I finally felt relief after that conversation, if you want to call it that. I talked with Henry and told him the truth about the decade we've been apart for the most part. I could tell in the days afterward that Henry was grateful for my telling him the story and being there for him when I needed it and vice versa. He loosened up, wasn't too upset about me staying with Hawkeye more and started to calm down, going back to the Henry I knew in Bloomington, the commanding officer that even played poker in the Swamp or tried to cut everybody some slack.
A week went by peacefully afterward, happy as ever, despite my lack of private moments with Hawkeye and the abundant pranks on Frank Burns. There was always the poker conferences that Henry, Trapper, Hawkeye and Klinger (and sometimes Radar) had with Major Sidney Freedman (a psychiatrist from the Laughing Academy of Korea), Captain Sam Pak (ROK officer) and Dean and his men. I mean, once in the Supply Room was good and the giggles about pranking a superior officer had been fun, but I wanted more and more and the moments were becoming scarce. I had to learn to treasure what I had.
Besides that, Christmas preparations were underway again and everybody was actually getting along for once. Around the middle of December, Father Mulcahy held a special service in the Mess Tent, which had record numbers, allowing us members of the 4077th to come closer together and remember how far away we were from home. Afterward, the orphans from Sister Theresa's Orphanage came inside the tent, given some Christmas spirit from all of us. It went from one poor soul to another, from service personnel to Korean orphans, and I could not help but feel happier in good company.
To me, the season seemed perfect. I danced, laughed and even socialized. I felt like I belonged, even getting along with those who normally don't like me, like the nurses in my tent or even Frank and Margaret (despite the fact that the two Swampmen played a prank on one of their dates nights, courtesy of joke candles, pudding in the pillow and even Margaret's tent falling down on them). One night at the Officers' Club, I even got drunk enough not to feel much of anything (with Henry standing there, shaking his head and wondering how I became such a lush). I then danced with Frank as Hot Lips looked on with obvious disapproval. I even kissed old Ferret Face with some passion at the end of the music number, with everyone clapping and whistling, Calvin Spalding strumming his guitar just for us.
"The rumors are true, Frank," I slurred as Calvin ended his strumming. "You are a lipless wonder!"
It made Trapper, Calvin and Hawkeye laugh hysterically. Margaret was not pleased with me though and it showed quite viciously. She looked ready to kill me, but could not with the captains (Calvin included) and Henry watching me. Her fists were posed to punch me, although I had been saved by the most unlikely person. At the last moment, an intoxicated Frank (drunk from my lips, I should say) took her for a dance.
Christmas Day itself was approaching fast, a holiday full of more spirit, cheer and orphans (not a bad thing, I'd say). However, the wounded never stopped pouring in and we were as crowded as ever. Many of them were stuck in our quarters because we had no room in Post-Op. Worse, with more and more wounded with frostbite and blackened digits, we worried about the cold. Our wood supply was slowly coming down to nothing and all we had for supplies were mosquito nets and even sunscreen. It got to the point where some of us stole parts of Henry's office desk, little by little, just to get by and keep warm, even if it went to the wounded. Henry was pissed as hell for sure and I heard him yell at Radar more and more about getting on the ball and asking for proper winter supplies, as well as a new desk for the office.
The duo from the office (company clerk and CO both) through soon enough of course…with more netting, sun hats, Army shorts and, for some odd reason, tongue depressors. The next day, however, we did receive our winter shipment, something that would last us for a few months. At the same time though, we had to wait a while for Henry to get his desk, as well as his office supplies (because we all had snuck out whatever was burnable), back to normal.
With the cold Christmas season as well, we all had to team up in tents and conserve on all energy and supplies, including morale (which was Father Mulcahy's responsibility and specialty). My only complaint about all of it was sleeping in the same tent as the other nurses and Margaret Houlihan (and Klinger too, when he was kicked out of the men's tent and then sent back because Margaret did not want him with us) and not with the men, who I usually socialize with. I wanted Hawkeye's warmth for the night and was denied it, aching painfully for more. I could not help myself. I was selfish about something for once in my life.
One person in all of this mess, however, remained fairly quiet. He stood in corners of his own prison, waiting for the verdict to come in about accusations of cheating the US Army, raping women and other charges that Daddy piled on him after he left our little hellhole. He sat in a VIP tent in a remote corner of the camp, waiting to hear for what was going to happen to him next because orders came to keep him isolated. Since no answer from forthcoming immediately, he paced his tent alone, getting his meals through the door and being treated as a prisoner, ever since Henry ordered it, paperwork coming in from HQ Seoul.
Soon though, his time would come. He would come out once more before disappearing from us forever.
~00~
Major Simmons was barely allowed of the VIP tent. Guarded by an MP and not allowed to talk to anyone, he walked through the camp alone (to his meals sometimes when they were in the Mess Tent, latrine trips or whatever else allowed to prisoners). Most certainly, he was not allowed in the OR. Henry had barred him forevermore and was more than willing to go through the investigation that Daddy had started (especially after events that happened), although we were short of a doctor and in need of more MPs, which Frank was willing to fight for. While, for once, we all unanimously agreed with the ever-militant Frank Burns, they never came and we were stuck with the one watching Simmons while the others helped the enlisted personnel (like Klinger) guard the camp, before the 43rd comes back. They had recently left for the front lines once more, patrolling when we needed more reinforcements here.
On my way back to my quarters, I always passed by Simmons in his tent. I would hear of him complaining of something, demanding to come out or trying to escape his guard, screaming that he only needed to talk to Henry and that all will be well. Of course, this was denied, especially after Simmons tried to run away from the MP on his way to the Mess Tent and get to Henry while he was with Leslie Dish. After this particular incident, he was watched more closely and never allowed out of his tent ever again, even to the latrine. A corner was made for those purposes only and was emptied out by any one of us (except officers obviously).
Hell, if someone almost blew up the Mess Tent and held up some hostages (Frank being one of them) and using a grenade as a weapon, I'd ground him too. And Henry was not one to keep a prisoner free, especially one that now faced serious charges from the US government. There would be no way out for Major Simmons this time around, ever since that fateful day he had been condemned and we had used all of our manpower in order to keep him away from camp society.
Finally, a few days before Christmas, we all heard the news of Major Simmons' fate and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Without trial because the investigation turned up with so much evidence against the defense, only one month remained until Simmons was going to be transferred to the stockade with heavy labor. The accusations that Daddy put forth were proven true and no trial date set (and none forthcoming, most likely, even if it was going against the grain), but a severe punishment was swift. Until then, because we were all in a war zone, he was to stay at the 4077th. He was to be fed, clothed and cared for by all, officers now included, especially after latrine trips were banned. Henry ordered it (because a lack of volunteers), usually asking for pairs or groups to see him, with the MP present and armed at all times.
Those particular orders actually came from Headquarters Seoul (even if we all thought that Henry was being intelligent and not drunk in command). After the incident in the Mess Tent, everybody followed the regulations to the letter. We could not afford Simmons to be freed again. Justice may have been served in some way, but the dish seemed too cold, even for me. Something was not right and I knew it.
Soon enough, most didn't want the responsibility of watching Simmons. The nurses stayed away, even Hot Lips Houlihan, and they asked that the proper authorities take care of Simmons without them getting into trouble. However, even with Margaret on the horn asking for more MPs, nobody would step up to care for the former doctor. The Army wasn't forthcoming in our requests, only saying that they'll come for Simmons in January after the holidays and that more MPs will be on the way to take him away…after the holidays naturally.
And then, there was stupid me. I had to do something to make Henry stop going insane. In the holiday spirit (sort of) and trying to be nice to this "enemy" of ours, as Father Mulcahy was teaching me (well, I took it to heart at least), I volunteered for the job of helping to take care of Simmons. I could not help myself. I had to do something or else Simmons would be let loose again and I would feel the blame in it, just as everyone else did in this camp. I was the one who felt up to facing him and his little jabs and I did not care, since he did not have the power to take my life anymore.
Nobody liked it, most of all Henry, Trapper and Hawkeye. I was firm in my strong argument though (Father Mulcahy had rubbed off and was an inspiration to me too), pointing out that somebody needed to help that MP before the proper people came to take Simmons away. Otherwise, I was old enough to take care of myself. I knew how to fight somebody as Colonel Flagg was good in teaching his agents. I wasn't a child, but a woman with military training and some spying behind me to boot.
Of course, with hesitation, the three doctors accepted it and pursed their lips in fear. They said that I was adult enough to take care of my enemy, with the MP watching me, and that I was capable of fighting when I needed it, even if I wasn't the violent type of person to begin with. Of course, I had been pretty damned good at it before, pushing people off of me, especially when drunk. Why couldn't I be now?
"Fight tooth and nail always, Jeanie," Hawkeye called to me as I went to Simmons' tent, delivering his first meal of the day early one morning, just before Christmas Day morning and our time alone. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid to you."
"Sure, honey," I teased, smiling from ear to ear, knowing that Hawkeye was worried, as always. "Like he can do anything to me now! He's as powerless as a newborn really. It's all harmless. Don't worry about me!"
Little did I know as I went inside that tent. Little did I know then how powerful Simmons had grown and how he could use it to his advantage. And I was powerless to stop it.