place can have a friendship. It doesn't exist in a war zone. All that can happen here is necessity. The need for a warm body, the need for a release from the tension. You get it?"
"Sherry," I started. "I'm new here and few people have taken it upon themselves to befriend me. I appreciate anyone trying to make me feel welcome and it just so happens that BJ has gone very far out of his way to make me feel as comfortable here as I possibly can. I like being around him and Hawkeye and unless I have my signals crossed, they like being around me. I'd like to think of that as a friendship, but if it's something else then I'll give it another title. For now, however, Hawkeye and BJ are my friends and I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to give me advice that might make me think twice about that."
I turned to leave, but Sherry grabbed my arm.
"Hey, Nightingale, I'm not trying to break up anything between you and Hawkeye or BJ." She stole a glance at the Swamp. "Just be careful. Things escalate quickly here and Hawkeye Pierce has broken more than one heart with the promise of friendship."
I looked around and noticed the nurses had formed a circle around me and all of them were nodding.
"Thank you for looking out for me, Sherry," I said genuinely. "But I'm not looking to be anything but Hawkeye's friend." Of course that wasn't true, but the group of girls around me was making me claustrophobic. Sherry let me go and I broke through the circle, rushing to the mess tent.
The mess tent was just that: a tent. Long tables and benches littered the room and all that was overhead was a thin, olive drab, canvas ceiling. It was held up with wooden poles and held together by a thin wooden frame, each looked as if they would fall over with a sharp exhale of breath.
I spotted BJ at a corner table drinking a cup of coffee. I walked over to him and sat across the table.
He looked up at me and smiled. "What was that about?" he asked, gesturing to the group of nurses still grouped outside, talking amongst themselves.
"They heard that Hawkeye was a friend of mine and wanted to know his favorite color," I lied unconvincingly, but he dropped it. "So, what's good here?" I asked, gesturing to the queue of people in front of a counter on the other side of the room.
He smiled. "One of the telltale signs of new personnel: not knowing just how bad the food is."
He stood up and gestured me to follow.
As we neared the food counter, I smelled a mix of many things, none of which registered in my brain as something edible. My face wrinkled in disgust and BJ, catching sight of my expression, laughed heartily.
"See what I mean?" He grabbed a metal tray for me and nodded to the man behind the counter.
"This is Lieutenant Florence. Linda, this is Igor."
Igor nodded to me but didn't say a word.
"So what'sgood here?"I asked.
Igor stood behind the counter wearing an apron and looking very uncomfortable being directly above the steaming trays of food. He was a tall man with a hooked nose and a vacant expression. His mousy brown hair hung unceremoniously out from under his olive green hat and his eyes widened in what looked like fear at BJ's question.
"Are you kidding?" he replied. But he moved into auto-pilot, naming the dishes and placing them on the tray in BJ's hand. Mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, turkey, meatloaf, creamed corn, and apple sauce all slid onto my tray with an unappetizing sclat.
"It was nice to meet you, Igor," I said, but he was already helping the next person in line. I would have thought he was very rude except for the look on his face. He looked like someone who had been singing the same song over and over again and although the brain goes numb, the person keeps singing.
I decided not to wave and went back to the table, followed soon by BJ who refilled his mug with coffee. I sat down and he sat across from me.
"Igor isn't really like that, but he's been pulling KP for about a month now and his mind isn't what is used to be, and that's saying something."
I laughed. "I read the expression. Someone should put that poor guy out of his misery. Shoot him in the leg, send him in the front, something to break the monotony."
He smiled, pushing the tray in front of me.
"Well, Lieutenant, dig in."
I finally noticed what was on my tray and my stomach lurched. The mashed potatoes looked ok, but they smelled like rotten socks, the peas were orange and the carrots were green, I couldn't tell the difference between the meatloaf and the turkey, and my creamed corn and apple sauce had run together making a mixture that I wouldn't even feed a starving dog.
"Do I have to?" I asked, looking at my food with disgust.
"No. But malnourishment isn't all it's cracked up to be," he replied.
I picked at the food before putting my fork down.
"So, what can you tell me about this place?"
He sighed.
"Luckily, you've already seen the worst part."
"What's that?"
He threw a questioning glance my way. "You didn't notice the bruised and bleeding soldiers in the O.R?"
"Of course I did," I said, and stopped. I expected him to say more. Finally I got it. "Oh, you're talking about the O.R. That's the worst part."
"Give the pretty lady a cigar," he said.
"But isn't that why we're here?" I continued. "To treat the sick?"
He put his mug back on the table and folded his hands in front of him.
"We don't treat the sick, Linda," he said, his voice growing cold. "These kids in the O.R are not suffering from the flu or chicken pox. They are suffering from man-made hurts: bullets, shrapnel, grenade wounds. There's nothing regular about that."
I shoved my tray aside rather roughly and it knocked over the salt and pepper shakers in its hasty retreat. "I hate the idea of these people being hurt because another human being shot at them, BJ. But I have to admit, I get a rush in the O.R."
BJ nodded. "I know how you feel, Linda. I come from many generations of doctors. When my father used to talk about his experiences in O.R, I used to get chills. The tension, the panic, it was intoxicating. Then I came here. It took me a while, but I began to notice the people I was operating on. They weren't nameless or faceless anymore, but people I had to cut open to take out what another human being put in. One day it clicked: I hated it all. The sights, the smells, the feeling of this place. And I still hate it." He hesitated before placing his hand on mine. "I pray you don't have to have the same epiphany when you're wading in blood like I did, Linda."
I took my hand out from under his. "I hope not too, BJ."
I lifted myself off the bench and hurried out of the mess tent. Pushing the door open, I took a deep breath, wondering why what BJ had just said bothered me. I thought that the surgeons, like me, would love the idea of O.R. I never thought that joining up would be all peaches and cream, but I never dreamed it would make me think twice about my career path.
I sighed. I'll have to wait it out, I thought to myself. One thing was for sure, Korea wasn't at all what I expected it would be.
