About seventy-four hours later, after that conversation with Henry about talking to him civilly when we had the chance, I was done with surgery. Although tired and in need of many things, I heard over the PA system from Radar about yet another huge offensive on Hill 403. The Chinese had also attacked Munsan and General MacArthur was bombing communication routes at Yalu, so more wounded were coming in tonight or the next day. With this news, after so much had gone on in the OR, I was pissed off more about the fighting and the wounded coming in for the senseless slaughter.

To be honest, I was becoming more and more and angry about the war in general, I realized at the moment. However, I could do nothing about it and could probably do nothing to stop it. I mean, after all, this was war, a matter of politics, nations and morons. And we were only dancing to its tune, the pawns that the kings moved forward. We were either to become the victors as queens, knights and bishops or we were to be knocked over in death.

"I see a spring of water in this God forsaken desert," Hawkeye commented as Frank and Trapper came behind us, all four of us heading to the Swamp after such a long shift in the OR. "Come, my swift camel!"

"The oasis is only a little farther," I replied jokingly as Hawkeye leaned on me heavily, very tired just as I was. I felt his full weight as he collapsed on me, it being a joke of course.

"I can hardly walk too…" Trapper added as he too ran beside me and then suddenly collapsed on top of me.

"Hey, hey, you two, get off of me," I yelled out playfully, dragging both doctors with all of my strength to the Swamp. "I'm just as exhausted as you are!"

Inside the Swamp as we entered, we saw somebody sitting there on the spare cot. While Frank was sneering behind us in disgust, most likely thinking about insults in his mind in his own egoless mind, the three of us tried to study this new man with blurry eyes. The spare bunk, where many men have stayed at, but never permanently due to Army rotation and transfers due to the majors (Spearchucker Jones, Ugly John and even Duke), held some strange man there, someone unfamiliar to all of us. It seemed like the war dragged him in, swiftly showing him the door when we were all in the OR.

Thankfully, playtime stopped at the Swamp's doors and I had both doctors off of me by the time we went inside the tent, all instead looking at the man in the spare cot. In full dress uniform was a major (the gold cluster shining ever-so-pretty). He was tall and lanky with light blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a sharp face (he even had a chin unlike Frank, albeit pointed). His icy blue glare, when he looked at us saw our rowdy behavior (very much in disdain, much like Frank's), horrified me as he left those eyes on me, searching me for something I didn't understand quite yet. The glare made me shiver, as if the cold had truly grown in my bones.

I knew, right then and there, that we were in deeper trouble than I had thought previously. This man was the replacement we had anxiously been waiting for and had been sent.

The four of us walked around the Swamp cautiously (even Frank), surprised when the major stood up, all military-like, and saluted us, saying as he clicked his heels together (his icy stare still on me), "Major Daniels Simmons on duty, Sirs. I have already talked with Colonel Blake and have been assigned to this pigsty titled 'The Swamp'. Army regulations demand a clean tent, cleared of dirty…clothes, garbage and even magazines, not appropriate for doctors in a war zone. Some of the material in this tent is also not allowed on a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, this alcohol and still included."

I saw the look on Frank's face (incredulous and then happy) and shuddered hearing this creep, one that sounded worse than a Regular Army idiot like Frank. I then gave a half-hearted salute to the Swamp's new bedmate as Trapper and Hawkeye ignored the new doctor and were more concerned with sleeping as they went to their cots. Frank, behind me and about going to his cot, saluted and clicked whatever was left of his heels together as well.

"Welcome, Major Simmons," Frank announced jubilantly, walking around me to offer his hand after the salute. While I just shrugged my shoulders and went to sit down next to Hawkeye's cot, massaging his face and head, like I normally did after a long shift, our very own Ferret Face continued. "I am Major Frank Burns. It's so nice to meet you finally. We've been in need of you for a long time."

Major Simmons barely acknowledged my half-hearted salute (and had noticed Hawkeye and Trapper jumping into their wanted slumbers), but the effort was noted and I saw it in his eyes as he continued to stare at me when I moved to my usual seat next to Hawkeye. You'll pay for this soon, his eyes seemed to have said to me as I looked from him to my hands working on Hawkeye. You and those captains that did not pay me the respect I deserve will pay dearly. You'll see soon enough. I have the power to do it.

Finally, the major looked at Frank, for what seemed like slow moments. "I am happy to be here as well, Major Burns," he replied, shaking Frank's hand still. "I'm sure that I will help to make this camp into one that is in the best shape there is instead of this insane asylum people inform me it has been."

"Oh, Major, and there is a lot of improvement to be had," Frank began in enthusiasm, his hand shaking Major Simmons'. "You would not believe the fools we have here and what should have been gone ages ago. As you can see, we can begin right where we reside."

Frank, happy to find someone just like him and Margaret, nodded his head and crossed his arms as Major Simmons looked from me to him. Their handshake had been broken and their new friendship was cemented into stone, something that bothered me more than I thought. I then saw the understanding between the two as I moved my fingers on Hawkeye's wrinkling forehead, with him moaning and ignoring what was going on around him. Trying to shake him awake in the process was tough (it was a futile effort of course), but he and Trapper had to hear about the conspiracy Frank was cooking up, going between him to the next Army nut case. He was out to get the camp again.

I gave up trying to wake up Hawkeye and then went to Trapper at his cot with the same results. Strangely enough, the majors gave me no trouble and continued to talk about the changes about to come in the camp, hopefully for them and for the betterment of the camp. Without Trapper awake, I then sat by Hawkeye again, massaging him once more and listening to the two idiots talk about improving the camp.

This guy is more Regular Army than Frank and Margaret combined. Jesus, does Henry know? If not, we need to warn him, if this Major Simmons hasn't gotten into his stash of goodies in the office yet!

I heard the majors talk about court-martialing Klinger (for wearing dresses and refusing to be in uniform), Henry (for being an ineffective commanding officer) and even some of the nurses, who Frank and Margaret think are useless as hell. Then, the two talked about the "lovely" Major Houlihan and of how effective of a nurse she is and how nobody follows her orders, especially her own nurses. Apparently, as the conversation went on, we all learned that this Major Simmons was observing us in surgery before we saw him in the Swamp (and us not knowing how and when). He was taking his sweet time in throwing curveballs at us and using every movement to his advantage.

I wanted to protest that last comment about the nurses, even if I didn't have any love for most of them, but I didn't mutter a word. I remained quiet in the corner with an unconscious Hawkeye until Frank looked at me, his own beady eyes boring into my head as he twitched the side of his mouth, seeing me massage Hawkeye's forehead.

"Captain, aren't you on duty today?" he asked me, wrinkling own his forehead.

"No, Frank, I'm not," I replied, defiance in my voice. "I actually have the day off for once. But I'm expecting more wounded tonight, so I might as well scrub up for the next shift in the OR. I can sit perfectly still until then, I can promise you that. There won't even be a latrine trip."

"You should address a superior officer by proper rank," Major Simmons corrected as he looked at me again with that blue stare of his. "You, as a captain of the United States Army, should know that, Captain…?"

"Morrison," I said with clenched teeth. "I'm Captain Jeanette Morrison."

"And a damned good one, at that," Trapper moaned loudly from his cot.

Major Simmons turned from one captain to another and another (from me to Trapper and then to Hawkeye numerous times) and sighed, finally pointing in Trapper's direction. "I see we have a lot of work to do here, as we've mentioned already," he snarled, trying not to get himself dirty as he took a step away from me. "First off, we're taking that…that…machine…out of here."

That "machine" happened to be Hawkeye and Trapper's gin still!

Trapper and Hawkeye knew it too and were up immediately, at the same time in fact (sometimes, I swore those two worked together simultaneously without words). I backed off from Hawkeye immediately, knowing how dangerous the two could be when they teamed up. With that in mind, I then also realized that they had also been paying some attention after all.

"You don't touch that gin machine of ours," Trapper yelled back, pointing his finger at Major Simmons. A second later, he had a flyswatter out, ready to hit said major.

Hawkeye got out some old magazine of his and rolled it up (a very old issue of women playing volleyball naked, something to offend the major more), adding "That machine is our sanity, Major. Don't be dismantling that and making us go crazier than we already are."

"Oh, but I can, Captains McIntyre and Pierce," Simmons replied, somehow knowing their names and without Frank helping. "After reciting the rules and regulations of a hospital in a war zone, Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, to Colonel Blake, former commanding officer, as I should have added earlier, he ordered that this 'gin machine' of yours be dismantled. An MP will be here shortly to take it away."

I stood up, outraged and ready to fight along with Hawkeye and Trapper. I was charged and ready to go.

"Major, we're a bunch of crazy people here," I started. "We're three miles from the front lines –"

"I'm aware of that, Captain," Simmons interrupted, yawning.

"Don't interrupt me!" I thundered, stomping my foot like Margaret Houlihan did, as if I was a child. "Major, just don't start with me, especially after a hard day at the office. You know, I stood there for seventy-four hours, thank you very much, hopping from table to table. I was playing doctor for the first time in my life and being scared beyond belief because of it, not knowing if and when I'll make a mistake and kill someone. Hell, we may be short of a doctor because of the war, but us nurses are tough as hell and are worthy of Margaret Houlihan's praises and respect, even going as far as doing what our abilities tell us not to. So, I don't know what her problem is, but we're always at our best and it's partially because of us that this place is such a success, with an over ninety percent survival rate."

I continued, regardless of the consequences and not caring. "And our only ways to relax are to drink and joke around, Major. Nobody here always reads the Bible twenty-four seven or writes home all day. We have our Happy Hour here in the Swamp, hang out in the Officers' Club and have a good old time whenever we can. Well now, Sir, if that isn't your cup of tea, maybe you should search for another M*A*S*H unit to go all gun-ho on and about. You can't just come in here and put Army regulations on this camp totally without mutiny, especially on one operating three miles from the front lines. We'll all be against you within a minute."

"Insolence in an inferior officer, I see, and one we cannot correct currently." Simmons shook his head, as if it was a shame that I was so insolent and seeing no way to tame me. "Major Burns, ask Major Houlihan to put Captain Morrison on tent arrest with an MP on duty at all hours, watching her every move. She is to be isolated from the rest of the camp and not allowed out without anybody's permission – yours, mine and Major Houlihan's – unless her duties tell her to. Even then, she is to be supervised by an MP."

Hawkeye and Trapper stood up, outraged. However, even then, I knew that they couldn't do anything for me. Frank was running out for that MP quickly.

"Not unless Henry has something to say about this," Trapper said to Simmons, still shaking his flyswatter as Simmons told Frank to get an MP. "He's still commanding officer here, you know. Last I knew in the Army, eagles and stars were higher up the pyramid than golden oak leaves."

"It seems that 'Henry' has been transferred to Seoul this afternoon, if you didn't hear me earlier saying that he was the former commanding officer." Simmons yawned again, bored with us and our antics. "General Clayton recalled him to the capital this morning, after he called the good Colonel Blake, and transferred him to another unit, where he's needed most. His commanding skills will, of course, be put into scrutiny and observation for the time being before he can be trusted again with a unit such as this."

"As Chief Surgeon Pierce here, I order you to get him back," Hawkeye retorted, finally pulling some rank, which wasn't usually characteristic of him. "We need the extra hands here. Unless you want to work overtime here, Major, I suggest you bring our commanding officer back here or get another doctor. We can't afford to get rid of another just when we gained one."

"I don't that that'll be necessary, Captain Pierce," Simmons retorted. "And your position as 'chief surgeon' seems to be a joke. Indeed, when does a chief surgeon play poker for two hours before operating on a patient the night this camp partied? Or even make an ice skating rink out of cardboard and Army issued pudding? Play pranks and not be patriotic in any way? How does one complement a man wearing a dress or even harass the nurses? When does he become appointed over an officer as fine as Major Burns? I will never understand."

Simmons then eyed Hawkeye with another icy stare, getting tired of the backtalk (for sure), and it backed Hawkeye up, but not entirely. His magazine was about to strike, making Simmons back up himself, but seeing the MP come in made him smile again. "Ah, Sergeant Grant, take Captain Morrison to the nurses' tent to retrieve her things and bring her to the extra tent for isolation. She has two minutes to get her things. Major Burns probably told you what to do otherwise."

"Yes, Sir!" Sergeant Grant yelled obediently. "As you say, Sir!"

The MP saluted and grabbed me roughly from my place next to Hawkeye's cot, twisting my left shoulder in the wrong direction. I felt the socket pop out of place, making me purse my lips together. I tried not giving the newly dubbed Major Asshole (Simmons, that is) a reason to smile anymore. Screaming in pain seemed to be a bad idea and something that would give him more satisfaction, it seemed. He liked enjoying the pain and wretchedness of others, even if he was using Army regulations to mask his twisted sense of misery.

Hawkeye saw this, even heard the snap from his position, and moved forward, trying to save me some time. "Major, it's obviously the MP assaulted Captain Morrison moving her to isolation. It's against Army regulations, isn't it? She needs some medical assistance –"

"You're over the line, Pierce!" Frank yelled finally as he came back into the Swamp. "Sergeant, after you take Captain Morrison to her tent arrest, inform Major Houlihan of the changes she now faces and have her sign the paperwork from Corporal O'Reilly. Then, come back here and take Captain Pierce to his tent arrest. I'll draw up charges against him in the meantime. After that, dismantle and destroy that still!"

Trapper was about to say something, seeing all of this action and unable to say or do anything. Simmons got to him first though, staring at him with his blue eyes. I don't know how he does it, but it scared everybody, especially me. It was a stare that I had seen before, something that had scared me as a young child and then a teenager living with my mother, and one I could not stand. I would rather have forgotten it than see it again, especially on those who are close to me, and would die in order to save the others.

"Do you have something else to add, Captain McIntyre?" Simmons asked Trapper as the blue stare shook the surgeon to the core.

"None at all, Major Simmons," Trapper answered fairly politely, putting down his flyswatter when the MP pulled up a gun in his other hand (his other was preoccupied holding me, for once without struggling), knowing Trapper used the plastic object as a weapon. He then sat back down on his cot, staring at me and Hawkeye, asking, "I suppose that I am on Post-Op duty now?"

"Yes, it seems so, McIntyre, now that Colonel Blake is gone and not on duty here anymore," Frank sneered, smiling. "Nurse Baker will be waiting for you. Major Houlihan will join you tonight, when she is through with the paperwork needed to change commanding officers. Today though, you'll remember this as the day Majors Burns, Houlihan and Simmons took over M*A*S*H 4077th and made it Regular Army."

"November 4, 1950 at, hopefully, fifteen hundred hours," Simmons added carefully, looking at his watch.

I wanted to say something, but the MP was dragging me by my bad arm, hurting my shoulder even more. Before I knew it, I was outside of the Swamp, looking at my last scenes of freedom. Henry was at the jeep taking him to Seoul, Radar helping him pack mournfully (the latter looked more miserable than the former). Kellye saw me as she came out of Post-Op, frowning and about to ask about what was going on before being told immediately that she was not allowed to talk to "prisoners". As we walked to the nurses tent, I also saw that Father Mulcahy was told by some MP that, by order of the new commanding officer, Major Simmons, he was to preach nothing but obedience on his next Sunday sermon, whatever the religious orientation. I even saw Klinger, being told by another MP to get into uniform because his dress, heels and tights were not regulation, before they were burned while on his body.

I didn't even have five minutes to pack (I had two, as ordered), the customary amount of time given to prisoners, even to those in Nazi Germany, as Dean told me when he visited me in West Germany after the war. It made to sad to think that this was more inhumane than the Nazis a bit, but there was no time to think about it. I had a minute to grab my footlocker and run out with it, not having help from the MP (and him not knowing about the flask in my pocket I grabbed from under my pillow, the one Trapper filled up for me some time ago). He was only following orders, I guessed.

Damn US Army, I thought, and it wasn't for the first time. Frank Burns and that damned Major Simmons are going to pay for this. If not now, it'll be soon. Soon enough, we'll get them back for this.