I'm trying to get the introductions for important people in this chapter. If you need more details (flashbacks) to explain certain things, let me know. Also I have an interesting sense of humor that I'm pretty sure is showing in the story, oh well. Never the less, on-wards! The story awaits! PS thanks to Winter Frost15 for reviewing once again. And it seems that I lost my ability to make this bolded. Huh.
Disclaimer: I don't own any references or characters in this story except Donovan, Stokes, Nobus, and De Lonzo.
Fun disclaimer: I want to own M*A*S*H but they haven't invented time travel yet so...
Many weeks past by in a blur as Ben traversed the front lines, saving as many lives as he could. Throughout this time he had found g
ood friends within the 339th Marine corps. He had gotten close to the small group rather quickly. The colonel, James "Rodeo" Donovan from Texas, was like an older brother, helping the young medic learn the ropes with his dry and coarse humor. Rodeo had told him that everyone got a nickname in the 339th because of the fact that they were as close as they could get to family. "Families use nicknames, not ranks." He got his from the light Texan twang in his accent, left over from his days on the ranch.
One of the privates, one Andrew "Sticks" Stokes, was the little brother of the bunch. He was only 18, fresh out of school and loved explosions a little to much. Hence the name "Sticks", dynamite in its best form. Ben got introduced to this odd tick of Andrew's via a large amount of dynamite that caught fire in his back pocket, which immediately got tossed at the nearest enemy. A big explosion and some rather sun-burnt faces later, Ben was satisfied to know that, that was the last of the dynamite. Despite this, Ben really liked the little twerp, enjoying the nights when Andrew would pull out his harmonica and played songs from home. 'My dear clementine' came to mind.
Accompanying Sticks in song was Lieutenant Jimmy "Fiddler" de Lonzo, he sung so sweet, it could charm snipers to come out to listen, coming over and sitting before they even realized what was going on. They had captured many an enemy and ally in this manner, it was rather embarrassing for the captives afterwards. The sarcastic Italian-american told many jokes and cooked wonderful food from the surrounding countryside.
Last but not least, Major Anthony "Caeser" Nobus. The man swore that he was related to every emperor of the Roman Empire, so the corps jokingly called him my liege and mi-lord. On a daily basis the cook would drop to his knees and offer the 'first' meal of the day to him, praising as many roman names as he could. It was a good way to start the abominations known as daylight hours. And they really were abominations.
During those hours, Ben was busy patching up everything from cuts to belly wounds, only relaxing as the sun went down. He had seen many people from the 339th come and go in those short weeks, some dying, some not. His hands, which he had always been proud of, were covered in blood by the end of the day. Only two weeks in and he had lost a lot patients. He had been helpless, even after the fighting was over for the moment. Addrems, Kingsley, Harper, Spencer, and Flit; and those were just in his unit. Just his. They were down to just under 20 men in the 339th Company C. Two weeks. Just two blood filled weeks. Osan had hit them hard. Ben slowly began to slip away leaving the beginnings of Hawkeye.
July 21st, 1950
The North Koreans had taken Osan and were pushing south. As their company retreated to Daejeon, Ben was talking to Rodeo about the pros and cons of whisky versus saké. They had been bickering for hours about it while the occasional comment rose from the troops behind the two men. This debate had started at the beginning of the long march and after five hours was still going strong.
"Honestly Hawkeye, how could you say that about my whisky?" Rodeo turned towards him with sad eyes, "I'm not sharing next time, so don't even ask!" The man was pouting , full on pouting at him! A colonel!
"Sheesh, all I said was that the smell is horrible, Rodeo, not that it is the worse drink ever."
"Who cares? You don't speak bad about a Texan's drink. It just isn't right."
The men chuckled behind them, remembering all the times the colonel had mentioned Texas. Every night it seemed, Rodeo would tell stories about Texas; the time that he had to lasso a wild stallion which then became his main horse or even the many different bar fights he got dragged into. He was sure something, the colonel. After a few more hours of walking, the corps settled down to camp near a field of tall yellow grass. Later, after setting up camp and eating, they all set down to talk, tell stories, and drink. Eventually Rodeo told the story of when he woke up married to his horse, which had the men laughing uproariously. Times like these were ones that Ben started to treasure the most.
Little did he know that it was all about to end.
A/N: Yep, not only did I not post a chapter for ages, I left you with a cliff hanger. Aren't I evil? Anyway, school has started and I am drowning in an insane amount of advanced classes so updates shall be even more spotty, sorry. Hope you enjoyed. Also R&R please, it gives me ideas.