Part Six
In the Open

Like I said, it was almost a year after the Korean patient incident before Colonel Flagg showed up again at the 4077th. I hadn't missed him at all. How he showed up was pretty typical of him.

This time he didn't come to the office first and announce himself. I was helping out in recovery, we'd had a fresh load of casualties just pass through the OR, and there were some of them the docs wanted to keep a pretty close eye on. I don't know much about medicine, but I can take a temperature and monitor fluid output. That's kinda a fancy name for emptying bedpans and catheter bags. I don't mind, though.

One of the guys was kinda embarrassed when I had to help him pee, because his hands were burned. He asked if I wasn't disgusted, having to mess with stuff like that, and I told him heck no. It's not like they're doing it on purpose to make my life hard. I told him if he was just drunk, and he asked, then I'd worry about him. That gave him a laugh.

Anyway, the thermometer got broke. I was taking a guy's temperature while one of the nurses was changing a dressing on his groin wound, and some hairs got pulled out of a sensitive area at the wrong time. He bit clean through the thermometer. We were worried for a minute that he was going to swallow glass and mercury, but he spit everything out. But then I needed another thermometer, so I went to the supply room.

I opened the door and found myself looking at a broad back. Someone was in the supply room, with an open duffle bag at their feet. That didn't look good. I knew who it was even before he turned around, and I got a cold lump in my stomach. "What are you doing here?"

Flagg didn't jump or flinch, didn't even seem surprised. He just turned around and looked at me. I was never going to get used to those eyes. "O'Reilly, you have a very bad habit of not showing proper respect for rank. You should work on that."

I catch him where he has no business being, and he's going to call me on rank. But this was the army, and rules were rules, even if they were stupid rules. I saluted. "What are you doing in here, sir?"

"Explain to me why I owe an enlisted man an explanation of my actions, corporal."

Technically speaking, he didn't owe me an explanation. So I avoided the issue. "Does Colonel Blake know you're here, sir?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"You should check in with the commanding officer before wandering around the camp, sir."

Colonel Flagg moved toward me. He was a bad one about getting in a guy's personal space. I guess it's some sort of intimidation thing they pick up in intelligence. It's pretty effective. "I will contact Blake if and when I deem it necessary. You will keep your little mouth shut about this. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal, sir."

"Good." He didn't say anything else for a minute. He just stared. Then he reached over and straightened my collar where it had gotten flipped up in back. His fingers grazed the back of my neck, and I guess I shivered. He took a deep breath, then said, "I'm going to have to make time later to have a serious talk with you about your attitude, soldier. Get on with your duties."

I didn't bother with the thermometer. I left the supply room and went straight to where Hawkeye was checking out a patient's chart. I wanted to do this right. I just hoped he was good at charades.

I tugged on his arm. "Yeah?" He didn't look up from the chart, so I tugged harder. He still didn't look up. "What is it, Radar?"

I grabbed the chart and hung it on the hook at the foot of the bed again. "Hey!" I shook his shoulder, trying to tell him by the look on my face that it was important. "What, cat got your tongue?" I crooked my finger at him, then pointed toward the hall, out toward the supply room. He smiled slightly. "I know, Mulcahey has talked you into joining a monastery after the war, and you're practicing your vow of silence."

I stamped my foot in frustration, and the smile faded. "Okay, this is serious, whatever it is?" I nodded. I made a motion of someone spreading a bag open. Then I started grabbing imaginary supplies and stuffing them in, looking around furtively. That part was my imagination. Colonel Flagg hadn't been the least bit ashamed of what he was doing. I pointed toward supply. Then I pretended to hook a flag on a line, hauling it up the flagpole. I gazed up and saluted, then pointed toward supply again. He got it. Most of it, anyway.

His expression got grim, and he headed toward supply. I sighed in relief and followed him. Hawkeye opened the door. "What the hell?"

Colonel Flagg was holding the open duffle bag. It was half full of bottles and boxes, and he was taking more of them off the shelf and stuffing them in it. "Flagg, what do you think you're doing?"

Flagg paused, then put another handful of stuff in the bag. "I'm commandeering a few of your supplies for CIA use, Pierce."

"A few? You've got most of two shelves in there. What do you think you're taking?"

"It's no concern of yours. I need it, and that's all you need to know."

"The hell you say. It's my concern if you take something I need to save a life." He grabbed the bag, but Flagg hung on. "Colonel, let go of that bag. Stealing army supplies, particularly life and death supplies, is a serious offense."

Flagg's expression didn't really change, but he turned red. He let go, though. Hawkeye started to sift through the contents of the bag. "This is all our penicillin, and most of our sulfa drugs. And morphine?" He stared at Flagg incredulously. "You were going to leave us without antibiotics and pain killers?"

"I'm going to pass along another order for more, but I need those."

"What, you're planning on opening up your own stand and going into competition with us? These don't leave here, Colonel. Lives could be lost."

"Lives could be saved, Captain. Do you have any idea what kind of information I can obtain with those drugs to use as barter?"

"I'm sure that would be of great comfort to the soldier with a compound fracture, screaming in pain. Or the families of the ones who die from septic wounds because we can't fight the infections."

"You're over reacting, Captain. Two days, at most..."

"Not a second, Flagg. I'd have Henry hand your butt over to the MPs right now if it wouldn't take me away from some injured boys who need the attention a hell of a lot more than you do. You're a menace. Get out of my hospital."

Flagg glared. His eyes moved past Hawkeye, and fastened on me. "You."

Wow. You have no idea how much someone can say with just one word. I folded my arms, and lifted my chin. "I didn't open my mouth, Colonel, just like you said."

Hawkeye suddenly understood what had happened, and he grinned. "That's right, he didn't. Not a peep. You ought to consider politics, Radar."

"I don't think so, sir. Uncle Ed says most politicians should get more respectable jobs, like playing piano in a whorehouse." I located another thermometer. "Excuse me, sirs. I'm s'posed to be taking somebody's temperature."

I didn't worry about leaving Hawkeye alone with Flagg. I figured Flagg wouldn't try anything with an officer. At least not one with Hawkeye's attitude. A couple of minutes later, Flagg came out of the supply room. He walked through the recovery, headed toward the exit. I kept my head down, looking at my watch as I counted off the time for the thermometer. His footsteps stopped. When I looked up, he was right beside me.

"If you didn't tell Pierce I was in there," he asked, "then how did he know?"

I was tempted to say, That's for me to know, and you to find out but I think he might have hit me. So instead I said, "I never said I didn't tell him. I just said I never opened my mouth."

"Oh? Oh. I see." He studied me closely. What was it with this guy? It was like he was going to try to sketch me from memory later. "Clever. I knew you were smart mouthed, but I didn't realize you were clever, O'Reilly. You just keep getting more interesting all the time."

"I sure don't mean to, sir."

"I know. And that's the most interesting thing of all."

Hawkeye had come back into recovery, and was glaring at Flagg. "Leave the kid alone, Flagg."

Flagg's eyes flicked to Hawkeye, then back to me. He said, so quietly that I know I was the only one who heard him. "For now." Then he left.

Hawkeye was muttering under his breath. "Jerk off. Got his priorities bass-ackward. Christ, what a joke."

"I don't think he's the least bit funny, sir," I protested.

"Oh, I guess you're right, Radar. He's more pathetic than anything else."

Pathetic? What was Flagg doing around everyone else when I wasn't there? He had them all convinced he was nothing but an incompetent blunderer. Maybe his schemes hadn't worked out the way he wanted them to so far, but he wasn't a safe man to laugh at. I seemed to be the only one he was showing his dark side. Maybe it was part of that weird sense of things I have. I dunno. I just know that it made me feel kinda lonely, knowing that I was the only one who thought he was really dangerous.

He didn't leave right away. I saw him at lunch in the mess tent, and at supper, too. Both times he had a full plate of food in front of him, but wasn't eating anything. He was just drinking coffee. I didn't blame him at lunch. Our mess is... well, usually a mess. But almost everyone is usually hungry enough to eat by supper.

He dumped his food in the trash, stacked his tray, and came and sat next to me. Of all the luck. He didn't look at me, he just stared straight ahead, sipping his coffee. I'm not really good at silence. Finally I said, "You weren't very hungry, sir. "

"Some sort of intestinal bug, I guess. Nausea and belly ache. Why? Are you concerned, corporal? Worried about my well being?"

I poked at my food. How was I supposed to answer that? I didn't really wish anything bad on anyone, but if I ever did, Flagg would be pretty close to the top of the list. "If you're sick, you should talk to one of the doctors."

He snorted. "Yes, I'd really be safe in their hands."

That made me mad. "The doctors wouldn't ever hurt anyone who came to them for help! They're too good for that. If you're worried, talk to Major Burns."

He snorted again. "Burns is an incompetent fool. But a useful incompetent fool." He winced, and rubbed his belly. Maybe he was getting an ulcer. I wouldn't have been surprised. I bet being a spy has a high stress level. He really didn't look so good. Flagg usually had a lot of color in his face, but he was looking kind of pale. "You think a lot of your doctors, don't you?"

"Yes sir. They're the finest men I know."

"So that's what impresses you, eh? The intellectual, educated kind. The ones with those soft, smooth, white, long fingered hands?" I stared at him. What on earth was he talking about. "Don't care much for the common man, O'Reilly? The worker, with rough hands, rough edges?"

"I am a working man, sir. I worked my butt off on the farm. I really don't understand what your problem is with me."

"You bother me, soldier." He winced again, and stood up abruptly. The way he ran for the latrine, he was going to lose something, though I couldn't tell if it was going to be the kneeling or the sitting kind of problem. From the look on his face, it might have been both. That could be tricky.

I went over to The Swamp after supper. Hawkeye was reading the Stars and Stripes, and BJ was writing a letter home to his wife, Peg. He looked up as I came in, and smiled at me. Captain Hunicut is a nice guy. "Hey, Radar. I hear you've taken up extra duties as guard dog. Way to go."

"Thank you, sir. Sirs? I think Colonel Flagg is sick."

Hawkeye peered over the top of his paper. "See, Beeg? I told you. Even Radar can tell. He's one sick puppy."

"No sir. I mean sick, sick. He's holding his belly like it hurts, and he made a real dash for the latrine. And I don't think he had much to work with, cause he didn't eat any lunch, or dinner."

BJ put down his pen, looking interested. "Where does he hurt, Radar?"

"Well, he wouldn't tell me. But he grabbed himself here." I folded my hands over my belly button. "And then here." I moved my hand down and to the right.

"Hm. Nausea and/or diahrrhea, abdominal pain locating in the lower right quadrant. Did he look feverish?"

"Kinda. He was sort of red in the face, 'cept when he grabbed his belly. And I think he was sweating a little."

Hawkeye folded his paper. "Sounds like appendicitis. We'd better go check on him."

He wasn't in the mess tent, or the latrine. One of the nurses was in the latrine, and boy, she used some unladylike language when Hawkeye banged on the door. There was a strange jeep still parked nearby, so we figured he hadn't left yet. "We gotta make sure he doesn't leave camp without being examined," Hawkeye said. "If it is his appendix, and it ruptures, the idiot will die in a few hours from peritonitis. God knows, I don't think he'd be a loss, but it's against my religion to let someone kill themselves through stupidity if I can prevent it."

I wasn't too surprised when we found him in the supply room. He had the duffle bag full again, but he was sitting on the floor, holding himself, white faced. I found out that Hawkeye knows some real colorful swear words.

Beeg and Hawkeye got him up and on a cot in recovery, then took a blood sample. Flagg swore right back at them, but he was hurting too bad to do anything but lay there. Hawkeye came back with a hypodermic and a grim look on his face. "Congratulations, Colonel. Your white count is higher than the hopes of a horny teenager at his senior prom. Your appendix is inflamed, and you have an abscess. We have to get rid of it before we can operate. Luckily we just happen to have penicillin on hand, so you won't die."

Before Colonel Flagg knew what was going on, Hawkeye rolled him on his side, shoved his pants half down his behind, and gave him the injection. Flagg grunted, but didn't yell, or anything. It must've hurt, too. It was a pretty big injection. When he was done, Flagg rubbed his rump, gritting his teeth, and staring at me. What did I do? I wasn't the one who stuck him. He just laid there a minute, watching me, before he finally pulled his pants back up. I guess he didn't want to have them pressing against the sore spot.

The penicillin got rid of the infection, and Hawkeye removed Flagg's appendix the next day. He said Flagg would probably make up some espionage fairytale to explain how he got the scar. We had to have him hanging around the camp for a couple of days, recuperating. I got Igor and Klinger to trade off shifts with me so I didn't have to work in recovery while he was there. It cost me a pair of opera gloves for Klinger, and an agreement to be a guinea pig for some of Igor's new recipes later. I figured Colonel Flagg was more dangerous than Igor's cooking.

Flagg was ready to leave a lot sooner than the doctors expected. BJ just shook his head over it. "The man has the constitution and personality of a rhinocerous."

He stopped in to see me before he left. *sigh*

He was moving a little more carefully, he looked a little paler, but there wasn't really all that much difference in how he usually was. What did it take to phase this guy?

He started right into the middle of a conversation, no greetings or anything. "Pierce tells me you saved my life."

"He's the one who did the operation, sir."

"But if you hadn't informed him of my condition, it might have gone untreated. I suppose you think I should be grateful."

My voice was stiff. "I wouldn't presume that, sir."

"Maybe you think I owe you now, Corporal? Perhaps you think that this gives you some sort of hold over me?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but have I said anything like that? I think the colonel may be just a little bit over suspicious."

"Are you saying I'm paranoid?"

"It wouldn't be my place to say, sir."

"Damn straight."

He leaned in. His mouth was close to my ear, and he whispered, "Are you afraid of me, O'Reil.y?" I didn't say anything. I didn't move. You don't admit fear to someone like Flagg, but they can smell it, like a dog.

He smiled. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen, because it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were still flat. "That's good, O'Reilly. That's smart. Remember that is our future dealings."

He did something really weird. He unbuttoned the top button on my shirt. Then the second button. He kept watching my face. I could feel sweat break out on my forehead. He sort of pushed my collar open, and laid his hand in the space, against my chest. My throat went dry. I whispered, "Get your hand off me, sir."

That smile widened...

...and I heard the knob on Colonel Blake's office door rattle. When the door opened, Colonel Flagg was standing by the outside door. Henry frowned at Flagg, "Leaving so soon, Colonel? I thought they wanted to keep you for another day at least."

"I have things to do. Can't loll in bed while the whole intelligence infrastructure goes to hell in a handbasket." He saluted Henry, then looked at me significantly, hand still raised. "Corporal?" I hated like poison to do it, but Colonel Blake was right there, so I saluted. "Button your collar, Corporal." He left.

"What a jackass." Henry turned to me, but I was sinking down in my chair. My knees were weak. "Radar? Did he say something nasty to you before I came in?"

I buttoned my collar, fingers shaking. "No sir. Nothing significant."