Athena Project [ M*A*S*H ]

S*I*X*T*E*E*N

When dinner ended, Nellie retreated back to her tent. The half empty bottle of Scotch she'd brought from Tokyo sat in the corner near her notebook, and her shot glasses stood nearby. She stared at the drink for a moment. Her mouth watered. Reaching for the glass, she hesitated at the last second. Instead she grabbed her notebook and pencil.

There weren't many places to sit in the 4077th other than the Mess Tent and Officer's Club. But she didn't want to sit alone for the night. Or rather, she did, but she knew it wasn't good for her. She left her tent.

Nellie stopped suddenly. While her tent door closed behind her, she looked up. A thousand colors splashed across the sky. In the darkest recesses, a few of the brightest stars peaked through the fabric of evening. It took her breath away. It made her think; how could such beauty exist in such horror?

With a small smile, Nellie pulled herself away from the miraculous sunset. She made her way across the compound leisurely. The door to the Officer's Club flew open as she got close, and three orderlies stumbled out laughing and clinking beers. She stood aside to let them pass.

The offbeat lilting of Father Mulcahy's piano playing clearly sounded over the mostly subdued atmosphere of the club. As Igor cleaned glasses behind the bar, a handful of orderlies sat in the corner near the door chatting. She asked for a beer from him at the bar before she took her own seat in the opposite corner. From this back corner should could see everything. 

Klinger leaned against the piano smoking a cigar. He wore the tan short sleeve undershirt of the fatigues, having took off his Mudhens jersey in the heat of the evening Officer's Club. She didn't blame him. Even her own Hawaiian shirt nearly felt too warm over her tank top. Between puffs of his cigar, Klinger chatted with Padre.

The knowledge of impending wounded had everyone quiet. She could hear it in the voices of the men around her: short sentences, tense tones, laughter that seemed to end a bit too quickly. Igor looked preoccupied with shining the shot glasses. They sparkled in the warm light.

Nellie opened her journal. She passed the flying elephants and the deer and the glass slippers. The first clean page she reached had a slight wrinkle in it, and the edges had coffee stains. No matter. The coffee stains became part of the scene of the Officer's Club as she sketched the world around her. 

Between the seemingly endless loop of Mulcahy's piano and the hum of the enlisted men, Nellie fell into her own rhythm. She forgot about the wounded, she almost forgot about the war. For a time, only she, her pencil, and the club existed. It went on for hours. Enlisted men and nurses came and went, Klinger and Mulchahy eventually stopped their conversing. Her page transformed.

At three in the morning, she got the feeling Igor wanted to close up. Her third beer bottle sat nearly empty, but her fingers barely tingled. One last gulp, and she left the quiet Officer's Club, the tired bartender, and the tranquil atmosphere. When she flipped on the light in her tent, it nearly blinded her. The walk across the compound hadn't done her eyes any favors.

A distant but rapidly approaching whir came into earshot. Her journal tumbled to the floor. Nellie clenched her fist.

"Sorry, folks. But the next wave is here. Report to the OR on the double! First and second surgical teams to the chopper pad. Places everyone!"

Nellie threw off her Hawaiian shirt and ran back outside in just her undershirt. The flash of headlights immediately blinded her. Her hands flew into her face instinctively. But the clamor of the wounded and the medical staff jolted her back into the present. Charles and the Colonel unloaded the first ambulance, and as a second pulled up, she forced herself into action.

Her boots slammed against the steps into the ambulance. As she bounded up, she grabbed a flashlight from a nurse and shined it down the bus. All sixteen metal cots were full. Groans of pain bombarded her ears as she made her way down the bus. The first two men she looked at were hurt only moderately bad. They could wait. As Nellie continued to check wounds and their reports, she forced herself to breathe. Overall, no immediately life threatening wounds now that they'd been stabilized.