Mash by Richard Hooker Page B

thigh. It didn’t look like much. Frank decided to get him out of the way so they could get on with the others. As usual, he didn’t think. He took the kid in with a pressure of eighty over fifty, had them give him anesthesia, and started to debride the wound. It turned out the kid’s femoral artery was lacerated and he bled a lot. Then he had a cardiac arrest, and Frank rubbed his heart. It came back, he stopped the bleeding and got some blood into him, and by midafternoon he looked OK. By the time we came on duty last night the kid was in shock again. Trapper took over, figured he was bleeding from the chest wound Frank made, got his pressure up, and opened his chest again to stop the bleeding.
    “Now the kid’s OK,” Hawkeye said, “but because that bastard Burns didn’t observe a few basic principles, the boy almost died. Instead of cussing himself out for almost losing a patient, Frank thinks he’s a big hero because he did a successful cardiac massage. Therefore Trapper John administered a knuckle sandwich.”
    It took a femme fatale, however, to restore peace, more or less, to the 4077th MASH. She was Major Margaret Houlihan, new Chief Nurse, and one June morning she emerged, not out of a scallop shell like Botticelli’s Venus, but out of a helicopter. She was tallish, willowish, blondish, fortyish. She had a nice figure. In fact, she was a nice-looking, forty-year-old female.
    Within the prescribed twenty-four hours following her arrival, Major Houlihan made a point of seeking out the boss of each shift and attempting to discuss nursing problems with him. Captain Burns was in starched fatigues and his most gracious mood, but he mentioned several nurses whose performance was inadequate and made a variety of suggestions for improvement. The Major was quite impressed with Captain Burns.
    She was less impressed with Captain Pierce. She found him in the mess tent in soiled fatigues having a late breakfast. She introduced herself, and Hawkeye invited her to join him over a cup of coffee.
    “Captain Pierce,” Major Houlihan said, “I observed the night shift and I was not at all impressed with some of our nurses. How do you feel, Captain, about the nursing situation here?”
    “Major,” Hawkeye said, “this is a team effort. I’m responsible for my team. It consists of doctors, nurses and enlisted men. We’ve been working as a unit for six months with little change in personnel. I’m satisfied with them.”
    “Well,” she said, “Captain Burns isn’t at all satisfied.”
    “Mother,” said Hawkeye Pierce, “Captain Burns is a jerk, and if you don’t know it by now you …”
    Major Houlihan arose. “I wonder,” she asked, “how anyone like you reaches such a position of responsibility in the Army Medical Corps.”
    “Honey,” answered Hawkeye, “if I knew the answer to that I sure as hell wouldn’t be here.”
    “Very well, Captain,” Major Houlihan said. “It appears that we are not going to get along. Nevertheless, I want you to know that I will attempt to cooperate with you in every possible way.”
    “Major,” Hawkeye said, smiling, “I appreciate that, so would you consider another cup of coffee?”
    Reluctantly she sat down again and resumed the talk. She was still terribly upset, so Hawkeye tried to explain a few things.
    “Major,” he said, “you’re watching both shifts. Watch them with an eye to which shift does the most work with the least fuss. Watch them with an eye to how many people work happily or unhappily.”
    “I observed last night that both nurses and enlisted men addressed you as ‘Hawkeye’.”
    “That’s my name.”
    “Such familiarity is highly improper,” declaimed Major Houlihan, “and inconsistent with maximum efficiency in an organization such as this.”
    “Well, Major,” said Hawkeye as he got up and left, “I’m gonna have a couple shots of Scotch and go to bed. Obviously you’re a female version of the routine Regular Army Clown. Stay