"I'm having you court-martialed!"

"Henry," said Hawkeye, "I had nothing to do with it. It was all this dumb southern boy. However, I'll gladly participate in the consequences. Where do we get court-martialed? Tokyo, or maybe San Francisco?"

"San Francisco, hell. You get court-martialed here and now. You're both confined to the post for one month. This is a summary court-martial, and I've just held it."

"But y'all can't…" the Duke started to say.

"Look, Henry," Hawkeye said, "be reasonable. I wouldn't know how to get off this post if I wanted to, but I'd like to keep the way open in case they make me Surgeon General of the United States."

"Me too," Duke said.

With a grunt, the commanding officer departed, and it is possible that the penalty would have stood, except that the very next day Major Hobson, his ego restored and perhaps even enlarged by the Colonel's legal action, extended his activities. He began praying in the mess hall for fifteen minutes before each meal.

"That'll do it," Hawkeye predicted to the Duke.

It did. Colonel Henry Blake was endowed with more human understanding than is required of a Regular Army Medical Officer, but after three days of this he left his lunch uneaten, went to his tent, called 8th Army Headquarters, arranged orders for Major Hobson, drove him to Seoul and put him on a plane for Tokyo and home where, a few weeks later, the Major's enlistment would expire. Honorably discharged, he would return to his general practice, his occasional excursions into minor surgery and his church.

Returning from Seoul on the night of his Great Delivery, Colonel Blake was very tired and slightly mulled, but he mixed himself a drink and then collapsed on his cot. Before he could find sleep, however, Hawkeye Pierce and Duke Forrest entered. Apparently contrite, they silently helped themselves to a drink. Then they knelt in front of their commanding officer and started to pray.

"Lordy, Lordy, Colonel, Sir," they wailed, "send our asses home."

"Get your asses out of here!" yelled Colonel Blake, rising in wrath.

"Yes, sir!" they said, salaaming as they went.

3

Several weeks after the departure of Major Hobson, it was again first reported by Radar O'Reilly and then announced by Colonel Blake that a new surgeon had been assigned to the 4077th MASH. The only available information was that he was a chest surgeon and he was from Boston.

"Great!" exulted Hawkeye.

"Goddam Yankee," said Duke.

"Undoubtedly a good boy," said Hawkeye.

He arrived on a cold and snowy morning about nine o'clock. Henry brought him to the mess hall for coffee and introduced him to the other surgeons, most of whom, because the gooks had been quiet for three days, were there.

The new boy was six feet tall and weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds. His name was John Mclntyre. The fatigue suit and parka he wore prevented anyone from getting much of a look at him. He acknowledged introductions with noncommittal grunts, he sat down at a table, pulled a can of beer out of a pocket and opened it. Then his head disappeared into the parka like a turtle's into its shell, and the beer followed it.

"Seems like a nice fella," Duke said, "for a Yankee."

"Where you from, Dr. Mclntyre?" someone asked.

"Winchester."

"Where did you go to school?

"Winchester High," from somewhere inside the parka.

"I mean medical school."

"I forget, I guess."

"That," said Hawkeye to the Duke, "ought to stop the conversation for a while. I got a feeling I've seen this thing before. Wish he'd come out of the cocoon."

Captain Ugly John Black, the chief anesthesiologist, apparently decided to smoke him out. During his long working hours, when operating-room technique required that the anesthesiologist attending the patient be separated from the rest of the operating team, Ugly John was often lonesome for conversation. The new man's laconic responses were at least more talk than Ugly John could get back from his anesthetized patients.

"Have a good trip over?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Fly?"

"Nope."

Ugly scratched his head and figured he'd play the guy's own game.

"So what did you do, walk?"

"Yep."

"Great idea," Ugly said. "I wonder why I didn't think of it."

The head came out of the parka and looked Ugly over with great care.

"I don't know," it said.

By now it seemed fairly obvious to the group that they had some kind of a nut on their hands, and all, including Duke and Hawkeye, departed with haste. During the day, while the new boy was being oriented and supplied with this and that, most of the outfit went to Henry and asked him not to put Captain Mclntyre in any of their tents—all except Duke and Hawkeye.

"Let's see what happens," Hawkeye said.

"Yeah," Duke said.

Late that afternoon it happened. The door of the tent swung open, and in came the new boy, bag and baggage. The baggage was dumped on one of the empty cots, and the new boy lay down. A hand went into the depths of the parka, came out with a can of beer, went back in and came out with an opener.