OK, did I warn everyone this is rather long? Sorry, if I didn't, but it's rather long. I sort of got carried away. You know how it is :-)
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Jessie waited almost two weeks for the box to arrive. She was in post-op when Klinger sauntered in, wearing a black evening gown.
"Hey, Klinger, nice dress," she said absently, writing on a chart and placing it on the foot of the bed.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," he replied, twirling a bit and making the dress sparkle "I bought it on my last trip to Seoul."
She stifled a laugh. "It looks very – ah – becoming on you," she managed. "And call me Jessie."
"Thank you Madam Jessamyn," he said, using her given name. "I am to inform you that you have a rather large and bulky box waiting for you in Radar's office."
Jessie resisted the urge to jump up and down and clap her hands with glee
"So, Jess, is it clothes, dresses, shoes, accessories?" he whispered. "I can pay top dollar, you know."
She giggled. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's not clothes." She laughed aloud when he actually looked crestfallen, earning a stern look from Major Houlihan across the room. She immediately stopped laughing.
"I'll be there when my shift's over," she whispered to him.
"Right," he said, whispering back. He winked at her and sauntered back into the Korean sunshine, beads sparkling. She shook her head and continued her rounds.
She could barely contain herself and shot out of post op and into Radar's office when the next shift arrived. She almost tripped over the large wooden crate parked in the middle of the floor when she flew through the door.
Radar was coming out of Col. Potter's office and caught her practically dancing a jig around the box. He smiled at the sight.
"Package from home?" he asked, realizing how lame it sounded. She was too excited to notice his discomfort. Despite the fact they had become friends, he still managed to feel uncomfortable around her at times. It was aggravating, to say the least.
"Oh, it's been something I've been waiting for!" she replied feeling around the box. "How do you reckon I'm supposed to open this thing?"
Radar rummaged around under his desk and came up with a crowbar and went to work on it. She shifted nervously back and forth on her feet waiting.
With one final shove, the lid creaked open. Jessie pounced on the box and pulled the lid back the rest of the way, rummaging in the dark recesses of the crate.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling out sets and sets of batons. There were all colors and sizes. Her high school pals really came through for her! "The kids will be so excited!" She practically hugged the handful of batons, one full of glitter, to her chest.
"Wow!" Radar replied, kneeling down next to Jessie.
Jessie continued rummaging deep in the box. "I wrote one of my friends and asked her to get in touch with some of my classmates to see if they had old batons they weren't using." She came up from the box holding a purple baton with white streamers on the end. "Isn't this great?" she said, twirling it between her fingers. "I know, it's kind of childish, but these kids need something that's their own, don't you think?"
It finally dawned on Radar what she was going to do. "Yeah, you're right," he replied, watching her dive back in the box.
Suddenly, she stopped rooting and popped back up. "You know what? We can have a talent show! Me and Klinger can make little sequined outfits and we can have a parade! Or . . ." She stopped when she realized Radar was trying not to laugh.
She was a little crestfallen at his reaction. "What's so funny?"
He had to back pedal fast. "Oh, no, I wasn't laughing at you," Radar stammered. "You just looked so excited, and you don't see too much of that around here, you know?"
Jessie brightened, and he thought his heart would melt.
In all her excitement, her hair had fallen out of its customary bun and strands were falling in her face. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed one out of her eyes, his fingers lingering on her skin.
Her eyes widened at his touch. But, she didn't pull away.
She didn't want to pull away.
"What the blazes is all this racket out here? It's enough to wake the dead!" Col. Potter demanded, emerging from his office. Radar and Jessie jumped backwards. She immediately putting the batons back in the box.
Colonel Potter paused when he saw the two kneeling on the floor, batons scattered around.
"What the devil?" he asked, picking one up next to his foot that had rolled across the floor. "Did a marching band just fly through here?"
"Um, no sir," Jessie replied, her face flaming. "I – um - well, I had all these sent from home, and I was going to give them to the local children."
"Yeah, she wants to do a pageant or something with them," Radar said, helping her pile the batons back in the box. "I think it's a good idea, don't you Colonel?"
Col. Potter rocked back on his heels. "I think it's a dandy idea, Lieutenant. Just give us the time and the place. It'll be an order for everyone to attend."
Jessie smiled at Col. Potter. He found himself smiling back.
I can see what the boy sees in her.
"Thanks, Colonel," she replied, rising from the floor and wiping off her knees. "I'll get this out of your office ASAP," she said and sailed out the door, looking for Klinger and leaving a befuddled Radar and amused Col. Potter in her wake.
Jessie was busy over the next few days. When she wasn't teaching the girls a routine, she, Klinger and some of the nurses were sewing sequins on little gowns for the girls to wear. Jessie figured the rather scanty majorette uniform would not go over well in Korea, so she adjusted accordingly.
Along with her regular duties, she stayed so busy that she did not have time to think. That was good. If she let herself, her mind would stray to Radar. And that was dangerous territory!
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The day of the pageant was clear and bright. The children were thrilled with the sequins and chattered among themselves as they settled on colors and sizes. They were just as ecstatic about the batons, each one clutching the set of her choosing. Everyone was glad to see the girls so excited, and more than one head was turned as tears formed in their eyes.
The pageant itself went well, with everyone in the camp not on duty in attendance and several local families, as well. Jessie had split the girls, which now numbered around 30, into different age groups and skills. As each girl completed their routine, there were stomps, cheers and whistles from everyone in attendance. Jessie stayed off the makeshift stage and coached from below. However, Klinger, who insisted on his own outfit and routine, received the most cheers after his rather interesting routine, which consisted of mainly trying to keep his sequined uniform from falling off.
When the pageant was over, everyone went to mess tent to treat the children to cookies and milk-powdered, of course. The children received congratulations all around. After awhile, only a few nurses remained to help clean up the mess. Although it was just dark, she wearily returned to her tent and fell into her cot, asleep almost as soon as she got her arms around Radar's bear.
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Jessie was jolted awake by a loud explosion. She rolled off the cot and onto the floor in confusion, not sure what was going on. Then, there was flash of light and another explosion, sounding like it was right outside her door, and she put the pillow over her head as she struggled to breathe in the dusty air. Mortars! Attacks were quite common, despite the large red crosses on the tents that signaled a hospital, but this was her first.
Her first instinct was to dig a hole in the floor and stay there until the horrendous noise ceased. But, the sound of choppers also filled the air, and she knew she would have to leave the relative safety of her tent. She crawled over to her trunk and dug around frantically until she found a helmet. So far, it hadn't been needed for protection, but the nurses did try to make fudge in it once. She secured the bulky thing on her head and cautiously peeked out the door. People were beginning to emerge in response to the helicopters and buses pulling into the compound. As she struggled to her feet and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she wondered how they were supposed to operate as a hospital with bombs going off all around.
But, operate they did. The sound of shells exploding, sometimes in camp, continued throughout the night, despite all of Col. Potter's efforts on the phone to quell the danger. More than once, a shell would hit so close to the operating room that a window would explode and dust would blow into the room. Trying to keep the wounds clean was a fruitless effort.
Keeping her hands from shaking in fear of the next one landing on her head was also a fruitless effort. One of the nurses who had only been there a week collapsed into a screaming ball of terror when one of the shells exploded nearby, leaving Charles without a nurse. Margaret hauled the poor girl to her feet and demanded she control herself. For a moment, Jessie thought the Major was going to slap her. She felt sorry for the girl as she watched out of the corner of her eye when all efforts to control the girl's sobs failed. Finally, a disgusted Margaret sent her out of the OR with threats of a dishonorable discharge.
Margaret grabbed Jessie's arm, and she almost yelped. "Lieutenant, go help Major Winchester," Margaret demanded. "I'll take over here."
Jessie obediently took off her soiled gloves, replaced them and stood next to Charles.
"Scalpel," he said. Jessie immediately handed him the instrument, but couldn't control her shaking hands. Although she could have easily fallen into a shambles, after seeing the way Margaret had treated the new girl, she didn't dare.
Eight hours and hundreds of soldiers later, the wave of wounded slowed to a trickle. The bombs also subsided, and only an occasional explosion rocked the air. There was a sigh of relief as the last soldier was sewed up.
The relief didn't last long.
"Sir, we have injured locals!" Klinger said, racing in the door with a stretcher, followed by another orderly.
They plunked the stretcher down in front Col. Potter, who sighed. "Damn. Why is it always children?"
Jessie, who was busy with her equipment tray, was startled when another stretcher was laid in front of her on Charles's table. On it was a child. A girl.
She recoiled, pure horror running through her veins. The child, still wearing the sparkly outfit only hours before she had been so proud of, was missing both her legs.
"Sweet Jesus," Charles mumbled, checking for any signs of life. Finding a weak pulse, he started barking orders at Jessie.
Jessie was frozen in spot. She couldn't take her eyes off all the blood seeping onto the stretcher.
"Lieutenant!" Margaret yelled across the room.
Slowly, Jessie came to life and began prepping the patient who she had patiently taught to twirl only days before. She didn't know her name, she had only learned a few of their names. Now, she wished she had taken more time to get to know them all.
Charles worked frantically, she had to give him credit. Everything else in the room seemed to melt away and only saving this child mattered. She willed the girl to live with every breath she took, gritting her teeth as she tried to control her tears.
After a few minutes, he realized their efforts were fruitless.
She still couldn't take her eyes off the dead child. Everyone else in the room was quiet. Kelleye took the instruments from her hands as she stood there. All she could think about was death. Of a child. Of an innocent child. She tore off her mask and stumbled from the stifling room
She ran blindly, ripping off her blood-splattered gown, stumbling through the camp, not really seeing where she was headed. With tears blinding her, she was determined to run until she could no longer see the broken and bloodied body on the operating table. The cold night air hurt her heaving lungs as she slid down a rocky embankment. The part of her mind that was still functioning realized she was near the helicopter pad and should stop. Beyond that was unfriendly territory.
Before she slid to the bottom, she slipped and fell. Instead of continuing her fruitless journey, she wrapped her arms around her bloodied knees and sobbed. What have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?
Back in camp, Radar was in a panic. Kelleye had found him in his office and breathlessly told him about the little girl in OR and Jessie's departure. Just the thought of anyone, but most especially Jessie, having to go through that made his blood run cold. He had been searching for her for almost a half hour, but to him, it seemed like an eternity.
As he racked his brain, trying to think of where she might be, his anxiety ballooned. His mind was muddled with all the horrific things that could have happened to her. So far, the shelling had not restarted, but if it did . . .
He stopped to take a break at the chopper pad, taking deep breaths. After calming himself for a minute, he thought he heard shuffling from the embankment. He peered over the side, but couldn't see anything but inky darkness. With thoughts of Jessie bleeding at the bottom, he slid down the side, rocks falling from underneath his boots. He was so relieved to find her at the bottom, unharmed, that he practically wept.
Jessie didn't even hear him behind her. She was still curled up with her forehead on her knees when he softly touched her shoulder.
She yelped and jumped away, instantly afraid. But, when she saw Radar's understanding eyes, tears once again spilled over. He sat down next to her and gathered her in his arms as she buried herself in his chest, trying to tell him between sobs what was wrong.
"I know, I know. Shh, it's OK," he just kept saying over and over, rocking her back and forth like a child. His relief at finding her unharmed turned to sadness at her pain.
She gave up trying to talk and cried into his jacket. It was too easy to believe the whispered words he said, that she was truly going to be fine. Truthfully, none of them were ever going to be the same. And that just made her cry harder.
Neither knew how long they stayed at the bottom of the embankment. Her sobs finally abated to occasional sniffles, and she began to recognize the discomfort of sitting on the cold hard ground.
Without a word, he stood up slowly and gave her his hand.
She took it and stood awkwardly, wincing as her bloodied knees throbbed.
"Hey, you're hurt! Wait here and I'll go get . . ." He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm.
"No, it's just a stupid scrape," she said, shaking her legs to ward of the pain. He still held onto her arm as they walked a few steps across the rocky landscape. "At least I can still feel pain."
"Wait a minute," Radar said brusquely. He put his hands on her shoulders, making her face him, and took a deep breath. "This stuff happens here. You get attached to people. It's happened to all of us." He thought fleetingly of Henry Blake. "But, you can't let it be all you think about. If you do, it'll make you crazy."
Jessie snorted, very unladylike. Ain't that the truth.
Radar continued. "You just do what you can to save the ones you can. Think about the ones you can't save, but don't let that be all you think about."
Jessie bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. "But, it's so hard!" she replied, not meeting his gentle gaze. "I keep seeing her one minute wearing that stupid sparkling outfit, then the next minute I see her . . ." she stopped and took a ragged breath. "I've seen more death here to last ten lifetimes. But this innocent child . . ."
Radar grasped her shoulders tighter. "Hey. Look at me."
Jessie raised her eyes to his. Compassion was something she hadn't seen very much since arriving, and it startled her. Her first reaction was to burst into tears again and let him hold her, dangerous territory to be sure. So, she bit her tongue instead, fighting her initial impulse.
He could sense the battle she was fighting with herself, but couldn't tell the reason why. "It's not something you can forget fast. You have to give it time." He truthfully didn't know how much, since he was still having nightmares about his first day.
A light cut through the darkness. "Jessie! Radar!" Col. Potter called.
They jumped back from each other, but he grabbed her hand.
"Down here! I found her!"
"Damn it, son!" Col. Potter yelled, his light shining on the two at the bottom of the ravine. The both squinted when the beam hit their eyes. "I ought to throttle you both for disappearing like that!"
Radar squeezed her hand, and they returned to the relative safety of camp.
Everyone seemed to understand and had a kind word for her. Some even told their own personal stories of when this place got to them. It made Jessie feel a little less alone. Even Margaret didn't scold her much for vacating the OR, although she didn't have a story to tell.
This place probably never gets to her.
And Radar stayed right by her side until he walked her to her tent. He never said much or even touched her, but it was comforting enough just to know he was there.
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Jessie awoke stifling a scream and struggled to sit up in the darkened tent, throwing the heavy blanket off her body. Sweat was trickling down her sides as she put her feet on the floor and her head in her hands, trying to calm her wildly beating heart.
Sleep was hard to come by, and it wasn't even morning. The same horrific dream kept playing in her mind over and over. Bombs going off. She would try to run, but found herself surrounded by children, most missing arms and legs, and all reaching out for her and moaning. And the blood. It was everywhere.
She shivered in the dark tent, not wanting to attempt sleep again.
Peeking out the door, she saw a light still on in Radar's tent. Dismissing her misgivings, she threw on some clothes, grabbed her helmet and the last of some hot chocolate and snuck over to the mess tent. There, she grabbed two mugs and found some lukewarm water in the coffee pots. After mixing the last of the beverage in the two mugs, she snuck across camp. Balancing the mugs in her hands, she opened the door.
Radar was leaned over the desk, filling out paperwork, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in concentration.
"Your job never ends, does it?"
Radar jumped. "Geez, you scared me!" When he saw her, his annoyance faded. "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
Jessie shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she said, handing him one of the mugs.
"Bad dreams," he said, not really asking. He knew.
She nodded.
He took a sip and looked surprised. "This is actually good!"
She sat down on the corner of his desk. "It's came from home."
They sat in companionable silence.
She was the first to speak. "I'm glad you found me because I don't think I could make it back to camp by myself. I guess I'd have stayed out there all night." She shivered as she thought about her panicked run through camp. And the little girl. And her dreams.
He patted her leg. "You'd have done the same for me."
"If you go running off like that on me, I'm bound to throttle some sense into you," she joked. "Either that or scream and yell at you."
"I'll take the beating any day over the yelling," he said, draining his cup. "Yelling gives me a headache." He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm just sorry it happened."
"To any of us." Especially the children. She stood awkwardly. "But thanks. For being there. It meant more . . . means more than I realized."
Radar felt helpless. He knew about the nightmares. They all had them. But, as she stood before him, her big green eyes full of fear and uncertainty, he realized the most helpless feeling of all was that he could not in any way shield her from them. And he wanted to. With all his heart.
She gave him a small smile before heading out the door, back to bed. And her nightmares.
But, she almost yelped when he grabbed her before she could walk out the door.
An explosion in the middle of camp boomed seconds after they both tumbled behind his desk. A second and third one followed close behind as dust rose from the floor and papers fluttered around them. They clung to each other more for comfort than safety.
Another explosion filled the dusty air. They clutched each other a little tighter. The ground beneath them shook with each exploding shell.
Radar could sense the panic in the room, and he wasn't quite sure if it was hers or his. His eyes watered from the musty air. Another mortar screamed from the sky, and Jessie jumped. He held her tighter as she coughed. And tried not to think what a direct hit would do to the little room.
Another shell blew out a window, and Jessie stifled a scream, burying her face in his neck. She could feel his pulse racing. He hadn't shaved in awhile, and the stubble scuffed her cheek.
Later, she tried to blame sheer terror and exhaustion for what happened next. Still holding her tightly, he shifted, and she could feel his breath warm on her cheek. Almost instinctively, they both turned until their lips touched. When neither one pulled away, the kiss intensified, the two of them grateful for any diversion to the destruction raining down up on their heads.
They didn't even notice when the shelling stopped.
"Great balls of fire, Radar! Get on the phone to HQ and see what you can do to stop this shelling!" Col. Potter roared, entering the askew door. All he saw were two pairs of boots behind Radar's desk before they both scrambled from the floor, looking guilty.
"Yes, sir, I'll get right on it," Radar mumbled, his face bright red.
Jessie's helmeted head popped up from behind the desk.
"And you!" Col. Potter roared. "Get to post op and make sure no one's hurt!"
She struggled to stand. "Y-Yes sir," she stammered and skittered out the door, her heart hammering in her chest as she ran across camp. She tried to convince herself it was from the mortars, as she skirted a smoking crater.
But she knew that wasn't it.
Thankfully, aside from some confusion and a few upset wounded, the camp soon settled down.
Settling down in her tent- with her helmet on – Jessie lay back with her hands behind her head.
For some reason after everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, the kiss seemed to have her in the most unsettled state. She tried to tell herself she didn't mean for it to happen. It was just the heat of the moment, bombs going off, death imminent, that sort of thing. She was exhausted. The last thing she wanted to do was start something during a war of all places!
But, no one, not even Mark, held her like that-like they actually cared for her. It was strange, but she swore she could actually feel that in his lips on hers. A little voice in her head kept saying, "Yeah, he likes you for you, but you're lying to him, not telling him you're filthy stinking rich."
Jessie flopped over on the creaky cot and took a deep breath, silencing her inner demons. Exhaustion had a way of doing that. Within minutes she was sound asleep.
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There was more to the dream this time. Actually, it had definitely traveled into nightmare territory now. It had additional images added together to make it seem frighteningly real.
A Korean, her long skirt wrapping unnaturally around Jessie, almost like a claw, watched him with hatred on her face. Jessie's eyes pled with his, but he didn't know why. He couldn't get to her; his feet felt like they were blocks of concrete. But, he knew he had to save her.
This time when the gun went off, he knew it wasn't someone firing a pistol in the compound.
But, he sure wished it was. Anything to rid his mind of the look of terror on Jessie's face.
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Fun with foreshadowing! Thanks for reading!