"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Klinger announced. On the morning of his second day as replacement company clerk he was typing a letter dictated by Henry.
"Great, if only you could type faster than one letter per second, that would be really something," Henry deadpanned.
"Hey, I just started yesterday! Before that, I hardly touched one of these things!" Klinger pouted.
"Okay, let's carry on. 'As I mentioned in my previous letter-'"
"Whoa, slow down! I'm going to forget everything by the time I type the first word!"
"The first word is 'as'…"
"I remember that!"
As Klinger struggled on with the line, he noticed a problem.
"This thing has stopped working," he reported.
"Oh, what now…"
"This tape thing has come loose and it doesn't print as well."
"Let me see… Oh, the ribbon's at its end, so it came off the spool. You'll have to change it."
"Great, another thing to learn…"
"Go to the supply tent and get a new ink ribbon roll. Then, you'll have to take the spools out, unwind the old ribbon and put the fresh one on."
"Yes, sir," Klinger sighed with resignation.
As Klinger made his way towards the door, it suddenly opened and Trapper entered the office wearing his medical coat over his fatigues.
"Have you seen Hawkeye?" he asked.
"No," Henry answered, "What, can't find him?"
"No, I'm just going around the camp doing a survey."
"You can cut the sarcasm, I'm having a difficult day here."
"Me too! He was supposed to be on post-op duty 10 minutes ago. I want to go to sleep!"
"And what am I supposed to do about that?"
"Oh, I don't know, but seeing that you're the commanding officer, maybe there is something you can do!"
"Sir-"
"Not now, Klinger. McIntyre, go back to post-op, I'll send Klinger to look for Pierce."
"Thank you."
"Sir, I've got an idea," Klinger cut in.
"What is it?" Henry sighed.
"You know, just when I came, I noticed we had this thing that broadcasts announcements. It goes 'Attention, all personnel, something, something.' How about we use it to call for dr. Pierce?"
"Klinger, you are a genius!" Trapper exclaimed.
"You see, sir?" Klinger puffed out his chest, "There's some things I excel at, even if I'm not the best versed in using this typing machine!"
"Yes, yes, Klinger, I admit. I should've thought about it myself. Do the announcement, then."
"Me, sir?"
"Well, who else? You're the acting company clerk right now."
"But, sir, I have no idea how this thing works!"
"Too bad, because neither have I. Trapper?"
"No luck here, either. But I'd speculate that you have to use a microphone to do that."
"Ah, right, I've seen Radar do it. It's here."
"Okay, so do you just speak into it?" asked Klinger.
"No, you have to press this button, I think," Henry pointed out.
"Okay. Attention, all personnel… I don't think it works."
"It's not plugged in," Henry noticed, "Dang, and I thought we'd be able to do it all by ourselves! I think we'll have to go ask Radar about it after all. By the way, how is he? I've seen him on my way here today and he seemed worse than yesterday."
"His fever's gone up," Trapper nodded, "But we're working on it. It doesn't seem very serious, just how it is with the flu, I think. In a few days he should get better."
"I hope so," Henry said with concern.
"I hope so doubly," muttered Klinger, studying the unplugged cable and the switchboard, "Then I'll be freed from this hell… Hey, I've got an idea!" he exclaimed suddenly.
"Another one? I underestimated you, Klinger," interjected Henry.
"I think it goes here," Klinger pointed to an outlet in the switchboard.
"Why here?"
"Look, sir, the encasement is more worn out than anywhere else, probably from frequent plugging and unplugging!"
"You really are a genius!" Henry praised him. Klinger connected the microphone and pressed the button.
"Attention, all… still doesn't work."
"It's off," Trapper noticed, "The radio."
"Ah, right," Henry nodded, "Do you know how to turn it on?"
"Of course I don't. But I have an idea."
Before Henry could ask him what idea it was, Trapper started maniacally switching everything that moved on the radio's operating panel until a lamp labeled 'PA' went on.
"There. You're welcome. Now I'm going back to post-op and Hawkeye better come in there quickly so I can kill him!"
"Thanks, McIntyre. We'll do everything we can to let you do that."
That morning, Radar woke up early, having slept through most of the previous day and night. He then lay in his post-op bed with his eyes half open, listening to the usual rustle of early-morning procedures and nurses and the doctor currently on duty making rounds. He'd witnessed all this many times before, but now for the first time, he was experiencing it as a patient.
This week, the doctor on night duty was Trapper – Radar had put him on the roster himself, as always. The thought about his usual duties sent a pang of unease through his chest. Would the camp be alright without him? He'd already seen how many problems his absence in the company clerk's office had caused on the previous day. But what was he supposed to do? Colonel Blake and the others didn't let him help them when he was sick. If only he could be sure they would manage all the stuff without him!
When Trapper noticed that Radar was awake, he came to talk.
"Morning, quite an early bird you are," he smiled, "How are you feeling?"
This prompted Radar to focus on his physical state, while up until now, he'd been preoccupied with worry about the camp.
"Um, not too good, I must say," he replied, "I feel, like, hot and cold at the same time."
Trapper glanced at the information card hanging on Radar's bed.
"Well, that's only to be expected with a 102 degree fever," he said, "It rose slightly since yesterday. I'll get you some antipyretics."
"Thanks," Radar said, although he wasn't sure what "antipyretics" meant.
Not too long after he took the medicine, Colonel Blake came to see him.
"Hello, Radar," he smiled, yawning and stretching at the same time.
"Good morning, sir. Have you slept well?"
"That's what I should be asking you," Henry said, taking the information card in his hand, "How are you feeling?"
"A little worse than yesterday."
"It's nothing too serious," Henry smiled reassuringly, "Just get plenty of rest, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"I have to run, I'll be teaching Klinger to use a typewriter today, God help me… And you just focus on getting better, I'll see you again in the afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Henry went on and Radar was left to observe the things that went on in post-op. At one point he noticed Captain McIntyre checking his watch and pacing with an annoyed expression. Radar didn't have a watch with him, but he turned to look at one of his neighbors' watch on his bedside table. It was already a few minutes after eight. It meant Captain Pierce was late. Normally, it would most probably be Radar who had to go and bring the laggard doctor to post-op, but now they had to do without him.
Trapper paced nervously for another while, then exited through the door leading in the direction of Radar's office. In there, he'd meet Colonel Blake. Hope Hawkeye doesn't get into any trouble for his tardiness!
A few minutes later, Trapper returned. Radar wanted to ask about the problem with Hawkeye not being on time, but at that time, a voice could be heard through the PA system. Radar recognized the speaker as Klinger, the guy who was acting as his replacement, as Colonel Blake had said.
"Attention, all personnel. Actually, not all personnel, just one person – Captain Pierce. Captain Pierce, please report for duty in post-op. You're already fifteen minutes late. Captain Pierce, report to post-op."
Then, there was a short pause and Colonel Blake's voice could be heard:
"Pierce, if you don't report for work in five minutes, I'll write it down as being AWOL!"
Radar gasped. AWOL! It was one of the most serious offences in the army. What would happen to Hawkeye? He noticed that Trapper also looked surprised having heard that last bit. He certainly hadn't intended to get his friend in trouble. It seemed Colonel Blake had taken this very seriously…
Minutes passed and there was still no sign of Hawkeye. Trapper's expression of annoyance gradually changed into worry. Probably to take his mind away from unpleasant thoughts, he decided to go and check some things in the adjacent lab – Radar heard him instruct a nurse where he'd be if he was needed.
Radar's own unease was growing. In addition to his worry about Hawkeye, the sixth sense to which he owed his nickname told him that things somewhere around his office were going seriously wrong. Finally, he felt that he couldn't take it any longer. He got up, put on his glasses and his slippers, and went to see what was going on.