Aside from "MASH," I do not own the rights to "What's Your Mama's Name?" by Tanya Tucker, either. Oh, and I know it was actually written something like 20 years after the Korean War, but meh - that's why they call this fiction! I don't own any rights to "Don't Call Him a Cowboy" either, which was originally sung by Conway Twitty. Ditto for the timing.
Oh yeah, and guess who finds out that Jessie's actually "little miss moneybags?'
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The night of the talent show came sooner than Jessie would have liked. It was the 4077th turn to host the event, and the mess tent had been rearranged with a make shift stage and curtain and rows of chairs. When it came close to starting time, she peeked through a hole in the tent and found that the tent was packed with mostly rowdy men on their way to being rowdy drunk men. She swallowed nervously. I think I'm going to be sick. She had sung to drunken crowds before, but never by herself, always with Mark. And it was never in competition.
Klinger rushed backstage, where everyone was talking in anticipation, interrupting her thoughts. His ballerina outfit gathered more than a few catcalls from the 8063rd's representatives on the other side of the stage gathered around their singing sensation Katie Black.
"Hey, I got that dress you wanted, sir!" he said, running to Hawkeye with a something in a garment bag. "Just finished it."
"Great!" Hawkeye said, clapping his hands together. "Let's see it."
With a flourish, Klinger unzipped the bag and revealed its contents.
Jessie's eyes widened as everyone gathered around oohing and aahing over the outfit. "Wait a minute, just wait a minute!" she said. "No one told me about any 'outfit'!"
Hawkeye held the dress in front of Jessie. "At least if you bomb in the singing department you'll be a bombshell on stage."
She snatched it out of his hands. "I can't wear this!" she exclaimed. "I'll be out of uniform." She glanced at Margaret hopefully. Margaret pretended to ignore that remark – she wanted that trophy to show up that haughty Nurse Black – and her hopes fell.
Jessie grasped at straws. "Well, it probably won't fit."
"Ah contrare, my dear," Klinger said triumphantly. "I had your measurements from the majorette outfits we made, remember?"
She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Fine! I'll wear the stupid dress!" She turned to stalk to her tent to change, but changed her mind, shaking the dress at them all. "But, if you don't keep those drunken oafs away from me, I'll make all of your lives a living hell!"
She returned a few minutes later, covered head-to-toe in a blanket from her bed, glaring daggers at Hawkeye and B.J.
"Why the wrap?" Col. Potter, drink in hand, questioned.
"Because," Jessie retorted. "I stepped foot out of my tent and every guy within a mile radius wolf whistled. I think I even heard some North Korean snipers applauding! I wouldn't have made it across camp looking like this." She threw off the blanket just as Radar stuck his head behind the curtain.
"Just about ready . . ." He trailed off, speechless. "Wow!" he whispered.
"I copied it out of a magazine. Worked my fingers to the bone," Klinger said proudly.
Charles stood silently appraising her while his bunkmates twittered.
Jessie had to admit, the red dress was impressive. It had small straps, and fit low over her chest, but not too low. It clung in all the right places, but the crowning glory was the two slits up either side, almost to her hips. When she took a few steps, the dress swished and hints of leg peeked through. It even made her look a little taller.
She put her hands on her hips. "You will all pay," she threatened, shaking her finger at them.
"At least this way, we know you won't sing any hymns," Hawkeye said, eyeing her.
Before she could retort, the emcee for the evening-Father Mulcahy-clapped his hands on the other side of the tent to get everyone's attention.
"Welcome to the MASH Talent Show!" the Father said to the crowd to applause and whistles. "Tonight, we have some wonderful talent for you!" More whistles and hoots.
"From the 8063rd, we have last year's champion, hailing from Portland, Oregon, Katie Black!" Half the tent cheered while the other half booed. "And, from Dallas, Texas, we have the 4077th representative Jessie Callahan!" Boos erupted from the 8063rd side of the tent, while wild applause and stomping erupted from the 4077th side.
"Without further adieu, Katie Black!" The father bowed off the stage as the band began playing. Katie, dressed in a stylish, yet demure white dress stepped regally through the makeshift curtain. Jessie's heart sank as she started singing the first notes of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."
"You didn't tell me she was good," she hissed at Radar, who was trying hard not stare at Jessie.
"She's not as good as you. Or as pretty," he said, embarrassed. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Jessie, palms sweaty, squeezed back.
"Will you still like me if I make an ass out of myself?" she whispered, nerves tying her stomach into knots.
Radar knew it went far beyond like, but it still scared him to admit it. "You're too good! And, I don't like you for your singing, but that's part of it, but it's not all . . ." He trailed off.
She linked her arm through his and kissed him on the cheek.
Radar, not accustomed to pretty women kissing him in front of everyone, didn't quite know what to do. Although they thought they were keeping it under wraps, mainly to keep Jessie from getting in trouble with Major Houilihan, everyone knew.
It was a small camp.
Too soon, Nurse Black's song was over. The rowdy crowd, which had begun to sniffle, cheered raucously. Nurse Black stepped regally back through the curtain and nodded her blonde head at Jessie.
Jessie wanted to stick her tongue out at her.
"Your turn," the Father motioned towards Jessie, pulling back the curtain. Taking a deep breath to calm her fluttering nerves, she gave Radar's arm one last squeeze before taking the stage.
"What's she going to sing, anyway?" B.J. whispered to Radar.
Radar just beamed. "You'll see, sir," Jessie had written the song herself. He liked it a lot, but he would have liked anything she had written.
"Hey, y'all!" Jessie mustered up her best Southern accent. The crowd, already catcalling at her show of leg as she sauntered up the stage, stepped it up a notch.
Everyone loves a Southern girl.
"I'm going to sing a little something I wrote myself. It's called 'What's Your Mama's Name?'" At the mention of 'Mama,' the crowd quieted. Typical.
She took a deep breath. 'Twenty some-odd years ago, a young man came to Memphis. Asking 'bout a rose that used to blossom in his world. People never took the time to mind the young man's questions. Until one day they heard him ask a little green-eyed girl. What's your Mama's name, child, what's your Mama's name? Does she ever talk about a place called New Orleans? Has she ever mentioned a man named Buford Wilson? What's your Mama's name, child, what's your Mama's name?'
The crowd listened, enthralled as she weaved the story about a guy who spent his entire life asking little four-year old, green-eyed girls if they knew him.
Even backstage, they were entranced.
"Where's this headed?" Col. Potter whispered to Radar.
"Shhhh. Sir," he added quickly.
'A year and some-odd days ago, an old man died in Memphis. Just another wayward soul the county had to claim. Inside the old man's ragged coat, they found a faded letter. It said 'you have a daughter – and her eyes are Wilson green.'
She brought down the house. Bowing, she stepped behind the curtain. Nurse Black glared at her, but she just nodded her head in the other woman's direction before she was engulfed with her compatriots praise.
"That was the best story I ever heard!" Klinger exclaimed.
"I told you she was talented," Radar said, sticking his chest out proudly.
"Can I take this stupid dress off now?" Jessie said, tugging at it.
"Not yet!" Father Mulcahy said, coming back from the stage. "They want more!"
"More?"
"That's part of talent, you know," Nurse Black said icily. "You can't just go onstage and shake your tail like a Southern call girl for one set and expect to win."
"Hey! You take that back!" Radar exclaimed. "Jessie can sing anything she wants anytime she wants!"
"What he said," B.J. said, enjoying the behind-the-scenes catfight.
Jessie put her hand on Radar's tense shoulder. "That's alright. She knows she's going to lose, that's all."
"We'll just see about that!" Katie marched back onstage, spoke with the band and began a rendition of "These Boots are Made for Walking." Even Jessie was impressed with her transformation from innocence to sexuality.
Props, I need props! Katie was good, and if Jessie wanted to win, she needed to match her. She looked around frantically as the song ended, snatching Hawkeye's trusty Stetson off his head. She shook her hair, which had been in a bun, and it cascaded down her shoulders, still damp from her quick shower earlier. She plopped the hat on her head as the other woman finished her song and marched triumphantly back stage.
The crowd, geared up by Katie's performance, cheered twice as loud for Jessie. She spoke with the band and immediately went into her song "Don't Call Him a Cowboy," a song full of sexual innuendo that Mark had actually written about a girl explaining that a guy couldn't be a cowboy unless he could "ride."
The crowd went nuts as Jessie sashayed across the stage.
And so it went for another hour. They went through every song they could think of from show tunes to country to rock. Although the thoroughly drunk crowd was demanding more, Col. Potter finally had to call a stop to the festivities. Father Mulcahy called both contestants onstage, who stood as far as possible from each other.
"First, let's hear it for the band!" Father Mulcahy said, motioning towards the bunch hastily arranged for the occasion. The crowd hollered in approval.
The Father put up his hands for silence. "Now for the voting!" He placed his hand over Katie's head, and the crowd roared. Jessie could swear she saw the flaps of the tent move with the noise.
Although she still had a smile painted on her face, she looked nervously down at Radar, who had come in front of the stage with the rest of the gang to vote. He smiled confidently back up at her. It made her feel better.
"Well, that was quite a vote," Father Mulcahy said. "Now, for the 4077th."
Jessie held her breath. She wanted to win this.
But, she need not have worried. The crowd roared its approval for her as she thought about putting her hands over her ears to drown out the noise. She even noticed quite a few from the 8063rd cheering just as loud for her as they did for their own comrade. Before the Father could officially announce the winner, Katie huffed backstage.
"The new champion, Jessamyn Callahan from Dallas, Texas and the 4077th!" he yelled to the approval of the crowd.
"Now can I get out of this dress?" she mouthed to Hawkeye, who gave her a thumbs-up.
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"Truth or dare," Kelleye asked Jessie, who was busy braiding Kelleye's long black hair. Across the room Bigelow and Stacey were painting their own toenails with some bright red nail polish Jessie had got in a package from her sister back home.
"Truth," Jessie mumbled around the bobby pins in her mouth.
"How old were you when you first had sex?" Kelleye asked.
Jessie stopped braiding the nurse's hair and cocked her head in thought. "I think I was 16," she said, thinking hard. "His name was Rob, but everyone called him Robbie. It was in the back of his mother's car, and it was awful." She sighed melodramatically. "Ahh, to be 16 again."
The girls giggled.
"So, what about this Mark guy? Was he any good?" Bigelow asked. Although Jessie only mentioned him that one time on her second day in camp, the nurses loved a romance, even one that ended badly. Boredom has a way of making one nosy.
Jessie rolled her eyes as she finished braiding Kelleye's hair. Kelleye held up the mirror and nodded her approval.
"Now, you do mine," Jessie said, sitting down. "Sex to Mark was more like how can I please him instead of vice versa. It was a one-way street, that's for sure," she winced as Kelleye brushed her tangled hair.
"What about you Bigelow? Hawkeye any good?" Stacey said innocently. She earned a glare from Bigelow.
"I don't think the question here is if Hawkeye is any good," Bigelow said flippantly. "I think the question here is if Radar is any good."
Jessie, who was taking a sip of coffee, choked. Each one of the women looked at her expectantly as she sputtered. She knew she was red, but she hoped they thought it was from her coughing fit and not the question.
"First of all, that's none of your business," she finally managed. "Second of all, I have never seen anyway to get any privacy around here for anything like that!" It was possible, but she sure wasn't going to bring that up! "Third, I didn't hear you answer the question about Hawkeye."
"That's because we haven't actually slept together, although he is a damn good kisser." Stacey sighed in agreement.
Bigelow wasn't to be deterred. "Well, is Radar a good kisser? And you can't say that is none of our business because we want to know."
Jessie rolled her eyes. "I think he's quite a good kisser," she said, crossing her arms in front of her "Fine, are you happy now?"
The women laughed at her obvious discomfort.
"What do you see in him, really?" Stacey asked. "I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he's so, well, runty almost."
"Have you looked at my height lately, Stace?" Jessie asked, trying to be as still as possible for Kelleye to finish her hair. "There's nothing wrong with being short."
"You're avoiding the question," Kelleye said in a sing-song voice.
"For starters, I can talk to him. I know that sounds lame and all, but really, how many men have you known that you can talk to?"
The room was quiet, so she took that to mean 'not many.'
"He really cares about what I have to say, too, and he cares about me, not the way that Mark cared about me, which was how good I looked on his arm or in his bed, but actually about me. Plus, I've always been a sucker for dimples!" The group laughed.
"And, he's a good kisser!" Bigelow pointed out. Jessie threw a pillow at her as she ducked.
"Lt. Callahan, please report to the mess tent on the double. You have a visitor!" the PA system announced.
"Oohh, a visitor," Stacey said, blowing on her nails. "Any idea who?"
Jessie shook her head as Kelleye finished braiding her hair.
"Maybe we should all go to see," Bigelow said.
Jessie threw another pillow at her. "I think all of you have been in my business quite enough for today." She grinned at her friends. They all grinned back.
As Jessie walked across the compound, she wondered who the visitor could be. Entering the mess tent and giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness, she saw a familiar figure deep in discussion with Hawkeye, B.J., Charles, Radar and Col. Potter.
"Johnny!" she yelled and practically leapt across the tent.
Her brother stood just in time to catch her, and they both tumbled to the floor between the tables. Everyone laughed aloud, but Jessie didn't care. She hugged him so hard she thought that her arms would break. "Ohmigod, what are you doing here?"
Johnny helped her stand. "Easy, Jess, you'll rumple my uniform."
"Uniform?" Jessie jumped back to get a look for herself.
Johnny posed. "After you joined and all of Daddy's money in the world couldn't buy off the United States Army, the high society crowd became quite patriotic and joined right behind you. If you volunteer, at least you get to choose where you go. Actually, I think they were just as glad to get away from the balls and dances and teas as you were. Although I don't know how you stand the food after the high-quality stuff that our cook made." Johnny turned towards the stunned group. "And this tent," he said, gesturing around. "We wouldn't even put our help in something this horrible."
Jessie paled. Her secret was finally out. As crazy as it sounded, she had almost forgotten it herself.
"I knew it!" Charles said triumphantly, slapping the table. "I did see you in Boston that summer! You were the one who punched the mayor's son after he tried to put his hand down your dress! My sister and I talked about it for days."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," B.J. said, putting his hands up in front of him. "Are you telling me you are . . ."
"Filthy stinking rich?" Col. Potter finished.
Johnny held Jessie at arms length. "You mean you've been here all this time and didn't tell them?"
She could have kicked him just like she kicked the mayor's son.
"You've been holding out on us in poker, you little scamp!" Hawkeye said, shaking his finger at her.
The news didn't seem to faze anyone, except the one person whose opinion she wanted the most.
His eyes had not left her during the entire conversation. She had often wondered what Radar's reaction would be if he found out, especially after all this time and as close as they had gotten. She had watched his face go from shock to sadness to anger during those few short moments. Without warning he stood and turned to leave.
Jessie wriggled out of her brother's grasp to follow. She grabbed his arm, but he jerked out of her grasp.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I have work to do," he said finally looking her in the eyes. She could see the hurt, and it was like Sophie had kicked her in the chest. He stalked out of the tent. She didn't follow.
"Uh, oh," B.J. said. "She didn't tell him, either, I guess."
"Hey, sis, I'm sorry about that," Johnny said, coming up behind her as she watched Radar angrily march across the compound. "I should have guessed you wouldn't go around telling."
Jessie turned to look into his green eyes so similar to her own and smiled weakly. "That's OK, you didn't know." She punched him in the arm, trying her best to be jovial. "Now tell me, what in the world are you doing in the ROK?"