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[dolly-madison.livejournal.com]

“Godammit, where the hell are Pierce and Hunnicutt?!” Colonel Potter yelled as he was scrubbing up.

            “Ah, the latter ran after the other one,” Charles said, rinsing disinfectant from his hands.

            “The latter returns,” BJ said, running in and beginning to frantically scrub up.

            “And what the hell kinda time do you call this, Captain?” Potter questioned with his authoritarian tone.

            “The right time. I’m sorry, Colonel, I couldn’t find Pier…Hawkeye. I looked everywhere.”

            “Well, never mind that. Let’s just focus on the task at hand. We can’t afford not to.”

            Potter walked off and Charles joined BJ. “Did you find the rapscallion?” Charles asked him.

            “Well, I really wouldn’t refer to him as a rapscallion, Charles. And no, I didn’t.”          

            “You’re lying, Hunnicutt.”

            “Is it that obvious?” BJ asked him, looking completely defeated.

            “To the amateur eye…no, it is not. But to me, a well bred and well experienced character, yes, yes it is very evident that you, Captain, are lying through your teeth,” Charles responded, his voice a whispery hiss. “Tell me, why isn’t Pierce here now causing the natural disorder that seems to accompany him wherever he walks?”  

            BJ sighed. “I don’t know, Charles. He’s gone completely insane. We ended up having a fight which ended with him on the floor.”

            “You hit him?”

            “No, I…”        

            “…was trying to knock some sense into him,” Charles finished BJ’s sentence for him. “God knows someone was going to do it one day. It’s just a shame it wasn’t earlier.     Then, perhaps, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now.” Charles nudged BJ with his elbow, “Come along, Captain, we have work to do. Pierce is bound to be back at the tent right now drowning his sorrows. All will seem right later, I assure you.”

            “Why the sudden kindness?” BJ asked wearily.

            “Well, you’re my new hero, Captain Hunnicutt. The first man I’ve known of to try and knock some sense into Captain Pierce. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the man, but sometimes I think he gets a bit above his position, hmm? You’ve returned him to planet earth. You’ve shown him he’s human.”

            “I’ve made a huge mistake.”                 

            “Impossible! I would have told you by now if it was a huge mistake. Now, to surgery!” Charles starting for the OR stopped and turned back to BJ, “Do you hear that, Hunnicutt?”

            “No. I can’t hear anything.”      

            “Precisely!” Charles sighed in contentment, “Ah, to do a silent operation without the nuisance of Hawkeye Pierce. One relishes in the thought of living the dream.”

 

 

 

 

 

            Surgery was long, not as long as a few times before, but long enough to cause fatigue in every member of the staff. Most of the operations were fairly straightforward, considering the extensiveness of the wounds, but a few required amputation and a few needed their insides rebuilt. Of course it would have been a lot easier if Hawkeye Pierce had been around to help, but they managed nevertheless.

            Charles threw off his gloves and tossed them in the bin. “Ah, if only Pierce knew what he’d missed out on. He would have scampered back here in a hurry.” 

            “Well, you would have thought he’d have been here in the first place, Charles,” BJ said, removing his gown and cap. “I just don’t know how I’m going to face him.”

            “Well, it’s like anything like this…”      

            “There’s never been anything like this before,” BJ interrupted.

            “Well, what about last month when Pierce decided to completely annihilate himself by taking out his ego on Corporal O’Reilly, hmm? That worked itself out in the end, didn’t it?”

            “Yeah, but I attacked him.”      

            “I’d hardly call it an attack. Hitting him with a lunch try, that’s an attack. Holding a knife against his throat, that’s an attack. But punching  him, your best friend at that, is not an attack; it’s merely a display of concern and lack of patience. I think it’s safe to say that 85% of men in your position would have displayed the same behaviour and carried out the same actions.” Charles was now standing in his pressed uniform and was combing his (lack of) hair.

            “You going somewhere, Charles?” BJ asked, noticing that he was taking more pride in his appearance than usual- something you wouldn’t have thought was humanly possible, but it was happening right before his eyes.

            “Ah, yes. I’m meeting a nurse for dinner. I wouldn’t wait up Hunnicutt; we’re planning on listening to the whole of our classical record collections…” he moved closer to BJ and raised his eyebrows, “…twice.”

            BJ smirked halfheartedly, and just as Charles was about to leave, Colonel Potter walked in, a not so satisfied look on his face.  He said nothing, just removed his dirty garments and put them in the appropriate bins. Charles looked at him and then looked at BJ. He shrugged at the tension in the air. “Well, it looks like I’ll make my departure now. Gentlemen…” And with that, he left.

            “I’ve gotta tell you, son…” Potter started, looking in BJ’s direction, “…I’m furious. I would have expected this behaviour from that ninny Frank Burns, but from Hawkeye, well, I never thought I would see the day.”

            “Colonel…”    

            “Look. I’ve given him more than an inch, and this time, he’s taken more than a mile. I’ve never tried to make this into a tight military outfit, because you’re all scared doctors,” Potter sighed and rubbed his eyes. BJ could tell this conversation was going to take a turn for the worse, so he sat down and cracked his cramping fingers.

            “Listen son, I can’t let Pierce get away with this.” Colonel Potter walked over to BJ and, in an attempt to shake his authoritarian skin, sat next to him and patted him on the leg. “I know he’s your best friend, and you two are as thick as thieves…” he sighed again, “…but I just can’t let this one go. It’s impossible. He walked out on his patients.”    

            “I know, Colonel.”                   

            “Do you? Do you really understand the implications of his actions? Tell me.”

            BJ sighed, “In a way. I’m trying not to think about it.” He turned to Colonel Potter, “It wasn’t him, y’know? I’ve never seen a person turn like that before. One minute he was a ‘scared doctor’ who’d just seen a kid in a terrible state and the next he was a madman, running off like he didn’t care about anyone but himself.”

            “And you lashed out and hit him?” Potter asked, knowing the answer before BJ did.

            “I…” BJ faltered.

            “Don’t worry, I already know the answer.” Potter pointed at BJ’s hand, “I noticed your hand was cramping you more than usual in surgery earlier. I suppose you thought you were doing the right thing?”

            “I don’t know if it was the right thing. I was angry.”      

            “And you thought you could save him,” Potter said with gentle understanding. “Believe me; I know it better than most. I had a buddy go through this in the Great War. I was a young kid then, probably as young as you feel in this war. You see, age has no effect on war, son. It doesn’t matter if you’re 25 or you’re 55, seeing a buddy, a comrade in pain like that can break the toughest man. I don’t know whether it’s the situation, or whether it’s because you’ve stayed strong and you’re angry that he cracked, but it hurts and that’s all there is to it.”

            “Thanks Sherm,” BJ said. “I really do appreciate it.”

            “But I want you to understand that I can’t compromise my position for Pierce. As your CO I have to make the decisions I’ve been trained to do, that I’ve earned to do. I can’t afford to let him off lightly on this one. Heaven knows I’d like to, but I’m going to have ICORPS on my back again if I don’t take action.”           

            “You’re not going to have him court marshaled, are you?”

            Potter exhaled vehemently, “I don’t want to, son. He’s a damn fine surgeon and one hell of a guy but…” he stood up, “I’ll see what I can do. He’s not going to get off on this one, Hunnicutt, but I’ll see that he can stay a surgeon. I give you my word.”       

            BJ sensed that it would be too much to ask him for more, so he looked up and simply said, “Thank you, Colonel Potter. I really am grateful.”

 

 

            The walk back to the swamp, although short, was lonely and more draining than usual. BJ didn’t like thinking that in a matter of moments he have to face his best friend and his best friend’s temper, which had now probably been stewing and concocting an assortment of ways to hit back at him. BJ decided that he could take whatever physical violence that Hawkeye could inflict, but that he’d really hate it if he lost his best friend for good. He’d really hate it too if Hawkeye decided to throw another barrage of emotional arrows: BJ knew that Hawk had been here longer, that he’d been here too long and that he should have been sent home around the same time as Trapper John but that wasn’t BJ’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault; it was just the way that things worked out. BJ knew that he wanted someone to blame if this situation didn’t sort itself out, but he was unlikely to find anyone to blame it on.

            He opened the door to the swamp, which he was surprised to find was darker than the night sky above him.

            “Hawk, you in here?” BJ called. There was no answer.

            Putting on a light, he noticed that every possession of Hawkeye’s was missing: his footlocker was empty and left open; his clothes were gone and even the hot water bottle full of gin was gone. ‘Typical,’ BJ thought, but he was in no position to let him know it. He realized in the moment how stupid this whole situation was, for in his pocket was Hawkeye’s dog tags.  “Great!” BJ exclaimed loudly. Not only had Hawkeye run off into the night like the rogue that he presented himself as, but now he wouldn’t even have his one piece of legal information to give the US Army if he was caught. How was he going to lie his way out of this one? He couldn’t exactly say he got lost, could he? Not with all his belongings with him.   

            BJ sat down and sighed. He had a horrible feeling that this one incident was going to turn into whole saga, one which had no happy ending. He poured whatever was left of their gin and swallowed it down in one swig. Then without thinking, he got up and marched out of the tent and to Colonel Potter’s office.

            “Colonel Potter, I’m taking a jeep and I’m going out to look for Hawkeye. All his stuff’s gone,” BJ said throwing open the door to the office.

            Potter stood up, “Now wait just a minute…”

            “No. No, this is a big mess that’s getting out of hand. So do what you want, but I’m getting in a jeep right now and I’m going to get him and bring him back here so he can do what he does best.”

            “Raise hell?”    

            “Of course. And to save all the patients he can, that we can.”

            “Hunnicutt, I haven’t seen you. If this plan goes awry, I know nothing.”

            “Yessir,” BJ said, and turned to leave.

            “Oh, and Hunnicutt?”

            “Sir?”

            “Safe driving.”

 

 

 

 

 

            The drive out into oblivion was bleak and bumpy. There was seldom anything to illuminate the road that didn’t come from the headlights and the moon was becoming obscured by the clouds that were forming. This seemed an impossible task. There was no way he was going to find Hawkeye in amongst the trees and boulders. But he had to keep trying; he couldn’t show up back at camp without him. He just couldn’t. He’d already failed as a friend; he wasn’t going to fail as a Captain of the United States Army too.

            Seven miles down the road, however, BJ Hunnicutt found what he was looking for. Lying in a mess of belongings and in crumpled army fatigues was Hawkeye Pierce. BJ leapt out of the van, expecting to find Hawkeye shot and blood everywhere, but instead all that he found was a very still, very drunk man. He’d obviously passed out and hit his head on a large rock that was lying next to him. The injury was superficial, rather like the bruise on his face from the night’s earlier events, but BJ took extra care when he lifted Hawk into the jeep and laid him down on the back seats. He put his dog tags back around his neck and then carefully collected whatever belongings had fallen out of his bag. He found a notebook which he’d never seen before, a couple of pairs of socks and, fortunately, he found Hawkeye’s wallet. BJ stuffed them all back into Hawk’s bag and loaded it onto the jeep. The brisk night air was bound to wake him up on the journey home, so just to be safe BJ adjusted his rearview mirror to keep a close eye on his soon to be very angry, very awake friend.

 

            Back at camp, Sherman Potter was sitting up eagerly in his chair, half looking at his picture of Mildred and half looking at the clock above his desk. It was nearly dawn, and the sun would be up at any minute. There was knock at the door. “Come in.”         

            “Uh, sir. Captain’s Hunnicutt and Pierce are back,” Radar said, his voice laced with fatigue.

            “That’s alright son, you go back to bed,” Potter replied.

            “Are you sure, sir? It’s late. You should be in bed, really sir. You haven’t slept.”

            “Radar, I haven’t slept since I got here. This isn’t going to make any difference.”           

            “Gee, you sure sir? I really don’t mind helpin’ out.”

            “Really,” Potter said, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

            “Ok, well, Captain Hunnicutt’s put Hawkeye in a bed in post-op. He’s got Klinger to some x-ray’s on his head ‘cause apparently he was knocked out when he found him. Uh, he’s not woken up yet but Captain Hunnicutt doesn’t think it’s anything serious. He says it should be anytime now, but he’s gonna have one massive headache and a swollen jaw to boot.”  

            “Thank you, Radar,” Potter said.          

            “S’ok sir,” Radar replied, and then left to go back to his Iowa dreams.

 

           

 

            “There you go sir,” Klinger said handing BJ the x-rays he’d just taken. “Do you think if it’s anything bad you can pass them off as mine? Y’know, get me a medical discharge?”

            “Thanks Klinger, but I doubt that’s a possibility.” Just as BJ was putting up the x-rays, Colonel Potter walked in.

            “Right, Hunnicutt, what are we dealing with here?”

            “Nothing by the looks of this,” BJ replied. “There’s nothing to suggest any damage to the brain. He hit it hard, but not hard enough to cause any harm. He’s just bleeding ethanol at the moment.” He took down the x-rays and put them on Hawk’s chart. “He doesn’t even really need this chart. He’s just out cold. We bandaged his head and cleaned him up but that’s all we can do really.”

            “I see,” Colonel Potter said, looking over at Hawkeye and then back at BJ. “As soon as he wakes up I want him out of here and in my office, you understand?”

            “Yessir,” BJ replied. The colonel nodded and walked off to get some sleep: that was, if Korea would permit it.

            “I’m gonna head off too,” Klinger said. “I hope everything goes ok.”

            BJ gave a little laugh, “Why wouldn’t it?”

            Klinger edged closer, “Look, sir, I’m not an idiot. Captain Pierce didn’t get that swollen jaw from fallin’ over, y’know what I mean?”

            BJ nodded, “Just don’t spread it around. I don’t want him waking up to smart remarks from everyone.”

            “Hey, don’t rely on me, everyone already knows,” Klinger said shrugging. He left and BJ didn’t even bother to reply. Word spread like wildfire around the 4077^th and he wasn’t at all surprised that his punch was the talk of the camp.

            BJ walked over and sat on the side of his friend’s bed. It creaked under his weight, but Hawkeye didn’t budge. He just wished that Hawkeye would wake up, even if it meant ducking from his angry swipes and having to apologize. Surely that would be better than silence?

            He decided to leave: lethargic couldn’t even describe what his body was going through, and this guilt he was carrying was weighing his eyelids down more than the ragged tiredness.

            “Well good morning, Hawk,” he said, clipping Hawk’s chart to the end of the bed. “I really hope you’re ready for today.”

            Or was it BJ that hoped he was ready for today?

 

 

            BJ had only been in The Swamp for an hour when Radar came rushing in, his face red like he’d just run a marathon. “Sir, Hawkeye’s just woke up and he’s really weird!”

            “Whaddya mean weird, Radar?” BJ asked, confused and half drifting in and out of sleep.

            “I mean like, he’s all crazy and stuff! Major Houlihan tried to calm him down but he’s just sitting there screaming like… I dunno. He’s crazy!”

            BJ sat bolt upright and rubbed his face, “Never a break,” he said, and got up and left The Swamp.

            When he was outside the door of post-op he could hear the commotion inside. There was certainly a lot of yelling and a lot of cursing. BJ pushed open the door and stormed inside, “Ok, what the hell is going on?”

            “I don’t know!” Margaret yelled, stepping further away from Hawkeye’s bed. “He woke up and started yelling for us to all get away from him and…” Margaret stopped mid sentence when she had to duck from a flying glass that Hawkeye had thrown in her direction.

            “Now just a minute, Hawkeye!” BJ yelled when the glass shattered on the floor, narrowly missing a comatose patient next to it.

            “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but no one calls me Hawkeye unless they’re a friend!”

            “Look, I know you’re angry…”

            “Angry? I’m livid! I’ve woken up, with a hangover, in some dusty country surrounded by people I don’t even know. I’ve got this blonde babe over there stroking my head like some dog…”           

            “Now just you wait one second, Captain!” Margaret yelled. “How dare you! As a superior officer I demand an apology!”

            “Superior officer? What the hell are you talking about?” He questioned.

            Everyone in the room was clearly confused. Margaret and BJ more so than anyone else: they just looked at one another and shook their heads.

            “Look, Hawkeye…what the hell are you talking about?” BJ asked, daring to edge closer to the man’s bed. “There’s no need to get hostile…we know you’re hung-over but that’s no reason to be so uncouth.” BJ managed to get close enough grab the chart off Hawkeye’s bed. He began to look through it as Hawkeye calmed down more and more until he was silent and Margaret left to calm herself down.

            “Look,” Hawkeye started, “All I want to know is what’s going on, where I am and…and, well, I think I have the right to know who the hell you are doctor.”

            “Now’s not the time to play games Hawk, you need to go see Colonel Potter and we need to talk about last night. I’ve given it quite a bit of thought and I’ve decided that the only way to forget about this whole incident is to talk about it.”

            “Then please, enlighten me, because I have no idea what’s going on.”

            BJ stopped what he was doing and looked up, “What are you talking about?”                “I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” he answered. He noticed how puzzled BJ looked. “Why are you looking at me like that? Aren’t you meant to have the answers, doc? Or would you naturally assume that because I am a doctor I would remember this so called drunken stupor that I got myself into last night?”

            BJ felt his body go cold and he got that horrible hot feeling at the back of his neck and that awful sinking feeling in the bottom of is stomach. “Hawk…I need you to stop playing dumb and look into my eyes and tell me you know who’s looking back at you. Please.”

            Hawkeye gave him a distant stare, “I…I don’t know. I’ve never seen you before in my life. I’m sorry.”

            “What? You’re telling me you have NO idea who I am? Do you even know where you are?”

            “Well, I’m guessing it’s a part of Boston I missed,” Hawk said, still confused.

            “Boston?” BJ went and sat on the side of the bed, “Do you even know what year it is?”

            “Pfft. What a silly question, doctor. It’s June 1950.”     

            BJ looked at him, unsure whether to go on and tell him that he was wrong and that it was in fact April 1952. How could two years be erased so easily? How could he be sure that this wasn’t some elaborate practical joke? After all, BJ knew all about practical jokes and he’d sure feel pretty foolish if he was to fall victim to one as serious as this.

            “Ok…Dr. Pierce. You just stay here and sleep off that hangover and I’ll come check on you later, ok?”

            Hawkeye nodded and lied back down.

            BJ left and said quietly to himself, “This is gonna be a long day.”