It was nightfall before it was all over finally. As the group stayed in Colonel Potter's office (including the colonel himself, Margaret, Nurse Baker, Father Mulcahy, Radar and Sergeants Rizzo, Zale and Gaines), they heard the sounds of tents being overturned, campmates being interviewed and even some shouts of discovery. While all talked cautiously about what was happening…what the future was going to hold…and even sometimes the occasional wistfulness of home, the outside world seemed to have closed in on them, overwhelming them. However, it was Colonel Potter who kept them from looking out the windows and going outside. It was his guiding hands that helped to keep conversations flowing and some drinks going down, even if he normally did not spare them to the others.

Around nineteen hundred hours, he was already tucking some people in and saying good night. Rizzo had run back to the Motor Pool for some sleep under a jeep, claiming that he had enough of the trouble and could take care of himself. Zale ran off in another direction, to the Supply Room, stating the same. Nurse Baker stayed with Margaret, both oddly talking over some drinks by the intercom, but soon they grew tired and getting some well-needed sleep together when they found a corner next to a filing cabinet in the office. Igor and Radar dozed off on the cot next to the nurses, making Colonel Potter smile as he pulled blankets over the foursome.

When Pyle showed up around twenty-one hundred hours that night (originally found in the kitchens with the cook and recruited to find Wellington and Wright), he told both Colonel Potter and Father Mulcahy the news. He was wringing his hands as he did so, knowing that he had to be careful around the sleeping company in the office, but he also knew that they were in good hands now and would be told of what had transpired in the morning.

"Wright and Wellington have been found," Pyle began as he sat before Colonel Potter in his office. Father Mulcahy was sitting to his right.

"Where were they?" Colonel Potter asked anxiously.

"Wright was hiding in the nurses' showers, about to hang himself," Pyle admitted with some hesitation, especially with Father Mulcahy around. "He was struggling for air when Weston and Anthony found him. The tent itself was about to collapse anyway because of the weight. He is still alive and has been revived. He is now in custody."

"Oh, my!" Father Mulcahy exclaimed.

"And Wellington?" Colonel Potter asked as he ignored the priest's outburst, more concerned about the blatant murderer than Floyd's dead body at the moment.

"Well, he was tougher to track," Pyle said, his knuckles turning white with the wringing. "There were bullet holes in the tents and lots of scared people. They pointed us in many directions, but it was Anthony who saw some tracks by Rosie's Bar, where Nurse Curtis' bloody trail began. We followed the old trail, where the footprints were, and found him by the same location the body was. Next to him was the dead body of Sergeant Aaron Church. It appeared that he was killed some time ago, maybe a couple of days ago, and was left to rot. Wellington was burying him to hide the evidence."

"What evidence?" Father Mulcahy asked. "I thought the body would have been proof enough of guilt."

"No, there were some papers on the sergeant," Pyle replied generally. "Anthony saw them on the body and tossed them at me, saying to make copies when we get to Seoul. When I read it, I was amazed. It was damning evidence that both Wright and Wellington were recruited to help Floyd. Apparently, the man was bent on revenge, but needed help and somehow forged paperwork to get the two into the Army, despite a criminal record on the both of them, for armed robbery and such. When in the Army, the two had done most of the dirty work for Floyd, such as planting contrary evidence and the like.

"Now, because Floyd was dealing with General Hannibal, documentation was stored and some spying was done on their end as well, to make sure that Floyd was doing his part of the bargain, as we found out. They helped him frame Major Houlihan and he gives them information about our positions in West Germany, which is top secret. However, you know that Nurse Curtis was one of them and Hannibal did not expect one of his own killed. So, it appears that Church there was about to send a note, because he was one of them as well and was obliged to run, and was found out and killed. We don't know yet who murdered who, but it does appear that Floyd was the mastermind behind the whole scheme."

"And he's dead, the Lord bless and protect him and his family, even if he was a sinner," Father Mulcahy intoned.

"Yes, well, his wife and children were going to suffer the same fate as the previous generation, but the Army does not know what to do with them yet," Pyle offered somewhat kindly. "They can tell them the truth and not spare the children any humiliation or let the family know that he died in a war zone, and not how, and bury him with military honors. At this point, though, I would not give him any honors, not for the world."

"And my camp?" Colonel Potter asked, inclining his head to the slumbering figures outside of his office.

"Within three days, you should receive the wounded again," Pyle confirmed. "It would take that long to process any paperwork that we file and to counter some of Major Floyd's. While the ban off of the camp will be lifted, the investigation will not. It might take some months before it is officially closed."

"And those of my personnel accused? Will they be declared innocent?"

"Yes, Colonel. My uncle will personally handle that paperwork and let the Army know that Major Floyd had framed them all and that no evidence existed."

Colonel Potter doubted any general handling the paperwork personally, but he took Pyle's word for it and let it be. He did not want to argue, even if his temper was rising and rising fast.

"And in any case," Pyle continued, "for my part, this investigation is closed. Colonel, Father, while I am glad that this has ended, I do not like the justice that was served."

"My camp did not need to be accused of murder nor the site of one too," Colonel Potter said gruffly, suddenly angry at the words said to him. "And General Pyle himself could have told me what was going on instead of allowing this…this goon to be running around and destroying people's careers. Why Floyd was sent here and some other person concerning this murder, I don't know. But Sergeant, I am not pleased. My camp fell apart, the lines could have been over us and we could not move and people could have been killed. It would have fallen on me, as their commanding officer, but being under the thumb of some jackass was not my idea of control in a war zone where anybody could have gotten themselves killed."

"Sir, I can –"

"I don't care what you want to explain, Sergeant. Just tell the general to do as he pleases, but to leave my camp alone. We do not handle affairs of spying and all that the war entails. We handle the wounded and sick. And, quite personally, after all of this, I think all of us want to go home and recuperate."

Pyle took the heat quite well, Father Mulcahy thought and noted, watching as the sergeant stopped wringing his hands. He even smiled as he stood up, knowing that he was about to be dismissed. It was almost mocking the colonel, surely, and it was insubordination, but it also seemed to have agreed with the sentiment that Potter was conveying to him. Sergeant Pyle was only a tool, Father Mulcahy reasoned, and a good person that would handle cases like this with respect and care.

Not to mention, he has some faith in happy endings. And ours was a good one, although a little violent.

"I will most certainly send your message to my uncle, the general," Pyle only said, saluting (again, it was almost on the mocking side). "If you need anything, Colonel, you know where to find us. I'll send the rest of your personnel back to you, safe and sound, in those three days."

"They had better be," Colonel Potter growled again, dismissing Pyle with his own salute.

Pyle then turned to leave, but Father Mulcahy followed him out immediately, not caring if Colonel Potter needed him or not. When the two reached the hot outdoors and Pyle was about to jump into the jeep with Weston and Gaines, Father Mulcahy tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

"You did the best that you could," Father Mulcahy said, as if to reassure the younger man that he was not in the wrong. "And you saved us all from a horrible fate. I thank God that you and your friends were around when we needed you the most."

Pyle nodded, thanking Father Mulcahy with his wordless gesture, but he did not say anything to the priest. He was almost afraid to.

"Please tell your uncle our most humble thanks," Father Mulcahy continued. "And May God bless you and keep him and your company. I hope to see you soon, Sergeant."

"And you too, Father," Pyle finally replied, but with some caution as he jumped in and sat down in the jeep.

"Bring the others home safely to us," Father Mulcahy concluded. "And thank you again."

As the jeep drove away in silence, Father Mulcahy could almost swear that he heard Pyle saying something, but he couldn't tell. He was not expecting any acknowledgement of his thanks, by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he knew that Pyle was grateful for his words alone and that it would carry the rest of the missing members of the camp back home.