In years afterwards, Henry Blake is fond of saying that they came over the hill without a bedpan to their names. He isn't wrong.
To start with, a hatless, tieless, and fairly well intoxicated Hawkeye merely drives their purloined jeep around in increasingly desperate circles searching for the camp which ought to be there, but isn't. It takes several hefty shoves from a cheerfully sloshed Trapper John before Hawkeye even registers the appearance of a worried-looking gnome with round glasses and a clipboard, several more before he is persuaded that the diminutive figure is not a hallucination and brings the jeep to a superbly crashing halt. There is a thud, and a muffled 'ow' from Trapper John, but there is a definite giggling sound emanating from beneath the front seat, so Hawkeye doesn't give it too much thought. The gnome, who upon closer inspection is wearing dog tags and army boots, still appears to be concerned about something, so Hawkeye does his best to reassure him.
"Isallright," he comforts, grinning in typical inane Hawkeye fashion. "I didn't let him drive. He's as drunk as a mongeese. Mongoose."
The gnome, although up close he looks more like a leprechaun, doesn't seem all that reassured.
"Now look here, sir," he trembles, in a voice which he hopes sounds authoritative. "Who are you sir, if you don't mind me asking?"
He does a slight double-take at the emergence of Trapper, who sits up, shakes his head, and confirms his partner's previous thought.
"Look Hawk, issa leprechaun," he manages, before subsiding into giggles again.
Hawkeye, deducing that he will receive no help from that quarter, dismounts deliberately from the jeep and with a supreme effort of will raises one arm into a Nazi salute.
"Pierce, M.D., Benjamin Franklin, Captain, Serial number US1283... I forget the rest."
Trapper giggles. Hawkeye collapses.