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‘Radar,’ Hawkeye thought experimentally, staring at Radar across the table.
Radar looked up at him, pausing his eating. “Did you need something, Hawkeye?”
“Ha!” Hawkeye slapped the table, upsetting BJ’s coffee, and pointed at Radar. “You can read minds!”
Potter dabbed drops of BJ’s spilt coffee from his shirt. “You were staring right at him, Pierce, doesn’t take a mind reader to figure that one out.”
Radar went back to his steady shovelling of food into his mouth.
“What you have to do is think of something specific,” BJ advised. His coffee had spilt onto his eggs, and he was now dipping his sausages into the brown, grainy mixture. “Like an elephant in roller skates.”
“Or a rhino on a skateboard.”
“Or a hippopotamus on a unicycle.” Apparently satisfied his point had been made, BJ tried one of the sausages and made a disturbed face. “I think these may have been run over by a hippopotamus.” He stood, heading back to the the chow line.
“Alright, Radar, what am I thinking now?” Hawkeye stared intently at Radar, who grew visibly more uncomfortable, fumbling with his cutlery.
“That’s enough, Hawkeye, leave the boy alone,” Potter rescued him. “He’s got work to do. Radar, go find today’s duty roster and put it on my desk.”
“Yessir, Colonel sir.” Radar hurriedly stood, walking out so quickly he almost ran into the doorframe.
Potter waited until he was gone, then turned to Hawkeye. “Now Pierce, I don’t know how Radar knows what he knows, but he’s saved a bunch of keisters with it, including ours. So you’re not to go and make him feel awkward about it. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
Hawkeye leaned forward. “Colonel, I don’t know if Radar even knows how he knows what he knows.”
“As long as it works, it’s none of our business.” Potter leant back in his chair, holding his coffee contemplatively. “I’ve known some gifted soldiers in my time. Not a one of them was better for the Army knowing how they could do what they did,” he looked sharply at Pierce, “and a couple were worse for how the Army tried to find out.”
“You mean when they said pretty please with a cherry on top?” Potter gave him a look, and Hawkeye abruptly sobered. “Nothing like that’s going to happen to Radar, Colonel. Not for all the cherries in Korea.”
“You better hope not, Captain. He’s a darned fine clerk, quite apart from–“
“Choppers!” Radar burst into the mess tent, waving at Hawkeye and Potter, then at B.J., who was just walking back to the table. “Choppers on the way, sirs.”
“–that,” Potter said over the sound of the loudspeaker repeating what Radar had just told them. He stood up. “Let’s get to work.”
***
After a gruelling nineteen hours in surgery, Hawkeye had nearly forgotten about the whole thing. The alcohol was terrible, the food was worse, the patients were too young, and Radar knew things before they happened. All of it was just the way the world was in this corner of hell, and none of it could come between him and his cot.
Once on his cot, though, sleep was elusive. In absence of anything better to think about, his brain wandered back to the thought, and he leant up on one elbow, staring at BJ. “Hey, Beej?”
BJ snored.
Hawkeye threw a pillow at him. “Beej, wake up!”
BJ groaned, rolling over to face Hawkeye. “What?”
“I think Radar is psychic.”
BJ rolled the other way, back facing Hawkeye. “Go to sleep.”
“No, really! He’s got his weird radar trick, that has to mean something. Just wait, I’ll prove it to you.”
BJ snored again.
Hawkeye lay back down again, staring at the top of the tent. His entire body felt heavy with tiredness, but sleep refused to come. Until it did, he’d think of some way to prove Radar was psychic.
***
‘Radar, catch!’ Hawkeye thought as loudly as he could, then threw the ball at Radar.
Radar turned and caught it, the mail that had been in his hands now falling to the dirt. “Watch where you’re throwing that!”
“Just a little fun, Radar, don’t worry,” BJ called lightly. He held his hands out for the ball, and Radar threw it back to him. He smiled. “Good catch!”
Radar smiled back at him, then picked up the fallen envelopes, brushed the dirt off them, and continued on his way.
Hawkeye had barely noticed the whole exchange. “Did you see that?” he crowed. “He caught it! I’m telling you, Beej, we’re onto something here.”
“Could just be luck,” BJ countered. “Or instinct.”
“A perfect catch, from across the camp, and we were behind him?” Hawkeye led the way inside, collapsing onto the seat beside his cot. “If his luck was that good he wouldn’t be here.”
BJ shrugged, laying back on his cot with his hands behind his head. “Still doesn’t prove he’s psychic. For that,” he continued with a glint in his eye, “you’ll need more evidence.”
Hawkeye learned forward, catching his drift. “Repeated testing. Even some variations, just to be thorough.”
“Maybe even a control. Just as a point of comparison.”
Frank entered the tent.
BJ and Hawkeye looked at each other. As one, they threw whatever was closest at Frank.
Frank yelped, bringing his hands up to protect his head. “What was that for?”
“For science, Frank.” Hawkeye leaned back in his chair. “Your help has been invaluable.”
Frank started to smile, then scowled instead. “My help has never had value!” He stormed out of the Swamp.
BJ and Hawkeye began to laugh before the door even closed.
***
BJ handed a pen to Hawkeye, who lobbed it at Radar. Radar caught it and put it on his desk without looking. BJ and Hawkeye exchanged significant glances.
Potter, just exiting his office, stopped and stared at the three of them. “What are you two up to?” He eyed them suspiciously.
Hawkeye gave him his best innocent smile. “Just experimenting. Keeps the boredom at bay.”
Potter shook his head, rolling his eyes. “With the two of you, Radar being twitchier than a horse with fleas, and Burns coming by every other minute with some new complaint, it’s a wonder I’m not madder than Klinger!”
“I’m sure a dress would be quite fetching on you, Colonel,” BJ said.
“Perhaps with a nice string of pearls. Dressy, but tasteful.”
They both looked at him consideringly.
“Any more experimenting, do it on each other,” Potter warned. “Dismissed.”
***
“You having an argument with Radar, sirs?” Klinger asked.
“No, why?” BJ and Hawkeye kept walking casually towards the Swamp.
“Past few days, every time you see him, you throw something at him.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Hawkeye clapped Klinger on the back. “It’s this new game we’re playing.”
“We’re trying to get on Radar’s radar,” BJ added.
“By throwing things at him?”
“Well, we tried pulling his pigtails but his hair’s too short,” Hawkeye explained.
“Also not good for dipping in inkwells.”
Klinger half-rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, sirs.”
***
“This isn’t working.” Hawkeye paced across the tent. “He catches everything we throw, and you still say it’s just instinct.”
BJ shrugged, tossing a ball from one hand to another. “So mix it up a little. Try something new.”
“Fine!” Hawkeye strode out the door and towards the mess tent, BJ throwing the ball on his bunk and following after. “Time to add something new to the repertoire. If he’s really psychic, he’ll be able to see what I’m thinking, and believe me, it would put anyone off their appetite.”
They lined up at the chow line, then took their plates over to the table where Potter and Radar were seated. Radar was shovelling his food into his mouth so quickly it seemed like he couldn’t even be breathing.
Potter watched incredulously. “Slow down, son, the food isn’t going anywhere.”
“Except back up again,” Hawkeye helpfully corrected.
Radar swallowed a mouthful of food. “I know, sir, it’s just that I’ve been real hungry lately, and I got to eat fast ‘fore I get back to work.”
“Radar, I’m authorising you to take as long a lunch break as you need for you to actually chew your food, not just swallow it.”
BJ lifted up a spoonful of something white from his tray, watching it glop back down. “I think mine’s come pre-chewed.”
Hawkeye slammed his cutlery down with mock drama. “I knew you were the cook’s favourite!” He looked at BJ, and distinctly not at Radar. His thoughts, however, were directed straight at him, and they weren’t pretty.
Radar abruptly swallowed, and put his cutlery down. “Gotta go, sirs.” He rushed out of the mess tent.
Hawkeye rose. “Us too, Colonel.” He and BJ left together. As soon as they were outside, Hawkeye said with a gleeful grin, “It worked! You’ve got to admit it now!”
“It still could be a coincidence.” BJ paid no mind to the way Hawkeye was hanging off his shoulder, not allowing it to distract him from his argument. “He was eating pretty fast, maybe it was that.”
“Or maybe it was me psychically shouting at him with the goriest procedures I could think of!” Hawkeye snorted. “Trust me, that would have been enough for anyone to lose their lunch.”
“Hawkeye, Hawkeye.” BJ shook his head. “You’re just not thinking big enough. Words and images are one thing. What you really need is some action.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Like a few flavourful surprises.” Mindful they were in the middle of the compound, he leant closer, whispering in Hawkeye’s ear.
Hawkeye leant back and stared at him admiringly. “You evil genius.”
BJ shrugged modestly. “It’s a gift.”
“With the way Radar eats, he’ll never even notice it!” Hawkeye said gleefully. “Unless, of course, he does.”
“If that happens, I’ll admit you’re right.”
“You heard it here first, folks!” Hawkeye stood, still grinning. “Come on, I’ll get the sand, you get the motor oil.”
BJ adopted a posh accent. “The vintage selection?”
“Why of course, my dear sir.” Hawkeye matched his posh tones. “Nothing but the best for our dear Radar.”
They went off arm in arm.
***
Hawkeye watched as surreptitiously as he could, thinking determinedly about the sand in Radar’s mash. It had taken some effort to pull that off after Klinger refused to have anything to do with it, but fortunately Igor was more easily bribed.
Radar happily ate the mash, but when it came to the motor-oil spiked coffee, he screwed up his face like he’d smelled the breeze coming from the latrines and pushed the mug away.
“Something wrong, Radar?” BJ asked pleasantly, catching the rest of the table’s attention.
“No, sir,” Radar muttered. “Just don’t feel like coffee today.”
“Don’t let good coffee go to waste, soldier,” Frank barked. He gestured sharply at the mug. “Drink it now, and that’s an order!”
As Radar reluctantly picked up the mug, Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a quick glance. An uncontrolled outside variable had not been part of the plan.
“Calling it ‘good’ is a stretch, Frank,” Hawkeye said. “You could blind someone with this stuff.”
“It’s practically a weapon,” BJ agreed. “I had a patient just two days ago, got sent here with ‘coffee related injuries’.”
“McMurphy?” Hawkeye asked.
“No, Hernan.”
“Ah, I should have known. The one who flinches at the very mention of caffeine.” Hawkeye turned back to Frank. “Frank, only the keenest army devotee would even touch that stuff.”
“You’re drinking it right now!”
Hawkeye gestured to his mug. “Ah, but this just looks like coffee. Actually, it’s dirt, mixed with sweat, water, and just a hint of shrapnel for texture.”
Frank looked over at BJ, but BJ calmly sipped from his mug, saying nothing.
“You think you can make a fool out of me? I’ll show you! There’s nothing wrong with this coffee!” Frank grabbed Radar’s mug out of his hand and gulped the contents. Immediately, his face screwed up and he spat it out, right into a horrified Radar’s face.
Hawkeye and BJ absolutely lost it, clinging to each other for support as they shook with laughter.
***
The next morning, Klinger was sitting next to Radar, and glared at Hawkeye and BJ as they came closer. When they passed by the table, he snapped his fan open, using it to shoo them on. Radar was oblivious to all of this, head resting on one hand as he slowly chewed through his meal, looking like he hadn’t quite woken up yet.
BJ leant closer to Hawkeye. “I don’t think Klinger approves of our experiment.”
“Of course not. We might prove Radar is even stranger than he is.”
Radar choked on his coffee. Klinger, slapping him on the back as he coughed, turned to glare at BJ and Hawkeye.
BJ and Hawkeye looked at each other, having a whole conversation with just their eyebrows.
Radar turned to look at them as well. Voice hoarse from coughing, he asked, “Could you sirs please be quiet and let me eat?”
“Sorry, Radar, we’ll try and keep our thoughts to ourselves.”
Radar shot him an unimpressed look, then returned to his half-awake consumption of breakfast.
Hawkeye waited until BJ was sufficiently distracted, then whispered to BJ, “Still think he’s not psychic?”
“Could still be he just has very sharp hearing.”
“Yeah, so sharp he hears my eyebrows move.”
“Why do you care so much about this anyway? Why does it matter if Radar is psychic or not?”
“Well, either he’s psychic or I’m crazy, and the position of camp crazy man has already been filled.”
Klinger turned around and glared at him.
Hawkeye clutched BJ’s arm. “Beej, it’s contagious. Quick, tell me what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking of the volleyball team from your magazine yesterday,” BJ replied dryly.
Hawkeye pretended to swoon. “It’s an epidemic!”
***
“Radar?”
Radar woke with a jolt. “Colonel?” He looked down at his paperwork, now with a line running across the page where his pen had drifted as he slept. “Oh, sorry, sir.” He pulled out a new form to start over.
“Having trouble sleeping, son?” Potter looked down at Radar affectionately. He knew the boy worked hard, and wouldn’t sleep on the job out of laziness.
Radar began to fill in the form, copying the information over from his previous effort. “No, sir. I slept fine, just been waking up tired.” He gave a half shrug, clearly indicating he didn’t know why it was happening but wasn’t going to worry too much about it.
“Could be you’re getting sick.” He felt Radar’s forehead, Radar not pausing at his writing. “No temperature, but better safe than sorry. When you’re done with that, find Captain Pierce and get him to give you a checkup.”
“I really don’t need a checkup, sir, I’m fine,” Radar’s voice overlapped with Potter’s. Potter stared at him, and he relented. “Yes, sir.” He stopped writing and looked at the roof.
“Choppers?” Potter asked, already knowing the answer.
Radar nodded, grabbing for the PA. “Yessir.”
“The checkup can wait, get those boys moving!” Potter was on his way out the door before he even finished the sentence.
***
It was very late at night, and Hawkeye was sneaking around camp. He had another test to try, and this one would be the best yet.
He hadn’t told BJ what he had planned. BJ had been awake even longer than he had, and unlike himself, had actually managed to fall asleep. Any chance for some sleep was worth taking around here. He could tell BJ about it tomorrow.
That train of thought gave him a moment of pause. No one around here got as much sleep as they needed, including Radar. If he’d managed to find some rest around all his duties, cuddling on his bunk with his teddy, shouldn’t he get to have that? Radar being tired made them all miserable, and not just because he was practically running the place. Besides, did his radar even work when he was asleep?
A moment later and the question was moot. The light was still on in Radar’s office.
Hawkeye giggled, sneaking up to the tent door and peering inside. Radar was busy at his typewriter, tongue sticking out as he concentrated on some report only he knew the purpose of. Suddenly he looked towards the door, and Hawkeye ducked out of sight. Radar’s radar was clearly in order.
‘Radar!’ he yelled in his head, then slammed open the door and threw the rolled up socks, caked with dried mud, directly at the back of Radar’s head.
Radar shrieked, startling so violently he fell off his chair, head thudding against the desk then the ground. Hawkeye barely noticed, absolutely beside himself with laughter.
Definitely a good thing he hadn’t told BJ. Radar’s radar, as useful as it was, clearly was not infallible.
It took him a moment to realise Radar hadn’t moved. “Hey, Radar?” He came closer, and Radar was lying on the floor, eyes closed, bleeding from the head.
“Radar!” He skidded to his knees, one hand going to Radar’s neck for a pulse while the other reached blindly for the PA microphone. His fingers felt a beat, and he breathed out. It was steady.
His scrabbling fingers found a cord and pulled, bringing the microphone crashing down. He winced, but didn’t allow himself the distraction, fiddling with buttons as he tried to make it work. He’d seen Radar do it a thousand times, why was he finding it so difficult?
He gave it up, tossing the microphone back on the desk and checking Radar’s pulse one more time before starting to the door and shouting for the night guard. “Klinger! Get a stretcher and get back here, Radar’s hurt!”
“Yes sir!” Klinger saluted and ran, rifle jolting up and down on his back as his petticoats swirled around his calves.
Hawkeye returned to Radar’s side, running his fingers through his hair, searching for where the blood was coming from. A purple goose egg was already starting to swell, but more concerning was the straight-edged bloody gash from where his head must have hit the metal desk as he fell.
Klinger stepped into the office, eyes growing wide as he saw Radar, but all he said was, “Got the stretcher, sir.”
“Good, get on the other end.”
Together they positioned the stretcher beside Radar, then rolled him onto it.
“What happened?” Klinger asked as they carried the stretcher to post-op. “Are we under attack? Someone sneak in?”
“It was an accident,” Hawkeye said sharply.
There was silence the rest of the way there. It felt accusing, and Hawkeye didn’t like it.
***
“What’s this I hear about Radar in post-op?” Potter came into his office with a sharp stride, scowl already settling over his face.
“Accident, colonel. Fractured wrist, and what’s probably a minor concussion if he’ll wake up long enough for us to test him.”
“What happened, Hawkeye? Some nurse came in and gave him a fright?”
Klinger, sweeping the room as he had been ever since he’d finished his guard shift an hour ago, let out a scornful, “Ha!”
“Got something to tell me, corporal?” Potter rounded on him.
Klinger met his glare squarely. “Only that Captain Pierce was in the room with Radar when the accident happened, sir. The only one.”
Potter turned to Hawkeye. “This true, Pierce?”
“You think I would hurt Radar?” Hawkeye tried to hide his anger at the very suggestion behind his usual mask of good humour, but it didn’t quite fit. “I startled him, and he fell and hit his head. Maybe I’m not entirely blameless here, but I’d never hurt the kid!”
“If you’d never hurt him, why’ve you captains been throwing things at him every chance you got?”
“Enough!” Potter barked, halting the escalating conflict in its tracks. “Corporal, back to work. Pierce, I want you in my office, on the double. And bring Hunnicutt with you. Now move it!”
Klinger snapped off a salute. “Yessir!”
Hawkeye didn't bother with one. “If he wakes up, tell me.”
Potter let out a deep breath, and went to sit at Radar’s bedside, hoping the young corporal would wake and tell him what really happened.
***
“Alright, Pierce, out with it. What happened with you and Radar?”
BJ looked between them. “Something happened with Radar? Is he alright?”
“He’ll be alright. But Captain Pierce has some explaining to do.”
“It’s really nothing,” Hawkeye said, trying a little too hard to act casual. The faint smell of blood drifted in from the other side of the office door. No one had had time to scrub it clean yet. “I threw something at Radar to startle him, and it worked better than I thought it would.”
“What possessed you to think it was a good idea to go around in the middle of the night trying to startle Radar? What did you think would happen?”
“I thought he’d catch it! We’ve been throwing things at Radar for the last two weeks, I didn’t think it’d be a problem now!”
“You’ve been throwing things at Radar?” Potter’s voice was disturbingly calm.
“Nothing serious!” Hawkeye said. “Just pens.”
“Socks."
“Boots.”
“Balls.”
“Cans.” Hawkeye looked over at BJ, smile falling. “You know, I’m starting to see the Colonel’s point here.”
“Anything else the two of you would like to mention?” Potter said sharply.
BJ glanced over at Hawkeye, now looking thoroughly abashed. “We might have also put sand in his food.”
“But we warned him of everything!” Hawkeye defended. “I thought it really loudly towards him.”
Potter stood, furious. “There’s a line, Pierce, and you not only crossed it, you’ve tangoed over it! You could be court-martialled for abuse of an enlisted man!” He whirled around to stare at the horses on his wall, too furious to keep looking at Hawkeye.
“Don’t you think that’s a little far, Colonel?” BJ asked, ever the voice of peace.
Hawkeye snorted bitterly. “No, he’s right, Beej. With friends like me, who needs enemies?”
Potter turned back around to face them, temper cooling slightly in the face of Hawkeye’s clear remorse. “You have been terrorising that boy, and it ends now. Or I’ll be transferring Corporal O’Reilly out of here for his own safety!”
“Why should he have to go?” Hawkeye protested. “He’s done nothing wrong!”
“We’re the ones who deserve it,” BJ added.
“Because like it or not, you two are two of the best surgeons in Korea, and I can’t afford to lose you!”
That silenced both of them.
“Now, when Radar wakes up, I expect you to apologise for what you’ve put him through. And this will not happen again.”
“No, sir.”
“No, sir.”
***
“Hey, look who’s finally awake!” Hawkeye came over to Radar’s bed, picking up the clipboard hanging from the end. “You remember waking up before?”
Radar blinked blearily up at him. “Not really, sir.”
“I’m not surprised. You barely stayed conscious long enough for us to check your concussion. Colonel Potter had to keep pinching you.”
“Really?” Radar’s voice was too drowsy to sound properly shocked.
Hawkeye smiled, taking pity on Radar’s clear exhaustion. “No, not really. He hovered over you like a papa bear the whole time. Growled at all at the nurses.”
“Gee.” Radar closed his eyes, smile playing across his face.
Hawkeye watched him. He’d nearly wrecked this. One of his few friends in this place, and he’d thought solving a mystery and proving BJ wrong mattered more.
Radar opened one eye, peering at him. “D’you need something, Hawkeye?”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Hawkeye quipped. He fiddled with the clipboard for lack of anything better to do with his hands. “Is there anything I can do for you, Radar? Something to make you feel better?” Immediately, he got a disgruntled and slightly suspicious look. “Nothing like that,” he clarified, but couldn’t resist adding, “You’re probably not up for it yet anyway.”
Radar, suspicions averted, snuggled his head further into his pillow. “No, I don’t need anything. I’m just glad you’re talking to me again. I was real worried I’d done something awful.”
Hawkeye felt another painful shard of guilt strike his heart. He hadn’t even noticed how neither he nor BJ had spoken to Radar in days. Thought at him, sure, but even it he could hear that it wouldn’t have been pleasant listening. It was certainly no substitute for an actual conversation. “No, Radar, you didn’t do anything wrong. This was just me and BJ getting carried away, and you getting hurt by it.”
He hung the clipboard back up and sat on the edge of Radar’s bed. “Colonel Potter wasn’t happy either. He gave us a real chewing out. Promised the worst punishment he could think of.”
Radar covered up a yawn, clearly falling asleep but not willing to give up on the conversation after so long without. “Oh, yeah? What’d he say?”
“He said we’d lose you.”
Radar’s eyes went wide.
Hawkeye looked at him tenderly. “I’ve been treating you terribly, Radar, and I’m sorry. It shouldn’t take you lying in a hospital bed for me to see that.”
“Well, you didn’t know what would happen, sir.” Radar looked away, uncomfortable with the open show of affection. “I didn’t even know I was that tired.”
Hawkeye had his own suspicions on what had left Radar more tired than usual this past week, but he wasn’t mentioning it. Colonel Potter had made it very clear that enough was enough, and there would be no more experiments. Instead, sensing Radar’s discomfort, he joked, “You know, you really should stay away from those spinning wheels.”
Radar’s brow furrowed for a moment, then he got it. “Oh, like with the fairytale! But there aren’t any evil fairies in Iowa, Hawk.” He frowned again. “Does Korea have evil fairies?”
“If I find any, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Hawkeye assured him. He patted Radar’s unbandaged arm. “Go to sleep. Just not for a hundred years.”
Radar giggled, then let his eyes close.