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M*A*S*H DIARY
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
1 April 1951
Dear Diary:
Well, I’ve managed to survive my first day at the 4078th ... barely (more on that shortly). I have to say that the day was quite a challenge ... both vexing and humiliating, and in the end quite harrowing. Thank goodness it’s over and I have a little time to write before turning in ... and, yes, I’m forced to spend another night in the same tent with Captains Tree, Wragg, Jolly and Goodman ... seems the women's quarters is still without a bed for me.
Ok, back then to my day. Best to start at the beginning.
I woke around sunup to a whiff of really bad breath and a warm hand roaming about stealthily inside my bra. As a finger and thumb closed to pinch my nipple, I gasped, sat bolt upright in bed, ripped the offending hand away, clutched my blanket to my chest, and screamed “What the fuck!” in Captain Tree’s face.
“Just a little check up,” he drawled nonchalantly.
No! Time to check out!” I shouted angrily, pointing toward the tent flap.
He shrugged and withdrew. I waited till I was sure he was gone and looked around warily. The tent was empty. I was alone. Hastily, I jumped out of bed, stripped down, wrapped myself in a towel and went off in search of the camp latrine and showers.
By the time I got to the showers there was a line of nurses waiting outside for the men to finish up and leave. I joined the queue, but kept to myself. I wasn’t in any mood for chit-chat. Having been forewarned, I was on the lookout for RR and his voyeuristic camera. But, the little corporal was nowhere to be seen and when it was my turn I took my shower without incident.
From there it was back to the tent to get dressed and then off for breakfast. As I approached the mess hall tent, I noticed a bunch of enlisted men and doctors clustered around what appeared to be a notice board. Thinking it was where they posted whatever was on the menu for the day, I edged in for a closer look ... only to find the board plastered with 8 X 10 glossy photos of me stripping down to panties and bra the night before, and ... even worse ... of me stark naked in the shower.
Not caring who might get elbowed, I barged in, angrily ripped the photos down and ripped them to shreds while everyone stood around pointing and laughing.
“Wait till I get my hands on Corporal Rodent!” I muttered to myself as I made a beeline for the tent of the camp’s commanding officer ... nothing less than a full court martial on my mind.
Bursting inside, I stopped short at the sight of Corporal Rodent bent over a typewriter and was about to lay into him when a voice behind me said, “Lieutenant Moore! Right on time, I see.”
I spun around and on seeing what must have been the CO standing there, I snapped to attention and saluted.
“What do you m ... m ... mean ‘right on time’?” I stammered.
“At ease, Lieutenant. I’m Colonel Phlebas, he said with an accent that identified him as one of those Aussies. He sported a boyish devil-may-care smile that suggested to me that he was definitely not the kind of CO to run a very tight ship.
“And what I meant by ‘right on time’, Lieutenant Moore,” he continued, “is that Corporal Rodent predicted that you would blow in here at exactly 0620 and, as usual, he was right on the money.”
“Well, Colonel Phlebas. That’s funny ‘cause as a matter of fact I came to have a word with you about Corporal Rodent. You see ...”
“Have a drink, Lieutenant?” replied Phlebas, cutting me off as he snatched a bottle and a pair of smudged glasses from his cluttered desk top.
“No, thank you, Sir. No disrespect, but I’m here to lodge a complaint. You see ...”
“Incoming!” shouted RR, tipping over his chair and scuttling under his desk.
“It’s only a formal complaint,” I said, mystified.
“No, Corporal Rodent means we’re being shelled,” snapped Phlebas as he grabbed me by the arm, threw me under his desk and dived under himself ... landing full on top of me.
I was about to push myself free of him when I heard a screeching whoosh followed almost simultaneously by a series of deafening explosions that shook the earth and brought the whole command post tent down around us.
Then it was over as quickly as it had started. Slowly, Phlebas eased himself off of me. “Everyone ok?” he shouted over the ringing in my ears. “Good work, RR ... I don’t know how you always know what’s coming ahead of time, but don’t ever stop.”
“Katyusha rockets,” said RR knowingly.
I extended a shaking hand. The Colonel reached out and helped me to my feet, pulling me much closer to him than was necessary.
“Now about your complaint, Lieutenant?” he said, smoothing my hair and brushing dust from the front of my uniform, several buttons of which had come undone.
“Nothing. Forget it,” I said, extricating myself from his groping grasp and pulling my half-open shirt together. Without another word I staggered away, carefully avoiding the rim of the still smoking crater in front of the flattened command post door.
I hadn’t gone far before Corporal Rodent’s voice rasped over the camp’s PA speakers, “Incoming wounded. Incoming wounded. Report for duty.”
For the next thirteen exhausting hours I worked alongside Colonel Phlebas and Captains Tree, Wragg, Jolly and Goldman as they performed what they ruefully referred to as ‘meatball surgery’. It was dreadful. Blood, guts and severed limbs everywhere. Dying boys in uniform. At times what I saw made me so sick I wanted to run away, but I did my job ... helped in part by the doctors’ non-stop irreverent patter. I learned from their incessant joking and horsing around that the only way to rise above the horror was to not take it seriously, or at least pretend that it was all a big joke. I learned that booze, laughter and lots and lots of sex is what kept them going day after day.
I also got to know a few of the nurses.
The unit’s head nurse, Eulalia, was a Scot and a stickler who expected her nurses to behave dutifully, offering themselves up in complete subservience to every need and whim of the doctors. No back talk! No complaining. Serve your masters well, no matter what they might require of you ... including gratuitous sex or whatever kink floated their boats.
Then there was the Canadian, Kathy, who loved to flirt and, judging from the OR chatter, was quite willing to do risqué things that my strict Midwestern upbringing would never countenance. The standing joke seemed to be that although she was ordinarily game to try almost anything, she was reluctant to swallow. I’m embarrassed to say that it took me quite awhile to glom on to exactly what they meant by that. Somehow I doubt they’re going to let me forget that little bit of naïveté.
The other nurse I worked with that night was a full-figured Brit who they simply called ‘FSG’. Listening to Kathy and her I was beginning to get the impression that off-duty life among the doctors and nurses of the 4078th was one big orgy ... quite possibly one that far exceeded anything the Romans ever might have come up with, even under the likes of Caligula.
When the last of the wounded was finally carried out of the OR, we all went straight to our quarters, desperate for sleep. Or in the case of the doctors, mind-numbing drink. I declined and flopped onto my cot to write this entry in my diary, when Corporal Rodent came by to say that the Chinese that day had launched a major offensive and were getting too close for comfort. He said that we should be prepared to “bug out” on a moment’s notice, and added ominously that one of the other MASH units, the 4044th, had been overrun earlier that day and rumor had it that the Chinese had ... of all things ... crucified the nurses.
On that terrifying note, I reversed course and asked Tree to pour me a drink. He asked me if maybe I might like to get undressed first, upon which Captains Wragg, Jolly and Goldman all turned and looked my way eagerly. Goldman even offered kindly to help.
I declined to strip for them, but took the drink, downed it and asked for another, but this time without the horny potion. Tree looked disappointed, but I think he added the potion anyway.
I need to close this entry now, dear Diary, as I am feeling woozy and weirdly aroused, and everyone is crowding around me expectantly.
I promise to write again tomorrow.
Dear Diary:
Well, I’ve managed to survive my first day at the 4078th ... barely (more on that shortly). I have to say that the day was quite a challenge ... both vexing and humiliating, and in the end quite harrowing. Thank goodness it’s over and I have a little time to write before turning in ... and, yes, I’m forced to spend another night in the same tent with Captains Tree, Wragg, Jolly and Goodman ... seems the women's quarters is still without a bed for me.
Ok, back then to my day. Best to start at the beginning.
I woke around sunup to a whiff of really bad breath and a warm hand roaming about stealthily inside my bra. As a finger and thumb closed to pinch my nipple, I gasped, sat bolt upright in bed, ripped the offending hand away, clutched my blanket to my chest, and screamed “What the fuck!” in Captain Tree’s face.
“Just a little check up,” he drawled nonchalantly.
No! Time to check out!” I shouted angrily, pointing toward the tent flap.
He shrugged and withdrew. I waited till I was sure he was gone and looked around warily. The tent was empty. I was alone. Hastily, I jumped out of bed, stripped down, wrapped myself in a towel and went off in search of the camp latrine and showers.
By the time I got to the showers there was a line of nurses waiting outside for the men to finish up and leave. I joined the queue, but kept to myself. I wasn’t in any mood for chit-chat. Having been forewarned, I was on the lookout for RR and his voyeuristic camera. But, the little corporal was nowhere to be seen and when it was my turn I took my shower without incident.
From there it was back to the tent to get dressed and then off for breakfast. As I approached the mess hall tent, I noticed a bunch of enlisted men and doctors clustered around what appeared to be a notice board. Thinking it was where they posted whatever was on the menu for the day, I edged in for a closer look ... only to find the board plastered with 8 X 10 glossy photos of me stripping down to panties and bra the night before, and ... even worse ... of me stark naked in the shower.
Not caring who might get elbowed, I barged in, angrily ripped the photos down and ripped them to shreds while everyone stood around pointing and laughing.
“Wait till I get my hands on Corporal Rodent!” I muttered to myself as I made a beeline for the tent of the camp’s commanding officer ... nothing less than a full court martial on my mind.
Bursting inside, I stopped short at the sight of Corporal Rodent bent over a typewriter and was about to lay into him when a voice behind me said, “Lieutenant Moore! Right on time, I see.”
I spun around and on seeing what must have been the CO standing there, I snapped to attention and saluted.
“What do you m ... m ... mean ‘right on time’?” I stammered.
“At ease, Lieutenant. I’m Colonel Phlebas, he said with an accent that identified him as one of those Aussies. He sported a boyish devil-may-care smile that suggested to me that he was definitely not the kind of CO to run a very tight ship.
“And what I meant by ‘right on time’, Lieutenant Moore,” he continued, “is that Corporal Rodent predicted that you would blow in here at exactly 0620 and, as usual, he was right on the money.”
“Well, Colonel Phlebas. That’s funny ‘cause as a matter of fact I came to have a word with you about Corporal Rodent. You see ...”
“Have a drink, Lieutenant?” replied Phlebas, cutting me off as he snatched a bottle and a pair of smudged glasses from his cluttered desk top.
“No, thank you, Sir. No disrespect, but I’m here to lodge a complaint. You see ...”
“Incoming!” shouted RR, tipping over his chair and scuttling under his desk.
“It’s only a formal complaint,” I said, mystified.
“No, Corporal Rodent means we’re being shelled,” snapped Phlebas as he grabbed me by the arm, threw me under his desk and dived under himself ... landing full on top of me.
I was about to push myself free of him when I heard a screeching whoosh followed almost simultaneously by a series of deafening explosions that shook the earth and brought the whole command post tent down around us.
Then it was over as quickly as it had started. Slowly, Phlebas eased himself off of me. “Everyone ok?” he shouted over the ringing in my ears. “Good work, RR ... I don’t know how you always know what’s coming ahead of time, but don’t ever stop.”
“Katyusha rockets,” said RR knowingly.
I extended a shaking hand. The Colonel reached out and helped me to my feet, pulling me much closer to him than was necessary.
“Now about your complaint, Lieutenant?” he said, smoothing my hair and brushing dust from the front of my uniform, several buttons of which had come undone.
“Nothing. Forget it,” I said, extricating myself from his groping grasp and pulling my half-open shirt together. Without another word I staggered away, carefully avoiding the rim of the still smoking crater in front of the flattened command post door.
I hadn’t gone far before Corporal Rodent’s voice rasped over the camp’s PA speakers, “Incoming wounded. Incoming wounded. Report for duty.”
For the next thirteen exhausting hours I worked alongside Colonel Phlebas and Captains Tree, Wragg, Jolly and Goldman as they performed what they ruefully referred to as ‘meatball surgery’. It was dreadful. Blood, guts and severed limbs everywhere. Dying boys in uniform. At times what I saw made me so sick I wanted to run away, but I did my job ... helped in part by the doctors’ non-stop irreverent patter. I learned from their incessant joking and horsing around that the only way to rise above the horror was to not take it seriously, or at least pretend that it was all a big joke. I learned that booze, laughter and lots and lots of sex is what kept them going day after day.
I also got to know a few of the nurses.
The unit’s head nurse, Eulalia, was a Scot and a stickler who expected her nurses to behave dutifully, offering themselves up in complete subservience to every need and whim of the doctors. No back talk! No complaining. Serve your masters well, no matter what they might require of you ... including gratuitous sex or whatever kink floated their boats.
Then there was the Canadian, Kathy, who loved to flirt and, judging from the OR chatter, was quite willing to do risqué things that my strict Midwestern upbringing would never countenance. The standing joke seemed to be that although she was ordinarily game to try almost anything, she was reluctant to swallow. I’m embarrassed to say that it took me quite awhile to glom on to exactly what they meant by that. Somehow I doubt they’re going to let me forget that little bit of naïveté.
The other nurse I worked with that night was a full-figured Brit who they simply called ‘FSG’. Listening to Kathy and her I was beginning to get the impression that off-duty life among the doctors and nurses of the 4078th was one big orgy ... quite possibly one that far exceeded anything the Romans ever might have come up with, even under the likes of Caligula.
When the last of the wounded was finally carried out of the OR, we all went straight to our quarters, desperate for sleep. Or in the case of the doctors, mind-numbing drink. I declined and flopped onto my cot to write this entry in my diary, when Corporal Rodent came by to say that the Chinese that day had launched a major offensive and were getting too close for comfort. He said that we should be prepared to “bug out” on a moment’s notice, and added ominously that one of the other MASH units, the 4044th, had been overrun earlier that day and rumor had it that the Chinese had ... of all things ... crucified the nurses.
On that terrifying note, I reversed course and asked Tree to pour me a drink. He asked me if maybe I might like to get undressed first, upon which Captains Wragg, Jolly and Goldman all turned and looked my way eagerly. Goldman even offered kindly to help.
I declined to strip for them, but took the drink, downed it and asked for another, but this time without the horny potion. Tree looked disappointed, but I think he added the potion anyway.
I need to close this entry now, dear Diary, as I am feeling woozy and weirdly aroused, and everyone is crowding around me expectantly.
I promise to write again tomorrow.
Last edited:
This feels like an episode of the TV show!
Not at all. I think you will find that I insist on a tight, err, ship, and I have high expectations that you Nurse Moore will meet my expectations
Just exercising my duty of care to the officers under me. And you, Moore, were definitely under me.
Really? And were the doctors forced to provide medical assistance? Hmmmm.
Loving it Barb, you have the tone right, silly and yet respectful, and with a lot of scope for fun.
Dismissed!
From there it was back to the tent to get dressed and then off for breakfast. As I approached the mess hall tent, I noticed a bunch of enlisted men clustered around what appeared to be a notice board. Thinking it was where they posted whatever was on the menu for the day, I edged in for a closer look ... only to find the board plastered with 8 X 10 glossy photos of me stripping down to panties and bra the night before, and ... even worse ... of me stark naked in the shower.
Kathy
Terra Nova Tramp
Say what you mean, Colonel ...
I noticed ...
Thanks, Colonel
From there it was back to the tent to get dressed and then off for breakfast. As I approached the mess hall tent, I noticed a bunch of enlisted men clustered around what appeared to be a notice board. Thinking it was where they posted whatever was on the menu for the day, I edged in for a closer look ... only to find the board plastered with 8 X 10 glossy photos of me stripping down to panties and bra the night before, and ... even worse ... of me stark naked in the shower.
Madi scores again!
The OR chatter is correct , I enjoy having a good time but I don't swallow.
Yep, that's Nurse Kathy ... doing what she does best
Honestly, these episodes all go to commercial just as we're getting to the interesting bits.
I think you'll find your debilitating upbringing can be overcome. The doctors seem quite happy to help.
Great chapter, Barb.
What?
You don’t appreciate “leave it to their imaginations”?
Go for it!
Or, wait until the next diary entry
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
There goes rule #1 of warfare : 95% of the time is boredom!
We really look out for it!
Really looking forward!
This story is promising , inventive I hope and as usual, well written !
Glad you like it Messa. Now I just need to invent a way to introduce a certain seductively charming French vixen into the storyline.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Glad you like it Messa. Now I just need to invent a way to introduce a certain seductively charming French vixen into the storyline.
Like this?
windar
Teller of Tales
Obviously this story is a work of fiction. Moore is never up that early.
Talk about "just what the doctor ordered"...
I am more than willing to provide you ample opportunities for the practice you so badly need.
You see what a nice guy I am
messaline
Crucified Amazon
2 April 1951
Dear Diary:
This is my third entry, reporting on my second full day with the 4078th. Yesterday, as you know, was dreadful. Today was ... well .... different, as you will see.
I woke again at sunrise, just as I did the day before, but this time with a very bad hangover. To put it simply ... I felt like absolute shit! My first coherent thought was “What the fuck did Captain Tree put in those drinks last night?”
Then I noticed that I was stark naked. My second coherent thought was “What the fuck did I do last night?”
I opened both eyes and looked around. The tent was empty. The others were apparently gone already. I was alone.
Gingerly ... trying not to move too fast ... I sat up, swung my legs over the side of my cot and sat very still. I waited. Then when my head stopped spinning, I began to take stock.
I immediately found a folded sheet of paper pinned to my mattress. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a love sonnet penned by Captain Wragg ... how sweet, I thought, until I read the verse and my face turned red with embarrassment. What the fuck did I do last night?
Looking up I noticed a wooden paddle over on Captain Goldman’s cot. Instinctively, I had to check out my bare bottom, which ... sure enough ... turned out to be quite tender to the touch. What the fuck did I do last night?
Then my attention turned to Captain Tree’s so-called trophy rack, and there among the copious display of lacy feminine underthings hung my own bra and panties! What the fuck did I let him do to me last night!
Shaken to the core, I turned to the cot of my fourth tent mate, Captain Jolly. It contained a folded note. Unable to restrain myself, I sprang to my feet, snatched it up and read, “Dear Lieutenant Moore. You passed out last night before it was my turn. But that’s ok. I’m the most patient doctor in the camp, and waiting always makes the final reward all the more enticing and enjoyable. I look forward to it at the toga party Captain Tree is organizing for the back room of the company medical supply tent this evening. See you there.”
Collapsing back on my cot, I buried my head in my hands and thought to myself, “this place is insane!”
After a good cry, I got hold of myself. Deciding I needed solace ... a comforting soul to whom I could confide ... and complain ... I dressed quickly, and eschewing a shower (I was taking no chances with Corporal Rodent and his camera) as well as breakfast (not a good idea on top of Tree’s booze and Joan’s horny potion), I went out in search of the company chaplain.
Eventually I found his tent back behind the latrines. The wooden sign over the door read, ‘Father Q. Paul, Chaplain’.
Opening the door, I stepped inside to find the front office space empty, but a rhythmic noise was emanating from the back room, punctuated at intervals by gasping and moaning. If I hadn’t known better ... the tent being a place of God ... I would have said it was the sound of two people copulating.
I hesitated, then called out, “Hello, Father Paul?”
“Yes, hold on ... just one moment!” came a somewhat out-of-breath-sounding reply.
I waited.
Several minutes passed before Father Paul appeared, with tousled hair and not fully hitched up pants.
“Ahhh, my child ... welcome ... what can I do for you?” he sang as he looked me up and down as though I was a piece of meat. “I don’t believe we’ve met? Are you new to the 4078th?”
“Yes, Father I am. I’m Lieutenant Barbara Moore. And I’ve come because I need to talk to someone about the unsettling things I’ve experienced since I arrived here yesterday. As you can see, I’m quite upset.”
“Oh dear. Do sit down my child. Can I get you something to drink? I just happen to have some of Captain Tree’s special brew on hand.”
“No, Father. Not that, especially not with Joan’s horny potion in it!” I exclaimed, rising indignantly from the camp stool on which I had perched. “Father, I’m shocked! I thought you were a man of God, and certainly not of the ilk of Tree and the other crazies here! Just a glass of water, if you please.”
“Yes, of course my child. Tell me now, just what is it that has you so upset?”
“Everything Father. There’s the bloody horror of the OR, of course. But I expected that. What has me really upset is the total lack of respect I have gotten from the camp doctors and from that little vermin, Corporal Rodent. Do you know that since I’ve arrived, and mind you it’s been scarcely over a day, I’ve been photographed without my consent while undressing and showering, groped by my CO, Colonel Phlebas, and drugged by Captain Tree so that he along with Captains Wragg, Jolly and Goldman could strip me naked and take turns having their way with me. And on top of that I was terrified to learn that the Chinese have recently taken to crucifying captured nurses and that Captain Tree is organizing a toga party tonight in the supply tent, where I fear my humiliations are sure to multiply!”
“Well, that doesn’t sound all that bad to me, Lieutenant. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty much par for the course around here. This is a war zone and the Good Lord often looks the other way in difficult times. One piece of advice, though, if I may ... be sure to wear nothing under your toga tonight. It’s expected. Indeed it’s the rule. And breaking the rule may require a punishment.”
“I expected sympathy from you, Father. I’m truly shocked! Why you’re no better than they are!”
“No, really. I want to help you. What about the women? How have they treated you? They are a fine bunch, you know. Nurse Eulalia keeps them well in line.”
“Perhaps so , Father, but I really have only met a few and that was in the OR. Hardly a place for a friendly get acquainted chat, is it?” And besides I am billeted with the doctors, not the nurses!
“I can see that you are very upset and troubled my child, and that you could use someone of your own gender to comfort you. I have just the thing. If you follow me into the back room, I will introduce you to Messaline, the young French nun who assists me in my ministry here. I’m sure she will put you at ease and the two of you will get on famously ... and I will be nearby and ready to assist should I be ... uh ... shall we say ... uh ... needed.”
He took me by the hand and led me to the back room, holding back the flap so I could pass through. There, lying stretched out on her side on a bed, was a woman wearing absolutely nothing more than a wooden crucifix, hung from a string around her neck.
“Come in cheri,” she purred. “Messaline has been listening to your troubles. Men can be pigs, n’est-ce pas? Come lie down beside me, yes? ... Slip out of your clothes, let us be comfortable ... “
“What? All of them?”
“Oui cheri. There is nothing like flesh on flesh and soft talk to soothe and comfort the soul, n’est-ce pas? ... Come now ... off with the clothes. Do not be shy with Messaline!”
“Well, I don’t know.”
Hurry! ... your Messaline awaits ... that’s right, cheri ... come lie here and place your hand on Messaline’s breast ... Is that not nice, yes?”
“Uh huh.”
“Now, slide your thigh between mine ... ahhhhhhhh ... tres bien ... that’s it ... you’re moving now .... and wet too ... mmmmmmm ...”
I really couldn’t believe what was happening!
But I was also powerless to stop it. I was in her spell.
“Oh Father Paul, join us now, s’il vous plait,” cooed Messaline in a throatily urgent tone. “We are nearing ecstasy and wish to feel the the sweet sting of the lash!”
Dear Diary, there were no incoming wounded today to draw me away from spending the day in bed with Messaline and Father Paul. It’s evening now as I write this. After breaking bread and drinking wine with Messa and Father Paul, I’m back in the tent dressing for tonight’s toga party. I have the place to myself. The doctors are away somewhere, so I’m able to fuss with the toga I’ve been fashioning from my bedsheet. I think I look smashing in it. And I’m not planning to wear a thing under it!
I promise to report on how it all went down in my next entry.
Dear Diary:
This is my third entry, reporting on my second full day with the 4078th. Yesterday, as you know, was dreadful. Today was ... well .... different, as you will see.
I woke again at sunrise, just as I did the day before, but this time with a very bad hangover. To put it simply ... I felt like absolute shit! My first coherent thought was “What the fuck did Captain Tree put in those drinks last night?”
Then I noticed that I was stark naked. My second coherent thought was “What the fuck did I do last night?”
I opened both eyes and looked around. The tent was empty. The others were apparently gone already. I was alone.
Gingerly ... trying not to move too fast ... I sat up, swung my legs over the side of my cot and sat very still. I waited. Then when my head stopped spinning, I began to take stock.
I immediately found a folded sheet of paper pinned to my mattress. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a love sonnet penned by Captain Wragg ... how sweet, I thought, until I read the verse and my face turned red with embarrassment. What the fuck did I do last night?
Looking up I noticed a wooden paddle over on Captain Goldman’s cot. Instinctively, I had to check out my bare bottom, which ... sure enough ... turned out to be quite tender to the touch. What the fuck did I do last night?
Then my attention turned to Captain Tree’s so-called trophy rack, and there among the copious display of lacy feminine underthings hung my own bra and panties! What the fuck did I let him do to me last night!
Shaken to the core, I turned to the cot of my fourth tent mate, Captain Jolly. It contained a folded note. Unable to restrain myself, I sprang to my feet, snatched it up and read, “Dear Lieutenant Moore. You passed out last night before it was my turn. But that’s ok. I’m the most patient doctor in the camp, and waiting always makes the final reward all the more enticing and enjoyable. I look forward to it at the toga party Captain Tree is organizing for the back room of the company medical supply tent this evening. See you there.”
Collapsing back on my cot, I buried my head in my hands and thought to myself, “this place is insane!”
After a good cry, I got hold of myself. Deciding I needed solace ... a comforting soul to whom I could confide ... and complain ... I dressed quickly, and eschewing a shower (I was taking no chances with Corporal Rodent and his camera) as well as breakfast (not a good idea on top of Tree’s booze and Joan’s horny potion), I went out in search of the company chaplain.
Eventually I found his tent back behind the latrines. The wooden sign over the door read, ‘Father Q. Paul, Chaplain’.
Opening the door, I stepped inside to find the front office space empty, but a rhythmic noise was emanating from the back room, punctuated at intervals by gasping and moaning. If I hadn’t known better ... the tent being a place of God ... I would have said it was the sound of two people copulating.
I hesitated, then called out, “Hello, Father Paul?”
“Yes, hold on ... just one moment!” came a somewhat out-of-breath-sounding reply.
I waited.
Several minutes passed before Father Paul appeared, with tousled hair and not fully hitched up pants.
“Ahhh, my child ... welcome ... what can I do for you?” he sang as he looked me up and down as though I was a piece of meat. “I don’t believe we’ve met? Are you new to the 4078th?”
“Yes, Father I am. I’m Lieutenant Barbara Moore. And I’ve come because I need to talk to someone about the unsettling things I’ve experienced since I arrived here yesterday. As you can see, I’m quite upset.”
“Oh dear. Do sit down my child. Can I get you something to drink? I just happen to have some of Captain Tree’s special brew on hand.”
“No, Father. Not that, especially not with Joan’s horny potion in it!” I exclaimed, rising indignantly from the camp stool on which I had perched. “Father, I’m shocked! I thought you were a man of God, and certainly not of the ilk of Tree and the other crazies here! Just a glass of water, if you please.”
“Yes, of course my child. Tell me now, just what is it that has you so upset?”
“Everything Father. There’s the bloody horror of the OR, of course. But I expected that. What has me really upset is the total lack of respect I have gotten from the camp doctors and from that little vermin, Corporal Rodent. Do you know that since I’ve arrived, and mind you it’s been scarcely over a day, I’ve been photographed without my consent while undressing and showering, groped by my CO, Colonel Phlebas, and drugged by Captain Tree so that he along with Captains Wragg, Jolly and Goldman could strip me naked and take turns having their way with me. And on top of that I was terrified to learn that the Chinese have recently taken to crucifying captured nurses and that Captain Tree is organizing a toga party tonight in the supply tent, where I fear my humiliations are sure to multiply!”
“Well, that doesn’t sound all that bad to me, Lieutenant. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty much par for the course around here. This is a war zone and the Good Lord often looks the other way in difficult times. One piece of advice, though, if I may ... be sure to wear nothing under your toga tonight. It’s expected. Indeed it’s the rule. And breaking the rule may require a punishment.”
“I expected sympathy from you, Father. I’m truly shocked! Why you’re no better than they are!”
“No, really. I want to help you. What about the women? How have they treated you? They are a fine bunch, you know. Nurse Eulalia keeps them well in line.”
“Perhaps so , Father, but I really have only met a few and that was in the OR. Hardly a place for a friendly get acquainted chat, is it?” And besides I am billeted with the doctors, not the nurses!
“I can see that you are very upset and troubled my child, and that you could use someone of your own gender to comfort you. I have just the thing. If you follow me into the back room, I will introduce you to Messaline, the young French nun who assists me in my ministry here. I’m sure she will put you at ease and the two of you will get on famously ... and I will be nearby and ready to assist should I be ... uh ... shall we say ... uh ... needed.”
He took me by the hand and led me to the back room, holding back the flap so I could pass through. There, lying stretched out on her side on a bed, was a woman wearing absolutely nothing more than a wooden crucifix, hung from a string around her neck.
“Come in cheri,” she purred. “Messaline has been listening to your troubles. Men can be pigs, n’est-ce pas? Come lie down beside me, yes? ... Slip out of your clothes, let us be comfortable ... “
“What? All of them?”
“Oui cheri. There is nothing like flesh on flesh and soft talk to soothe and comfort the soul, n’est-ce pas? ... Come now ... off with the clothes. Do not be shy with Messaline!”
“Well, I don’t know.”
Hurry! ... your Messaline awaits ... that’s right, cheri ... come lie here and place your hand on Messaline’s breast ... Is that not nice, yes?”
“Uh huh.”
“Now, slide your thigh between mine ... ahhhhhhhh ... tres bien ... that’s it ... you’re moving now .... and wet too ... mmmmmmm ...”
I really couldn’t believe what was happening!
But I was also powerless to stop it. I was in her spell.
“Oh Father Paul, join us now, s’il vous plait,” cooed Messaline in a throatily urgent tone. “We are nearing ecstasy and wish to feel the the sweet sting of the lash!”
Dear Diary, there were no incoming wounded today to draw me away from spending the day in bed with Messaline and Father Paul. It’s evening now as I write this. After breaking bread and drinking wine with Messa and Father Paul, I’m back in the tent dressing for tonight’s toga party. I have the place to myself. The doctors are away somewhere, so I’m able to fuss with the toga I’ve been fashioning from my bedsheet. I think I look smashing in it. And I’m not planning to wear a thing under it!
I promise to report on how it all went down in my next entry.
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Quiet Paul
Tribune
AMEN.