Found out something new. My home computer does not like to download my saved files. Boo! Thanks to all who have reviewed!
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"Hey, Jess? Wanna see the movie?"
Jessie looked up from her book and stretched on her cot. Several of the nurses had come inside and made themselves at home.
"What's playing?"
Kelleye shrugged. "Some western." She picked up Jessie's worn paperback. "Hey, I thought you already read this?"
"I did. About six times." Jessie rose and studied herself in a small mirror. She picked up a hairbrush and began running it through her hair.
Stacey took the book from Kelleye and fanned herself. "If it doesn't cool off around here, I'm going to become a puddle of female goo in the middle of the camp!"
"That's disgusting, Stace," Bigelow said. She held the door for the women as they exited the stuffy tent.
"Is it always this hot here?" Jessie asked, pulling her sticky shirt off her back.
"Only when it's not freezing cold," Bigelow said.
"Aren't there any nice days?"
"Now, come on. Are there ever really any nice days in Korea?" Stacey asked.
Thinking of the disease, gore and horror of OR, Jessie shrugged. "Touché."
A crowd was already gathered inside the make-shift theatre. Jessie cringed at the thought of sitting so close to people in such stifling quarters, without even a fan to stir the air.
They all paused outside the door.
"You know, I don't think this is such a hot idea." Jessie said.
"No, it is a hot idea!" Bigelow said. "Get it? Hot?"
Kelleye rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I agree with Jess. I think I'll go take a shower or something. Preferably cold."
Jessie agreed. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch you later."
The two nurses walked past Kelleye's tent. "Going with me?"
Jessie shook her head. "What's the use? A shower feels great, but the minute I'm out, I start sweating again."
"True, true!" Kelleye laughed.
Jessie sauntered slowly through camp alone, not exactly relishing an evening in her just-as-stuffy tent. Especially with nothing to do but re-read books she had already read five times. She could write a letter or see if someone was playing poker . . .
Her gaze settled on a light in Radar's office. On a whim, she decided to see what the company clerk was up to.
His office was a wreck. More of a wreck than usual. It appeared that all the files in camp were stacked haphazardly throughout the office.
Jessie straightened one pile that was in immediate danger of toppling. "Radar?"
"In here," came his muffled reply.
She followed the sound of his voice into Col. Potter's office. There, she found more stacks of files. Radar was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking disgusted.
She leaned on an empty cabinet. "You know, for a minute, I thought you might be buried underneath one of these mounds of paper."
"I tell you what, I wish I was."
"What's with the tornado?" She gestured around the office.
He sighed. "Some general is going to be here tomorrow morning at 0600 hours."
Jessie shrugged. "So? Generals come and go around here all the time."
"Yeah, but this one wants to see the files. All the files. And he wants them to be in a particular order, or he'll have my butt in a sling."
"Ahh. I think I understand. He wants them to be in his order."
"Bingo," he said, pointing at her for emphasis. "I guess I'll be up all night to get it done."
She picked up a stack of papers and thumbed through them. "Why don't I help?"
Radar looked slightly mortified. "Oh, no! You don't have to do that! Why, I'm sure you have lots of things to do tonight. Maybe a – umm - date or something?"
He certainly hoped not.
"A date?" Jessie brushed a strand of damp hair off her forehead and neatly stacked the papers in her hands. The last thing she had thought about in this hellhole was male companionship, especially after her last debacle of a relationship.
Radar picked at a rust spot on a cabinet. "Usually when a new nurse comes along, all the guys fall all over themselves to ask her out."
Jessie raised an eyebrow, still shuffling through the paper. "If you mean Hawkeye, I'd rather eat a jeep than find myself alone with him." She looked up thoughtfully. "You know, Rizzo's been pretty adamant, too. But, I know about men from Louisiana. Their coon dogs mean more to them than their women!"
"I think I heard him say something like that the other day!"
They both laughed. Secretly, he was relieved.
She clapped her hands together. "So, what do we do first?"
"I – uh – I'm not sure. I've never had anyone offer to help before."
"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" She smiled, and his heart thumped. He hoped she couldn't tell.
They worked all evening and into the night. Once she knew what sort of order the files were in, she could hunt them down as he told her what went next in the general's special filing system.
"So," she asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by stacks of papers. "What do you miss most about home? I mean, besides the obvious."
He leaned back in his chair, which squealed in protest. "Well, I guess its color." He motioned around the olive drab office. "You know, everything around here is so dull. Most of the time even the sky and the trees and the grass are the same dull color."
"I can't agree with you more!" she fanned herself with a sheet of paper. "I will never voluntarily wear green again!"
"What about you? What do you miss the most?"
"Right now, air conditioning!"
"Oh yeah! We didn't have it at home, though. But, we'd go to the movies, and they had it. Boy, was it nice!"
The Callahan house was actually full equipped with indoor air conditioning, and had been for years, but she didn't bring that up.
As the evening wore on, they talked as they worked. Aside from being easy to talk to, Radar could tell some great stories of his own. After leaving her in stitches telling her about the time their bull got out and wandered down Main Street, she couldn't even catch her breath.
"Boy, I didn't know living in Iowa could be so much fun!" She wiped the sweat out of her eyes with her shirt sleeve.
"It's not when the bull runs through a plate glass window at the grocery store! He thought his reflection was another bull! Boy, was the grocer mad! I had to work there for almost a whole summer to pay off the cost of replacing it!"
Jessie burst into another fit of giggles.
At almost 4 a.m., they were finished. She sat on the edge of Col. Potter's desk, holding her hair off her neck and fanning brusquely. Digging in her pocket, she came out with several bobby pins and pinned her hair up haphazardly. "Whew! I think it's hotter at night than during the day!" She fanned harder.
Radar was standing next to her, admiring their work.
And trying not to admire Jessie.
"It does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?" He wandered over to the nearest cabinet and opened the first drawer, thumbing through the orderly files. "Thanks for the help, Jess. I don't think I could have finished all this without you."
"No problem. All I would be doing right about now is tossing and turning in my sweaty cot."
He tried not to think about that.
She continued. "Might as well make myself useful. Besides, you're good company." She rubbed at her sore shoulders as she talked.
"I am?" Radar sounded surprised. "I mean, not too many people ever tell me that. Especially – um – females."
Jessie didn't quite know what to say. Throughout the evening as they had worked and laughed, she had found that she liked the shy corporal.
For some reason, Radar just couldn't help himself. He found himself moving to stand behind her as she stared at the floor, deep in thought.
She had laid in the sun too long a couple of days ago with the other nurses. Her neck was sunburned. Not only was she not wearing the typical fatigues they all wore, but she was wearing this little top with . . .
He shook his head to rid himself of the image.
But his current view didn't help. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her sunburned skin. Thin tendrils of hair that were too short to be pinned up had plastered themselves just below her hairline. The smell of her soap, something lemony, almost drove him nuts.
Jessie could tell the mood in the stuffy office changed considerably the closer he moved towards her. Warning bells went off in her head. Remember what you said after Mark? No. More. Men. Ever. Period. End of discussion.
But, Radar was not like Mark, of that she was certain. His gentleness with the local children, animals and even the wounded touched her. She found herself watching him on occasion, curious as to how he could be so tender-hearted, yet find enough toughness deep inside to deal with the horrid, everyday conditions in the ROK without it affecting who he really was. Or maybe it did affect him, and she didn't know it.
But, she found she really wanted to know.
She sucked in a breath as she felt his fingers curl a tendril of damp hair on her neck, her heart racing wildly.
Jessie knew she would see other men eventually, but this one had definitely snuck up on her bruised and battered heart.
"Radar, do you have those files finished yet? This damn General will drive me crazy if this heat doesn't!"
They immediately leapt to opposite ends of the room as Col. Potter bellowed his way into his office, wearing his bathrobe, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jessie digging determinedly through a file cabinet in the corner. Although it was dim, he could swear she was blushing.
"Oh – umm – well – it's done, Colonel." Radar stuttered, hastily arranging and rearranging the paperwork on Col. Potter's desk.
Col. Potter eyeballed the flustered clerk, then the equally flustered Jessie. The gears in his brain started turning. "The Lieutenant been keeping you company, Radar?"
"She offered to help, sir. I don't think I could have finished it without her." Radar looked at her gratefully.
"Well, well. I'd a slept a little better knowing there was two on the job. Thank you for your help, Lieutenant."
"You're welcome," Jessie managed to whisper, her pulse beating wildly. She wouldn't meet Radar's eyes. A part of her was afraid what she would see. And what he would see in her own. "I- uh – better get going. I go on duty at 6."
"You do that, Lieutenant. And thanks again."
Jessie half-saluted and practically ran out the door into the muggy dawn.
Col. Potter rocked back on his heels. "Had a horse one time with hair almost the same color. Headstrong, but one of the best damned animals I ever owned."
"Yes sir," Radar mumbled, not quite hearing what the Colonel was saying. He could still smell her scent, and it was making him a little dizzy. "Uhh, sir, I think I'll hit the showers, if that's OK with you." He edged towards the door.
Col. Potter chuckled. "Better make it a cold one."
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The weather changed, and Jessie was not accustomed to the biting wind. Wounded came and went, and she tried to adjust herself to the long, tedious hours of surgery, followed by equally long, tedious days of boredom.
But, she would have taken the boredom any day to the 72 straight hours of hell they had after she had only been there a month. The fighting picked up dramatically, and the 4077th found itself almost buried with wounded.
Jessie had never seen anything like it.
Battered and bloody soldiers were everywhere – in pre-op and lying in stretchers all around the compound. The mess tent had even been transformed into a crude OR pre-op of sorts. Their pain and fear-induced cries made Jessie want to run screaming from camp with her hands over her ears. The floors in OR were so slippery with blood, that everyone would have to brace themselves to keep from falling. Supplies were running low, and Jessie seriously figured if she slowed down long enough, someone would try to tap her for a pint.
The one thing she was grateful for was that it was chilly. She didn't think the smell of all the gore would have been tolerable in warmer weather.
Not that the screams of the soldiers and the sight of the wounds didn't make all of them nauseous enough. Top that off with the lack of sleep and the manic pace, and Jessie thought after the first 24 hours that she was in a bad dream. A really bad dream that she would wake up from relieved that she was back at home in her bed. Safe.
But it wasn't a dream, and Jessie and the other staff kept patching soldiers together hour after hour.
During a lull, Major Houilihan allowed the nurses to take a break in 1-hour shifts. When Jessie's turn came, she didn't even try to stumble to her tent. Instead, she settled for an unused corner of pre-op and collapsed on a bench. Her adrenaline was pumping so hard, that one hour was not going to be enough time to get any rest. But, getting off her feet helped. Some. She flexed her sore fingers, but the raw places on her skin rubbed by the constant changing and re-changing of rubber gloves made her wince.
"The locals make something that the nurses put on their hands. It helps when you wear gloves for too long." Radar flopped heavily on the bench next to her.
"I'll ask about it when this if over." If it's ever over. She had arrived in Hell and wondered briefly if it was a permanent situation.
Trying to break away from such morbid thoughts, her mind wandered to that night in Col. Potter's office, once again realizing how surprising it was that it was not awkward between them. He never even brought it up. And he had plenty of times to. Ever since then, not a day went by that one didn't seek the other out, no matter how busy they were. He knew her almost as well as her own family.
Except for the heiress thing, of course.
She had come to count on him being there for her, and she wondered if he felt the same way.
"You hungry?"
Jessie jumped out of her revelry. "I guess I should be." She shifted on the hard bench, sticking her cold hands inside her coat pockets. Her face brightened as she pulled her hand out of her coat.
"An apple! I haven't had one of those in ages!" Radar said in awe.
Jessie held it out in front of them. "Stacey came back from leave last week with all kinds of fruit. This is about all that's left." She held it out to him. "Wanna share?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't. It's yours." He pushed Jessie's hand back gently.
Jessie reached in her other pocket for a pocket knife. "If I can peel this entire apple in one long slice, then you share it with me. If I can't do it, then I have to eat it by myself."
Radar smiled at her, his weary eyes brightening. "You're on."
Thanks to her tomboy ways, she was rather proficient with a knife. "You know, when we were little, we were always told that if you peel an apple in a continuous peel, then throw it over your shoulder, it will land in the shape of the letter of the man's name you were going to marry."
"First name or last?" he asked, watching her work.
Jessie shrugged. "Don't know. I guess whatever you want it to be." With a flourish, she finished. "Tada! You lose!" She cut off a slice.
Radar gratefully took it and chewed slowly. "Aren't you going to try it?"
"Try what?"
"What you just told me. Throwing the peel over your shoulder."
Jessie shrugged. "Why not?" She tossed it, and it landed on the floor. They both leaned in closer.
"Looks sort of like an M to me." she said, cocking her head to one side.
"Could be a W. Maybe."
Fatigue slowed her brain, but she caught on. She cut her eyes at him, and he was grinning at her.
"OK, Walter!" She jabbed him in the chest with her finger, and he laughed. She cut him another slice.
Radar leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes. He chewed thoughtfully. "We had these two apple trees at home that would be full of fruit each fall. My mom would make several pies and leave them on the window sill to cool. You could smell them all over the yard." He smiled to himself. "My brother and I would try to steal one, but my mom was always there to shoo us away. Boy, those were the best-tasting pies!" He took a deep breath. "This reminds me of autumn at home. The air was so crisp, and the crops would be ready to harvest, and all the colors were just so beautiful. You would love autumn in Iowa."
As he talked, melancholy overtook her. The visions of fall in the Midwest were clashing with the hell they were all living in Korea.
Sensing a change in her mood, he opened his eyes, watching her carefully.
She cleared her throat. "Let's not talk about home. Anyone's home. I-I don't think I can take it. Not today."
"I didn't mean to upset you."
His honest gaze made her look away.
He resisted the urge to reach out to her and fleetingly wondered why she never brought up the night in Col. Potter's office. He sure thought about it. And he thought about her a lot, too.
Doggedly, she stuck another piece of fruit in her mouth. "Oh, it's not your fault. It's just this place. I thought I was used to it, but I guess not." Her desire for comfort finally overwhelmed her hesitation, and she snuggled next to him, her head on his arm. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she settled. But, he didn't push her away.
"I don't think we're supposed to get totally used to it. Maybe you learn to ignore it, but you don't ever get used to it." He threw caution to the wind and boldly linked his fingers with hers. Her hands were soft, just like he thought they'd be.
"Do you think we'll be different when we get home?" She felt her scratchy eyes growing heavy.
He yawned. "Yeah, but in a good way. We'll probably appreciate things more than we did before. Like clean clothes. And sunsets." He leaned his cheek hesitantly on the top of her head.
"And apples," Jessie whispered, half asleep.
Margaret and Hawkeye found them both asleep a half-hour later.
"Seems a shame to wake them," Hawkeye said, pulling off his bloody gown.
Margaret crossed her arms. "You know, I tell my nurses that it's against regulations to consort with the enlisted men. And what do they do?" She motioned towards the sleeping pair.
"Oh, c'mon, Margaret," Hawkeye said, settling on a bench with a sigh. "Even enlisted men deserve some comfort every now and then." He leered at her. "You and I have an hour. We could do a lot of 'comforting,' in one hour. Don't you think?"
Margaret glared back at him, leaning over to wake Jessie. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Captain!"