"Thanks For Nothing"

By Big Daddy O'Reilly

It was a chilly and blustery day in South Korea, brown leaves scattered the ground everywhere you were to look, while yellow, orange, and red leaves barely clung to the trees, as the wind continued to howl. In Post-Op, Hawkeye was checking in on the condition of his latest patient, a young twentysomething soldier who had taken a nasty blow to his shoulder.

HAWKEYE: Okay, you're coming along just fine Johnson... how do you feel?

JOHNSON: *Groans* I'm still in pain.

HAWKEYE: That figures, we took a mess of shrapnel out of your shoulder, looked like the enemy was trying to lay down some new gravel inside you.

JOHNSON: *Moans* Hey doc... listen... can this thing send me home?

HAWKEYE: Are you kidding? I would've shot myself in the shoulder months ago if that were the case.

JOHNSON: Aw damn... I was hoping I could get to go home and spend Thanksgiving with my folks...

HAWKEYE: *Sighs* You and me both, kiddo...

Potter sat in his office, filling out stacks of files, reports, forms, requisitions, and cursing his sore hand, beginning to wonder if he was getting carpel tunnel syndrome; moments later, a damp Radar entered the office, after having given Sophie a good hosing down, as per the Colonel's request.

RADAR: Colonel Potter, sir?

POTTER: Corporal O'Reilly, son?

RADAR: Uh, sir, Sophie's all nice and clean and hosed down and clean, like you asked.

POTTER: Jim-dandy-dee, appreciate it son... Sophie and I are gonna take a nice long ride through the countryside today... take in all of that colorful scenery before all the trees lose their will to live.

Potter took a look out his window at the trees that stood next to the hospital, each of them having two or three leaves still on them at best, but seeing the surrounding mountains in their tie-dye of colors.

RADAR: Yes sir, is there anything else the Colonel wishes to have done while he's gone on his countryside ride today?

POTTER: As a matter of fact, I do...

Radar grabbed the clipboard off the desk, and began writing down Potter's orders for the day.

POTTER: While I'm gone, I'd like a detail to santize Sophie's stable for the month... ever tried to de-louse a horse Radar?

RADAR: Uh no sir, but we used to have to get our chickens vaccinated for pox...

POTTER: *Pause* Right... anyway, see what you can do about getting Sophie's stable cleaned.

RADAR: *Noting* Yes sir, I'll get a couple of the corpsmen to do that for you.

POTTER: Good boy... also, the weather's getting colder, ask Hawkeye and B.J. to take up a collection for firewood for all the stoves around here, I know how cranky people in this outfit get whenever we have to move all the stoves into Post-Op, let's see if we can't improve on our conditions this season.

RADAR: *Noting* Yes sir, anything else?

POTTER: That'll be all, but do get yourself a dry uniform, you'll catch yourself a cold, son.

RADAR: Yes sir.

Radar paused, and rose his head, causing Potter to do the same.

RADAR: Chopper...

P.A. ANNOUNCER: Attention, incoming chopper! No wounded, repeat, no wounded, incoming mail for camp personnel.

RADAR: I better take care that... *Runs out*

POTTER: You better take care of that Radar... good boy...

Moments later, Radar was cruising the Compound with his satchel full of mail; Klinger suddenly ran up to him, nearly knocking him down in the process.

KLINGER: Hey Radar!

RADAR: Hey, watch it Klinger, gee!

KLINGER: Sorry kid, I heard you have a detail setup to shovel out the OK Corral.

RADAR: Huh?

KLINGER: Ya know, the beloved stable our beloved Colonel keeps his beloved equine in.

RADAR: What are you talkin' about?

KLINGER: Sophie's stable!

RADAR: Yeah, what about it?

KLINGER: Lemme volunteer to clean it up for Colonel Potter.

RADAR: Oh come on...

KLINGER: No really, lemme do it... it sure beats having to dig a new latrine!

RADAR: *Shrugs* Alright, the Colonel'll be leavin' in about an hour, you can start then...

KLINGER: Terrific, thanks kid!

Klinger merrily skipped away; meanwhile in the Swamp, a cloud of depression hung overhead.

B.J.: *Moans* Deja vu...

HAWKEYE: Been there, done that, Beej?

B.J.: Another year away from home, another year without a man around the house, another year of Peggy spending Thanksgiving all alone.

HAWKEYE: Maybe she can fly home to her folks in Oklahoma like she did last year.

B.J.: Wouldn't work... she can't afford it this year, what with the damn pay shortage the army's given us.

HAWKEYE: This rotten war...

Charles chuckled at his tentmates' plights; being independently wealthy, Hawkeye and B.J. grobbling about finacial woes were amusing to him at best.

HAWKEYE: Step on a feather, Charles?

CHARLES: Do you two little boys really expect the military to give you a decent pay?

B.J.: I guess I overlooked the fine print when the Draft Board contracted me to South Korea.

CHARLES: Obviously... I'm making practically half of what I would be making now if I were Chief of Thorasic Surgery at Boston General.

HAWKEYE: Fortunately, you're independently wealthy, since your father invented snobbery.

CHARLES: Touche.

HAWKEYE: *Fake British accent* Penny for the poor, gov'nah? Penny for the poor?

CHARLES: Bah... humbug. *Smirks*

Radar entered the Swamp.

RADAR: You guys got mail.

HAWKEYE: Oh goody! Anything addressed to little ol' me, in a nice clean envelope, covered in the aroma of midnight bliss, written with the penmanship of a creature with the face of an angel?

Radar pulled the envelopes addressed to Hawkeye from the stack in his hand to observe them.

RADAR: I dunno about all that, but your dad sure does have nice handwriting for a former doctor.

HAWKEYE: Well, that'll do.

Radar handed Hawkeye his letters, while approaching B.J.'s cot.

RADAR: One... two... three... four for Captain Hunnicutt...

B.J.: Ah, fanmail from Mill Valley, thanks Radar.

RADAR: No problem, oh, and by the way, the Colonel wants you guys to go around camp and start collecting firewood for all the stoves before the weather gets cold.

HAWKEYE: The weather's already gotten cold.

RADAR: Yeah I know, that's why Colonel Potter wants you guys to start a firewood collection.

B.J.: Done Radar.

Radar handed a couple of letters to Charles.

RADAR: These are for you Major Winchester, and there's a package waiting for you in my office.

CHARLES: Why is it waiting FOR me? Why not just deliver the package TO me?

RADAR: Uh, it's pretty heavy, Major.

CHARLES: Can't you get some aide from your fellow enlistedmen to bring it to me?

HAWKEYE: Look Charles, the package spent all this time trying to come to you, the least you can do is return the favor and come to it now that it's within the same zipcode.

CHARLES: Very well, I will collect that which is mine from your office, Corporal, but do not expect a generous tip for me.

RADAR: Oh that's okay Major, I usually go to Father Mulcahy for advice anyway.

Charles gave Radar a look of annoyance, before Radar meekily saluted the Major, and went on his appointed rounds, followed by Charles, as he made his way towards Radar's office; seconds later, Klinger came into the Swamp.

KLINGER: Greetings Captains!

HAWKEYE: Nice outfit, Klinger.

Klinger smiled at Hawkeye's compliment of his tight suede turtleneck sweater, and loud-print skirt.

KLINGER: Always a gentleman!

HAWKEYE: What's up?

KLINGER: Listen, I'm having trouble sorting my wardrobe at the moment, would it be alright if I borrowed your flannel shirt for a while?

Hawkeye arose from his cot in protest.

HAWKEYE: Ah no-no-no!

KLINGER: Sir, please!

HAWKEYE: Forget it Klinger, my father sent it to me!

KLINGER: I wouldn't dream of doing any harm to it sir, please, just for a little extra warmth, at least until I get my wardrobe sorted out!

HAWKEYE: What happened to your fur coat or your fur stole?

B.J.: Or your fur skivvies?

KLINGER: *Shrugs* Radar made me get rid of them, he said walking around in fur was cruelty against animals.

B.J.: Good thing Radar isn't looking into my closet back home, I've got at least a couple of leather motorcycle jackets, and Peg's got an imitation rabbit jacket.

KLINGER: Please?

HAWKEYE: *Sighs* Alright, but you better not ruin it.

KLINGER: Thanks!

Hawkeye grabbed his flannel shirt hanging from the nail driven into the woodwork of the Swamp, and tossed it to Klinger, who eagerly caught it, before turning his attention to B.J.

KLINGER: Now, Captain Hunnicutt...

B.J.: Sorry Klinger, all I've got is the shirt on my back, and I kinda need that right now.

KLINGER: No, nothing like that, I was just wondering if I could borrow your straw beach hat for a while as well?

B.J.: Klinger, don't you think summerwear and winterwear would clash a little bit?

KLINGER: I'm already getting ideas for next season's items, and I certainly would like a little sample before I get my mail-order catalogues.

B.J.: *Shrugs* Alright fine, it's in my footlocker.

KLINGER: A thousand thank yous to you two generous Captains!

Klinger opened the footlocker at the foot of B.J.'s cot, and grabbed the old straw hat, before merrily skipping out of the Swamp, while Hawkeye kept a leery eye on him.

HAWKEYE: Didja ever get the feeling sometimes Klinger isn't being completely honest with us?

B.J.: Yeah, that's why I've learned to read inbetween the lines.

HAWKEYE: Decypher anything interesting?

B.J.: I think every other word reads a suicide letter.

HAWKEYE: Good thing suicide is painless.

Charles went into Radar's office, looking around until he saw a relatively good-sized box addressed to him sitting on Radar's desk; Charles grabbed the box, and lifted it up, but considering Charles spent a good deal of his life avoiding any kind of manual labor, he had to agree, the package was quite heavy. He took a fingernail to puncture the tape across the top of the box to open the package, and once he did, the look on his face was equivilant to that of a small child opening presents on Christmas morning; Charles tried hard not to let his excitement get carried away in case anybody were to hear him, so he did his best to lift the package off of the desk, before exiting Radar's office. At that time, Potter had saddled Sophie, and climbed up onto her to enjoy his ride, when Klinger approached him as Sophie was about to gallop away.

KLINGER: Colonel! Oh Colonel!

POTTER: Make it snappy Klinger, Sophie and I are off for a peaceful ride in the countryside.

KLINGER: Sir, I just wanted to let you know that Sophie's domain will be in good hands while the two of you are gone, I'm going to make sure that this stable will be completely spic, and thorougly span by the time you get back.

Potter tried not to chuckle, clearly aware Klinger was up to something.

POTTER: What's the game Klinger?

KLINGER: No game sir, I just want you to see that I can pull my own weight around here as much as the next corpsman, and if there's one saying I always abided by, was that cleanliness is next to godliness... my mother always said that.

POTTER: Just don't go overboard, I don't want to come back and find Sophie's spare riding blankets replaced with some of those doilies you've been working on.

KLINGER: Of course not sir.

POTTER: Let's go Soph...

Potter rode off down the road, while Klinger waved farewell, but once Potter was out of sight, the smile on Klinger's face changed from angelic to devilish. Meanwhile, Margaret was sitting his her tent, polishing her fingernails, when a knock at the door startled her, smearing polish all over the tips of her fingers.

MARGARET: Who is it?!

CHARLES: *From outside* Major Winchester.

MARGARET: *Groans* I'm a little busy right now Major, what do you want?

CHARLES: *From outside* I just thought I would share a little bounty with you.

MARGARET: *Confused* Just what are you talking about?

CHARLES: *From outside* May I come in?

Margaret sighed, and wiped the polish from her fingers, before opening her door, and allowing Charles into her tent, as he quickly dropped the box onto the floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

MARGARET: What is all this?

CHARLES: My dear Major, prepare yourself for a little taste of fine, traditional American cuisine...

Charles opened the package to reveal it's content: a hefty ten-pound turkey; Margaret did her best to contain herself, as she and Charles both began to chortle.

MARGARET: I don't believe my eyes!

CHARLES: Heh, neither did I, now this is what I call a care package.

Margaret cleared her table, and placed it in the middle of tent, placing some spare china she had in her tent back in the days when she and Frank would dine together; Charles rested the turkey on the serving dish, and pulled a bottle of his personal wine from his coat pocket.

MARGARET: I never imagined a happy Thanksgiving could be had in this place!

CHARLES: I take it that previous Thanksgivings were rather unpleasant for you, Major?

MARGARET: *Groans* You should have been here last year, when Pierce and Hunnicutt had a live turkey flown in from the States, and then Radar begged us all not to kill him... come to think of it, we lost a lamb for Easter the same way.

Charles rolled his eyes, as he took a seat at one end of the table, while Margaret took her seat on the other side, and handed Charles some silverware.

CHARLES: Now then, would you care for some light meat, or dark?

MARGARET: Oh, let me have a little of both!

Charles and Margaret chuckled as Charles began to carve the turkey, but they grew tense when they heard another knock at the door.

MARGARET: Who is it?

HAWKEYE: *From outside* It's the Avon Lady ma'am, would you be interested in our new line of cold cream?

MARGARET: Oh, what do you want Pierce?

B.J.: *From outside* We're taking up a collection, Major.

HAWKEYE: *From outside* The Colonel's orders, he wants firewood for the stoves.

B.J.: *From outside* Would you care to make a donation? Every little bit helps.

HAWKEYE: *From outside* You can remain anonymous if you wish.

Margaret brought a finger to her lips, as she quickly grabbed a small blanket from the foot of her cot, draping it over the table to hide the turkey, before grabbing a deck of cards, strategically placing a hand in front of her, another hand in front of Charles, while placing the rest of the deck in the center, as best as she could, before answering the door.

MARGARET: Make it quick!

Hawkeye and B.J. entered Margaret's tent, seeing Charles, and instigating more mischief.

HAWKEYE: 'Allo-'allo! Didn't I tell you there was something cooking between these two?

B.J.: They do make a handsome couple.

HAWKEYE: Oh, these impulsive wartime romances.

CHARLES: Do you mind?

MARGARET: Any wood you want, it's in the box next to my desk, now please get it and get out.

HAWKEYE: Don't be so hostile Margaret.

B.J.: We won't say anything to Donald if you won't.

MARGARET: How DARE you!

CHARLES: Cretins.

Hawkeye grabbed an armfull of wood, but as he stood up straight, he caught a whiff of something in the air.

HAWKEYE: What's that smell?

Margaret and Charles grew tense, as B.J. took a sniff.

B.J.: Hey, I smell something too...

HAWKEYE: Something... delicious!

Margaret put up a front to get the two Swamprats out of her tent.

MARGARET: You swine! Get out!

HAWKEYE: Not you, but something smells DELICIOUS delicious...

B.J.: My senses are certainly getting excited...

HAWKEYE: That can't be from our cook though, the last time I smelled anything coming from the kitchen, my nostrils were prepared to file a defamation suit.

B.J.: It almost smells like a roasted turkey...

CHARLES: Kindly depart gentlemen, there is no turkey in here!

Charles quickly brought his hands to his lips, while Margaret gritted her teeth.

B.J.: You mean that really IS turkey we're smelling?!

HAWKEYE: Alright, where is it? I'm picking up it's scent, it's bringing back such fond memories of the days of yore, trying to eat everything in sight at the dinner table...

Hawkeye and B.J. went through Margaret's tent looking for the turkey.

MARGARET: Get your filthy hands out of my belongs and buzz off!

HAWKEYE: Not until we get a little bit of that turkey!

B.J.: You believe in helping the poor, don't you Margaret?

HAWKEYE: Yeah, so help out a couple of poor souls and give us some turkey!

Hawkeye and B.J. then turned to Charles, and noticed the blanket wasn't lying flat atop the table, so they raced over and threw the blanket aside.

HAWKEYE: Ha-ha! Bingo! We struck gold!

B.J.: Golden BROWN you mean!

HAWKEYE: It's GORGEOUS!!!

B.J.: Lemme at it!!!

Hawkeye and B.J. made a grab for the turkey, but Charles wasn't willing to share it.

CHARLES: Get your hands off of my bird!

HAWKEYE: Don't be so selfish with our greediness, Charles!

A tug of war ensued over the turkey, as Hawkeye and B.J. tried to pull the turkey away from Charles's grip.

MARGARET: This is insane! Will you two leeches just get your firewood and get lost?!

HAWKEYE: Margaret, we're starving here!

B.J.: I haven't had turkey in over a year!

HAWKEYE: That goes double for me!

Seeing that he was getting nowhere fast, Hawkeye dove in and took a bite out of the turkey, much to Charles's astonishment; Charles let go of the turkey, while Hawkeye handed it to B.J., who began ripping pieces of the meat off, and stuffing it in his mouth as well. Charles held out his hand under Hawkeye's mouth.

CHARLES: Spit that out! Spit that out this instant!

Hawkeye mumbled with his mouth full of turkey, as did B.J., while the two of them continued to tear turkey meat off of the carcus, while Charles continued to try and take it away from them. A little while later, Potter returned to camp, where he guided Sophie into her stable, where Radar was waiting for them.

RADAR: Have a nice ride Colonel?

POTTER: Sure did... I'm gonna miss seein' those colors in the trees... makes me long for those crisp autumn days back in "Hannibal, MO"... mother and I would gather all the kids, and we'd drive Mildred's "Por-sha" down all those country roads, then we'd find a nice little spot, away from civilization, and have ourselves a family picnic...

RADAR: Yeah, we used to do the same thing back home, only we took the bus for a scenic route, 'cause my Uncle Ed's Studebaker never worked.

Potter chuckled as he dismounted Sophie, while Radar started to remove the riding gear from her back; as Potter exited the stable, and made his way down the Compound, he passed something rather unusual.

POTTER: Afternoon, Klinger.

Potter continued walking, but stopped dead his tracks when he realized something didn't seem right; he turned around and found Klinger had fashioned a large, T-shaped wooden post nestled in the ground, which he had attached himself to, wearing Hawkeye's flannel shirt, B.J.'s straw hat, with hay sticking out from the sleeves, and under the brim. Potter approached Klinger, who remained as silent and as motionless as possible; Potter observed the sight for a moment more, until he smiled.

POTTER: That's just what this hell-hole needs, a little autumnal decor.

Klinger resisted rolling his eyes.

POTTER: And that is a dandy likeness of Corporal Klinger, though the proportions are a little off, and the nose a little too small...

Klinger continued resisting an eyeroll.

POTTER: But this will surely liven this place up... and it'll certainly keep the crows away...

Potter chuckled, as he continued on his way, all the while Klinger silently sighed through his nose, that is until a large black crow flew over, and landed on his extending elbow, causing his eyes to widen, and his jaw to drop. Potter pressed on down the Compound, hearing commotion coming from Margaret's tent, so he rushed over to the tent, flung the door open, and saw the scene unfold before him.

POTTER: What's going on here?

Everyone settled down, as Charles began his rant.

CHARLES: These two morons absolutely ruined the care package I had received from my parents today!

Potter looked over at Hawkeye and B.J., seeing their faces covered in grease, before looking on the tent floor, and finding the remains of the small turkey; Potter turned his attention back to Charles.

POTTER: Your parents care about you enough to send you a bird carcus?

CHARLES: *Smirks* Well, it WAS a turkey, before these two boors ripped it to shreds like... like... wild animals!

Hawkeye and B.J. gave Potter cheeky smiles, showing the little bits of turkey stuck between their teeth.

POTTER: Can't you boys learn to share your toys?

Silence took over the tent, before Charles spoke again, slightly altering the truth.

CHARLES: Colonel... the content of the care package was, indeed, a turkey... however... the turkey was of personal size, and was certainly not large enough to share with the entire camp... and had word gotten out that there was a turkey in camp, then chaos would have certainly ensued.

Potter didn't entirely buy Charles's story, but he did see a point that was being made.

POTTER: Uh-huh... see what you people can do about cleaning up this mess, while I take care of some business.

Potter exited the tent, and made his way over to the hospital, where he found Radar hard at work, typing out the weekly reports on his typewriter.

POTTER: Radar, send the cook to my office right away, it's rather urgent.

RADAR: Yes sir...

Later that evening, as everyone wasn't enjoying dinner in the Mess Tent, Potter positioned a wooden folding chair in the middle of the tent, as he climbed atop it to make an announcement of his own.

POTTER: Let me have your attention, please...

Those in the tent all turned towards Potter, as he continued with his announcement.

POTTER: It's come to my attention that at the present time, morale is pretty low around these parts... especially with the holidays coming up.

CHARLES: Would you expect anything different, Colonel?

POTTER: I'm getting to that, Major.

A few eyes glanced at Charles for his remark, as he returned his attention to his commanding officer.

POTTER: So, I feel that it's only fitting that we try and turn that around... tomorrow will be the last Thursday of the month... I'm sure you all know what that will mean? After speaking with the cook, tomorrow at 17:00, we will all be gathering here in the Mess Tent for an early dinner... a Thanksgiving dinner... with a turkey, and all the trimmings.

A clammer of enthusiam took over the tent, with the exception of Charles, who smirked, knowing that Thanksgiving dinner at the 4077th would not be ideal.

POTTER: One other thing... you all might want to help make the mood a bit more festive tomorrow, dress up a little, let your guard down, and have a good time... that's an order.

Potter stepped down from his chair, as the others resumed their dinner, all in a more chipper frame of mind.

HAWKEYE: There now, see Charles, you'll still get to have your own personal turkey.

CHARLES: Oh shut up.

Hawkeye and B.J. exchanged cheeky smiles with each other, while Charles and Margaret rolled their eyes at their immature behavior. Outside, as the skies grew darker, and the air grew colder, Klinger shivered from his wooden post, his ensemble now covered in spots of bird droppings as a couple of crows continued sitting on his extended arms.

KLINGER: Come on, come on, take a hike... or better yet, take a flight!

One of the crows began pecking at Klinger's face.

KLINGER: Ow! Hey, cut it out, that smarts!

Klinger finally made a scary face, scaring the crows away, as he continued shivering on his makeshift post. The next day, all of the tables in the Mess Tent were arranged in a large group sitting area, one side was reserved for the officers, the other side for the enlisted; the personnel entered the tent, a number of them dressed in their Class A uniforms, and not surprisingly, Hawkeye and B.J. showed up dressed up in pilgrims costumes, and long wigs, trying to lighten the mood.

HAWKEYE: Good morrow to thee, good morrow to thee, ask what I say, I say good morrow to thee!

B.J.: How doth this fine day findeth thee?

CHARLES: *Rolls eyes* Savages...

B.J.: Huh, these Injuns have no sense of humoreth.

HAWKEYE: Perhaps they will feeleth a whole lot bettereth if we make them reservations.

B.J.: Good show!

CHARLES: Would somebody hand me my tomahawk so I can scalp these two?

POTTER: Simmer down there boys...

Potter took his place at the head of the table, just as Igor brought in the turkey... or, what was as close to a turkey as could be, it was actually a bunch of almost-spoiled chicken meat molded into the shape of a turkey. The sight of this less than appealing turkey was enough to erase some smiles from some faces, until Potter rose to his feet to address the camp.

POTTER: Let me have your attention please... I realize that on a day like today, we would all rather be at home, with our loved ones, enjoying a traditional Thanksgiving dinner... well, the sad truth is on a day like today, we're here instead, trying to enjoy a dinner that's close enough for jazz, but the thing to remember is that we're still with family... our family here at the 4077th. I know this isn't exactly ideal, but I think considering the circumstances, things could be a lot worse... I know a lot of you probably have nothing to be thankful for, but I know at least one thing, one really big thing, that we all should, indeed, be thankful for... that we're here, and we're alive.

Eyes and looks were exchanged; Potter had a point, that was at least something that they could be thankful for.

POTTER: I can't speak for the rest of you, but I for one am thankful that I have my health... and that I have all of you... and on a day like today, that's all I need.

A few of the others began to clap at Potter's speech, then after a few moments, the entire Mess Tent filled with the sounds of applause, as Potter smiled; he turned to Father Mulcahy, and motioned for him to approach the head of the table.

MULCAHY: Thank you Colonel... friends, lend me your ears... what the Colonel has just said is something that should be taken into consideration, we are all here, and we are all together, but the unfortunate thing is that... there are so many... so many, who were not so lucky... in addition to giving thanks, we should take a moment of silence to remember those who have fallen, and pray for their families back home, whose Thanksgiving holidays may never be the same again...

Heads were bowed, and eyes were closed, but within a matter of seconds, Radar's head shot up, as his eyes danced around the tent, and once he uttered an "uh oh", other heads rose, and more eyes cast weery glances... they knew what was about to happen; the whirring of incoming choppers grew louder and louder, as everyone shot up from the table, and sadly trudged towards the doors.

P.A. ANNOUNCER: Attention, all personnel, incoming wounded! Remember, this is a reminder from the enemy that would be thankful that we're still in business.

Later that evening, Potter trekked across the Compound, until a familiar voice caught him off his guard.

KLINGER: Colonel... Colonel?

Potter turned around, as saw the scarecrow was speaking.

POTTER: Well by golly, it can talk.

KLINGER: Don't be silly Colonel, you know it's me.

POTTER: I know it is, haven't you had enough, Klinger?

KLINGER: *Nods* More than enough... I give up Colonel, I can't do it anymore...

POTTER: *Nods* Alright son, why don't you come into your tent and get some rest?

KLINGER: I'd like to Colonel... but I'm stuck...

Klinger's arms had been draped across the horizontal beam for so long, his arms had stiffened, and he couldn't move them; Potter revealed a half smile at Klinger's persistence, as he carefully helped Klinger down from his perch.

THE END.