A man in soiled fatigues and a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder stumbled into camp early one morning. He walked slowly and seemed to trip over every single stone in the compound. He went up to the mess tent door and bumbled in. He looked around dazed and asked in a weary voice if he was at a hospital. Hawkeye was standing in line for his disgusting looking meal of fish chowder. Glad for an excuse not to eat, he lead the soldier to pre-op. Settling the man down in a chair, he removed the mans bandage. There was a few small pieces of shrapnel buried in his shoulder, so he got a gas passer and a nurse and brought the man in for the quick surgery. After he had finished they stitched him up and put him on a bed in post-op. Radar came in to do the usual paperwork and was sitting on his bedside, reading his dog tags when the man woke up.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just filling out some paperwork sir." Radar said, pointing to his clipboard.

"Oh. Where am I?"

"M*A*S*H 4077th. I'm Corporal Radar O'Reilly, the company clerk. And you're Sergeant Adam Hellerman, right?" Radar said, squinting to read the mans dog tags.

"Yeah. That's me."

"Alright. Oh, this is one of the doctors here, Captain Pierce."

"Hi Sergeant Hellerman, I'll be your doctor on your stay here at the 4077th. Ever been with us before?" Hawkeye said while filling out the rest on the mans chart.

"No, haven't had the pleasure."

"Its not a pleasure, lets get that clear. It looks like someone shot you. Was it mutual?"

"Not exactly."

"Too bad. Maybe next time. I'll check on you later Hellerman."

"He's a nice guy." Said Sergeant Hellerman as he turned to Radar.

"Oh yes, he's great." Replied Radar. "Listen, I gotta go fill out some more forms. I'll see you later sir." Sergeant Hellerman laid back and sighed.

"Hey, look at this." The solider in the bed next to his said, throwing a newspaper at him. He stared at the paper for a few seconds and threw it back.

"Great." He remarked.

"Great, great! It's terrific! You don't understand! What do you think is going to happen next?"

"I don't know. I'm gonna sleep now."

"Okay." The soldier turned away, disappointed.

After a few days Hellerman was ready to go to the evac hospital. As they were loading up the bus, it came his turn to climb up the steps, and he instantly tripped and landed hard on his side. They helped his up, but as soon as he put pressure on his ankle he yelled in pain. They hauled him back to post-op and laid him on a bed. BJ checked out his ankle. He had definitely broken it. BJ put a cast on his foot and lead him back to his bed. Radar came by later with a letter for him. Hellerman opened the letter and stared at the papers. He shuffled them and looked at the same page for over a half an hour. BJ came over to see what was up.

"Bad News?" BJ said.

"Um, maybe."

"What is it?"

"I..I can't read it." Hellerman said, his voice trailing off.

"Do you mean that you can't read?" BJ asked.

"No, I can read. I just, can't see it. Can't see anything but shapes and colors."

"Do you have glasses?"

"Glasses are for wimps. I don't wear 'em. I can see stuff well enough."

"Uh huh. Um, Hellerman, what happens when its dark?"

"Can't really see anything. That's why I got shot."

BJ shook his head and walked away. He knew that that guy would get shot many more times. He was surprised that he wasn't already dead. On his way back to the swamp, BJ bumped into Hawkeye.

"What time zone is your head in?" joked Hawkeye.

"Oh, hey. I was just pondering. You know that guy, Hellerman, who was going to the evac hospital and broke his leg getting onto the bus?"

"Yeah. He's got some bad luck."

"Not bad luck, bad eyes. He needs glasses bus refuses to wear them."

"Man. I hate it when people like that get into the army."

"Well, we have to figure out something. We can't just send him back to the front in that condition. He'll get himself killed!"

"Oh okay. Here's what we'll do. You get some cement, I'll get some glasses and we'll cement them onto his face." Hawkeye said jokingly.

"Hawk, this is serious. We have got to figure something out."

"BJ, we can't really do anything now, and he'll be here for a few more days, so lets just think about it."

"All right. But I can't just let this kid go back." BJ said, and he and Hawk went back to the Swamp for a few drinks from the still.

After a while, they got sick of the home made hooch and headed over to the Officers Club for some genuine liquor. They plopped down at the bar and ordered martinis. Just as their drinks arrived, BJ noticed out of the corner of his eye, Sergeant Hellerman slumped over a table in the back. Picking up their drinks, they slid off their stools and headed over. Grabbing some loose chairs on the way, they took a seat at the table. Hawkeye reached over and shook Hellermans uninjured shoulder.

"Hey buddy, don't you know that patients aren't supposed to have over ten drinks. You gotta leave some of it for us doctors. How else are we supposed to booze up before surgery?"

When Hellerman raised his head, it was clear that he was not only drunk, but had been crying. He reached up with his sleeve to wipe the tears away from his red, puffy eyes.

"Sorry guys, I guess I did have one to many. I'll just be going back."

With that Hellerman stood up, grabbed his crutch and quickly hobbled out of the Officers Club. Afraid of what he might do, BJ and Hawkeye raced after him. They soon found him curled up under a tree, Sipping brandy out of a bottle. He stared up at them with watery eyes.

"Hey docs, don't worry about me. I'll get back to post-op as soon as I get rid of this pain in my leg. Dang nurses won't let me drink in there."

Hawkeye and BJ looked at each other. There was more then the eye could see going on here, and they knew it. Taking seats on the ground next to Hellerman, they were prepared to find out what was going on with him. BJ picked up a pair of dog tags lying on the ground.

"Baxton, Paul." He read off of the blood stained metal tag.

"Who was he?" questioned Hawkeye.