Nellie wandered into the women's changing room. Her feet felt numb. Her eyes felt tired. Her body ached. More than that, her heart ached. Only Margaret stood in the room with her now. Nellie could hear the doctors chatting quietly beyond the curtains.
"Nice work," said Margaret. The head nurse changed into her fatigues. She smiled at Nellie. "Really. It was impressive."
Nellie forced a smile. "Thank you."
"Go get some sleep."
Nellie watched Margaret leave. Slowly, she started going through the motions. Pull off the bloody scrubs, pull on the clean fatigues. They'd been in surgery for thirteen hours. Now it was one in the afternoon. Even the orange juice that Klinger had made for them hadn't quenched her exhaustion.
She left the hospital alone. The sunlight blinded her. As she went towards her tent, she saw the other surgeons dragging their way into the Swamp. Hawkeye hadn't even gotten rid of his white pants. Her feet dragged as she approached her own tent. So much for poker.
The door shut noisily behind her. Nellie stood there unmoving. She stared at the floor in her tent. After half a minute, she sat on her bed and went to take her boots off. The soles were bloodied. She'd said blood didn't phase her. And yet the sight of the blood of the soldiers caked into the grooves of her boot made her sick.
The bottle of scotch on her desk looked attractive. Nellie poured herself a shot glass full and downed half in one gulp. The bed felt softer than she remembered it being. For half an hour, Nellie just sat staring at the diploma across from her bed. She thanked God that Molly had declined the job offer. She herself had barely made it through without crying; Nellie couldn't imagine Molly doing that given her brother's untimely death. Nellie hadn't even known Paul and the thought of him and the wounded made her sick.
She took another sip. Fatigue threatened to overtake her. Finally she placed the empty glass into her side table. She used a small key to unlock the wooden box and took out her rosary. She started the prayers as she lay down to sleep.
When she woke up, it was to a knock at her door. She didn't bother to put her fatigue button down on or her boots, instead she just pushed open the door. Her hair looked messy, half in a ponytail she hadn't undone after surgery. To her surprise, it was BJ.
"It's the end of dinner," he told her. "Thought you might want to get up before all the food is gone."
She nodded. Shifting in the doorway, she glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds were starting to accumulate over the quickly fading sky. "Thanks. I should probably eat." Then she looked back at him.
"What?"
"To be honest I thought you and Hawkeye were joined at the hip." She cracked a smile and went back inside to put on her boots.
BJ laughed and stood in the doorway. He shook his head. "He's in Post Op."
"Ah."
"You did better than I did."
"Pardon?"
He stood aside as she exited her tent. With a gesture to the Hospital, he tried to explain. "Your first time seeing wounded. I couldn't hold down my lunch."
"They're younger than I expected," she admitted.
Nellie walked with BJ over to the Mess Tent. He didn't respond to her statement. Inside the tent, a few nurses and orderlies still sat eating. She spotted Klinger getting himself food. BJ went to grab a table while she got in line.
"Hey Major! Good work this morning," he said with a grin. "I think even Major Houlihan was impressed."
She smiled back. "Thanks, Corporal."
"You can call me Klinger. Every time I hear that title it makes me hate the army more."
After they both got trays of food and cups of coffee, they joined BJ. He had a mug as well. By now the fading light had almost entirely disappeared. Between the clouds and the sinking sun, night arrived early. Nellie checked her watch. 7:25.
"Looks like it's gonna rain," BJ muttered.
But Klinger just grinned. "Good! Let it rain! Reminds me of Toledo."
"You're crazy."
"Don't tell me, tell the army!"
BJ chuckled. He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. "Klinger if you ever get out on a Section Eight, I'll never complain about this war again."
"Don't do that on my account," Klinger scoffed.
Klinger and Nellie both finished eating at the same time. The former left them quickly, claiming he still had paperwork to fill out from the morning. BJ suggested Nellie join them at the Officers' Club. "Though be careful, Hawk may try to get some of that poker money from yesterday."
Nellie chuckled. She nodded. Standing from her table in the Mess Tent, she disposed of her scraps in the trash can outside. Night had fallen. Wind gusted through the compound, surprising her as she went outside. She folded her arms across her chest. The wind blew her hair every which way into her face.
As they walked towards the Officers' Club, Hawkeye joined them from Post Op. He kicked a rock and it bounced right in front of Nellie. Without hesitating, she kicked it forward too.
"Well you two look about as enthusiastic as I feel," Hawkeye said.
BJ laughed. He shook his head. "I think we could all use a drink."
"Preferably something that's aged more than ten minutes," added Hawkeye.
Not many patrons frequented the Officers' Club that night. Igor stood behind the bar, his Hawaiian shirt the most lively thing there. A handful of corpsmen sat in the corner closest to the door playing poker. At a table near the slot machines, Charles sipped his cognac and sat reading. Instead of Father Mulcahy's piano skills, they were treated to music from the jukebox.
Nellie looked around the room. The Officers' Club was decently sized for their outfit numbers. Five bar stools sat at the counter, unoccupied. Only Igor cleaning the glasses provided any proof towards the name "club."
"We better not disturb the prince." Hawkeye gestured to Charles. Instead he pulled out a chair from a center table. "He gets testy this time of night."
"So do you, Pierce," Charles bit back without even raising his head.
Nellie sat with her back to the slot machine wall. A basket of pretzels sat in the middle of the table. She grabbed one. "Pretzels. What a delicacy."
"I see we speak the same language," said Hawkeye. "I also happen to be fluent in sarcasm."
"It's one of several local dialects," added BJ.
Before Nellie could respond, Igor came over. "What do you want, sirs?" Then he glanced at Nellie. "And ma'am."
"I'll have a scotch," Nellie said.
Hawkeye and BJ both seconded her order. A shout of glee accompanied by several groans sounded from the poker game in the corner. Hawkeye looked over. "Don't spend it all in one place, Goldman!"
The corpsman in question, a short man with dark hair and Mediterranean features, smirked. He didn't respond. Instead he just reached forward and collected the large pot of winnings.
"You did good today," Hawkeye commented. He nodded at Igor when the man plopped their scotches down on the table. "But now the next big challenge faces us."
Nellie took a drink. "Oh?"
"Rapidly approaching is April the first." Hawkeye rubbed his hands together. "And with April the first comes the threat of pranks."
A smile graced BJ's face. He also took a drink. "Tis the season for playing jokes."
"Ah, yes," she said. "I've been warned to watch out for you two. Apparently you have quite the reputation."
"Your flattery will not keep you safe," Hawkeye teased.
Nellie grinned. She sat back against her chair. With a sip of her scotch, she looked Hawkeye straight in the eye. "I didn't expect it to."
Both surgeons grinned in response. Nellie wasn't about to back down from a practical joke war. Then again, she didn't want to make herself an easy target. She decided then and there to strike first. And she had an idea already.
They chatted about nothing in particular for awhile. Nellie enjoyed listening to BJ and Hawkeye banter. She found she didn't need to participate. They just kept going. It amazed her.
Several hours later a great pounding was heard. Everyone in the club looked up. Someone muttered something about "damn rain" and several expletives.
"At least I'm wearing boots and not the damn dress heels," muttered Nellie. She took a drink and finished up her glass of scotch. "I tell you, there is no man in this camp who understands the hell that is those shoes."
Both BJ and Hawkeye snickered to themselves. When Nellie looked at them in confusion, BJ went on to explain. "There is one man."
"Oh?"
Hawkeye finished his own glass. With a smirk, he elaborated. "Klinger. He used to dress up in women's clothes."
"He was trying to get a discharge."
"A Section Eight, insanity discharge."
Nellie laughed out loud. She looked at them in amazement. "You're serious!"
"I have several photos of his outfits," Hawkeye revealed.
"Me too." BJ glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven. He looked over at Charles who seemed to be getting ready to leave. "Why don't we go back to the Swamp. We can show you a couple pictures."
"Your tent is closer than mine. Shorter time to get wet." Suddenly her face fell as they stood from the table. "Though I suppose the rain is one way to get their blood off my boots."
Neither BJ nor Hawkeye said anything in response. They shared a glance as she stared down at her boots. For her, time seemed to stand still.
"Come on, the pictures of Klinger await you," Hawkeye said after a moment.
She straightened up. Charles joined them. Forcing a smile, she followed them out. At five foot seven, she had never thought herself short, but standing by all three Swamp dwellers convinced her otherwise. None of them could've been shorter than six feet tall. She did her best to keep up with their longer strides in the rain that fell around them.
Given all the negative talk about Charles that Nellie had heard in the past couple days, it surprised her that he didn't protest being kept awake by her visit. He held the door for her as she entered the Swamp. With a curt nod, she thanked him.
"So, where are these incriminating photos?" Nellie asked curiously.
Hawkeye offered her the end of his bunk as he went through his footlocker. She sat down and watched both BJ and Hawkeye go through their stuff. But Charles just scoffed.
"Are you talking about Klinger's downright terrible dress code?" He shook his head from where he sat at his desk. "Dare I say that we've thankfully seen the last of that cretin's crossdressing?" Charles took out a pad of paper and a pen. He started composing a letter.
Hawkeye stood from his foot locker with three photos in hand. With a childlike grin, he stepped over to Nellie. "This one was his Scarlett O'Hara showcase. And this one-"
"Oh my gosh, is that him as the Statue of Liberty?" She laughed and took the photos from him. "That's fantastic. Lifelike!" The third photo made had her grinning as well. He wore a pink ruffled dress and floral hair piece complete with white heels and a white purse decorated with a red handkerchief. "Now in this one he's got real style. The rifle truly completes the look."
"That's my personal favorite," Hawkeye agreed. He sat down in the chair next to his cot. "I had him pose so someday I can show my dad."
BJ chuckled. He came back over to them from his own foot locker. The photo he handed to Nellie made her burst out laughing. "Dorothy?"
"The one and only!"
Hawkeye looked at it. "I wish I had that one. It would complete my Klinger Film collection."
"I think I have a whole new respect for Klinger," said Nellie. "Anyone brave enough to crossdress and still be a damn good corpsman deserves a medal."
"He'd settle for a dishonorable discharge," BJ countered.
"He deserves one," muttered Charles.
As the denizens of the Swamp traded jibes and insults, Nellie sat quietly. Klinger had done a bang up job in OR that day. But with her thoughts drifting to OR, the faces of the men she had treated invaded her mind. She stared at her boots. She could still see caked blood on the rubber border at the bottom. There was even some blood on the tips. Part of her wished Sidney had stayed.
The rain had stopped. The pitter patter on the tent roof faded into nothingness. BJ and Charles were arguing about something. Nellie took a deep breath. She stood. "Well, thanks for showing me Klinger's true calling as a fashion icon. I believe I'm helping out in Post Op in the morning?"
"You're with me and Margaret." Hawkeye watched her stoic face change into a forced smile. He stood with her. "These two are going to go on and on forever. I think I'll take a walk."
Nellie left the Swamp, Hawkeye hot on her tail. As much as he had the urge to flirt with her, he bit his tongue. He remember vividly how tough BJ's transition to meatball surgery had been. And though his own introduction felt like decades ago, he knew how hard it was.
"I'll walk you back," he commented.
Nellie just rolled her eyes. But she shrugged and didn't object. With her hands in her button down pockets, she walked next to him. It didn't take long for them to reach her tent. When she opened the door, he saw the bottle of scotch on her desk.
"Scotch tastes better shared," he commented with a grin.
Nellie turned to him. She didn't say anything. But finally she sighed. "One drink."
When they both went inside, she pulled out one of her suitcases from under her bed. A few items she still hadn't unpacked sat bundled together inside. To get to her extra two shot glasses, she took out a framed photo of herself, another woman with dark hair, and a short haired man who resembled herself but stood a full half foot taller and with slightly lighter hair. Nellie placed it on her desk beside her diploma.
"Here." She filled a plain shot glass with scotch.
Hawkeye took it gratefully. "Who are they?" He pointed to the picture.
With a smile, Nellie picked up the frame. She ran her hand over the glass. "On the left is Molly, my roommate from med school. On the right is my brother Jack. The two of us went to visit her last year after she moved to San Francisco to help her move in."
She put down the picture frame and filled her own inscribed glass. The glass was empty after her first drink. But she refilled it immediately.
"Good stuff!" Hawkeye eyed the bottle. "Where'd you get it?"
"Tokyo. I got three bottles as a gift from a general. I performed an emergency tracheotomy when he started choking at a dinner."
"You already drank two bottles?" He looked at her in amazement.
But she just laughed. Taking a seat on her bed, she shook her head. "I sent one home to Jack. Scotch was our drink. I figured he'd enjoy it."
"You two sound close." Hawkeye took a seat in her desk chair. With Nellie's permission he refilled his own glass.
Nellie smiled again. "Yeah. Well, we're all each other's got. Besides, everyone loves Jack." She smirked. Her thoughts drifted. "Jackson Eugene O'Hara. Prom King of our high school, president of the Alpha of Virginia chapter of Phi Beta Kappa, Captain in the US Army..."
"Your parents must be happy," Hawkeye joked.
Nellie looked down at her shot glass. It was empty. She held it out and Hawkeye refilled it. "Both our parents were killed in a car accident. I was twenty-one at the time. Jack had just gotten back from his time in Honolulu."
"Sorry." Hawkeye didn't know what else to say. He watched her looking at her boots again. With brief hesitation, he brought up the reason he'd wanted to stop in. "You did good in the OR. You know the first time BJ saw wounded he lost his lunch."
"So he told me."
"I drink a lot here. But I can tell you from personal experience that drowning yourself in this stuff doesn't help. When you get sober, the wounded are still there. The goddamn war is still there." He clenched his fist.
Nellie didn't immediately respond. She looked from Hawkeye to her boots, and back to him. "I said blood didn't bother me..."
"We all think that until it's pouring out of those kids."
She took a deep breath. With a nod, she finished her glass. Then she walked to her desk. She placed the empty glass in front of her picture frame. "Does it ever come off the boots?"
"Yes."
Her expression changed, hardening. She murmured, "Ad Infinitum, Ad Meliora." Then turning to Hawkeye, she nodded. "I should sleep."
"Good idea. We've got rounds tomorrow." He stood and went to the door. "Now let's hope my roommates have decided to cease and desist."
Nellie laughed. She stood in the doorway as he left. "You're not half bad, you know. And to think everyone said to be careful about you."
"Oh?"
"Seems you have a reputation with the women."
Hawkeye grinned. "Trust me, the supply room is always open if you want to go do some heavy breathing together."
"You wish."
"With all my heart." He wiggled his fingers in a wave as he walked away. "I've never invited a surgeon into my little corner. You should be flattered."
"I take back my compliment."
Hawkeye just winked. As he went back to the Swamp, Nellie rolled her eyes into the night. Her watch read half past one. Definitely time for bed. The pathetic mattress didn't seem so bad after such a long day.