"Sounds like that worked," remarks Hawkeye sleepily. Rather than spend time uncovering his bunk after the tent-collapse of last night, he opted to fall asleep in the pile of violently unsorted laundry at the end of his bed, and uncurling now he discovers that his back hurts. "Mmf. BJ, how many bathrobes does one guy need anyway?"
Exiting his own tent, olive drab uniform in place, an expectant expression on his face, Colonel Sherman T. Potter soon finds himself standing in a deflated M*A*S*H 4077th. Turning on his heel to look over the wasteland, he sees figures struggling with canvas, hears cries of dismay, and observes the the fact that the Swamp stands...untouched. He stares and says nothing for a few seconds, then clamps his mouth shut to advance on the plank-door to Pierce, Hunnicutt, and Winchester's abode.
"As many as it takes," yawns BJ. He leans over the side of his bunk and peers blearily across the room. "Where'd Charles go?"
After a perfunctory rattling of the door with a pounding fist, Potter yanks it open and walks into the Swamp. Glancing at the luxuriating BJ and Hawkeye, he steps closer to the latter and speaks in a loud, clear voice. "WAKEY WAKEY, Pierce." He is bargaining that this will have a certain amount of resonance given the likelihood of hangovers from the previous nights revels.
Well, so after they got back maybe they had one little tiny drink. Or two. Definitely no more than twelve. Hawkeye squeaks and tries to burrow into the laundry, then rolls over and squints at Potter. Uh-oh, says his expression. "Colonel."
Klinger comes struggling his way towards consciousness, wearing a red floral print housedress over his BDUs, and a flowery bonnet over his hair as he comes across the enclave - apparently looking for the errant tent pegs, now that he's had a series of angry voices demanding him as assistant supply officer to do his duty. He doesn't look pleased, but mostly he looks cross-eyed, having only -been- off shift for two hours when things well, hit the fan. He can be heard outside, calling, "Okay, ladies, okay, I understand. Listen, could someone please help the Major while I... yes, I know. No, I don't know."
Squelching the impulse to clap his hands over his ears at the loudness, BJ holds very still. Potter's paying lots of attention to Hawkeye. There's absolutely no reason he'd want to call attention to himself.
There's a popping sound from outside the Swamp, very close by, and the roof sags a little bit.
"Well, now that you boys are awake," Potter says in a slow, even voice. "I'd like to congratulate you on the bang up job you did on fixing up your tent. Congratulations. Now..." He inhales, stands a little straighter, then points dramatically towards the door and the visible scenes of mayhem outside. Face red, mouth open, here it comes... "WHAT IN SWEET SONJA HENJE'S TUTU HAPPENED TO THE REST OF THE CAMP?!!"
Help, my skull is caving in. Hawkeye winces, and the ominous popping sound from nearby is entirely overlooked. He rolls over again to squint at the rest of the camp. "...earthquake? Not the season, I know..."
There's another popping sound, and the part of the roof over the still billows softly down, coming to rest silently over everything in the back. Which includes BJ. Whose hands are now definitely over his ears.
Klinger can be heard groaning in the background, then a flowery bonnet can vaguely be seen pushing towards the -front- of the tent - the back collapsing isn't really visible from the front anyway. "Colonel, thank god I found you, I was starting to wonder if a tent ate you, too." Now why the Colonel would be in a tent is beyond likely, well, everyone, but Klinger's in an excitable if cranky mood - and he's dealing with twenty or so incensed females alone.
Potter turns to look at the stylishly appointed Corporal. He almost looks relieved for a moment, then says "Klinger! Tent pegs!" He then looks back at Pierce and what's visible of Hunnicutt now that the Swamp is imploding. "And two shovels!" As a bit of deflating canvas drops onto the top of his cap, forcing his brim down over his eyes. He makes a face, then speaks in the general direction of Klinger. "On the double!"
Klinger isn't likely to try arguing with Potter, except to point out, even as he's saluting, "But sir, there's no tent pegs left anywhere. I looked in the supply shed, but I couldn't find any, believe me, Colonel, I looked, the nurses are out for blood! You wouldn't send an unarmed woman out there alone, would you?"
Big uh-oh. Hawkeye begins scrambling to his feet, which is easier said than done. "Colonel, this was all my idea, BJ had nothing to do with it." He sways briefly, and opts to sit on the edge of his debris-strewn bunk. Klinger brings depressing news and he groans quietly. But does not volunteer the whereabouts of the tentpegs.
There's another soft pop, and then the center pole of the Swamp begins to slowly topple, gaining speed as it falls. It's headed, incidentally, straight for Charles' visibly empty cot. BJ winces in advance, and calls from under the growing amount of downed roof, "No, no, I helped. Hey, I guess the clothespins didn't hold, huh?"
Fixing his hat, Potter sighs a world weary sigh as BJ speaks, then says "Perfect. Perfect!" Taking a moment to think, he gestures loosely to Klinger. "Go see if you can requistion some from those sources of yours that I usually don't like to know anything about, Klinger. I'll see if I can talk the Ladies Auxilliary into a happier mood." He casts another look at Pierce and Hunnicutt. "Let's go."
Go? This is the part where we get yelled at, isn't it. Hawkeye was wanting to exit the Swamp before it totally collapsed, in any case, and he gets to his feet with less difficulty this time. "You know Colonel, I think I can explain." Just give me two minutes to come up with something convincing.
Klinger salutes again, then pauses. "Uh, you still want the shovel, Colonel? It's fixing to rain, you know." More bad news. He hovers nervously at the edge of the tent, watching the collapsed bit with the sort of half-horrified fascination usually reserved for car accidents. But hey, out here, victims of war being such a common sight, -this- is the closest equivalent. He scurries back a few steps, just in case.
Whereas Beej would much rather just stay put and sleep in the fallen tent. He crawls out from underneath, dragging the bedraggled blue bathrobe with him, and snags his hat as well when he hears Klinger mentioning rain. "Because there -is- a good explanation," adds BJ, in the process of tying his robe as he gets out.
Holding up two fingers, Potter says "Two shovels. Dos shovelitos," in reply to Klinger's question. The voices of people demanding action soon assail him as the de-tented 4077th makes its displeasure known. He then holds up his hands in a gesture akin to a preacher at a church revival trying to calm down his congregation. "Woah, woah!" he says, head titled back slightly. "Slow down, folks. I realize everybody's in a bit of a tizzy, but we're not going to get back into shape without some order..." He then looks at Hawkeye and BJ, saying "First, though - our friendly neighborhood Captains would like to share an explanation...and its a good one I'm told...for why there's no tent pegs to be found. Boys?" He looks to them with a sinisterly benign expression as the crowd quiets down and glares at them.
Oh dear. Hawkeye hangs back, almost but not quite hiding behind BJ. "It's a fantastic explanation. Really. Perfect in every detail. Tell them, Beej."
Klinger salutes again, and does indeed scurry. Maybe if he hurries, he can get back in time for the end of the explanation, and in any event, while he's gone, the wrath of the crowd won't be on -him-. He dashes, one hand on his flower-print bonnet, the other modestly holding his housedress closed - and while Klinger's mother might not wear Army boots with -her- housedress, Klinger has more respect for Korean mud than that. Thump, thump, thump. "Aye, aye, sir. On the double."
"Oh, no no," demurs BJ, holding his hands up and sidestepping to reveal Hawkeye. He looks over at his friend and says modestly, "It was, after your idea. I only helped. And it was brilliant, so you should have all the glory. Honestly, go ahead, Hawk. I don't mind."
Colonel Potter casually slips to the side as BJ and Hawkeye speak, hands clasped behind his back. He has the expression of man prepared to wait until the proverbial cows come home.
Curse you, Hunnicutt. Curse you and your little baby Hunnicutts to the tenth generation. Hawkeye hesitates for quite a long time. "...Um," he explains, eventually.
Klinger can be seen coming back at a quick walk, skirting a mud hole, then running with a nervous look over his shoulder at an obviously enraged Major Houlihan, who is still caught in her tent, but bits of can be seen - and heard - as several of the junior nurses try working her free of the tent. He's got two shovels over one shoulder, carried like a rifle, and a box of tent pegs - not, though, a very /big/ box. He's also still halfway across the encampment.
"...there was a...no, the gypsy thing doesn't work in Korea," begins BJ, then flounders, then trainwrecks. "It was, er." Much better, that one. "We...um." Desperately, he pokes Hawkeye in the side and hisses, "Come on, you do this much better."
Potter nods approvingly to the non-explanation, then says "Thank you, Captain Pierce. Captain Hunnicutt." He levels a hand at the approaching big nosed man in the flower print dress. "Your consolation prizes await you just over there." He glances back at the crowd. "As for the rest of you, let's get cracking in putting the tents back into order..." He goes to speak with the still struggling Major Houlihan and coordinate the recovery of the camp before the inevitable choppers make their presence known.
For a moment, Hawkeye doesn't say anything at all, prodding from BJ notwithstanding. "Klinger, if we're going to the beach, we need buckets too."
"Beach? You guys are lucky Colonel Potter didn't send you back to World War II to take care of Normandy. If anyone could, the Colonel could." Klinger's response is as immediate as it is snide, and he shoulders the shovels like he's about to present arms in a rifle drill. "If I were you, though, I'd get going and out of sight before Major Houlihan gets free. I saw her face, and boy is she steamed."
BJ Hunnicutt glumly takes a shovel from Klinger. "Thanks. Do you think Colonel Potter would mind if we dug his latrine out in the minefield?"
"You know it *was* my idea." Hawkeye takes a shovel, too, and briefly considers burying a jeep or something. "You don't have to do this, Beej."
BJ Hunnicutt shrugs amiably. "I was bored. And I still have nothing to do. Might as well appease the Colonel, huh?" He puts the shovel over his shoulder like it's a rifle, too, ahaha good idea, Klinger.
"Better you suffer a little now," advises the Man with the Beak. "Then maybe, just maybe, Major Houlihan won't kill you later." Klinger's not a happy camper - THEY get to dig a latrine. HE gets to try soothing the Major down. "No minefields, unless you wanna be joining the choppers' guys in the OR the hard way."
Hawkeye notably does *not* shoulder his shovel, holding it in both hands as if he's about to take on someone with a quarterstaff. "Klinger, if you die for us, we swear to avenge you." Margaret will kill him horribly. Poor Klinger.
"Plus, we'll send the secret of the gag up to join you in heaven via smoke signals," adds BJ cheerfully, tilting his hat back before sticking his free hand in his pocket. "Believe me, it's worth it."
Klinger shakes his head. "You guys're gonna get yourselves killed someday," he admonishes grumblingly. "Maybe you guys want to get stuck here for an extra year or five as punishment. Me, I wanna go home. And, to top it off, you interrupted my beauty sleep!" He turns to go towards where Hotlips is only finally emerging from her cocooned wrap, and he winces experimentally. "Get going, guys, I'll head her off."
Horror of horrors. Hawkeye looks to BJ, suddenly panicked. "They don't do that, they wouldn't, they can't do that, would they?" Keep us here longer?
BJ Hunnicutt rolls his eyes. "No, no, no, and no. They might try and convince us we want to - ha, ha - but they can't make us stay any longer than our tours of duty." A beat, and a thoughtful look. "At least, not as punishment."
Klinger is, while Beej and Hawk continue their debate, buying them time. Whether they use it or not, of course, is something else entirely. "KLINGER!" comes the outraged shriek of feminine fury from the thirty-something 'blonde bombshell' of the 4077th. "WHERE ARE THEY?" "Major, really, calm down," starts Klinger, as he prepares to settle in for a long battle. "See, it's like this..."
"What? Well why would they? They can't, right, the doctor draft, they have to send us home eventually..." Distract Hawkeye before his mind wanders down dark alleys.
Calling back softly to Klinger as he starts into a sprint, BJ sounds -very- grateful: "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din." He tugs at Hawkeye. "Come on, come on!" All right, now it's a dead run. Yes, with a shovel.