Author: Sam

Story: I Spy With My Little G.I.: 11 of 17

Series: The War Within

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

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

Henry may have been an absent-minded alcoholic adulterer, but he was a fine surgeon. He didn’t panic easily when faced with a medical problem. Instincts, good training, and a whole lot of doctor’s wisdom served him well.

At the moment, the Base Commander held his wet undershirt pressed to the other doctor’s abdomen. He was sliding off his cotton belt with his free hand, letting the half-conscious woman lean against his chest as he worked without much real equipment to aid him. Managing to free the belt, Henry maneuvered it around his patient’s waist and started tightening it around the makeshift bandaging, trying to work around the slashed shirt she still wore.

He heard the door open and relief washed over him as Hawkeye’s voice called out, “Henry?”

“In here, Pierce.” Henry shifted on the hard shower stall floor, his wet clothes heavy and cold. “I need a bag.”

“Got it,” the sound of the stall opening reassured the older man that soon the patient would have all the care she could wish for.

Hawkeye was surprised at the circumstances he found: Henry kneeling on the floor with a very wet Emil in his arms, the wet clothing clinging to her petite frame and leaving no doubt about her gender. Without pause, however, he knelt down by the other surgeon. “Radar, I think we’re wet enough now; you can turn off the water. Does Nurse Allen know you’re moonlighting as a fish, Henry?” He pulled out his stethoscope and started listening to the patient’s heart. “Strong, good…” With a charming smile for the woman, he quipped, “A beat we could dance to, Doctor.”

She didn’t respond, eyes closed.

Moving the makeshift field dressing, Captain Pierce noted that the edges of the wound were clean, neat, the sign of a sharp blade. He tried to get a response from Doctor Standish. “So, Emil, you sure you don’t want to move into the Swamp? You could share my bunk.”

Colonel Blake frowned at Hawkeye, reaching over to pull some silk and a suturing needle out of the bag. “Radar…” He let Hawkeye slice the tattered shirt off their patient.

“Yes, Sir?” the Corporal had his head turned, face and ears bright red. He was trying to avoid seeing the wounded doctor lying half-naked against the Colonel’s bare chest.

Henry seemed unaware of Radar’s discomfort. He was in his element, and as such was in total control. “I need flame; sterilize these. Hurry!” The man handed the equipment over then looked at Pierce. “What happened to him… uh… her?”

The younger doctor sighed as he handed up some matches to Radar. “Mathius stabbed… *her* in the abdomen. He’s being held in the VIP tent. That’s fine, Radar, hand it over.” Hawkeye was preparing the bandages and other required surgical supplies. Fortunately, Doctor Standish didn’t have too serious a belly wound. She’d recover fully with a few weeks rest. But first, they had to sew her up… then find out just why she and Father Mulcahy had been keeping such a secret. Hawkeye Pierce hoped to God this had nothing to do with Colonel Flagg’s unwelcome visit.

Radar peeked as he handed back the materials, groaning, "Oh, Sirs!" He turned hastily, a bit greener than before.

Hawkeye shook his head, but continued assisting Henry as the older surgeon started to maneuver the patient onto the floor. "Radar, how do you match your clothes so well?"

Ignoring his clerk's soft groan, Henry snapped out, "Needle, Pierce." He checked Emil's reaction, noted that she seemed unresponsive, then took a breath. "Radar, get over here and hold her still. This'll hurt."

"Can't you give her something, Sir?" Radar was normally a pretty easy-going lad, but when it came to exposure to wounded, he turned into a rather squeamish young man.

"No, now hold her, Corporal!" Henry started stitching. As predicted, Doctor Standish reacted badly to being operated on without anesthesia. She tried to curl up defensively over the wound, only to meet resistance in the strong, no matter how unwilling, grip of Radar O'Reilly. Hawkeye liberally cleaned the wound without needing much prompting. About thirty-nine stitches later, Emil had passed out and all three blood-covered rescuers were packing up, preparing to move her from the men‘s showers.

Radar suddenly called out "Uh, oh!"

"What is it, Radar?" Pierce frowned. His question, however, was answered by the shower door opening.

"Hello?" Father Mulcahy's voice had the threesome relaxing once more. After all, he should already know Emil's secret, being a childhood friend of hers.

“In here, Father.” Hawkeye continued to retrieve the used supplies.

The stall door opened hesitantly, but there was no hesitation when Father Mulcahy knelt in the bloody water on the shower stall floor. “I thought she had been hurt.” Those words certainly confirmed that the priest had known Emil’s secret. His soft voice held intense worry as he asked, “How serious is it?”

Henry didn’t bother to look up, nodding instead to Radar. “All right, Radar. Let’s get her to Post-Op.”

“No.” Everyone turned stunned looks on the gentle priest, who hurried on to try to explain. “If you bring her there, everyone will know… and they cannot.” There was torment in his eyes, fighting to keep his word yet having to weigh the costs to his friend’s health and the amount of information that could be readily provided her rescuers. “It’s…”

Radar interrupted, “She can’t go in the V.I.P. tent, Sirs… Sergeant Mathius is there.”

Before Hawkeye could even attempt to offer, Blake merely sighed heavily and added, “And Colonel Flagg went to the Swamp.”

Hawkeye grinned, “I don’t mind sending him to the V.I.P. tent, Henry.”

The Colonel looked extremely tempted by the idea and Radar seemed unable to decide if Hawkeye was being serious or not. Finally, Henry let that choice idea go with a regretful shake of his head. “No. She can’t go to the Swamp. She needs to rest.”

“How about Major Houlihan’s tent, Sirs?” Radar collected the medical waste from Hawkeye, standing up. Everyone followed suit, the Father taking off his jacket to wrap over the injured doctor before picking her up himself.

“She can stay in my tent for now.” Once more everyone stared at the Father in shock. He blinked back from behind his glasses then shook his head and said, repressively, “I assure you she will be quite safe there.”

Henry and Radar turned away slightly embarrassed at their own assumptions, as Hawkeye let out a peal of laughter. “That should be the safest place in the war for her, Father.” He took charge, instinctively as Henry seemed reluctant to do so on the best of days. “Okay, nobody says a word about what’s happened until we can get her side of the story. Father, keep her resting if possible… she’s got a few stitches and shouldn’t go pulling them out.”

The priest nodded as he slipped quietly from the shower tent, the other three following at a slower pace and splitting up once outside. Blake paused as Hawkeye headed back to Post-Op then seemed to suddenly realize why he’d gone to the showers in the first place. He turned to head back in calling, “Come on, Radar. Now you really do need a shower.”