Disclaimer: You know the routine. I don't own it.
A/N: Sorry this update was so long in coming. Holiday trips and writers' block don't make a good combination. Anyway, here's your late Christmas present. I hope you enjoy it. If the description of the conditions in the Chinese unit aren't realistic, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what the conditions were really like. Let's just say that my particular fictional unit is having a little trouble.
The next update may be slow too. My schedule is pretty hectic right now, but I am working and it will be coming.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year!
--Chinese hospital unit-- Hawkeye's POV
chapter three- COLOR OF DISCOVERY
I spent the long jeep ride silently observing my new companions. I couldn't help but compare them to the ones I'd left behind. Since there hadn't been much time for introductions, I gave the men names after the 4077er they reminded me of.
Our driver became Padre. He sat with unusually good posture and an easy poise uncommon to soldiers on both sides. He never said much, but when he did, his voice had that same quiet, polite tone Father Mulcahy's had.
The guy riding shotgun with a machine gun in his lap was unnervingly similar to Frank. He became Marion. He rarely shut up the entire journey even though no one seemed to be paying any attention to him, and he just reeked of a "shoot first, ask questions later" mentality.
Dr. Tan, sitting in back with me, remained Dr. Tan. Partly because I knew his name, but also partly because I couldn't tell enough about him to decide if he reminded me of anyone. He seemed to have mastered the art of the unreadable manner.
I really wished there had been a Trapper, Henry, or even another Hawkeye, if there could be such a thing, in the jeep. I hadn't realized just how much of the war our jokes could keep away until there was no one there to banter with.
I tried several times to start a conversation with Dr. Tan, the only other English-speaker in the group, but I don't think he quite knew what to think of the strange enemy sitting next to him. All I can say is, try being in a jeep full of them.
It only took us half an hour or so to get to their camp, but I swear the couple hour trip to the bridge from the 4077 had seemed shorter. I guess familiar company and a lack of shelling can make all the difference.
Dr. Tan hadn't been kidding when he talked of non-stop harassment. In all my time in Korea, I'd never been under such constant fire. Even during aide station duty I don't remember it being so bad. I really started to understand the differences in situations between the Chinese camp and the 4077 when one of the first things I noticed as we pulled into camp was the presence of a primitive and poorly-manned anti-aircraft gun. We at the 4077 had refused any such weapon because we feared it would draw fire.
The second thing I noticed about the camp was just how similar the set up was to the 4077. It was disturbing, to say the least. It was like a vision of what the 4077 could have been under worse conditions. And it's damn hard to get worse than hell. Or maybe there're just more circles of hell than Dante thought.
Whatever the case, I was sure I'd just discovered a new low.
We were greeted by a couple high ranking camp dwellers who immediately were suspicious of the unplanned arrival of an unbound American. Suspicious being rather a large understatement. I couldn't understand a word they said, but the emotions behind them were clear enough. The first one, who I labeled Max for his big nose, seemed more confused and annoyed than anything, but the second one, a slightly taller and pudgier fellow I called Mitch after General Mitchell, was angry and teetering on the edge of thoroughly pissed-off.
So they did what any respectable person would do when a strange invader arrived from the outside; they took me to their leader.
Their CO, or whatever he's called, was unfortunately not a Henry. He was more like that loco general who came and wanted to move the 4077 closer to the front. I called him Steele.
After long minutes listening to an obviously heated debate I couldn't understand and wondering what it was going to mean for me, I finally got to watch Mitch and Max leave the room in a huff. That left me alone with Steele and Dr. Tan.
"So you volunteered for this, did you?" Steele asked, surprising me with the sudden switch to English.
"Yes."
"To help treat our people?"
"Does it matter if they're yours or ours? They all deserve to live."
Steele and Dr. Tan looked at each other then back at me.
Without breaking eye contact with me, Steele said something to Dr. Tan in Chinese. Dr. Tan looked between the two of us then turned and left the room.
"I want you to know, I admire this action you took," Steele said once Tan had left the room. "For that, I will make sure you are well treated while you're here."
"Thank you," I said with the utmost sincerity.
"Mostly, that means keeping you out of the way of those two that were in here. They're not as… open-minded as we would like."
"There's some in every camp," I said, nodding my head in understanding. I made a mental note to reconsider Mitch and Max's names.
"I wouldn't wish it on anyone," Steele muttered. A short and surprisingly not uncomfortable silence feel between us before he continued, "You seem like a decent man, and you are here by choice. It is an odd situation, but I see no reason to follow their wish that you be guarded and/or restrained."
"Thank you," I replied, a little taken aback. At least I knew what the argument had been about, but it was a little disturbing to realize just how close to chains I had been. I resolved then and there to remain on Steele's good side.
"If I know Tan, he'll be waiting outside for you. He'll show you around. You can bunk with him."
"Thank you." I turned to leave the office as Steele turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.
I left the office unescorted. An act I found a new gratitude for in light of my recent conversation. I'd just caught sight of Tan walking towards me from across the compound and was on my way to meet him when we were both thrown to the ground by a series of mortar blasts within the camp.
I hadn't recovered from the surprise of finding myself with a mouthful of dirt yet when Tan grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. He drug me along behind him as he ran back inside the office I'd just left and took cover near a pile of sandbags.
The shelling lasted a good ten minutes, but twelve minutes after the first shell hit, I was scrubbing up. Turns out my first surgical experience in a Chinese outfit would be operating on my fellow occupants of said outfit. That was also my first taste of how serious Tan had been when he'd told Trapper, Frank and I about constant U.S. harassment.
The wounds of the victims of the shelling weren't all that terrible. They just seemed worse under the conditions. If I'd thought our conditions were horrible in the 4077, I got a true taste of horrible that day. Even the aide stations I'd worked in paled in comparison.
We worked bare-handed for the most part. They offered me gloves once, but I declined; I decided that it was safer that way. The rubber was so old it looked like it'd fall apart inside the patients.
Their medicine supplies were low to non-existent, and the blood supply wasn't much better. I finished closing one wound one-handed so they could siphon a pint.
There were only three surgeons working who knew what we were doing. Tan and Steele were actually very good, but they were very behind in techniques and I was the only one with formal training in thoracic surgery. That, combined with Max's bad hand-eye-coordination and Mitch's total ignorance of anything medical, made for a very long and tense session. It didn't help either that I was the only one not operating on bodies with familiar faces.
