((This is basically open. The setting is, of course, during the Korean War. The 4077th is a MASH [Mobile Army Surgical Hospital] unit stationed in Korea during the war.))
Korea, 1951.
For the Captain known by many as Spitfire, Aurora Davenport was actually, surprisingly... bored. For once. She had already finished her Bible study homework, her shift had just ended, and even considered another shift as a couple of the Nurses were going to Tokyo for training. Of what, she knew not, but she did know there would be extra work for her to do.
Possibly.
If Major Houlihan was more than okay with that.
Because bless Rory's heart, the last time the Nurse worked consecutive shifts, she was up 36 hours straight before collapsing in the OR. Father Mulcahy kept her in his tent and on his watch while she recovered (which was a much better idea than to put her in Post-Op and possibly at the mercy of the other wounded). And that was just a few weeks ago! Mulcahy wasn't up for her pushing herself too far again, and who could blame him?
"Attention all personnel!!" came the voice over the PA system. Rory sighed as the news of wounded made the rounds and that meant, she'd be bored no more. Quickly she made her way to the Triage area to prepare for the incoming wounded...
Korea, 1951.
For the Captain known by many as Spitfire, Aurora Davenport was actually, surprisingly... bored. For once. She had already finished her Bible study homework, her shift had just ended, and even considered another shift as a couple of the Nurses were going to Tokyo for training. Of what, she knew not, but she did know there would be extra work for her to do.
Possibly.
If Major Houlihan was more than okay with that.
Because bless Rory's heart, the last time the Nurse worked consecutive shifts, she was up 36 hours straight before collapsing in the OR. Father Mulcahy kept her in his tent and on his watch while she recovered (which was a much better idea than to put her in Post-Op and possibly at the mercy of the other wounded). And that was just a few weeks ago! Mulcahy wasn't up for her pushing herself too far again, and who could blame him?
"Attention all personnel!!" came the voice over the PA system. Rory sighed as the news of wounded made the rounds and that meant, she'd be bored no more. Quickly she made her way to the Triage area to prepare for the incoming wounded...
The world was black for Eric Chappell. He didn't know or feel anything. The Chinese had flanked his platoon utilizing the dense fog that rolled over the hills. Their first attack had been ground to a halt by an enfilade of steady .30 Caliber machine gun fire. Corporal Morris and Private Baker lit up anything that moved at their front. Prior to the battle Eric's platoon consisted of thirty men. Midway through the battle it was whittled down to twelve. Everyone was tired, hungry, and scared. He had been moving from each fighting position to the next checking on what members of the platoon were left in his sector. Whispering a few words of encouragement. All the senior enlisted members were incapacitated. Leaving himself and two other E-5s as the only leadership.
By the time he got back to his position the Chinese hit in full force catching them all by the surprise. The only warning anyone got were the explosions of indirect fire. All anyone could do was try to worm their way deeper into the earth and wait for it to stop. Anyone caught above ground would have been turned into ground beef. Then the bugles and whistles started. Crawling up to the side of his fox hole he took aim with his M1 and started firing. Trying his best to keep a steady stream of fire on the enemy. Balancing the transition of targets from those who were closest and those who posed the most risk to the platoon.
Various rifle rounds kicked up dirt all around his position. All he could do was ignore it. Off to his left he spotted a machine gun crew moving into position. He cranked off the rest of the cartidges in his magazine. Reaching for another enbloc clip before he even heard the loud PING of his rifle ejecting the spent one. Another bugle call sounded. The Chinese troops began to mass again. The amount of rifle fire began to double just as one of the 1919s went silent. He cursed and began to crawl back toward Corporal Morris' position. Keeping as low the ground as he could. Ignoring the sick feeling as a rifle round skimmed off his helmet.
A fragmentation grenade rolled in front of him. Burying his face into the dirt he hoped for the best as it went off. Fragments whizzed overhead followed by a shower of earth. Eric started crawling again before anymore grenades followed the first. Slithering into Morris' position he found the machine gunner curled up on the ground with his hands clutched tightly to his throat. A bullet had pierced his windpipe and severed his carotid artery. His A-gunner Private Clarke was slumped over next to the gun. He had been shot in the face. The 1919 was empty as well as both their weapons. There was no ammunition to be found.
Before Eric could with draw an enemy soldier lept down into the foxhole. Acting on pure instinct he tried to deflect the thrust with his rifle. Only it was too late to completely stop the attack. He cried out as the cruciform bayonet from the Mosin-Nagant rifle pierced his left shoulder. Dropping his rifle he drew the 1911 pistol from his side and fired twice. The man holding the rifle fell with a groan pulling the bayonet out with him. Eric could feel his left arm losing strength as he began to fall back to the others leaving his rifle behind. It wouldn't do him any good with only one arm.
He crawled back to the next position only pausing for another grenade thrown his way. Taking up position next to one of his men he picked up a dropped M1 Carbine and rested the fore-end on a sandbag. "Good to see you Sarge." shouted Private Goldman. This time the attack was signaled with a whistle. Then the shouting and screaming started. Eric didn't have time to take aim it started so fast. All he could do was point, shoot, and reload. Once their ammunition was almost depleted Eric and Goldman tried to withdraw. A Chinese soldier that made it to the edge of the fox with a PPSH-41 fired a burst catching Goldman in the back and Eric in the hip. "****!" Eric cried before rolling over and shooting his assailant with his pistol.
"Get out of here! I'll be right behind you!" Eric shouted. Goldman scrambled out of the hole as he fired off at the advancing troops. It was going to be someday, he thought. Years before he had made it through Europe without a scratch. Everyone said he had a horse shoe tattooed on his hind quarters after all the hell he made it through. This was how he wanted to go. Back home didn't make sense for him anymore. Loading his last mag Eric fired at the advancing enemy until they were almost on top of him. There was a flash of red and he felt hands at his throat. His vision cleared to see almond shaped eyes staring at his own as the enemy attempted to choke the life out of him.
Eric grip tightened on his pistol and he managed to roll the enemy on his back. He struck the man several times in the head with the gun. Over and over until the hands began to weaken. Blood splashed onto his uniform and into his face. He kept hitting him. The hands dropped free. He looked up to see the butt of a rifle strike him in the face. Rolling onto his stomach he tried to crawl away. Then the roar of artillery drowned everything out, and Eric's world was plunged into darkness.
Hours later a counter attack pushed back the Chinese. A medic moved from body to body searching for wounded. Private Goldman managed to direct him back to the position he had withdrawn from. Stretcher bearers loaded up Eric's unconscious form into a truck for transport behind friendly lines. All the while he maintained a death grip on his weapon. Not that anyone had the heart to try and take it. The pistol clenched in his hand was a grim reminder of what was going on at the front lines. Another medic had cut away his clothing and applied bandages to his wounds. It was the best they could do until the surgeons were done with him.
By the time he got back to his position the Chinese hit in full force catching them all by the surprise. The only warning anyone got were the explosions of indirect fire. All anyone could do was try to worm their way deeper into the earth and wait for it to stop. Anyone caught above ground would have been turned into ground beef. Then the bugles and whistles started. Crawling up to the side of his fox hole he took aim with his M1 and started firing. Trying his best to keep a steady stream of fire on the enemy. Balancing the transition of targets from those who were closest and those who posed the most risk to the platoon.
Various rifle rounds kicked up dirt all around his position. All he could do was ignore it. Off to his left he spotted a machine gun crew moving into position. He cranked off the rest of the cartidges in his magazine. Reaching for another enbloc clip before he even heard the loud PING of his rifle ejecting the spent one. Another bugle call sounded. The Chinese troops began to mass again. The amount of rifle fire began to double just as one of the 1919s went silent. He cursed and began to crawl back toward Corporal Morris' position. Keeping as low the ground as he could. Ignoring the sick feeling as a rifle round skimmed off his helmet.
A fragmentation grenade rolled in front of him. Burying his face into the dirt he hoped for the best as it went off. Fragments whizzed overhead followed by a shower of earth. Eric started crawling again before anymore grenades followed the first. Slithering into Morris' position he found the machine gunner curled up on the ground with his hands clutched tightly to his throat. A bullet had pierced his windpipe and severed his carotid artery. His A-gunner Private Clarke was slumped over next to the gun. He had been shot in the face. The 1919 was empty as well as both their weapons. There was no ammunition to be found.
Before Eric could with draw an enemy soldier lept down into the foxhole. Acting on pure instinct he tried to deflect the thrust with his rifle. Only it was too late to completely stop the attack. He cried out as the cruciform bayonet from the Mosin-Nagant rifle pierced his left shoulder. Dropping his rifle he drew the 1911 pistol from his side and fired twice. The man holding the rifle fell with a groan pulling the bayonet out with him. Eric could feel his left arm losing strength as he began to fall back to the others leaving his rifle behind. It wouldn't do him any good with only one arm.
He crawled back to the next position only pausing for another grenade thrown his way. Taking up position next to one of his men he picked up a dropped M1 Carbine and rested the fore-end on a sandbag. "Good to see you Sarge." shouted Private Goldman. This time the attack was signaled with a whistle. Then the shouting and screaming started. Eric didn't have time to take aim it started so fast. All he could do was point, shoot, and reload. Once their ammunition was almost depleted Eric and Goldman tried to withdraw. A Chinese soldier that made it to the edge of the fox with a PPSH-41 fired a burst catching Goldman in the back and Eric in the hip. "****!" Eric cried before rolling over and shooting his assailant with his pistol.
"Get out of here! I'll be right behind you!" Eric shouted. Goldman scrambled out of the hole as he fired off at the advancing troops. It was going to be someday, he thought. Years before he had made it through Europe without a scratch. Everyone said he had a horse shoe tattooed on his hind quarters after all the hell he made it through. This was how he wanted to go. Back home didn't make sense for him anymore. Loading his last mag Eric fired at the advancing enemy until they were almost on top of him. There was a flash of red and he felt hands at his throat. His vision cleared to see almond shaped eyes staring at his own as the enemy attempted to choke the life out of him.
Eric grip tightened on his pistol and he managed to roll the enemy on his back. He struck the man several times in the head with the gun. Over and over until the hands began to weaken. Blood splashed onto his uniform and into his face. He kept hitting him. The hands dropped free. He looked up to see the butt of a rifle strike him in the face. Rolling onto his stomach he tried to crawl away. Then the roar of artillery drowned everything out, and Eric's world was plunged into darkness.
Hours later a counter attack pushed back the Chinese. A medic moved from body to body searching for wounded. Private Goldman managed to direct him back to the position he had withdrawn from. Stretcher bearers loaded up Eric's unconscious form into a truck for transport behind friendly lines. All the while he maintained a death grip on his weapon. Not that anyone had the heart to try and take it. The pistol clenched in his hand was a grim reminder of what was going on at the front lines. Another medic had cut away his clothing and applied bandages to his wounds. It was the best they could do until the surgeons were done with him.
"Spitfire!! Quick, we have a few more here!!"
Major Houlihan called the Nurse over and Rory ran over from one area of Triage. "My word, Major" she panted, "some of these lads took a serious hit."
"I know," Margaret replied with a nod as she and Rory examined the wounded before them.
"The realities of war" Rory sighed sadly.
Margaret couldn't reply to the statement from the Nurse, which made her think a little. There was some truth to that as the wounded were brought in, operating was under way and another long shift for Rory began. Father Francis Mulcahy glanced to Rory while they were both at the O.R. at one point, concerned about her but also knowing she would be okay once she got some rest.
Once the patients were in Post-Op, Rory was able to sit for a moment. "Rory, you're looking a trite worn out" Captain "Hawkeye" Pierce noted.
"Yeah" the Nurse replied. "Just a trite."
"You're gonna be alright?"
"Yeah. I think I will be. I should be."
"Well if you need anything, just let me or the others know, okay?"
"I will, Hawkeye. Thanks."
"Anytime, kiddo."
After a few moments more of rest, Rory got up and freshened up before going to check up on some of the patients in the Post-Op Ward. One of the patients was Sergeant Eric Chappell, and she took a glance at the chart and then at the lad just in case he was awake. Some woke up from the anesthesia right away, others not so.
Major Houlihan called the Nurse over and Rory ran over from one area of Triage. "My word, Major" she panted, "some of these lads took a serious hit."
"I know," Margaret replied with a nod as she and Rory examined the wounded before them.
"The realities of war" Rory sighed sadly.
Margaret couldn't reply to the statement from the Nurse, which made her think a little. There was some truth to that as the wounded were brought in, operating was under way and another long shift for Rory began. Father Francis Mulcahy glanced to Rory while they were both at the O.R. at one point, concerned about her but also knowing she would be okay once she got some rest.
Once the patients were in Post-Op, Rory was able to sit for a moment. "Rory, you're looking a trite worn out" Captain "Hawkeye" Pierce noted.
"Yeah" the Nurse replied. "Just a trite."
"You're gonna be alright?"
"Yeah. I think I will be. I should be."
"Well if you need anything, just let me or the others know, okay?"
"I will, Hawkeye. Thanks."
"Anytime, kiddo."
After a few moments more of rest, Rory got up and freshened up before going to check up on some of the patients in the Post-Op Ward. One of the patients was Sergeant Eric Chappell, and she took a glance at the chart and then at the lad just in case he was awake. Some woke up from the anesthesia right away, others not so.
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