*I do however, own this story, so please do not copy it or rewrite a different version of it without my permission*
Whispers in the Night
Trapper staggered out of the Swamp the morning after his all-night martini binge without the presence of Hawkeye. The camp was covered in fresh snow that fell overnight, and the soft white powder that blanketed the tents was a welcome change from the downpour of rain that they had received in the last few months since August. Even though it was below freezing, Trapper felt warm inside. The Gin that welled inside the Still was gone, and the only thing that remained was a raging hangover.
"I shouldn't have had that last martini," he mumbled to himself as he leaned against the trade-mark sign post that he and Hawkeye built themselves.
Trappers head swam with dizziness and his stomach gurgled and churned with nausea. Fighting off the sudden urge to be sick, he looked up to the heavens. Although it was morning, the sky was a dark stormy blue, with thick white and grey clouds looming around.
The camp was unusually quiet for this time of the morning, normally people would be buzzing around with tasks and their duties for the day; but right now, it was dead quiet.
Satisfied that he wouldn't vomit for the time being, Trapper pulled his articles of clothing together tightly and waded through the thick snow towards the Post-Op. Entering the double doors and into the ward, he found that it too was quite, no patients, no nurses, and no Hawkeye.
"Hey Hawk, are you in here?" he called out, not really expecting an answer. Giving up on the abandoned ward, he peaked through the O.R windows; it was empty.
"Where the hell is everybody?" he thought out-loud, making his way towards the office. Trapper pulled back the white curtain as he entered the little alcove between that and the office. He stopped short seeing the white frosted-over windows glow red. He felt a sudden urge to run, but curiosity took its place.
Carefully, Trapper pushed the double doors open, and a strong overpowering smell of aftershave hit his nostrils. Choking, he stepped back into the alcove trying to catch a breath of fresh air.
"What the hell is that!?" he coughed in between breaths. The manly musky scent clung to the back of his throat.
After few moments he gathered his senses, and with the dizziness gone, he covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief and entered the office again.
"Oh, god" Trapper said, dropping the hanky. The walls, floor and desk were splattered with blood. In place of the strong musky after shave, a metallic smell wafted in the air.
Taking a careful step forward, he headed towards the desk. As he took a second step, Trapper noticed a pair of dog-tags hanging over one side of the chair, covered in blood. His heart raced as he picked them up, he had to wipe them with the hem of his thick jacket, and when they were clear enough he read out the name.
"O'Reilly, Walter Eugene, Corporal, serial number US56439....." Trapper gasped dropping the tags without finishing the numbers. The room spun in circles as he started to run towards the exit that led into the compound. He finally stopped at the sign-post, exhausted after trudging through the thick snow, to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked himself after his breathing normalized, and he closed his eyes, trying to hold the nauseating feeling that washed over him. Trapper stayed fixed in his spot, for what felt like forever. Suddenly, he felt someone watching him.
Reluctantly he opened his eyelids and screamed when he saw Radar standing in front of him.
The young Corporal just stared at him, burning his dark brown eyes into Trappers. Radar's unnaturally pasty white complexion high-lighted the dark circles that appeared underneath his eyes.
Trapper took a wobbling step back from the Corporal's small body, which only stood five inches away from his own.
"Y-your, s-supposed to be dead!"
Radar smiled coldly as he pressed his hand against his right temple. Pulling it back, blood gushed from an invisible wound, staining his shirt and the snow.
"Jesus!" Trapper cried out, as he took another step back. Radar took a step forward.
"Get away from me!" his voice quivered, but the Corporal didn't hear him, he reached into the mail delivery bag that was slung over his chest, and pulled out a hunting knife. The blade was long and it looked sharp as it glinted in what little light that was present.
"Put the knife down Radar, I'm warning ya. Don't make me hurt you." Trapper lied. He didn't have anything to defend himself with, and he panicked when the young corporal took another step forward.
"Radar, please put the knife down, come on, it's me, Trapp" He tried to take another step back, but he couldn't, he was frozen to the spot. Radar smiled darkly as he got closer, griping the knife hard, holding it above his head.
Trapper held his hands up. "No, please.." he begged. Radar took a swipe, slicing a deep cut into the captain's left cheek.
**********
"NOOOOO!" Trapper screamed, jolting awake. He sat up shivering, drenched in cold sweat. Looking around, he recognized the Swamp, noticing that he was the only one in there.
'Hawkeye must be at the Officers Club,' he thought to himself, picking up his alarm clock. 'Hm, 2:30pm, yeah Hawkeye's having his afternoon martini sandwich. As he reached back over to replace the clock, a few drops of blood dripped onto his arm.
"Huh, what the?" It wasn't until then that he noticed the stinging sensation radiating from his left cheek. He felt the wetness of the blood and he held his hand over the now gushing wound.
"How the hell did I get that?" Trapper got up and grabbed a roll of toilet paper, trying to stop the bleeding as best he could. He remembered back to the violent dream he just had; it was one of the many that he dreamed since the "McShane killing Spree incidents" two months earlier.
He was told by Hawkeye and Major Margaret Houlihan that he died in Hawkeye's arms after Private Danny McShane shot him, and 5 minutes later his wound mysteriously healed up and he started breathing. Margaret and Hawkeye also told him about the other events that occurred, but they didn't mention it to anybody else. It was a secret between the two doctors and head nurse.
Trapper gingerly dabbed the deep cut. "Great, this is gonna need stitches, better get Hawkeye." Taking a step back from the mirror that was nailed to the pole; he tripped and fell over a footlocker at the end of Frank's former cot. Cursing, he got up and dusted himself off, seeing a duffle bag and suitcase heaped on the bed.
"Must be the new cutter." He said relieved. "He must've arrived when I was asleep." Before he could read the name on the locker, an announcement boomed over the speakers.
*ATTENTION, ALL PERSONNEL! INCOMING WOUNDED, CHOPPERS ON THE UPPER AND LOWERS PADS, AMBULANCES IN THE COMPOUND, IT'S GONNA BE A BIG ONE FOLKS!*
"Great, from one nightmare to another" Trapper mumbled, as he raced off into the compound, bumping into the new doctor.
**********
CHAPTER TWO
Trapper ran into what felt like a human wall, and fell back hard. The human wall fell back too.
"Oww, dammit, watch where your going!" Trapper yelled out angrily. He wasn't in the best of moods, his cut cheek stung like mad, and the new heavy batch of casualties meant yet another 24 hour marathon, maybe longer.
"Oh, I'm really sorry pal!" The man quickly stood and helped Trapper up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine, you?"
The man patted himself down. "No broken bones" he replied with a grin.
"Okay, good." Trapper looked the man up and down; he was wearing his dress uniform. "Are you the new cutter? Because you came just in time" He remembered the announcement about the choppers and the ambulance, and he started running towards the rusty old vehicle.
"Yeah, I am, I came in this morning," the man answered, following Trapper, feeling a little dazed after landing hard. "The names Hunnicutt, Captain B.J Hunnicutt."
"I'm Captain McIntyre, but call me Trapper." Trapper jumped into the ambulance checking each of the wounded, Hunnicutt did the same. He wasn't too familiar with the field hospital's procedure, even though he did a few weeks training before he arrived. He felt a little queasy as he walked through the large puddles of blood, but he held his feeling to throw up back, and swiftly accessed the wounded.
"Okay, this one's first, he has serious chest wounds, start him on plasma right away!"
Trapper looked back over and nodded. The other casualties had superficial leg and arm wounds, they had to wait. "Corpsman!" he yelled out, but the corpsmen were too busy hauling other patients into Pre-Op. "Okay, we'll have to get this guy inside ourselves Captain, ready, lift" Both men lifted the stretcher and carefully backed down the slippery steps.
"So what do you think of this place so far, Captain?" Trapper asked as they scrubbed up.
"Oh, it's delightful," Hunnicutt replied with sarcasm. He seriously added, "By the way, it's BJ, I hate being called Captain."
"Right, BJ, well one the first things you learn over here; and this especially goes for MASH units, is that there is nothing delightful about this place. Wall to wall blood, men, actually-- kids screaming in pain, death, amputations, etc, etc."
BJ grunted in reply as nurse Kellye tied his mask back. "Yeah, the other surgeon was telling me before the wounded arrived."
Trapper nodded, "Yeah, that's Hawkeye Pierce, he's the chief surgeon around this joint." The two men backed into the O.R.
A few minutes later Hawkeye entered, fully scrubbed and started straight away. With only three surgeons and a heavy load of casualties waiting outside, they didn't have time to joke. Margaret slowly walked by each table to check on her nursing staff, which, were holding there own, even under the enormous amount of pressure.
Eventually, the wounded were stitched up and resting reasonably comfortably in the Post-Op. It was early morning the next day when the three surgeons collapsed onto their beds. Hawkeye managed to summon up enough energy to pour himself, Trapper and BJ a martini from the still. BJ took the drink and sniffed it, before taking a sip. He choked, grabbing his throat as the burning liquid made its way down. Trapper and Hawkeye chuckled at their new friend's facial expression before gulping there own drinks down.
"So BJ, where you from?" Trapper asked, getting up to pour himself a second martini. BJ smiled as he set his glass down.
"Mill Valley, California"
"Married?" Hawkeye asked.
BJ nodded. "Yeah, Peggy, she's the greatest, we've been married for about two years now. Erin, my baby daughter was born about three months ago."
Trapper winced slightly. At first Hawkeye thought it was because BJ had a family too, and that it reminded him of his own, but it was more of a strained, in pain look.
"What's the matter, Trap?" Hawkeye asked concerned.
"Uh, nothing, I cut myself shaving yesterday, no big deal"
Hawkeye got up and moved towards his friend's cot. Without his permission he lifted the band-aid and examined the wound carefully.
"Hey, what are you doing, I told you it's nothing?" Trapper protested, swatting Hawkeye's hand away, but Hawkeye ignored him.
"That's a nasty cut, it's gonna need stitches." Before the two captains made it to the door, Margaret entered the tent.
"Morning Captains, just letting you know that we're getting a new commanding officer and corporal. They should be here by this afternoon."
Hawkeye looked suspicious, "I hope this time they'll send a Colonel that won't freak out like the other two."
Trapper nodded with agreement, "Yeah, let's hope this one doesn't pack his things and leave in the middle of the night, like Colonel Stevenson did"
Margaret also agreed. She had to admit, the army that she so very much loved and served, did let them down with the last two colonels that they sent.
The first one left after a few weeks in command. He was okay. the first few days, he was a good doctor and seemed nice enough, but as time wore on he started becoming jittery and jumpy and one day he just disappeared. He's still classed as 'Missing in Action'. They still don't know his whereabouts.
The second colonel lasted a little longer. Colonel Stevenson was also a good doctor, a draftee like Trapper, Hawkeye and now, BJ.
He, Trapper and Hawkeye would spend hours in the Officers Club talking and having a good time. Then, just like the first Colonel, he suddenly started becoming jittery and jumpy and for no real reason one night he packed his gear and left.
Ever since then Major Houlihan, Trapper and Hawkeye had been running the 4077th, and they were doing a fine job, but since the unit was situated only three miles from the front, and being the only MASH unit in South Korea that receive the most amount of casualties, they felt that it was necessary to have more surgeons.
Margaret was broken away from her daydreaming by the sound of Hawkeye's voice.
"Did they say who we were getting?"
Margaret looked down at the clipboard, reading her neat handwriting. "Uh, yes, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, Regular Army. He's a surgeon."
Hawkeye and Trapper rolled their eyes. "Great, an army doctor, this should be interesting"
**********
"Colonel Potter, take a seat." General Clayton instructed, sitting down himself. Colonel Potter removed his hat, and placed it on his lap.
"Now I just wanted to brief you about the 4077th MASH unit, before you leave. You understand that your only there to keep an eye on them for a few weeks don't you?"
"Yes, sir" the Colonel answered. He was a little puzzled as to why I-Corps would want to send him, but he figured that he would get his answer during this brief meeting with the General.
"Now as you may or may not be aware, that unit has a bit of a 'dark past'."
Potter nodded his head. Although the incident that occurred in the unit a few months earlier was never publish in 'Stars and Stripes', the funeral dates were. He found out about the killings from the other colonels and generals.
"Just over two months ago, a private went on a bit of a killing spree. The first victim was a Corporal Walter "Radar" O'Reilly; a young kid, 18, he was the 4077th's Company Clerk. Private Danny McShane; murdered Corporal O'Reilly in his office and made it to look like suicide. The second victim was Lt. Col. Henry Blake; he was the Commanding Officer. Private McShane injected an overdose of Morphine into Lt. Col Blake. He too was murdered in his office, and the third was a Major Frank Burns; Blake's second in command. He sustained a gunshot wound to the head like Corporal O'Reilly.
From the report made by Major Margaret Houlihan, he attempted to murder Captains McIntyre and Pierce, but she managed to stop him with his own gun.
Ever since then, the three had been running the unit. We've sent two Colonel's down there before hand. One is still missing, and the other was sent state-side on a section eight.
We think something funny is going on in that unit, and we want you to keep an eye on them. We would've sent someone from Intelligence, but they're in desperate need of a new surgeon and you were the only one left that we could count on.
Now, we sent a new doctor to the unit yesterday, he arrived safely, also a new Company Clerk should be arriving this afternoon.
The last one after Corporal O'Reilly was a Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger. He's was transferred to another unit. They felt it was for the best and also for the safety of his well being since he discovered most of the bodies. He had a lot of trouble adjusting to his duties and coping with the lost of his friends; he's now at a more 'quieter' MASH unit."
Potter listened carefully to the General. He'd been sitting behind a desk for more than two years, and was happy to be able to get back into the action.
"Okay General, will that be all?"
"Yes Colonel, thank you, you're dismissed."
Potter saluted, and the General retuned it back. As the Colonel turned to walk out, General Clayton stopped to warn him.
"The first signs of any trouble in that unit, you get the hell out, if there is funny business happening, we'll get people down there to handle it, your there just to observe and to operate, nothing else."
Colonel Potter nodded his head before leaving. "Yes, sir"
********
The afternoon sun started to disappear behind the Korean horizon, and the temperature was falling lower and lower by the minute.
Colonel Potter arrived that afternoon, and called all his senior officers to his office. After greeting them and looking through their records, he was satisfied that he had a good team of doctors and nurse's on his hands.
Father Mulcahy was dismissed, and the only ones that remained were Margaret, Trapper, BJ and Hawkeye. They were discussing the 4077th's routine and the amount of casualties that come through the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital's doors each week.
A few minutes later they heard a jeep pull up outside.
"That must be the new corporal, sir; he's taking over as Company Clerk." Margaret said, getting up quickly to greet the new arrival. The three captains followed.
Outside, the corporal gathered his bags and footlocker from the jeep, dumping them on the ground. He thanked the driver and turned around just as Margaret approached him.
She suddenly stopped and screamed.
"R-RADAR!?"
**********
CHAPTER THREE
Margaret blinked twice, the image was gone. In place stood a somewhat nervous kid, now embarrassed after the Major screamed at him.
Hawkeye, Trapper and BJ ran up to her. She stood red faced, seeing what the Corporal really looked like.
"What is it, Margaret?" Hawkeye asked concerned. They heard her scream 'Radar' and it tied a knot in both Trapper's and Hawkeye's stomachs.
"Uh, uh, it nothing captains, I just scared myself a little, that's all." Margaret held her head high and walked off towards her quarters.
Hawkeye and Trapper shrugged it off and welcomed the new member. The temperature dropped as they walked the short distance to the office.
"What was all that about?" Potter asked as they walked into their new C.O.'s office. "I thought I heard screaming"
"It was just Major Houlihan's one-man welcoming party, Colonel" Hawkeye joked, as they casually strolled up to the Colonels desk. The new corporal saluted as soon as Potter looked up at him.
"At ease soldier, now, do you have a name?"
"Yes, Sir Corporal Brady Harris, US153794216." Potter nodded his head. "Ahh, yes, Corporal Harris, your file came in the mail this afternoon" Colonel Potter opened the brown envelop and pulled out a manila folder, opening it and reading the contents. Hawkeye, Trapper and B.J stood a couple of feet away from Brady.
Brady was short, no more than 5'5", with brown hair that was neatly parted on the left, and a round young innocent face. It would have been quite easy to mistake him for Radar, except Brady was a little taller, had blue eyes, straight hair and didn't wear glasses.
"Just turned 19, huh?" Potter asked, looking up at the nervous new clerk.
Brady nodded., "Yes Sir, October 21st."
"Happy birthday for last month then" Potter said.
"Thank you, sir," The corporal replied.
Colonel Potter scanned the page some more, and then stopped. He frowned as he quietly read the writing. Brady shifted nervously on his spot. He pulled at his short brown formal dress jacket and removed his hat to scratch his head and replaced it again.
Finally, Potter looked up, but he didn't say anything, much to Brady's relief.
"Okay corporal, I'm satisfied with what it says here. Captains Pierce, McIntyre and Hunnicutt will show you the camp. Since you were in a MASH unit before, I'll assume you know what to expect."
Corporal Harris nodded his head. "Yes, Sir"
"Okay, you're dismissed, corporal"
"Thank you, sir." Brady saluted, and Potter returned it back.
The three Captains showed Brady his bunk, which was also his office, the Postoperative ward, the O.R, Pre-Op, Mess tent, officers club, the showers, nurses and enlisted men's tents and lastly, The Swamp. As the three surgeons walked into their messy quarters, Brady stopped.
"What's the matter, Brady?" Hawkeye asked. "I know it messy, but it gives it that charming 'lived in' look."
Brady stood under the frame of the door. "I can't go in there, Captain Pierce, it's an officer's tent, enlisted men can't go in, it's against regulations
All three Captains burst out laughing. "This MASH unit doesn't exactly follow regulations kid, and besides, we're inviting you in, it's not like your breaking and entering" Hawkeye answered, breaking out into a huge smile. Brady smiled slightly in relief, and entered the quarters.
BJ and Trapper lay back on their beds while Hawkeye mixed up some martinis, pouring out four glasses and dropping a skewered olive in each drink.
Brady stood at the end of Hawkeye's cot rubbing his cold hands together and blowing his warm breath onto them.
"Here Brady, have a martini, that'll warm you up." Hawkeye passed the fourth glass to him. "Sit down." The doctor motioned towards the dusty chair that was positioned beside his cot. Brady sat and held his glass.
"Thank you, captain"
"For the last time Brady, it's Hawkeye, and that's Trapper," Hawkeye nodded his to his right, "and that's BJ." He pointed towards Frank's former cot. BJ smiled.
"So kid, do you drink much?" Trapper asked.
Brady shook his head, "No, not really, I used to but lately in the last few months it hasn't really appealed to me."
"So where bout's you from?" B.J asked, taking a sip from his drink.
"Cleveland, Ohio" Brady answered.
"Got a girl back home?" Hawkeye smirked.
"No, I don't, not anymore; she broke up with me a few months ago. I've been here for nearly a year now. Back home I was an office all-rounder, that's how I landed the Company Clerk position in my old MASH unit."
Trapper, who had been listening quietly to the conversations between the crporal and his two other friends, felt uncomfortable around this new arrival. He wished he knew why, Corporal Harris seemed like a nice enough kid, but for some reason being in the presence of his company made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
"So what do you think of the 4077th so far, Brady?" B.J asked.
"Oh, it's not bad, kinda reminds me of my old unit, except this one has nicer people, and it's more relaxed. When we were having coffee in the Mess tent before I met Igor, he's a real nice guy; he told me that I reminded him of someone he once knew."
Trapper and Hawkeye looked at each other quickly, unnoticed by Brady. BJ was puzzled by the looks on his friend's faces. He decided to ask them about it later.
"Have you met anybody else yet?" Trapper spoke up, breaking the silence.
"Oh, nobody really, just ..just.." Brady quickly searched the front of his formal dress jacket pocket for a handkerchief getting ready to sneeze. As he pulled it out, a medal fell out of the handkerchief and landed on the floor. Brady quickly dove towards it, but Hawkeye beat him to it.
"What's this Brady? Is it yours?" Hawkeye inquired.
Brady blushed as he snatched the Purple Heart out of Hawkeye's hand. "Yeah" He replied, stuffing the object back into his pocket. "It's mine. I was awarded it a few weeks before my 19th birthday"
The young Corporal didn't say anything else. He fiddled nervously with one of the brass buttons on his jacket, not making any eye contact with his new friends.
Hawkeye, being curious by nature squeezed the story out of Brady. Reluctantly, he told them.
"I was shot accidentally by one of the duty guards just over two months ago. On August 8th I was running around with the other enlisted men, securing the tents around the camp because a huge storm was brewin. Anyway, because it was so dark, windy, and rainy and also because there were warnings that snipers may come into camp, the guards were on high alert. One guard was a new a private that came in that afternoon, and for some reason they decided to stick him on guard duty.
I was the last person out there that night, double checking the tents. The new private hadn't met me yet and he freaked out when I came bolting around the corner of one of tents because it started hailing hard, and thinking I was one of the snipers, he pulled the trigger, shooting me in the chest.
From what I was told later, they brought me in O.R. and operated straight away. A few minutes after they closed me up, I died. For nearly 5 minutes they tried resuscitating me, but nothing worked and they pronounced me dead, then all of sudden for no reason I started breathing again. I made a very quick recovery and was walking around within three days. The doctors thought that it might have been the adrenaline that they injected in me, that brought me back, but they weren't too sure."
Trapper and Hawkeye sat shocked after hearing the young Corporals story. Not only did his experience sound very similar to what happened to Trapper, but also the events occurred on the same night and in the same hour.
Brady didn't leave the Swamp until nearly 10pm. As soon as he left, B.J asked them why they looked so surprised when the new Corporal said that Igor told him that Brady reminded him of someone he once knew. Hawkeye explained everything; the whole story. They asked B.J to keep it a secret, and he agreed. It wasn't until nearly midnight when all three doctors fell asleep.
**********
Igor looked at his wristwatch. 'Oh great, it's 2:55 in the morning, and I'm in here doing KP by myself' he thought as he mixed a huge bucket full of powered egg mix with a couple of gallons of powdered milk. Setting the mixture aside he opened the cool room door and brought out about 15 pounds of frozen bacon, letting it thaw out on the unsanitary bench.
'Of course, only the cook had to get the Clap while he was in town, and of course only I had to be the one to be volunteered for this while he gets over it.' Igor angrily went back to his egg mixture, furiously stirring it, not hearing the doors to the kitchen open.
The figure quietly crept in. Igor had his back towards the door, and he didn't hear the cleaver that was sitting on the bench being picked up.
"Hm, I think this crap needs more milk." Igor said to himself, turning around to pick up the pitcher of powered milk, seeing someone behind him. Before he had a chance to scream, the figure swung the cleaver fast, not missing the target.
*********
CHAPTER FOUR
Margaret quickly walked back to her tent and closed the door behind her. Once she was inside, she just stood in the middle of her quarters not really knowing what to do. Eventually Margaret sat down on the edge of her cot in deep and troubling thoughts.
'I was so sure I saw Radar, it had to be, it looked just like him, and then he was gone'
Margaret shook her head and rubbed her eyes. 'Maybe I'm just tired, I've been running this place non stop since Colonel Stevenson suddenly left; it's probably exhaustion.'
Margaret opened her side table and pulled out her flask of brandy. Taking a swig she felt better and reached over to replace it back into the draw, but stopped in another thought...Frank. She suddenly missed him, even though he was partly responsible for two deaths in the camp.
Frank had his problems, he had a hard time making friends and he wasn't exactly the brightest star in the sky. All he wanted was to be friends with Trapper John and Hawkeye, but he didn't know how, and when he tried, the two Captains would take it the wrong way, and close him off. It's probably why he and Private McShane used to get along very well; they both had trouble settling in and making friends. But in the end, Danny betrayed and murdered him.
"Oh, Frank, why did you have go along with McShane. If you had that much trouble, I would've comforted you. I used to love you..and in some way, I still do. But you took the revenge option and got yourself killed." Margaret felt the tears running down her cheek. She picked up the stuffed toy dog that Frank gave her when they went to Tokyo together, and the picture of the two of them in Osaka. Lying down on her cot, facing the wall she cried for Frank for the first time since his death.
"Oh Frank, I miss you, I wish I knew where you are."
**********
Brady looked at his watch; it read 2:55 am, as he stumbled back to his new office and bunk. After he left The Swamp at ten he went straight to the Officer's Club until they kicked him out.
His shirt was untucked and wrinkled and his hat was on backwards. He hiccupped and giggled, hummed and whistled loudly as he collapse in a drunken heap on his cot. The room spun in all sorts of directions, and the constant movements made him dizzy.
"Oh, boy, me thinks me had too many martini-drinks" he giggled to himself. "Luckily I stopped, otherwise I'd be looking for trouble", he slurred to no- one in particular. Brady sat up briefly to remove his jacket, wobbling and swaying; he threw it awkwardly over a distance of just a meter. "Another world record!" he yelled out, and fell back on his bed in a fit of giggles.
"Oh boy, am I drunk", he laughed loudly. Nurse Able came from behind the Post-Op curtain to tell him to be quiet. "Oops, sawwry" he whispered, and the nurse rolled her eyes and returned to Post-Op.
Just then, the phone rang.
"Oooh, ooohh, the phone's ringing, I'd better go answer it, I'm the new Company whatcha call it, Company Clerk guy."
As Brady stumbled across the office towards the phone, he tripped on his jacket and bumped his head on the desk, sobering him up a notch. He felt blood trickle down the right side of his cheek as he picked up the receiver.
"Eight- oh- Sixty--I mean, four-oh-77th MASH unit, Corporal Harris speaking." There was nothing but silence.
"Hello, 4077th MASH unit, Corporal Harris speaking." Brady repeated again, but all he got was dead silence, so he hung up. "Must've been a bad connection" he shrugged off. As he made his way towards the cot, the phone rang again. Returning back to the desk he picked up the receiver.
"4077th MASH unit, Corporal Harris speaking." Again, silence. "Come on, it's almost 3 o'clock in the morning, quit horsing around." This time, instead of silence he heard a deep unearthly moan over the line and then static and then silence. Brady's skin crawled and broke out into goose bumps. He dropped the receiver into the bag and high-tailed it to bed, too scared to go past the desk. 'There's something about this place that gives me the creeps, and this office is the center point.' He thought, forcing himself to sleep.
**********
"Margaret..Margaret."
Margaret woke up with a jolt. Even though it was icy cold outside, she was dripping with sweat.
"W-w-who's there?" She demanded, sitting up suddenly. Not getting an answer, she quickly fumbled for the lamp switch and turned it on. The sudden rush of bright light temporarily blinded her for a moment and she covered her eyes. After adjusting, Margaret looked around her tent. Something seemed different, but she couldn't tell what. She looked at her watch; it read 3:51 am.
"There's no point in going back to sleep. Breakfast will be ready in just over an hour"
Margaret got up and gathered a clean set of fatigues, her towel and toiletries and headed over towards the showers. The early morning frost was bitter cold, and she pulled her robe tight.
As she reached the shower tent, she stopped in her tracks, noticing something strange.
'Funny, it's almost 4:00 am and there's no smell coming from the Mess Tent.' Margaret thought to herself, but she shrugged it off thinking that maybe Igor was late with breakfast.
The hot shower felt good and Margaret spent longer than usual underneath the hot water.
Most people in the camp didn't shower as often during the winter time. Even in summer some of the enlisted men didn't shower.
She thought about Radar. Last summer she remembered when he went for almost two weeks without showering once. By the end of the12th day she ordered him to the shower tent and made Hawkeye Pierce stand guard, not letting either one of them out until she was certain that Radar used soap. She told him that if he ever went for that long without bathing during the summer again, she'd put him on report. Her threat worked.
Sighing, she tugged the chain and stepped out of the cubicle, wrapped the towel around her body and pulled the robe over. Stepping out into the compound she once again noticed that it was stench-free.
Ten minutes later Margaret, fully clothed and ready for the day, headed over to the Mess Tent. By then it was 4:45 and breakfast was supposed to be served in 15 minutes.
Something didn't feel right as she entered through the green mesh doors. The tent was pitch black, and silent. Using her torch, she slowly guided her way around the tables and chairs.
"Private Straminsky, are you in here?" There was nothing but silence.
"Private, are you in here?" Margaret asked again as she pushed the kitchen doors open. Just as she directed her torch over the area, the batteries went dead.
"Huh, what the?" she shook the torch trying to get some power back and all she got was a weak orange beam.
"Stupid torch" she mumbled to herself.
As Margaret moved around the benches she saw the 15 pounds of bacon melting and dripping on the floor.
"What's going on here, where's Igor?"
As she walked over to the cool room in search of the missing private she stood on something hard. Bending down she picked it up. It was soft and felt wet. Once again her torch went out and she had to guide herself along the walls in search of the light switch; finding it she switched it on.
"OH MY GOD!!" She screamed, seeing the object. She threw the severed finger on the floor.
**********
CHAPTER FIVE
The rain fell hard and the lightening and thunder could clearly be seen and heard. The wind blew furiously, rattling the loose tin roof that Brady lived under; his office. The paper work was stacked at least a foot high on his desk and the overall feeling of depression at seeing this made him sigh with sadness as he walked through his office door heading towards his bed. He was tired and for some reason he felt disappointed about something, but he couldn't figure what.
'Oh, well, maybe it's just the paper work?' He reasoned, kicking off his muddy shoes. He nodded with agreement as he undid his belt and unzipped his khaki pants. 'I've been working awful hard around here since I've arrived, yeah, that's what it is.' He tossed his pants and then his shirt on the end of his bed, only wearing his army boxers and cotton t-shirt. It was a warm night even though it rained.
Brady sat at his desk and started with the first thing that needed to be done; the weekly report. He was behind and he wanted to catch up before the first rays of morning light broke through the dirty office windows.
As he typed away loudly, he suddenly got scared. He didn't know why. All he knew was that something bad was about to happen at any moment and he wouldn't be able to stop it. He shrugged off the bad feeling.
"It's just the storm and the dim light, that's all" He said, trying to comfort himself with the sound of his own voice, "There's no reason to be scared." He continued to type until when his typewriter ink ribbon suddenly jammed.
"Aww, what now?" He got up and took the lid off. "Great, what a fine time for it to play up" He groaned. Just as he re-placed the lid, he felt a movement of air behind him and a manly hand clasping roughly around his mouth.
Brady felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into his right temple, and he trembled in fright. He didn't dare move, he couldn't. He felt the person press the gun in even harder when he whimpered. Brady could smell the heavy musky scent of the intruders after shave, and it made him feel queasy.
A man's voice suddenly hissed in his left ear, "After I get the reaction I want out of Pierce and McIntyre; their next." The man laughed hysterically as he unlocked the gun's safety switch.
"Goodbye, Radar!" He screamed out happily, pulling the trigger.
**********
Brady woke up gasping for air. He was so scared that, he couldn't scream. He clutched his head as a blinding pain pounded through it. He roughly fell out of his bed and curled up tight in the fetal position on the floor. After what felt like forever the pain in Brady's head finally subsided and he carefully crawled back underneath his warm blanket. He lay back in cold sweat and trembled.
Brady looked at his wrist watch; it read 4:50. Breakfast was being served in about 10 minutes but he wasn't hungry, the mixture of the dream and his raging hangover made him feel sick. He was still in the cloths that he was wearing the night before and he needed to take a shower.
As he got up and took a deep breath he noticed the taste of blood in his mouth. He wiped the back of his hand over his lips. There was nothing. He staggered toward the outside doors and shuffled in the direction of the shower tent, with the taste of blood still lingering. He wondered where it came from; he didn't have any cuts in his cheeks.
Brady wobbled into the cubicle that was the farthest away from the door. Fully clothed, he yanked the chain and shivered as the spray of icy cold water washed over him.
"What's wrong with me?" He asked himself as he sat down slowly on the shower floor. He undid the tie that was loosely wrapped around his neck and used it to plug the drain hole. The steady stream of water started to rise and the shower soon started to become a mini-bath as about 3 inches of water covered his shoes. Brady covered his face with his hands and trembled thinking back to the dream.
'It felt so real' He thought, 'It felt as if I was really there, sitting at that desk, typing out reports, feeling that gun barrel pressed into my head and hearing that laugh....god it was awful, so awful.....'Brady trailed off. Uncovering his face he looked up to the shower head and let the flow of cold water run over his tears of fright. He looked down again, eyes closed firmly. He thought back to the names that the murderer said in his dream. He recognized two, Hawkeye and Trapper his new friends in the camp, but he didn't know the third, Radar.
'The guy called me Radar, who's Radar? That major-woman called me that yesterday too.' Before he had a chance to think about it deeply, he heard a woman's scream.
As quick as he could, Brady bolted out of the shower and raced over towards the Mess Tent. He didn't know how he knew where it came from, he just did. Bursting through the doors and then into the kitchen, he saw Major Margaret Houlihan pressed against the wall in disgust with her hands covered in blood.
"Major, are you all right?! I heard screaming coming from here"
Margaret turned towards the voice. It came from the new Corporal that she mistook for Radar the day before. Her face reddened slightly in embarrassment and she took a deep breath.
"I'm fine Corporal...."She trailed off, not knowing his name. She never got a chance to ask, before she took off when he first arrived.
"Harris, ma'am"
"Yes, Corporal Harris," Margaret said, looking at her hands.
Brady followed her glance and saw her bloodied hands. The sight of the blood made him dizzy and he tired to keep his cool for as long as he could.
"A-are you sure that you're all right ma'am, it looks like you cut your hand something awful" he stammered. "No, Corporal really, I'm fine. The blood isn't mine, it belongs to that." Margaret pointed to the severed finger on the floor. Brady looked over and went pale at the sight. It was the last thing he needed. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted at her feet.
**********
"Are you alright, son?"
The sound of Colonel Potter's voice stirred Brady from his sleep. He opened his eyes seeing the blurred faces of the colonel, Hawkeye, B.J, Margaret and Trapper.
"Hrmmm." He groaned as he carefully sat up. He touched his forehead feeling the strip of bandage taped over his cut. He was back in his office. By then his body and clothing were dry, but his head still ached.
"What happened? Am I still drunk?"
Hawkeye and B.J laughed, "No, just a little faint. Red isn't your color" B.J chuckled.
"Oh boy, I fainted?" Brady asked, feeling embarrassed.
"Yes son, after you saw Major Houlihan and that severed finger in the kitchen." Potter replied.
"Major Houlihan promises never to scare you again" Hawkeye quipped. Margaret burned into him with her icy blue eyes.
"Cretin," she spat.
"Speaking of kitchens" Colonel Potter broke through the soon-to-be argument between the Captain and Major, "You haven't seen our cook's assistant, Private Igor Straminsky, have you? He's missing and all we have is a finger, which, we can't tell whether or not it belongs to him. We're sending it off to Seoul later this afternoon, we won't know for sure for at least two weeks"
"I'm sorry Colonel," Brady replied, "I haven't seen him since yesterday. Do you have any idea at all about what happened to him?"
Potter shook his head. "No, Major Houlihan was the first unlucky to make the grisly discovery and there seems to be no signs of a struggle in the kitchen. All we do know is that we have about 100 hungry personnel sitting around the Mess tent waiting for the breakfast that probably won't be served until lunch"
"Which is also a grisly discovery" Hawkeye cut in.
"Pierce," Potter warned.
Brady sat in deep thought, thinking about the missing private. 'Where could he be and what happened to him?' His thoughts were broken off by B.J.
"Off the topic, Brady, how did you get that cut on your forehead? You didn't get it when you fainted."
Brady touched his head again, "Oh, I got it last night when I was drunk. The phone rang and I tripped when I went to answer it.." he trailed off thinking about the moaning and static over the line. While Hawkeye and B.J giggled and Margaret rolled her eyes, Brady glanced over towards the one person who hadn't said a word since he woke up.
Trapper leaned against Brady's desk with his arms crossed. Brady shivered violently when Trapper's face turned suddenly from a cold smirk into a cold, toothy smile.
**********
CHAPTER SIX
The world changed from black into dark grey then to light as Trapper woke up from the best night's sleep he's had in weeks. When he fully awoke, he saw that he wasn't in his bed in The Swamp, but in the former office and sleeping quarters of Corporals Radar O'Reilly and Maxwell Q. Klinger.
The first person Trapper saw was the 4077th's new Company Clerk, Corporal Brady Harris, looking directly at him with fear in his eyes. Confused, Trapper blinked a few times and shook his head. He was leaning against the badly chipped pine desk with his arms folded.
'What the hell is going on here?' he thought, as he straightened his posture, 'Why am I here and not in my bed back in The Swamp?'
Even more confused, he looked back at Brady and then at the others. 'What are they all doing here?'
Trapper saw Hawkeye, BJ and Colonel Potter gathered around the Corporal. Brady, without taking his eyes off of Trapper announced that he was feeling much better and that he had a lot of paper work to do.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright, son?" Colonel Potter asked, slowly getting up, "You look a little pale. When Major Houlihan found you, you were fully clothed and soaking wet.
"Yeah, we thought that.." Hawkeye's next comment was cut off by Trapper, trying to make sense of why and how he was there, "Come on Hawk," He said shaky, "Lets leave the kid alone and have ourselves a mid-morning martini?"
Hawkeye, BJ and Colonel Potter looked at him, perplexed.
"Mid morning?" Hawkeye asked with smirk, "It's almost 1:00 in the afternoon."
Trapper's mind fogged, "Afternoon...." He decided to keep his mouth shut just in case they thought that he was loosing his marbles. His cheek begun to sting again; it hurt to talk.
"Oh, um, yeah, I meant mid afternoon Martini, my watch is slow." Trapper looked at his watch and smiled crookedly, "I have to get a new battery."
With that, he left. Hawkeye and BJ just shrugged it off and followed him, leaving Brady and the Colonel alone.
Brady turned to Potter, "How long was I out, sir?"
"Since 5am, Major Houlihan dragged you up to one of the tables. Nearly the whole camp busted their buns trying to get a sneak-peak at what she was crowing at."
Brady nodded his head, "I was in the shower trying to cool off when I heard her scream. I raced in to find her hands covered in blood and I thought that she hurt herself badly, but then she pointed to that finger. Being hung over didn't help. I can't believe I was out of it for so long. I haven't been that drunk since the 8065th's last Christmas party. You know, I used to be a big drinker, and I used to be able to handle it, but since my accident a few months ago..." Brady trailed off. He stared into space when he placed his hand over his chest as he recalled the bad memory in his mind. He could feel the long length of scar tissue that was left behind by the doctors that fought to save his life.
"I know, Corporal. I read about the incident in your file," Potter said solemnly.
Before Brady could reply, the sound of choppers in the distance and ambulances rolling into the compound brought the pair back into reality.
"Wounded, damn," The Colonel sighed, "Brady, make the announcement, I want both shifts to O.R." Potter stuck his head out the door, "It looks like a big one."
The announcement was made and seconds later the camp was alive with personnel racing back and forth with casualties as more choppers landed on the helo-pad.
The 'meatball surgery' lasted just over three days. The first and second day ran pretty smoothly, but halfway through the third, things started to go to hell as the sound of artillery got closer and closer by the hour.
"Brady!" Potter hollered, wrist deep in intestines, "call H.Q and find the horse's patoot that's causing that racket!"
"Yes, sir!" Brady answered back through his mask. As he turned to the opposite direction, he bumped hard into Father Mulcahy, preparing to give the last rites to a patient that BJ was desperately trying to save. The priest fell back onto Trapper's table causing the surgeon to drop a clamp, which, resulted in the heavy hemorrhaging that he finally managed to stop, to begin again.
Trapper screamed at the top of his lungs as he snatched a new clamp from Ginger, "Dammit, Radar you clumsy astigmatic Neanderthal, go make yourself useful outside!"
The whole room fell silent. Hawkeye and Margaret who, were working at the same table looked up from their patient in sheer astonishment at Trapper and then at the shaking young Corporal.
Poor Brady stood glued to his spot. He shook so hard that his dog tags rattled. The only person who didn't notice the deathly silence and the mistake in names were Trapper. He kept ordering more instruments as he scrambled through his dying patient.
Finally, Colonel Potter broke the tension.
"Brady," he said gently, "go find out who's doing the shelling."
Brady slowly broke away from his position and retreated to his office.
**********
The traumatic 'meatball surgery' marathon finally ended just after mid- night and the entire staff were exhausted. The three captains slowly shuffled back to The Swamp, too tired to even have a mid-night Martini.
Margaret grabbed a cup of "coffee" from the Mess Tent and retired to her quarters. The only person who was up at that hour was Brady.
The incident earlier that day shook him up pretty badly. For the second time since his arrival, not including his horrifying dream, he was called Radar.
Brady sat on the edge of his bed in deep thought and again questioned the possibilities of who Radar could be. Drawing a blank, he decided to ask the one person who would probably know the answer to his questions.
He got up and exited into the compound on his way to Margaret's tent. He dared not to go near The Swamp, Trapper would be there. He wanted to avoid Captain McIntyre for as long as he could.
Brady stopped just in front of her tent. Hanging on her door was a sign that read "MAJOR M. HOULIHAN, KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING" Obeying the sign, Brady gently rapped on the door.
"Who is it?" a cranky, tired voice asked.
"Uh, it's Corporal Harris ma'am, can I talk to you for a few moments?"
Brady heard silence before the voice said he could enter.
"What do you want, Corporal? I'm tired and I would like to get some sleep." Margaret stood with her hands placed on her hips in an authoritative manner.
"Sorry ma'am. I would've gone to Captain Pierce, but Captain McIntyre would be with him and, well, I'm trying to avoid him for a while."
Margaret's face softened as she took her hands away from her hips. She could see the fear in the young Corporal's face and she offered him the chair that sat in front of her dresser.
"Sit down, now what do you want to talk about?"
Brady cast his vivid blue eyes to the floor then up at hers. "Who's Radar?"
**********
Margaret's stomach churned at the sound of that name and sudden question. She took a deep breath, trying to control the weakness in her voice. She knew the reason why the new arrival wanted to know. It was time that he knew.
"About two months ago 3 people were killed. A Corporal, a Lt. Colonel and a Major; a private named Danny McShane murdered them." Margaret took another deep breath. Brady listened to her carefully as she continued. "The first person to die was Corporal Radar O'Reilly, our first Company Clerk. He was shot in head. McShane tried to make it look like suicide."
Brady's stomach froze when she said the name. The person who they kept mistaking him for was a murder victim. It made him sick to his stomach.
"Was Radar his real name, ma'am?" Brady interrupted. Margaret smiled slightly, "No, his name was Walter. Corporal O'Reilly had ESP. I never believed in it until I met him. He had the ability to tell when choppers were arriving and he also knew what a person was going to say before he or she said it. His abilities were amazing; I never saw anything quite like it before. Captain Pierce gave him the nickname "Radar"."
"Why did you scream his name at me when I first arrived?"
Embarrassed, Margaret's face reddened. "Because for a moment I thought you were Radar; you look a lot like him. When I blinked twice, the image was gone. It was a silly mistake by me."
Margaret continued further.
"The Colonel; Lt. Colonel Henry Blake was murdered in his office. Danny McShane jabbed a syringe with a lethal dose of Morphine into his leg. He was discovered the next day by the Clerk that took over Radar's old job.
The third murder victim was Major Frank Burns." Margaret a pang of grief hit her stomach. "He, unfortunately, was involved with the other killings too. They were partners until Danny turned on him. He murdered Fra--I mean-- Major Burns before setting off to kill Captains Pierce and McIntyre. It was lucky for them both that with a little help I managed to stop the private."
"Is he dead too?" Brady once again interrupted.
"Yes," replied Margaret.
The pair sat in silence for a long time until it was broken by Margaret.
"It's almost 1:10 am, Corporal," Margaret hinted that she would like to be left alone. Brady got the hint.
"Thanks for your time, Major Houlihan. I really appreciate it."
Margaret nodded, "That's all right, Corporal."
As Brady headed out the door, she stopped him.
"This camp thrives on gossip and rumors. Only myself, Captains Pierce, McIntyre and you know the full details about the murders, we would prefer to keep it that way, okay Corporal?"
Brady understood. "Yes ma'am, goodnight ma'am."
**********
The moment after Corporal Harris left her tent; Margaret burst into tears. Her thoughts were of Frank and she scolded herself for thinking about him, but she couldn't help it.
'Why am I crying for him? He was a murderer as well, he was involved in Radar and Henry's deaths too, remember?' She wiped away her tears.
Margaret undressed and flung her bloodied fatigues into a corner. She'll sort them out later in the morning. Putting on a clean nightgown, she took a sip of her now cold coffee and brushed her hair quickly. Too tired to do anything else, Margaret settled down under the blankets and turned off her lamp. The night was dead quiet, not even the sound of chirping crickets could be heard.
Again her thoughts wandered back to her former lover. Margaret couldn't help it; she loved him, she couldn't help who she loved.
"Oh, Frank, why?" The Major said out loud. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes once more. Feeling foolish, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, as she did so, the temperature dropped considerably. Although it was pitch black Margaret could tell that her breath hung in the air. The sound of her heart beating fast was magnified twice fold. She had the feeling that someone was watching her.
"Margaret..." a barely audible voice called her name. Margaret froze in fear.
"Margaret.." the voice said again. She couldn't tell who it belonged to. It didn't sound like it was coming from outside.
With a quivering voice, Margaret called out bravely, "W-who i-is i-it?"
She didn't get an answer. Instead something on her dresser tipped over and landed on the floor. Margaret jolted and again froze when the sound of what a wet finger rubbing over glass would be like, drifted through the tent. When the sound was gone, she gathered all her courage and quickly switched her lamp on, flooding the tent with light.
Her eyes focused from the floor to her dresser. The dish full of her talcum power was tipped all over the place. Margaret gasped in total disbelief, holding her hand over her mouth at what she saw next. The powder on her dresser had the word F-R-A-N-K spelled out in it.
**********
To Be Continued...
