With the motor idling, they could hear the rumble of artillery.

"Thunder?" Duke said.

"Man-made," Hawkeye said. "They welcome all newcomers this way."

"What do we do now?" Duke said.

"Find the mess hall," Hawkeye said. "It figures to be that thing over there."

When they walked into the mess hall there were about a dozen others sitting at one of the long, rectangular tables. They chose an unoccupied table, sat down, and were served by a Korean boy wearing green fatigue pants and an off-white coat.

As they ate they knew they were being looked over. Finally one of the others got up and approached them. He was about five feet eight, a little overweight, a little red of face and eye, and balding. On the wings of his shirt collar were silver oak leaves, and he looked worried.

"I'm Colonel Blake," he said, eyeing them. "You fellows just passing through?"

"No," replied Hawkeye. "We're assigned here."

"You sure?" the Colonel asked.

"Y'all said you all needed two good boys," Duke said, "and we're what the Army sent."

"Where you guys been all day? I expected you by noon."

"We stopped at a gin mill," the Duke told him.

"Let me see your orders."

They got out their papers and handed them to the Colonel. They watched him while he checked the papers and then while he eyed the two of them again.

"Well, it figures," Henry said finally. "You guys look like a pair of weirdos to me, but if you work well I'll hold still for a lot and if you don't it's gonna be your asses."

"You see?" Hawkeye said to Duke. "I told you."

"You're a good man," Duke said.

"Colonel," Hawkeye said, "have no fear. The Duke and Hawkeye are here."

"You'll know you're here by morning," Henry said. "You go to work at nine o'clock tonight, and I just got word that the gooks have hit Kelly Hill."

"We're ready," Hawkeye said.

"Right," Duke said.

"You're living with Major Hobson," Henry said. "O'Reilly?"

"Sir?" Radar O'Reilly said, already at the Colonel's side, for he had received the message even before it had been sent.

"Don't do that, O'Reilly," Henry said. "You make me nervous."

"Sir?"

"Take these officers …"

"To Major Hobson's tent," Radar said.

"Stop that, O'Reilly," Henry said.

"Sir?"

"Oh, get out of here," Henry said.

Thus it came about that it was Radar O'Reilly, who had been the first to know they were coming, who led Captains Pierce and Forrest to their new home. At the moment, Major Hobson was out, so Hawkeye and Duke each selected a sack and lay down. They were just dropping off to sleep when the door opened.

"Welcome, fellows," a voice boomed, followed by a medium-sized major, who entered with a warm smile and offered a firm handshake.

Major Hobson was thirty-five years old. He had practiced a good deal of general medicine, a little surgery, and every Sunday he had preached in the Church of the Nazarene in a small midwestern town. The fortunes of war had given him a job for which he was unprepared, and associated him with people he could not comprehend.

"You fellows certainly are welcome," he intoned. "Would you like to look around the outfit?"

"No," said Duke. "We been stoned all day. Guess we'll get a little sleep."

"We've gotta fix the President's hernia at nine o'clock," Hawkeye said. "We're Harry's family surgeons. We'd ask you to assist, but the Secret Service is worried about Chinese agents."

"Yankee Chinks from the north," Duke said. "Y'all understand."

Jonathan Hobson was shocked and confused, and there was much he didn't understand. Soon after nine o'clock he understood even less. The gooks had indeed hit Kelly Hill, the casualties were rolling in, and the five men on the 9:00 p.m. to 9:00 a.m. shift had their hands full.

When 9:00 a.m.