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"This rain...” Hawkeye Pierce was stuck pacing his tent back and forth, accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of water drops falling – even pounding – outside. The camp was riddled with puddles of different shapes and sizes, mostly ranging from ‘huge’ to ‘enormous’, and there’s even been talk of classifying the road to town as a river, but nobody bothered to look up the necessary paperwork.
The rain season has just arrived in Korea, as it does every July, and work at the hospital has come to a halt. No fighting went on, no injuries got inflicted, no surgeon had to operate. The only things worth doing now were to drink, eat (often substituted by more drinking), and sleep.
“It’s never gonna stop, Beej,” he shook his head vigorously. “This is the score to our lives now. This cacophony.”
“Oh, come on, Hawk. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.” The wind howled softly through the camp and B.J. Hunnicutt found the whole ordeal quite relaxing. The falling rain served as a nice background to catching up on medical journals, which he has busied himself with in the last days, along with periodically checking if the floor on Hawkeye’s route has given in yet.
The surgeon stopped his parade at the foot of B.J.’s bed and stared for a while with a pensive expression. “I’m not sure you understand how big of a deal this is. Of course you’re not bothered, you never are. So I have to be for the both of us.” Shooting a dirty look at the unceasing weather, he went on. "This sound is drilling into my head. I can’t think, I can’t focus... I’d drown myself out there but the water’s too spread out. It’s July, for crying out loud! Back home at this time of year I’d be...”
“What?” B.J. wondered.
“Well, I'm not sure yet, but I’d love to go find out if the Army lets me.”
Hawkeye plopped down on his cot, resigned, and tried to ignore the overbearing rumbling outside. Focusing on the sound of B.J. flipping pages, he started to fantasize about what he’ll do when the sun comes out, but didn’t get very far before a voice snapped him back to reality.
“It’s not a cacophony.” B.J. said from behind the medical journal.
“What?”
“The rain. It’s not a cacophony, since it’s only one sound.” He repeated nonchalantly, almost as if the words spoken previously were just now registering.
A surprised grin spread across Hawkeye’s face as he once again got up to pace the tent. “Oh, you’re unbelievable. Correcting a man’s word choice during a time like this.”
“A time like what?” He contested, looking up from his reading. “Hawk, nothing's happening. It’s hardly a deluge.”
Still walking, he glanced down at his feet and chuckled. “One more word and I’m gonna jump you.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.”
The rain started coming down even harder than before now, the water flowing through camp taking in its stream any leaf or piece of wood it could find. Hawkeye’s thoughts wandered over to post-op, and Charles, who’s been on shift for the last couple hours, starting just before it got really bad. The drops hitting the building’s metal roof must sound like a front line shoot-out, he thought. It would be a miracle if the patients got any sleep at all.
Hawkeye stopped by the Swamp door and moved the little curtain looking through the window. “It kind of sounds like music.”
“What does?”
“The rain. Sounds like music.” He turned around to face the tent and a soft humming filled the air. “ The weather is frightening... ” He struggled to remember the words. “The thunder and lightning... Thank God there isn’t any lightning.” B.J. chuckled, half paying attention. “Seem to be having their way. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s a lovely day...”
“This is interesting, Hawk. Listen to this.” He read from a medical journal. “A few months ago in Copenhagen-”
“The turn in the weather will keep us together...”
B.J. glanced back, surprised. “Oh, he goes on.”
“So I can honestly say...” Hawkeye swayed from side to side, almost wishing he had a cane to swing around. “That as far as I’m concerned, it’s a lovely day. And everything’s okay.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Don’t patronize me.” The surgeon pointed his finger in B.J.’s direction, still swinging.
“I’d never.” The medical journal lay abandoned on the cot now. “If I’d known the Army offered dinner and a show I would’ve arrived earlier. Do you have a song for any type of weather?” B.J. joked.
Hawkeye stopped dancing.
“You don’t know this?” He asked, but all he got in response was a shrug.
Walking around the tent, Hawkeye put his hands in his pockets. “Well, there’s only one movie theater in Crabapple Cove, and the owner’s wife is a big musical fan. I don’t know if it changed now, but before...” He gesticulated broadly, as if indicating the war, “they only used to show these Hollywood pictures full of glitz and glamour. I must’ve seen all of the Fred Astaire films at least ten times each. This song is from one of them, I can’t remember which... All of those titles were the same.”
“I’ll have to watch some when I get back, then.” B.J. reclined on his bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Get an insight into your psyche.”
The drops of rain carried on, joining their various tempos into one unbroken sound.
Hawkeye picked up his dancing once again, shuffling around on his feet. “Isn’t this a lovely day to be caught in the rain?” Waltzing over to the stove, he opened the door and threw in another log on the fire. “You were going on your way, now you’ve got to remain...” Having taken a seat on the chair between the beds, he continued. “Just as you were going, leaving me all at sea...” He extended his hand dramatically, almost stroking B.J.’s cheek. “The clouds broke, they broke. And oh... what a break for me.”
Watching the performance with a smile on his face, B.J. tried not to think about his approaching shift at post-op and the amount of layers he would have to put on just to get there relatively dry. He also forced himself not to over-analyze the lines he was being serenaded with, and if they meant anything in particular.
Hawkeye swiftly got up and jumped on Charles’ cot. Spreading out his hands, he stood there proudly. “I can see the sun up high, though we’re caught in a storm!”
“Oh, he will not be happy about that...” B.J. said more to himself than anyone else, though the consequences weren’t the thing occupying his thoughts right now.
The song continued as he fixed his attention on another bed – B.J.’s bed – and lunged, landing right above him. Leaning down, the tune went on. “I can see where you and I could be cozy and warm...”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Hawkeye was already gone, jumping from leg to leg with each word and twirling around the tent. “Let the rain pitter patter, but it really doesn’t matter if the skies are grey...” Finally, as if drained of all energy, he threw himself down on the bed and finished singing on his back. “Long as I can be with you, it’s a lovely day...” He exhaled slowly. “Man, that Fred Astaire is really something. I don’t know how he does it.”
They sat in silence for a while, B.J. looking at Hawkeye’s profile, thinking about what just happened, before suddenly remembering and glancing down at his watch. “Oh, shoot, it’s almost 7. I have to go replace Charles.”
He got up and dressed quickly while Hawkeye relaxed on the cot, the sound of the water seeming not to bother him anymore. His thoughts were elsewhere now, colored by the Los Angeles sunshine and shimmering like the dresses of the red carpet.
“Well, thanks for the show, Hawk. You’d really give Hollywood a run for their money.” B.J. headed to the Swamp door before remembering something and turning around. “Oh, and it’s Top Hat.”
“What?” Hawkeye looked up from under the arm placed on his forehead.
“The movie that song is from. Top Hat. And I guess that makes me Ginger Rogers.” He couldn’t contain his smug grin. “See ya.”
“You rat!” Hawkeye sat up and shouted after him, but the rain drowned him out as soon as B.J. opened the door. Left alone in the swamp, he laughed in disbelief and threw himself back onto the bed. Of course.