Writer Wrong: Part One

Bad Start

By: Helen J. Lake

Disclaimer: M*A*S*H belongs not to me, and no money was made by writing this. Dangit.

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            It’s amazing how instinct takes over when you’re being threatened. There I was; a civilian in South Korea, surrounded by the war…and now alone. I was a journalist’s aide, following him on his quest for glory—on paper anyways. I was actually chosen to keep him in line, I knew. Everyone else in our entourage knew: even the MP’s that accompanied us knew!!

            We’d been on our way to visit a renowned MASH unit when we’d drawn sniper fire. The MP’s had tossed us behind a group of thick trees and returned fire. I hadn’t known how loud gunshots were this close, or how the smoke after they’re discharged would tickle your throat for hours afterward.

            Ten minutes later, we were ready to move on. Without warning, Fredricks (one of our large MP’s) dropped, a hole where his temple and ear had been. I stared, fascinated by the exposed gore for a beat. Then everyone scattered…

            It was pure instinct that saved me. When Irvin (my “esteemed” boss) was thrown into the air by a landmine, I bolted in the opposite direction and dove under a bush. I refused to move, even as I saw the rest of the troupe dead, or dying…or worse, being calmly stalked by a few ruthless North Korean soldiers.

            They argued amongst themselves—probably wondering where the tiny woman with the dark hair, namely me—had gone. Finally, they shrugged and made sure everyone was dead by shooting them in the head. I smothered a scream when a clump of bloody brain matter landed on my hand. Instead, I emptied my stomach as silent y as possibly.

            I laid there another hour…two…I lost track.

            The sun was setting when I crawled out from under the bush. My body ached and I moved stiffly. I went to our abandoned truck, seeing that they’d burned it. A singed duffle bag seemed salvageable, so I pulled it out. Inside, I found mostly clothes—one of the MP’s—and a small handgun. Dropping the duffel, I hefted the gun the gun, remembering that I had been quite a shot in my youth…

            “Bullets,” I mumbled. “I need ammo…” I turned until I spotted the prone bodies of Fredericks. Swallowing, I held one hand over my mouth and nose, and with the other, I searched his belt and pockets.

            Gagging, but victorious, I skittered away from him and loaded the gun. I caught a glimpse of my clothes and saw how filthy and bloody I was. As darkness grew, I shivered violently—out of coldness or shock, I’m not sure.

            I started walking, in the general direction I thought the MASH unit was. I counted my steps, telling myself to think of myself, to mourn the others later.

395…396…397…398…

            Maybe that’s why all the anger and sadness came out when I saw the North Korean soldier.

            He was already dead—the bastard—and lay at the side of the road like a piece of trash waiting for the garbage truck…

            I kicked him, smacking and screaming and even aiming the gun at him, though I never did fire. I just couldn’t waste the bullet, despite the intense desire to.

            I had worked up quite a sweat during my abuse of the deceased man, and so, once I stood. I began to shiver uncontrollably. I eyed his jacket, and before I could reconsider, I tore it off of him and wrapped myself in it.

            Stumbling in my exhaustion, I continued down the road. My mind narrowed and focused on the dirt beneath my shoes, the gun in my hand, and the sounds of…a man yelling in Korean?

            My hand came up, to shade my eyes from the rising sun, when I heard a loud BANG.

            The world tilted and spun as my leg burst into flame and my cheek smashed into the dirt.

 

*   *   *

 

            “…the hell did you fire at her!” a voice was demanding.

            “I’m sorry, sir,” a plaintive voice replied. “I saw the jacket and the gun…”

            Daring to open one eye, I saw a figure in a cowboy hat leaning over me. He was peering intently at my leg, and though I tried, he moved faster than I could focus my eyes. I could have sworn I saw a blue Hawaiian print…

            “Hawk, she’s waking up,” another voice interrupted. I blinked up at him, seeing a friendly and open gaze. “Hi there,” he said to me. I groaned, lifting my head to look around. He pressed his palm against my forehead, gently keeping it down. “No, no,” he said in a friendly tone. “Keep your head down.”

            I gasped. “Come on! Keep your head down!” I heard Fredericks’ voice.

            “You’re going to be fine,” the one called Hawk declared, his face appearing and holding still long enough for me to see him clearly. “This is the MASH 4077,” he continued. I frowned. “I’m Doctor Pierce, and I’m going to fix you up.”

            As he spoke, I suddenly realized that we were moving. I seemed to be on a stretcher…a mask was held above my mouth and nose.

            “Breathe deeply,” a calm voice instructed, and despite myself, I lost consciousness once more.

 

*   *   *

 

            “Doctor!” a woman called as I fought my way to the world again.

            My leg was throbbing dully and the realization made me jolt awake. I gasped.

            “Easy,” Pierce said, at my side. My eyes locked on his. He smiled slightly. “Do you speak English?” he asked.

            I laughed—the sound was bitter and harsh. I’d been asked that more times than I could count, and it made sense: my mother was Japanese, and my father was white. I had the tilted eyes (exotic, former lovers had said), and the shiny black hair (but mine was curly, thanks, Dad). It still caught me by surprise.

            “I’m as American as you,” I finally declared. “Although I may have a better grasp of the English language…”

            He stared for a beat, then smirked. “She sounds like Charles!” he announced to the nearby nurse, who smiled in agreement. “What’s your story? Who are you?”

            My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The answers were there, but how could I explain all that had happened? The absolute horror…fear swept over me and I shook my head.

            “I…” My throat closed up and I swallowed dryly. “I’m a journalist…” It was all I could say, all I was sure of at the moment. I breathed deeply and sighed.

            Pierce stood to confer with another familiar face—the man who’d been there when I awoke the first time, speaking so kindly to me. They were out of earshot, at the end of my cot. Part of me wished I could read lips, while another part asked if I was so sure I couldn’t.

            I took the opportunity to glance around. I was last in a row of cots, with a matching group on the other side of the room. A blonde nurse tended to a young man at the other end of the room. When the double doors near her opened and an older man entered, my gaze met his. He didn’t hesitate, but instead strode right over and just looked at me.

            “Well, Pierce?” he demanded.

            Ah, the Commanding Officer…

            “Colonel, I’d like you to meet our very-American journalist,” he said simply.

            The colonel raised both eyebrows at me and I swallowed nervously. He nodded, a gentle expression in his eyes. “Colonel Sherman T. Potter,” he said, sitting on a stool beside the bed. “At your service.” He was eyeing me, analyzing. “Now, Miss, how did you end up in a North Korean’s jacket, covered in blood, and waving a pistol?”

            Just like that, I was there. Mines were exploding, guns firing, and the blood was spilling…

            “Whoa!” Potter cried, his hand on mine. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

            Sharon,” I spit out between clenched teeth. “My name is Sharon Lightfoot. I’m from Massachusetts…my group was attacked…”

            Silence, then a soft voice. “How many?”

            “Six of us, plus two MP’s…” I replied. “They…were all killed…I hid in the bushes. While my companions died, I was cowering beneath the bushes! Oh, God!”

            I was sobbing, shaking all over as I remembered my troupe. But once again, my anger pushed the fear out of the way and I grew calm.

            “I waited until dark, then I found a gun in a bag…” I continued quietly. My sudden mood swing did not concern me, though the others exchanged a look. “I walked and walked…I was cold, I saw a dead soldier—North Korean—and took the jacket. The next thing I remember clearly is waking up here.” A thought popped into my head. “Hey, I got shot by one of your guys!”

            Potter made a face. “An overeager young soldier, I’m afraid.”

            I nodded wearily. “There’s a lot of that going around…”

 

*   *   *

 

            I don’t even remember falling asleep, but suddenly there I was—waking up. No one took notice this time, so I looked around again. I was still relatively alone, though I saw a new nurse at the desk nearby. My leg ached, but not much, so I shifted until I was in a mostly upright position. The nurse was at my side in an instant.

            “Hello,” she said, making a mark on the clipboard at the end of the cot. “I’m Lieutenant Kellye, can I get you anything?”

            I thought for a moment. “A pen and a pad of paper would be wonderful.”

            “Of course,” she replied. “You’re a journalist after all.”

            A soldier near the other doors was whistling softly. I was trying to name the song when Kellye returned. I smiled tightly and accepted the paper and pencil.

            And there it was—a journalist’s worst enemy: the blank sheet of paper.

            Try as I might, I found I couldn’t just start telling what had happened. Instead, I began to jot down everything I knew about the people who had died.

 

Irvin Ashton, age 33, single—general pain in the ass and know-it-all. Good journalist, terrible joke-teller. Loves to collect restaurant coasters and fortunes from gypsies. Believes everyone is out to take his job.

Melissa Cotton, age 19, newlywed—absolute knock-out, both by looks and brains. Graduated from high school at age 15, college degree in European Literature. Wanted to have 5 children with her fiancé, Robert. Joined us to complete her dissertation on wartime novels.

Clayton Thuxburn, age unknown, married over twenty years—grizzled old war vet and photographer. Published dozens of times in magazines and Stars and Stripes; often quoted Shakespeare, of all things.

Maurice Bordeaux, age 27, single and constantly looking—our resident chef, since food critics are not often needed here. Sex fiend who prides himself on visiting every House of ill repute in Asia, or trying to.

Rupert Collins, age 35, married—quiet, reserved, and solemn. But when he makes a joke, look out! Clever and talented cartoonist.

Marshall Emerson, age 40, divorced—hated working with the MP’s and often criticized them and what they stood for. Believes war to be an excuse for mentally unhealthy men to kill legally.

 

I paused, then decided to add myself.

 

Sharon Lightfoot, age 27, single—journalist of mediocre caliber, aspiring novelist. Took this job to put bread on the table, unwillingly paired with Irvin. Collects books and useless knick-knacks that cause more clutter of the mind than is worthwhile. A poet; an artist at heart; caught in a whirlwind life of traveling and never having the chance to miss home.

 

Another pause.

 

Andrew Fredricks, M.P.

Leon Gordon, M.P.

 

Sadly, I realized there was nothing more I really knew about them. I let the pad drop onto my lap, my wrist sore from holding it up for so long.

“Finished?” Kellye asked, standing at the end of the bed.

I shook my head. “Just need a break.”

She smiled. “Are you hungry? You missed all the meals today.”

My stomach clenched. “No, thank you.”

“You need to eat,” she insisted.

Sighing, I bowed my head in defeat. She left me, murmuring to someone outside the doors. Shortly, a bowl of soup appeared before me.

“I’m afraid it’s not much, mostly just broth,” she said.

“It’s fine, thanks,” I mumbled. She was waiting, so I slurped at the thin liquid. It worked and she left me to eat.

When she was working at the small desk again, I put the soup—if you could call it that—to the side. Sighing, I looked at the pad of paper and flipped to a new page.

 

To the families of those I knew:

            I’m sorry.

 

It wasn’t quite right still, so I added four words.

 

…I didn’t die too.

Sharon Lightfoot

 

            Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes.

 

 

Onward To Part Two…