"Attention, Attention, incoming wounded, incoming wounded." The voice called through the speaker phones above the compound of the MASH 4077th announcing the arrival of soldiers unlucky from the field.

Snapping out of the little amount of sleep he had managed to get since the last intake of casualties Doctor Benjamin Franklin Pierce groaned, turning under his covers. Another of his bunk buddies who had also been resting pulled himself up and grabbing his pillow, hurled it at Pierce.

"Come on Hawk, get up." Doctor BJ Hunnicut called to his best friend as he got to his feet.

Groaning again but pulling himself up, Pierce grabbed his pants and boots, donning them quickly and following BJ out the tent into a now littered field of bodies needing their help he rushed to the closet person nearby. By the looks of the young solider, he had taken a rather nasty chest wound, the bandage covering his stomach was seeping with blood and all colour from his face had left him. Reading the yellow tags attached to the solider he made the quick judgment that this man needed to go first, his lung had been punched.

"Get him on the table first." He yelled as John Francis Patrick Mulcahy, MASH 4077th priest came into view, grabbing the end of the stretcher as another man did the same.

"I've got a bleeding lung, he needs attention now." Pierce said to BJ, letting him know. BJ gave a quick nod and continued assessing his own patient.

"Hey doc," came the feeble voice of another solider on a stretcher behind him. He turned and knelt at his side, seeing as his only had a broken leg and a few lacerations he began to move on when the solider seized his arm. "Did you check the girl? Is the girl alright?"

"Girl? What girl?" BJ scrunched his eyes and scanned the rest of the field before pulling himself up into the ambulance. Charles Emerson Winchester the third was currently leaning over another wounded, inspecting the man who looked to have been shot in the chest. But it was the small girl huddled in the corner that caught his full attention. Her hands, which looked bloody and broken, sat on her lap, her eyes gazing into nothing.

"Hey," he called quietly. "Are you alright?"

"They were once whole and working, but the booming broke them apart." Her voice sounded close to tears. "Where did the rest of them go?" She turned to him and he could see tears brewing in her eyes. He could not make sense of what she meant.

"Where did who go honey?" He asked, kneeling down beside her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned away, not answering his question and staring at the man opposite them, who was unmoving and barely breathing.

"He won't go home. Sister will cry." Her voice had changed. It no longer held the sadness BJ had heard moments before.

"Come on, we'll get you out of here." He pulled her to her feet and helped her out of the truck, carefully dragging her along.

"He's gonna die." She swung her head around to a solider, bleeding from his leg. "Don't see it now, but he's gonna die."

"Alright, alright." BJ continued pulling her into pre-op and sitting her down on an empty bench. Margaret Houlihan made her way over, nodding to BJ that she could take over, he pulled her arm aside, indicating a quick private conversation. "She was in the truck, doesn't appear to be hurt badly, but I'm not quite sure she's all there, if you know what I mean." Margret nodded and BJ was off.

"Hey there, what's your name?" She asked in a soothing voice, but the girl didn't seem to hear her. Margret placed her hand under the girls chin and pulled her face around so their eyes meet. "What's your name?" She asked again.

The girl seemed to stare into nothingness for a while before answering the question. "Name: A specified label assigned to a thing, person, place or concept distinguishing it from another."

"What?" Margret could only look at her in confusion.

"River. My name is River."

"Oh" Margret nodded, removing her hand and nodding. "You just stay right there ok?"

River didn't answer; she was off in another world again.

"Klinger!" Margret hollered and Maxwell Klinger shot to her side.

"You bellowed maim?"

Hushing her voice she turned away from River so she wouldn't hear. "I want you to get Sydney Freedman down here."

"What for?" Klinger asked

Margret didn't say anything, simply pointed to River.

"What does she need a shrink for?"

"Just get him down here will you!" Her patience had worn thin and she shouted at him again. Ducking his head, Klinger ran from the room, no doubt Margret thought, to get the physiatrist on the phone.