Author: Sam

Story: I Spy With My Little G.I.: 1 of 17

Series: The War Within

Characters: Father John Francis Patrick Mulcahy; Captain Emil Standish (OC); “Hawkeye” Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce; “Trapper” Captain John MacIntyre; Major Frank Burns; Major Margaret Houlihan; Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake; “Radar” Corporal Walter O’Reilly; Nurse Kealani Kellye; Private Igor Straminsky; Corporal Max Klinger; Colonel Sam Flagg; Sergeant Zelmo Zale

Rating: PG-13: Blood and Language (it is a war, after all), and maybe the odd sexual innuendo.

Summary: Colonel Flagg searches the 4077 for a spy, again. However, this time, Burns finds one for him. And what does it have to do with Father Mulcahy?

Spoiler: Random episodes back and forth throughout the entire 11 seasons. As I did not get to see all of the episodes, nor anything in order until season 5, I’m not sure which information truly relates to which episode.

Category: Drama; Action

Setting: M.A.S.H. 4077 Compound

Disclaimer: M-A-S-H is a trademark of Dr. Richard Hornberger and Twentieth Century Fox. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Note: A Ka-Bar is a 7 inch blade (12 inch with handle) survival knife used by the Marines. Often patients were stripped of anything explosive, or any firing weapons; however, they were allowed to keep knives in case of fire. As we were not allowed to save the patients, they would need the blades to cut their way out of a burning tent. (If you think that was a bad rule, think of it this way: if you go back to save a patient, you may lose two lives. By leaving the patients to save themselves, we would save at least one life… That’s Military thinking for you.)

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

A cool wind blew over the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital 4077. Most of the staff was about their various duties, running to and fro or stuck in the operating room with the large amount of casualties that had come in over the last few hours. Of those outside, all but one were busy with tagging, triage, and basic life saving aid.

The one left was Father Mulcahy, the company Chaplain. Normally, the priest could be found in the O.R. or at the least among the patients in Post-Op. This time, however, the soft spoken man was wandering purposefully among those still awaiting their turns at surgery, providing comfort where he could and the occasional Last Rites for those who hadn’t made it. He had, thankfully, only had two of those that day.

He bent to speak softly with one man, noting the wounded shoulder had stopped bleeding. That should be a good sign. Suddenly, with a start, Father Mulcahy looked around in wonder then sent up a small prayer of thanks. The casualties were down to three men, and the staff didn’t seem too worried about getting the men into surgery as soon as possible. The deluge was over… for the moment.

“Johnny?”

The voice behind the priest was husky, youthful and surprised, but didn’t sound like its bearer was in pain. It was a familiar voice, actually, but the Father went on with his work. He would check on the lad next, to make sure he wasn’t delusional or calling for a friend no longer around.

“Johnny Mulcahy?”

'Johnny?' He was surprised that anyone would know his childhood nickname. Most people, if they even used his given name, thought it was Francis. He’d informally dropped the John when entering Loyola University. Father Mulcahy turned, trying to seek out the speaker. “It is you! Well, will you look at that? All this way to find a friend.” There was laughter in the familiar voice now.

Father Mulcahy finally spotted the speaker. It was a slim lad, probably no more than eighteen or so if his face displayed his age. He was dressed in traditional Army gear, but in layers against the uncertain weather, cover pulled low on his brow. The Father smiled, a bit mystified where he’d have met this boy before. No… not a boy, despite the youthful looks. He had a Captain’s bars on his collar tabs.

Seeing his confusion, the soldier slid his cap back, exposing a set of auburn curls and laughing hazel eyes. He then flicked the brim of his cover with a finger and winked. A loud, contagious kind of laughter rolled from the soldier: a sound much bigger than the slight body that emitted it.

Realization dawned.

“Emil Standish?” Father Mulcahy’s smile broadened, delight almost vibrating from the gentle man. He rushed forward and gave the petite figure an enthusiastic hug, joining the laughter. “What are you doing at the 4077?”

Emil hugged the man back. “Uncle Sam agreed with my father that the Army would be good for me.” Another laugh made the priest smile wider as he nodded. “So, I followed in the footsteps of my ancestors and became a surgeon.”

“A doctor…” he nodded again and put a hand on the slim shoulder of his friend. The doctor was definitely smaller than his clothes made him look, and that was small enough to pass for a teenager. “It suits you, Emil. Are you assigned to us?”

The redhead hefted a small pack and shook his head. “No, the 0296 up front. Some of the men were wounded on a scouting run and got sent down here. Since I haven’t had a break since this entire debacle began, the Higher Ups insisted I go with them and call it R and R.”

“You?” Father Mulcahy was surprised. “Rest?” He glanced briefly around; noting the last three patients had been brought inside. As no one was calling for his services, a definitely welcome respite, the priest let himself linger with his friend.

“Yes, I know. I’ll go stir crazy in a couple of hours. Think your surgeons would mind if I tag along and help? I need something to do during all this relaxing the Army’s forcing on me.”

Nodding enthusiastically, the priest started reaching for his friend’s pack, which was readily relinquished. “They’ll welcome your help, Emil. We always seem to have more than enough patients.” He started walking towards the officers’ tents. Emil fell into step beside him.

Pushing his cover back low over his brow, the doctor tilted his head thoughtfully. “And what about you? Why are you here? Boxer turned soldier?”

Father Mulcahy laughed and gestured to the cross on his collar tab. “Actually, I’m a Chaplain.”

Emil stopped, causing the Father to stumble to a halt as well. “What?” He laughed again. “Now I know why you didn’t come to U-Penn with me. Priest, huh?” He shook his head, but didn’t seem in the least disappointed or confused. “So, should I start calling you Father John now?”

“No… please…” the Chaplain made a face and held up his free hand, shaking his head. “Johnny’s just fine, Emil.” He paused only a moment before changing the subject. “Why don’t I show you around?” Father Mulcahy pushed open the door to the nurse’s tent without looking at it.

“Whoa!” The other man stopped and shook his head, not setting foot near the door his friend politely held open for him. “You’ve taken a wrong turn, Johnny. That’s a nurses’ tent.”

Father Mulcahy looked at the door in some confusion. He glanced around, noting that surgery had started getting out and staff members were beginning to notice the pair. They were especially taking note of the fact that their Chaplain had nearly led a new doctor into the nurses’ tent. He frowned softly and turned back to Emil.

“As much as I’d be flattered to stay here, I think it wouldn’t be allowed. Why don’t…”

But the request was interrupted by the arrival of surgeons Trapper John MacIntyre and Hawkeye Benjamin Franklin Pierce. “Who’s your friend, Father?” Hawkeye sounded amused though tired from hours of hard, delicate work.

Trapper looked just as worn out, yet just as amused. “And why are you leading him astray, Father?” It was readily apparent he’d used the title as emphasis to his comment, rather than a respectful name, but the jest was meant in good humor and did not offend the man of the cloth.

“Oh… well… uh…”

Hawkeye grinned wider and held out his hand, which was grasped firmly by a rather smaller hand. He kept to himself, for the moment, his surprise at the youth of the Captain he greeted. “Hello, Ohwelluh. It’s a definite pleasure to have you here.”

“And already chasing nurses. It’s good to see you’ve got your priorities straight.” Trapper’s voice indicated rising humor.

The Father frowned repressively at the two men. “Captain Emil Standish… surgeon.” He let the door to the nurses’ tent shut and moved away from it a step or two. “We grew up together in Philadelphia.” He went on to introduce the other two doctors. “This is Captain Pierce.”

“Call me Hawkeye,” came the pleasant reply.

“And this is Captain MacIntyre.”

“Call him Trapper,” Hawkeye interrupted again.

Trapper offered his hand to Emil, noting just how young the kid looked, just how small his hands were. But despite the appearance of youth that hung around the redhead, there was age and sorrow in his eyes. The blond Trapper shook himself; he’d seen eyes like that far too often… the eyes of men from the front lines. This kid had no business being in a war; none of them did, really.

His morose thoughts were further interrupted by the enthusiasm in Hawkeye’s voice as the darker haired man begged, “Please say you’ve been assigned here?”

“I could, but it’d be giving false hope.” Emil met their greetings with his own happy enthusiasm.

“Emil is from the 0296.”

Both surgeons did a double take and glanced over the new doctor in shock. Hawkeye frowned suddenly and asked, in quite a steady, calm voice, “You came with those boys from the scouting party?”

The redhead’s smile dropped away and the sadness increased in his hazel eyes. “Yes. The unit scouted their way right into an unknown minefield.” Reaching up, Emil pushed his cover back again and flexed his fingers, like a habitual nervous tick. “I patched them up as best I could on the move and in the mud. How are they?”

Father Mulcahy could sense that the easy conversation from a few minutes before had completely ended. His childhood friend had turned into a serious doctor discussing patients under his care. Rather than interrupt, the man gestured towards the VIP tent, noting the other three absently fell into step behind him. He assured himself that he’d get plenty of time to catch up with Emil later. Patients always came first if a doctor was worth his salt.

“They’ll recover. I had wondered whose handiwork we were looking over. You even had enough time to stitch up Yeverson?”

“He was the only one I had time to do anything extensive on. He wouldn’t stop bleeding, and the others were under control. I had to go in, even on the back of a jeep.” With a frown, Emil looked up at Hawkeye, who was a good foot taller. “When I arrived, a pompous man with the face of a ferret wouldn’t let me any further.”

Gales of laughter met this comment, though Father Mulcahy merely shook his head. Hawkeye gestured to a different direction than the one the priest had chosen. “Hey, if you’re staying awhile, we have a spare bunk in the Swamp.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind the wildlife. We’ve got a ferret in our tent.” Trapper grinned widely and sent Hawkeye into more chortles.

“You’re going to scare him off, Trap. Oh, there’s Ferret-Face now. Hey, Frank… Margaret.”

Majors Burns and Houlihan were approaching from the direction of Post Op. Both of the ranking officers gave Hawkeye a repressive look, Burns going as far as to frown at the stranger as well. Margaret, for her part, let her eyes roam then dismissed him as too young to be worth her time. They only stopped when Trapper called out to them.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Frank? Captain Standish came from the front lines just to spend time with us.”

“As if I wanted to speak to friends of yours, MacIntyre.” He turned a superior look on the others, not quite looking as superior as he did ridiculous. Surprise crossed his features when he noted the small doctor and Frank shook his head. “Haven’t I met you before?”

Doctor Standish, for his part, actually managed to endear himself to the two Majors by instantly saluting and calling out “Sir, yes, sir.” He sounded sincere, though there was laughter in his eyes, which Frank didn’t notice. “You stopped me from going into Casualty Receiving, sir, with the men of the 0296.”

Trapper gestured to the shorter man and nodded to Burns. “You might want to say you’re sorry, Frank. Doctor Standish is the one that sewed up Yeverson… the one you were so impressed with.” He had a vindictive look about him that Frank failed to home in on.

“I don’t believe we were introduced yet, Doctor. Some people have no manners.” Margaret glared at Trapper and Hawkeye, excluding the Father from her derogatory remark, at least. “I’m Major Margaret Houlihan. This is Major Frank Burns. Are you our new surgeon?”

Puzzled suddenly, Frank looked at Margaret. “I didn’t know we were getting a new surgeon. Why wasn’t I told?”

“Oh, Frank.” Margaret shot him an exasperated look, a bit annoyed that he’d suddenly make her look foolish with his unexpected questions.

Frank continued his juvenile tirade. “As ranking physician I should be informed of all staff changes. It’s my right.” His voice ended in a slight whine.

Hawkeye slipped his hands into the pockets of the lab coat he was still wearing over his surgical scrubs. Turning a grin on Trapper, the Head Doctor jumped in with “Come on. We’ll help you get settled into the Swamp.”

“And in a dry martini,” added Trapper pleasantly, ignoring the disgust displayed by the two majors.

“Then you can see your men,” Hawkeye finished.

Margaret frowned as Frank stiffened in indignation. “And what makes you think Doctor Standish wishes to be included in your degradation? The post-op is this way, Doctor. Father, his bag can go in the VIP tent.”

“Quite.” Frank started briskly walking back the way he’d come, with Margaret following at a smart clip. They apparently assumed they were being followed.

Emil threw an exasperated look after them and turned towards the other three men. “Thanks for the offer and taking my bag…” Then his eyes rested on Father Mulcahy. “We’ll play catch up later, Johnny. I really have to check on the men.” And with that, the petite doctor was hurrying off after the much taller doctor and nurse.

“Johnny?” Both Hawkeye and Trapper had spoken, glancing from the retreating figure to each other then to the priest.

Father Mulcahy looked at them, and shook his head. “I do have a name other than Father. I should bring Emil’s bag to the VIP tent, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

Hawkeye reached over and snagged the bag. “It’s okay, Father, we don’t mind. We’ll put Emil in Spearchucker’s old bunk.”

The Chaplain’s eyes widened and he looked very doubtful about the set up. “I think we should wait and see if Emil wishes to share a tent. Emil tends to be a private person.” He firmly took the bag back.

Trapper shrugged. “Sure, we can move him in later, right, Hawk? See you, Father.”

With a nod and farewell, Father Mulcahy walked into the VIP tent, leaving the surgeons staring after him.

“Emil is awfully young looking to have grown up with the Father,” Hawkeye’s voice was thoughtful.

“Yeah, I wish I had his beautician. Sometimes I feel way too old.” The conversation was suddenly too serious for either man’s taste so the blond turned to the brunet and shrugged. “Who knew he had friends besides us?”

“Yeah, well, I guess he has to have someone to write to besides the Big Man himself.” Hawkeye grinned back.

A slightly panicky voice came from behind and the two men whirled to see Colonel Henry Blake, still in surgical scrubs, walking by. “General Clayton? What about General Clayton?” His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed a bit out of it... though that could be due to long hours or his regular drinking, it wasn’t certain.

Doctor Pierce grinned mischievously, “Oh, didn’t you hear, Henry? He’s canceling the war in favor of yachting on the Yangtze.”

“Oh...” Henry shook his head, puzzled, not understanding and not wanting to. He passed by his staff members and headed into the mess tent without further comment.