He wasn't expecting it to be so sunny. Korea was sunny, but dusty too, so there was normally something blocking the intense glare of the sun. There wasn't that here. He raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them as he peered around the dock. Fancy buildings, lots of boats, people loading and unloading. And a group making a bee-line for him.
He wasn't expecting them to speak English, so that's a surprise. But the fact is, none of them actually tell him where he is, or how he got there, and after pressing something about the size of a Red Cross parcel into his hands, they're off to speak to someone else looking just as confused.
He looks down at the parcel, opening the lid. There's a folded piece of thick paper and a funny black box. He's not sure about the box, but he takes the paper and shoves everything else into his medical bag.
"Oh goody, a map." He says, and then looks around, trying to get someone's attention. "Excuse me, excuse me, there's a problem." He says, pointing to the map. He doesn't understand any of it, but he skipped out on map-reading in the Boy Scouts to kiss Sarah Leowitz. "This doesn't look like Korea?"
3. The Life And Seoul of the Party
Sometimes the brain just shuts down and you got through the motions. There are things you can't understand or explain and so instead of trying, the brain just suspends its disbelief. Hawke knew that. He wasn't a psychiatrist but when you'd worked in an active War Zone, you saw that sort of thing a lot. Mostly it was guys who had lost friends, or limbs that went into a sort of shock. He'd experienced it himself to a lesser degree.
Now though? Now he was being passed a glass of something by a nice attractive young lady as unfamiliar music played. It wasn't unpleasant. He couldn't actually, you know, complain. But no one had explained anything to him, had done more than hand him things and then shoo him away. He'd found his way to the bar because, well, that's what you did. Off duty? Find a bar. Then a girl.
The girl who had given him the drink was gone though. And there was a lot of people around, none of them wearing exactly the same sort of clothes. None of them wearing army fatigues either. "Looks like it's just you and me," He said to the drink, and took a swallow.
The coughing fit seemed to last a long time. He should have been used to nearly neat alcohol. But whatever this was, it wasn't like anything out of a still back home. Someone was patting his back. "Thank- Thank you. I thought I was a goner."
Hawkeye Pierce | M*A*S*H
He wasn't expecting it to be so sunny. Korea was sunny, but dusty too, so there was normally something blocking the intense glare of the sun. There wasn't that here. He raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them as he peered around the dock. Fancy buildings, lots of boats, people loading and unloading. And a group making a bee-line for him.
He wasn't expecting them to speak English, so that's a surprise. But the fact is, none of them actually tell him where he is, or how he got there, and after pressing something about the size of a Red Cross parcel into his hands, they're off to speak to someone else looking just as confused.
He looks down at the parcel, opening the lid. There's a folded piece of thick paper and a funny black box. He's not sure about the box, but he takes the paper and shoves everything else into his medical bag.
"Oh goody, a map." He says, and then looks around, trying to get someone's attention. "Excuse me, excuse me, there's a problem." He says, pointing to the map. He doesn't understand any of it, but he skipped out on map-reading in the Boy Scouts to kiss Sarah Leowitz. "This doesn't look like Korea?"
3. The Life And Seoul of the Party
Sometimes the brain just shuts down and you got through the motions. There are things you can't understand or explain and so instead of trying, the brain just suspends its disbelief. Hawke knew that. He wasn't a psychiatrist but when you'd worked in an active War Zone, you saw that sort of thing a lot. Mostly it was guys who had lost friends, or limbs that went into a sort of shock. He'd experienced it himself to a lesser degree.
Now though? Now he was being passed a glass of something by a nice attractive young lady as unfamiliar music played. It wasn't unpleasant. He couldn't actually, you know, complain. But no one had explained anything to him, had done more than hand him things and then shoo him away. He'd found his way to the bar because, well, that's what you did. Off duty? Find a bar. Then a girl.
The girl who had given him the drink was gone though. And there was a lot of people around, none of them wearing exactly the same sort of clothes. None of them wearing army fatigues either. "Looks like it's just you and me," He said to the drink, and took a swallow.
The coughing fit seemed to last a long time. He should have been used to nearly neat alcohol. But whatever this was, it wasn't like anything out of a still back home. Someone was patting his back. "Thank- Thank you. I thought I was a goner."