Richard Hooker - MASH - A Novel About Three Army Doctors

“Mother,” Hawkeye said, “you like Captain Waldowski, don’t you?”

“That’s right,” Mother said. “In fact, there’s somethin’ about that man I greatly admire.”

With that as his cue, and with the Duke nodding assent, Hawkeye launched into an explanation of the emotional and mental state of the Painless Pole and then an impas­sioned plea. When he finished, Mother Divine agreed to do his part to save the Pride of Hamtramck.

In the Clinic that evening the poker game was stopped, and the poker and pool facilities, along with the dental chair, were removed. Two long tables were transported from the mess hall, candles were lighted and the Swampmen tended bar. The guests—doctors, chopper pilots, enlisted men—began to warm up, but Painless Waldowski sat unhappily in a corner, barely acknowledging the greetings of his friends and ad­mirers.

At the stroke of midnight the Last Supper was served, and no finer meal had ever been prepared at the 4077th MASH. This was due not only to the inspired efforts of Mother Divine but also to the fact that a Canadian supply truck had been hijacked a few miles to the south that very afternoon. As a result, smoked Gaspe salmon was followed by Pea Soup Habitant, roast beef sliced to the individual’s preference, three vegetables, tossed salad, baked alaska, coffee or tea, Dram­buie and Antonio y Cleopatra cigars.

Painless drank reluctantly and little, but Duke saw to it that the drinks were high in alcoholic content. Painless ate without appetite and at the conclusion of the meal, as each guest rose to make a short speech of fondness and farewell, he barely acknowledged the tributes and good wishes.

When the speeches had been completed, the coffin was carried in. It was lined with blankets and supplied with three fresh decks of cards, a box of poker chips, a fifth of Scotch, several basic dental instruments and pictures of Painless Wal­dowski’s three fiancees. For the first time Painless showed some interest.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The coffin for y’all,” the Duke informed him.

“But I’m not even dead yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re a pretty big guy,” Hawkeye said. “We don’t want to have to lug you around after you take the black capsule. We figured you could get in the box and then take it. Really, Painless, it’ll be a helluva lot more convenient.”

Painless looked doubtful.

“Hey, Painless,” someone else asked, “which way do you think you’ll go? Up or down?”

“I’ve asked the Father to arrange that,” he said, glancing at Dago Red.

“You sure you still got an inside track, Red?” asked Trapper John. “If there’s any chance of a slip-up, Painless might change his mind.”

“My mind’s made up,” asserted the Painless Pole.

Father Mulcahy administered the last rites. As he con­cluded, there was a murmur of approval. This had been one of Red’s best and most elaborate fixes.

“Well stroked,” said the Duke.

As Painless prepared to enter the coffin and take the black capsule, Trapper and Hawkeye were watching the door anx­iously. Suddenly it was thrown open and Radar O’Reilly burst in upon the gathering and, gasping for breath, yelled, “Hold everything!”

“What’s the matter?” Hawkeye said.

“I just got the message,” Radar said. “Painless needs a parachute. The fix didn’t take, and he goes down.”

A low, sudden rumble of discontent swept the room. The group turned its attention to Father Mulcahy.

“What’s wrong, Red?” demanded Trapper John. “You lose your stuff?”

“Never mind the recriminations,” said Hawkeye. “Let’s get on with it.”

He produced a parachute, and one of the chopper pilots helped him get Painless Waldowski into it. By now Painless was feeling the booze.

“I don’t want to be a parachute jumper,” he complained. “I might get killed.”

“You just might,” Hawkeye consoled him. “Get in here, Painless. It’s time for take-off.”

Complete with parachute, Painless got into the coffin. He took the black capsule and washed it down with a shot of Scotch. Within five minutes, he was in dreamland.

Trapper John came forward with a blue ribbon. Reverent­ly, but loosely, he tied it around the Pride of Hamtramck, and the poker game started. At frequent intervals, one or another of the Swampmen got up to check their dentist’s pulse, respiration and blood pressure.

On one occasion, when Painless seemed a little deeper than desirable, he was given a small dose of stimulant. By day­break, he showed signs of recovery. He was removed from the coffin and taken to a waiting helicopter of the 5th Air Rescue Squadron parked just behind the preop ward. At a height of about fifty feet over the ballfield, directly in front of The Swamp, he was given a large shot of benzedrine intravenously and lowered from the chopper by a rope. A string attached to the ripcord was pulled, and the chute opened. A rescue crew waited below holding a blanket. The pilot released the rope. Painless and his parachute, to the cheers of the gathering, plummeted eight feet into the blanket.

While the chute was being removed, Painless rubbed his eyes, looked around and said, “What the hell’s going on, boys?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” said Hawkeye. “Come into The Swamp.”

“You look dry,” said Trapper, handing him a can of beer. “Where you’ve been, I hear you can get a thirst. Tell us about it. How’d you get back?”

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” said Captain Waldowski, leaving the tent after downing the beer in three gulps.

Upon his return, Painless, obviously proud and holding a blue ribbon in his hand, informed them, “I don’t know where I’ve been, but wherever it was I sure as hell won first prize. How about a game of poker?”

The other doctors in the 4077th spent a great deal of time in discussion of the men of The Swamp. When Duke’s name was mentioned, it was generally agreed that he was the most amiable, and therefore likeable, of the three. Trapper John’s consummate skill as a surgeon earned him the most respect, but when it came to Hawkeye Pierce there was a great divergence of opinion.

The man who hated Hawkeye the most was Captain Frank Burns. He had good reason. He was persecuted by Hawkeye Pierce. Captain Burns was the boss of one surgical shift, and Hawkeye of the other. Working times frequently overlapped, so some contact was inevitable. The more contact they had, the more they hated each other.

Frank Burns was the son of a general practitioner and surgeon in a medium-sized Indiana town. After one year of internship, and as heir apparent, he had joined his father in practice for three years before being drafted. He owned a thirty-five-thousand-dollar house and two automobiles.

Hawkeye Pierce had spent the same three years in a surgical residency, without salary, and had been supported by his wife and hospital poker games. In Hawkeye’s opinion, Frank Burns, despite a definite technical competency, seldom thought and was a fake. In Frank Burns’s opinion, Hawkeye Pierce was an uncouth yokel who failed to understand that learning surgery from a father who didn’t know any was better than formal training in a teaching hospital.

Captain Burns, born to affluence, accustomed to authority, was very definitely the boss of his shift. He found the enlisted men exasperating. At least once a week, it was necessary for him to report someone to Colonel Blake for dereliction of duty. It then became necessary for Captain Pierce to in­tercede in behalf of the enlisted man, which he always did successfully. This annoyed Captain Burns, and one day he approached Captain Pierce and attempted to discuss the subject.

“Frank,” Hawkeye said, “you stink. I haven’t decided what to do about you, but sooner or later I’ll come to some sort of decision. Now I suggest that you go to bed and lull yourself to sleep counting your annuities or something, before you pre­cipitate my decision, to the sorrow of us both.”