It was only Thursday. Typically, the average businessman will anxiously wring his hands, waiting for the bell to ring the next night and for the weekend to start. Not for Hawkeye Pierce. He relished a day like this. While civilian life was not his for the time being, another anxiety plagued him in the deserts of Korea: the women's weekly laundry washing and drying. Since Trapper was never as perverse, he went alone to ease his desperation and loneliness.

It was his favorite time of the week. Every Thursday, just before his night shift, he'd grab a lawn chair and a snack. Sometimes, he managed to grab some goodies from the kitchens. Other times, he took with him a flask of gin and something sent from home. But with a piece of heaven in his hands, he sat amongst the angels and listened to their wet clothing sing the song of nakedness.

Oh, he was sure that they were wet for him too. All he had to do was ask a few nurses. Some of them swatted him away. Sometimes, he was happy to get a kiss or three. When Lady Luck was on his side, he might have a date. It was a match made in the eyes of God.

But I'll never tell the Padre that.

The appointed day was here. Hawkeye grabbed his set and dragged over a box from home. His dad sent over more than just a bottle of scotch and Oreos. Hawkeye was glad to find a pair of nylon stockings for a special lady friend this evening and some perfume (if he was blessed). His dad was not above helping him woo the opposite sex if the request was not too outrageous. Hawkeye thought he just enjoyed making strange care packages.

The day was bright and cheery for an autumn day in Korea. Halloween was less than a week away. The air boys overhead zipped by loudly. Bets were calls by the nurses' showers and for the cockroach races by Post-Op. Every so often, an ambulance came by, but none of them were delivering new patients. The day belonged to Hawkeye and some beautiful nurse.

Between the three nurses' tent, lines already had been put up. Hawkeye considered it a loss that he missed the initial rituals. It didn't matter, he knew. All that mattered with him was seeing the linen being put up and the random semi-naked nurse running by from the showers. He set up his chair and positioned his snacks and booze. The box from his dad was set to the side. Somebody will come by shortly.

It didn't take long for the first victims to come out with their baskets. Margie Cutler led the way. She balanced her wet load on her left hip. She hopped with her right, attempting in every way to keep her balance with boots too large for her small feet. When she settled near Hawkeye, she ignored him. She pulled out a long nightgown and pinned it. She continued this with several other pieces that didn't fit Hawkeye's taste.

The other girls seemed to follow Margie's example. There wasn't anything that appealed to Hawkeye whatsoever. They seemed united in keeping their best to themselves.

Hawkeye was going to curse his luck when some of the girls brought more clothes out to the lines. He leaned forward a little. Now, here was where it was going to be interesting! This was where the party was going to begin.

The surgeon thanked his patience. His eyes glanced every which way to catch the best line of clothing only the nurses could bring. Each vivid piece filled his eyes with extreme pleasure. He pictured each woman in every one hung to dry. He also imagined every one of them being stripped naked by his capable hands. That was an illusion so desirable that his mouth watered and drooled down his chin.

He realized his mistake quickly. He wiped his face by the time they finished minutes later. It was then that Margie noticed him. She called out to the girls that she'll be back and to take her empty basket inside. She waved goodbye as she swung over to Hawkeye.

Oh, ho! Here comes the moment I've been waiting for my whole life.

"So, what brings you here this week?" Margie asked him.

"Well, I was hoping you'd come to my place," Hawkeye replied. "You bring your empty bag and I'll supply the candy."

"Very funny." Margie tilted her head just so, ostensibly interested. "Have a seat for me?"

Hawkeye patted his lap. Margie acquiesced and squeezed herself in. She curled right into his arms and allowed the game to begin. Hawkeye didn't care though. He was so delighted that he snagged such a beautiful dame that he didn't note that Margie was beginning to take over…and that she got too close to his face and bit his lower lip hard.

"What the hell?" Hawkeye managed to say. It came out almost like he had a lisp. Blood shot down heavily as he spoke.

Margie disappeared as the surreal vision dimmed, but her final words still echoed in his head. "If you think you'll get away with being a cad, think again. Some of us are committed to a real relationship."

Reality set in. Hawkeye blinked his eyes and woke up. The sun had set already. Dinner fortunately had passed and his shift was within the hour. When he rolled over, he saw Radar standing over him. He would have screamed, but held his tongue. Instead, he put a hand to his mouth in an effect to stop the bleeding.

But was there any blood?

"Colonel Blake wants you in his office, Sir," Radar announced.

"What now? The end of the war arrived without me?" Hawkeye groaned. He pulled his hand and noted no blood.

"No, Sir," the company clerk confirmed. "Something about putting Majors Burns and Houlihan in a hammock and suspending it between two trees."

"They caught us again," Trapper sleepily called from his side of the tent.

"I thought they could walk away from it," Hawkeye protested. "How was I to know it was ten feet high?"

Radar was already grabbing Hawkeye's boots, pants and jacket. The surgeon got up and took them without gratitude. However, his mind kept running to that dream. It was perfect in every way. He could have had the best of the bunch (other than Margaret Houlihan, of course). Instead, he was injured in the line of duty and because Margie attacked. What was he to think?

Margie Cutler was one swell gal anyway, he decided, dream or not. She was also tough as nails and will commit to one man at a time. She wasn't keen leaving Trapper anytime soon. And Hawkeye was not one to steal a damsel from his fellow cellmate.

Hawkeye was about to leave with Radar when Trapper tossed a boot at him. The holey relic hit him square in the back of the head. He yelped a protest about friends and shooed Radar on. He will deal with Henry Blake later. All he wanted to know was why his bunkie hurt him.

Trapper didn't sugarcoat the issue. "Stop fantasizing about my girl!" he yelled. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Hawkeye grinned. It was only a dream, he knew. But if Margie went his way, he'll cover his mouth and enjoy the ride.