But he didn't. He just left, as silently as he had appeared. I lay there for awhile. I needed to be sure that he was really gone. The thought that I might get up and go for help, and find him waiting for me outside...

But no, he was gone. 'Surgical strike'. Get in, get it done, get out. That's Flagg's style.

I had to move. There was too much warm wetness pooling under me. I'd been hurt and, unless I really did want to just give up, I had to do something about it.

What finally got me going was the thought of Ray, of what it would do to him if I went like this. I couldn't let that happen to him. I had to pull myself out of this, for his sake, if not for my own.

I managed to sit up, but it took me almost five minutes to do it. Every time I moved, it felt like I was being stabbed in the gut with a sharpened red hot poker.

The clothes I'd had on were no use. They lay on the floor, no more than rags. I'd left my pants hanging over a chair by the bed, so I got them instead, and pulled them on. I didn't bother with a shirt. You know, it didn't even occure to me that I didn't HAVE to get dressed. Who would be out in the camp at that time of night? But I've never walked around naked in public before, and I wasn't about to start. I didn't bother with the button, just zipping them so they'd stay on my hips.

Then came the long, long trek to get help. The compound isn't all that big, but it was like I was trying to walk across Korea, just to make those few yards.

I fell down the first step I took away from the office. I'd been holding on to the wall for support, and I just went down when I let go. Knees folded neater than someone with a pair of dueces seeing that someone else was holding three kings. When I hit the dirt, I was tempted to just lay there for awhile.

But I'd worked around trauma enought to know that I didn't have a lot of time to spare. Not the way I was bleeding. It had already made it's way down my legs, and I ended up leaving a blood trail across the camp that you wouldn't need a tracking dog to follow.

I managed to get to my feet again, and staggered on. I knew exactly where I was heading. Thank God The Swamp wasn't located any farther away. I might not have made it.

It was dark when I got there. The only sounds were soft snores. I knew where Hawkeye's bunk was, and made my way to it.

Then I just stood there, swaying. What was I going to tell him?

I was starting to get dizzy now, so I knew I'd better do something, quick. I touched his shoulder, and said quietly, "Hawkeye?"

He stirred, yawning, eyes closed. "Five more minutes, Pop."

I closed my eye, and tried again. I shook him gently. "Hawkeye, please wake up."

Another yawn, and a blink. "Radar? What is it? Wounded? Something wrong in recovery?"

I swayed more. "I... I think..."

"Radar?" I heard BJ behind me, his voice concerned. There was a click, and the light went on. "Jesus!"

I sank to my knees. "I... need help..." Then I passed out.

Only for a little while, though. No more than a minute, I think. I woke up when I was being lifted onto a stretcher. I heard Hawkeye saying, "No! We can do this ourselves. No one else, not now, anyway. Maybe later. We just need to get him to the OR."

As they went to lift me up, I managed to tug at Hawkeye's robe. He looked startled. "Radar, thank God. Buddy, what happened?"

I bit my lip, staring at him. What could I tell them without endangering Ray? "I... don't know."

"You don't know? Christ, Radar! You... you're bleeding! There's a fucking pool..."

"And we need to get it stopped, Hawk." BJ said firmly.

Hawkeye seemed to snap back to himself. Like he says, he's a man first and foremost, but being a doctor is his second nature. "You're right. As soon as we get him in OR, I want two units of blood."

He leaned over me, and his voice was soft. "Walter, we're going to be as careful as we can, but we have to hurry. The ride may be a little rough."

"'Sokay."

They carried me to the OR, and got me on one of the tables. BJ went for the blood. When Hawkeye reached to undo my pants, I knocked his hands away. He hesitated, and I could see the pain in his eyes. Not from what I'd done, but from what it told him. "I have to, Radar." he said gently. "You're hurt, badly, what with all that blood. I have to see the damage, stop the bleeding, and... and try to repair you. Let me help you, please."

I didn't try to stop when he started again. But I covered my eyes when I finally lay on that cool operating table. On my belly. Like before. I started shaking so hard, I thought I might fall off.

Hawkeye hesitated. When BJ came back, he took the blood units and said, "Go get me some morphine."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Beej, look at him. You know what I have to do. Even if he could go through it without something, he shouldn't have to. Should he?" BJ left, and came back with a syringe. When I felt Hawkeye's hand on my ass, I flinched. He said hastily, "It's all right, Radar. Just some alcohol. This is going to help with the pain, and make you sleep. Don't fight it..." I groaned, and he gasped, suddenly understanding what those words might mean to me. "I... I'm sorry...This will only sting a little."

The bite of the needle was negligible, after what I'd been through. And it helped quickly. Grey fog rolled in and swallowed me. I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up in recovery. My cot was screened off from the rest of the room, like the North Korean's had been. I could hear the doctor's talking on the other side of the partition.

Charles: "He came in on my shift, dammit. I want to know what happened."

Hawkeye: "I don't really know, Charles. He wouldn't tell us."

Charles: "But you have your suspicions?"

Hawkeye: "Of course I have my suspicions. I think maybe a certain looney tunes colonel isn't the harmless jack ass we've been thinking he is."

Charles: "Flagg?" I heard Hawkeye hiss at him. "But... but the man's an officer."

BJ: "Maybe, but not a gentleman."

Charles: "Did Radar say...?"

BJ: "He wouldn't say anything. He's scared, and I don't blame him. This sort of thing can ruin a person's life."

Hawkeye: "It wasn't his fault!"

BJ: "No, it wasn't. But the world can be very cruel to victims, Hawk. You know that." I think maybe I've mentioned before that Captain Pierce can be real creative with swear words. Boy, he did a masterpiece right then. And when he could get a word in edgewise, BJ said, "I don't like it either. But that's the way it is, and we have to deal with it. He may really not remember anything. It isn't unusual for victims of assaults like this to experience traumatic amnesia. Or he may not want to remember."

Hawkeye: "But this has to be reported! We can't let that... that... thing get away with it!"

BJ: "We may not have a choice."

Hawkeye: "As an officer, it's my duty to report things like this, take care of the enlisted men."

I was a little surprised when Major Winchester spoke up.

Charles: "You're also a doctor, Pierce. And there's doctor/patient confidentiality. If the boy doesn't want it reported, I really don't think you should go against his wishes."

They were quiet, then Hawkeye came back into my space. He stopped when he saw that I was awake, and I could tell he knew I'd been listening. He came over and sat in a chair beside my cot. "Hey Radar."

"Hey, Captain Pierce."

He noticed the formal title. "How you doing?"

"Okay. Sore."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I had to do some... uh stitching." I nodded, showing that I understood. I figured he would have. The rate I was bleeding, something must've been torn pretty bad. "You're going to be on a liquid diet for a while. You don't need to irritate... irritate the, uh, damaged area any more than necessary." I nodded again. It made sense. "I used dissolving sutures, so you don't have to worry about having them removed."

"Thanks."

He was quiet for a minute, then said, "Radar. Talk to me." I put my arm over my eyes. "I think I know who did this, but you have to tell me for anything official to happen."

"I don't know." My voice was dull.

"Christ, kid, you can't let him get away with doing this to you! He needs to be court martialled. He needs to go to Leavenworth. He needs to be fucking gutted!"

"You don't know... you can't know what he said he'd do."

"Radar, we can protect you."

"Could you?" I looked at him, and he could see the doubt in my face. I respect Captain Pierce. I know he'd do everything he could. But I knew Flagg, too. "I'm not the only one involved in this, Hawkeye. Look, I'll be all right. I want to sleep now."

That was a lie, but I think God forgave me for it. Hawkeye couldn't stop asking questions that I couldn't answer. I knew if it kept on, I'd get angry with him, for nothing more than trying to do what he thought was right.

I really didn't intend to tell anyone at all. But Colonel Potter showed up at my bedside the next morning, and sat down beside me. "Well, son, it seems that something nasty happened to you last night." I glared at Hawkeye, but he shook his head. "Don't blame Pierce, Walter. If you all didn't want me to know something was really wrong, then you should have sent someone to clean up that mess in the front office."

Hawkeye winced. He'd been so worried about taking care of me that hadn't occured to him. Colonel Potter continued. "So I come into the office this morning, Igor's powdered eggs not doing anything to settle my digestion, and what do I find? Blood. Lots of it. My clerk gone, and his clothes sliced to ribbon and crusted with more blood, and what can only be semen. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened, son, so don't blame Pierce. I was just relieved to find out that you were in a cot and not a body bag."

"Don't worry, Colonel. I'm all right now."

"Horse hockey. What I saw was enough to tell me that you've been to hell and back Radar, and it was a hard walk both ways. Pierce says you won't say who did it." I clenched my jaw. He sighed. "I guess you have your reasons. But you have to talk to someone. No one should go through something like that alone."

"Begging the colonel's pardon, but it's none of your business." I was shocked with myself. Colonel Potter cared about me, he was trying to help. My tone had been downright nasty.

But he didn't take offense. He just said calmly, "That's where you're wrong. I'm you're commanding officer. Your well being is my responsibility. You need to get this out of you before it starts to fester and poison you from the inside out. This doesn't have to go any further, if you don't want it to. But you will talk to someone about this. Now, there are two people I know could be trusted with a secret and take it to their graves, so I'm giving you a choice. You talk to either Father Mulcahey, or you talk to Sidney Freedman. You're choice, son. But you will talk."

Colonel Potter's eyes were sympathetic, but his voice was stern. He wasn't going to back down on this. I thought. I saw Father every day. I would see him every day for as long as I stayed at the MASH. He was a good man, and would not hold me accountable in any way for what had happened. But it would be there.

"You can call Sidney."