The Korean sun saw nothing new as it beat indifferently on the 4077th. B.J. Hunicutt shaded his eyes and squinted against the approaching sunset. He knew the heat wouldn't let up with darkness: he would wait hours before the relief of a cooling shower. Showering in the evening was the only hope for sleep; too early in the day was just a waste of water.

"Hello, B.J.!" called a cheerful voice, and he turned as Father Mulcahy approached carrying a small plant in an old rations can.

B.J. fell in step with him. "Father. Gardening on a day like this?"

"Actually I was stretching my legs while trying to compose a sermon, but that didn't go very well in this heat--"

"Fire and brimstone seem like a natural."

Father Mulcahy smiled. "But I did spot these wild flowers growing not too far from camp. I thought Lt. Monroe could add them to the garden she's planting at the orphanage."

Lieutenant Julia Monroe had joined the 4077th three months ago from a hospital in Reading, Pennsylvania. Cheerful and compassionate, she had managed to endear herself to her fellow nurses while frustrating every male who'd hoped to make some headway. Word had spread quickly that Lt. Monroe was a fun date, even alluring in her guileless way, but don't expect physical intimacy. Her standards, respected in spite of the uncomfortable strictures they imposed on the men, had earned her the irreverent nickname "The Virgin."

B.J. liked Julia; her optimism and competence reminded him of Peg. He'd heard her unofficial nickname and privately believed it was accurate. She was young but showed a strength of purpose not easily diverted. And though she laughed easily, Lt. Monroe's time at war had been spent in service, not recreation. Even so, B.J. knew how outer determination can mask a heartbreaking vulnerability; he hoped all would go well with her.

"Well, here she comes. You can make your delivery now."

Julia Monroe backed out of the mess tent, carrying a box full of large cans.

"Julia! Flowers for you, for your garden." He amended his statement easily, a correction noticed only by B.J.

"How lovely! These can bloom all summer long." She brushed the blossoms lightly with her fingertips. "The children really will have their 'Miracle' garden."

Father Mulcahy explained to B. J., "It's a shame, but these children see flowers so rarely, they call any plant with blossoms a 'Miracle.' "

Julia beamed up at the priest. "They'll be thrilled. This is so thoughtful. Thank you!"

"It was my pleasure." As Father Mulcahy returned the smile, an indistinct memory stirred B.J., then faded.

"Here are those canned peaches for the party tomorrow--"

"Terrific! What would I do without you?"

"Oh, and for you -- I knew Igor had stashed one more of these somewhere."

"My mandarin oranges! You remembered." Touched, Father Mulcahy took the offered can and gestured toward the box Julia held. "But let me carry that to the jeep for you."

"Just bring the flowers. No, no, I'm fine. I can carry this by myself."

"See you tomorrow night, B.J. We're leaving for the orphanage pretty early in the morning."

"Give those kids a peach of a party, you two."

"They always make it fun for us," Julia smiled.

The two walked away, Father Mulcahy saying, "Did you hear what little Kyo-he said last time he helped wash dishes? It seems that..." They were soon out of earshot, strolling companionably toward the Jeep. B.J. stood watching them while his sense of uneasy recognition grew. At the punch line, the two dissolved into laughter, Julia almost losing her balance in her hilarity. Father Mulcahy caught her elbow quickly and supported her.

B.J.'s memory finally clicked: he remembered that easy familiarity from the early days when he had first laughed with Peg.

"There they are, Body and Soul." Hawkeye opened the door to the mess tent. "How can anyone have so much fun just being good?"

B.J. shrugged off his unease. "Must be a gift."

"Be careful, Padre. The orphanage is not so far away, but we've had some reports of fighting that might be coming closer. Too soon to tell, but keep your antenna up." Colonel Potter stood by the Jeep as Father Mulcahy and Lt. Monroe prepared to leave the next morning.

"We certainly will, Colonel." The priest started the Jeep.

"And get back in by nightfall. If that fighting starts as early as tomorrow, I'll need all my nurses."

"Yes sir."

"Now you two kids run along and have fun with your little friends." Julia returned the Colonel's grin, then clutched the top of the windshield as the Jeep jerked into motion.

Father Mulcahy waved his goodbye as Charles Emerson Winchester III sleepily peered out the window of the Swamp.

"The priest and the virgin off to party at the orphanage...may the good times roll." Hawkeye, still asleep, grunted. B.J. was buckling his belt and looked up quickly to see the Jeep go round the bend.

"What's that, Hunnicutt?" Charles asked. "Were you...ah, is that Lt. Warren headed for the shower in her blue robe?

"Where?" Hawkeye sat up and strained to see.

"Probably so." B. J. stepped outside the tent. "Today will be a hot one."

The Jeep was not quite ten miles from the 4077th when the left rear tire blew out, sending the vehicle careening across the narrow dirt road while Father Mulcahy struggled to control the steering wheel. The Jeep slowed, then headed down the grassy embankment, bouncing its passengers for twelve wild feet before it swung sideways and slid to an undignified stop against a large fallen tree.

The impact shook the priest partially out of the jeep, while Julia fell over to the driver's side. Her shoulder shoved against Father Mulcahy's boots and sent him the rest of the way out onto the tree branches.

"Oh! Oh, no! Are you all right?" she called in alarm as the branches rustled with sounds of struggle.

"I'm all right," returned a steady voice, "but my glasses are goners." More rustling, and Mulcahy's face appeared. He was hatless, scratched and smiling in relief, his wire rimmed spectacles sitting crazily over one ear and bent up off the other. The lenses were cracked. "Are you safe, Julia?"

She fought the urge to laugh. "I think so. Yes."

"Thank the Lord, then." Removing what was left of his glasses, he dropped his head quickly. "Father, we thank You for delivering us and ask for Your guidance and protection for the trials ahead. Amen."

"Amen." echoed Julia quietly. She took a deep breath. "Now what?"

"Damnation!" Back at the 4077th, Colonel Potter hung up the phone in frustration.

"Bad news, Colonel?" asked Klinger.

"News up the road is all bad. The fighting is likely to start soon and it's going to be fairly close and it's to the northeast."

"The orphanage--"

"Mulcahy and Monroe left a little over an hour ago. They may have had time to get there... Klinger, call the orphanage and leave a message for them to stay the night if all hell breaks loose."

"Call's as good as made, sir."

"We can't afford to have our people travel next to a battle zone." As Klinger headed for the phone, Potter sat down wearily.

"Good luck, Padre," he said softly.

"Well, it seems to happen to everyone else. I guess this is just our turn." Father Mulcahy and Julia regarded the wrecked Jeep gloomily. "I'm just sorry about our party. I hate to disappoint the children."

"They'll understand. Kyo-he always tells you--"

" 'Must be God's will, Fodder.' " He finished the quote with a bemused smile. "Yes, I suppose so." He wiped perspiration from his forehead. "I wonder if my hat made it down the hill?"

"Let's see-- it's not over here in the tree..."

"Oh, dear!" Mulcahy was at the rear of the Jeep by the right tire, under which his hat was neatly squashed. He crouched low and tugged.

"Can you get it loose... ugh!" She saw the hat nearly half of it crushed beneath the tire. Mulcahy stood up and contemplated his panama. "Immovable object," he murmured.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She was; it seemed a death of sorts. "I know you love that hat."

"I need that hat now, in this sun. It's going to be a long walk back."

The two shaded their eyes and looked back up at the road, now obscured by the embankment's tall grasses. Away from the road, the baked grass swept past the fallen tree and across a field dotted with smaller trees and brush, up to the rugged hills pocked with ancient caves and contemporary artillery scars.

"Can't we walk the rest of the way to the orphanage and call?"

"I'd say we're closer to the 4077th. An afternoon's hike."

"Home tonight and ready for any incoming tomorrow. Let me get my kit and our canteens--" Julia walked over and climbed into the Jeep. "Where did it all slide to?"

"Should I--"

"No, no, I just have to reach a little farther...ow! Hot metal!" She strained between the seats. "Oh, great! Now I'm caught on the..."

"Do you need help?"

"I'm stuck, but if I just pull a little--" There was a long, low ripping sound as cotton T-shirt did battle with steel and lost.

"What have I--oh, this is bad..." she said sorrowfully.

"Do you need me to--

"No!" she shouted. "Stay there, stay there! Don't come over here! I've...I've torn my shirt".

"Oh, my." At a distance of fifteen feet from the other side of the vehicle, Mulcahy quickly turned his back. "Can you still..." He paused delicately.

"I just need to find a...something...to, ah, put on..." She rummaged through the jeep in growing panic. "Why didn't I bring my jacket? Because it's so hot, that's why, and now here I am, with no jacket, no clothes, no, there's nothing here, and it's so hot--"

"Julia!" Mulcahy interrupted. She paused.

"You'll wear my jacket--no, it's too big for you. You can wear my shirt." Still facing away, he began to remove his jacket.

"I won't--"

"You don't have a choice," he returned pleasantly. "Unless you plan to hide in the Jeep until I can come back with help."

"Thank you," she said in a small voice. Raking damp hair off her forehead, she took a deep breath, then another.

"Now how shall I get this to you?" he mused, shirt in hand.

"Don't come over! I'll reach out for it." Head down, Julia extended a bare arm over the side of the Jeep. Mulcahy turned round and laughed.

"I admire your optimism. 'Man's reach should exceed his grasp-"

"--Or what's a heaven for?' That's Browning... are you that far away?"

"Just a few yards. Are you sure I can't move closer?"

"Maybe a little bit...I know! A stick! Can you find a tree branch to use as a --"

"Oh, yes, that would do the trick. Superior thinking, Lt. Monroe!"

A few minutes later, Mulcahy gave directions as he proffered his shirt hanging on the end of a lengthy branch. "A little more to the left..."

As Julia's hand found the shirt, he continued, "I can't help be reminded of my old friend from seminary, Jimmy Hall. Returned last year from his work in the leper colony off of--"

Julia, still hidden in the Jeep, interrupted sweetly. "Thank you so much. Please excuse me while I dress."

Mulcahy politely turned away again. He buttoned his jacket as Julia jumped out of the Jeep.

"Everyone says you'd give a person the shirt off your back. Now I have proof." She stared. "Francis John Mulcahy!"

"What's wrong?"

"I wouldn't know you, I guess. Except for your chaplain's cross, you look like such a regular G.I." She paused. "It's--where's your crucifix?"

Mulcahy reached into his jacket and jingled the silver chain. "It's still here. You just can't see it now." He glanced at his black shirt on Julia.

"I would never have recognized my shirt. You bring ...something new to it." Julia looked at him sharply and saw only a twinkle as he innocently tied his boot. She laughed.

"How can you tell, without your glasses?" She watched him roll up his jacket sleeves. "If I have to walk home, I'm glad it's with you. It's fun to be with you. All the nurses say so."

"Why? Because I'm 'safe'?" he said lightly, no trace of irony in his voice. She turned and faced him, choosing her words carefully.

"No, not exactly; it's because you're...respectful. Because you respect yourself, you respect others. You treat us as people first. In Army terms: 'Person, comma, Female'. That's a rarity in this world, not just in the Army."

"You're a rarity, too. You've always treated me like a person first...'Person, comma, Priest.' Not everyone is comfortable calling me by my given name, you know."

Julia handed him his canteen with a straight face. "That's just because most of them really believe your first name is 'Father'."

Laughter choked him as he drank. "I'll remember that." Looking up at the road, he said, "I wish we had a shady lane. Today I'd just as soon forgo the sunny side of the street."

There was a rumble in the distance.

"Maybe we're in luck. Is that thunder?"

He frowned slightly. "No. It's not thunder..."

A faraway series of reports answered her question. Startled, she grasped Mulcahy' arm.

"John. The battle's already started."

Klinger poked his head through the mess tent door. "Sir, no answer at the orphanage. Phone's out."

"Must be quite a party." Charles picked up his tray and departed, leaving Col. Potter and B.J. at the table.

"That's not the news I needed with my lunch."

"Problem, Colonel?" B.J. asked.

"Looks like there'll be some skirmishes to the north between here and the orphanage. Just want Mulcahy and Monroe back in the roost before that happens."

The first rumble of battle fire rolled across the mountains to the northeast. The men exchanged glances.

"They're at the orphanage by now for sure, Colonel," Klinger said.

B.J. stood up. "Yes, but are they the only ones visiting?"