Prologue - War Is Worse Than Hell

In the mid-1940's, as a group of young men fought their way through medical school and their first residencies, a group of men barely older than them saved the world from evil. It was an unashamed evil, but a deceptive one. To this day advocates of this evil will tell you it was not evil at all.

Millions of young men would tell you differently. In German-held lands, at least 20 million would never speak again, all for lack of blond hair and blue eyes. It was a pervasive evil, and the steps taken to defeat it were, by definition, quite harsh.

Some were misguided. Many thousands of Japanese-Americans who couldn't even understand Tojo Hideki's Hitleresque message in their ancestors' language were told they were merely Japanese, not Americans. Hostile foreigners, to be treated as such.

Some were born of cruel necessity. The wartime alliance with Joseph Stalin would have its price in the building of an Iron Curtain only recently pulled away.

Some choices had the elements of all human endeavor: Fear, desperation, necessity, boldness, achievement and the striving to go further. Such a choice was the creation of weapons powered by the splitting of the atom. They would end the hot war, and start a cold one.

Oblivious to the young men emerging from medical school, the Doctors Henry Blake and Sherman Potter served in the Second World War, though field surgery would have drawbacks that would lead to a new innovation later on.

Oblivious to them, a young woman shuffled from military base to military base, in the company of her parents, while she and other young women thought about helping to end human suffering as nurses-it was a different time.

Oblivious to anything human, an anachronism, a creature well out of its time, shook off wounds on an island called Lagos, and slumbered in an under-island grotto. It was an herbivore, a peaceful creature content to feed off the algae that grew so well in this part of the South Pacific. It was called Gojirasauronus Gigantis, or plainly, Godzillasaurus. Long ago, its kind had been forced to flee the ancient game reserve known as Skull Island, where one of its ancestors had slain the parents of the Mighty Kong. It didn't know this, or care. It was healing, it was cool, and it was well-fed.

In 1950, war came. It was a limited war, but not to the people of Korea. It was not limited in scope in the eyes of the soldiers who gave their youth and lives to fight it.

Ironically, some of the worst of it was seen by those who cleaned up after battles were done. The new innovation in medical treatment during wartime was the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. One such hospital unit was the 4077th.  The times at the 4077th MASH are well-documented.

Well-known are the showers that may as well have been transparent.

Well known was the clownish surgeon, butt of a billion practical jokes he seemed at times to be begging for.

The first CO, so confused when he was there, and so mourned when he was gone.

The Second CO, straightforward son of the Show-Me State, with a library's worth of colorful remarks.

There was the naive Corporal who was that place's glue.

There was the streetwise Corporal who surrendered his dignity in a parade of efforts that never did net him a Section 8.

Lastly, there were the Nurses, and the Doctors. Their loves, their hates, their minds, their souls-in the charge of one very tough Priest-are romantic, compelling visions of an age that at times only feigned innocence. Most important, and not to be neglected, was this simple fact - Better than 9 out of 10 wounded people entering the 4077th lived to tell about it. They were healers, one and all. Their Chief Surgeon even regarded Death as his personal enemy, a vendetta so fierce, most feel it played a role in his eventual mental breakdown, right before war's end.

But Hawkeye Pierce and his friends left that place in 1953, having helped innumerable lives to continue. But there was one wounded being they didn't know about, and couldn't have helped if they did. This was a damned pity.

In 1951, while Major Houlihan fumed over innuendo that Captain McIntyre had used in surgery, while Frank Burns typed another report, while Henry Blake explained Pierce's actions to yet another General, and while Max Klinger strung together a cot to put underneath a helicopter, the dinosaur on Lagos Island was under brutal assault.

The first Hydrogen Bomb on a nearby island was a success, another step up in the Cold War. Life for miles around was simply blanked out. To many, it seemed the ultimate destroyer. This was wrong on its face.

In its grotto, the Dinosaur's flesh was sizzled off, its bones powdered, and its internal organs pulped. Only its cartilage remained, tougher than a hundred tanks. The cartilage mutated, absorbing the radiation, sparing Lagos a future of complete lifelessness.

But the reborn creature was in agony. It wanted two things only: To lash out, at anything and everything, and to find more of what had changed it.

It was now a radiovore, and it hungered. Being unstoppable, it would be fed no matter what the cost.

In June of 1954, an early reunion was planned by the staff of the 4077th. Eventually, top military brass, seeking publicity, would contact their old friend Sherman Potter and persuade him to have his people delay this reunion til December, where the men and women would be relocated at Army expense to Tokyo. In Tokyo, newsreel cameras would be running. So would everyone be.

Despite reluctance on the part of some, the plans were made, and Tokyo awaited the healers with open arms.  They would arrive, but they wouldn't do so alone. Further, they would never be the same.
 

Chapter 1 - Over The Waters, Beneath The Sea

It was a large military transport aircraft. Too large to be used for its intended purpose. Horse-trading in the U.S. Senate was responsible for the creation of a transport so large, it was more target than resource. There were really only two uses for it. One, to bring troops to a site that was already largely secured. Of course, by the time that all enemy AA batteries had been nailed down, the need for that many troops was questionable. Also, a sniper could probably target the thing's brobdingangian fuel tank with one eye closed. So the main result of this budget-closer, the brainchild of Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson and the new rich kid from Massachusets, was to zip people back and forth for events.

This particular event should never have required any such transport. First, the overwhelming majority of the people being shuttled were civilian, many of them not even reservists. Secondly, the event in question had started out very small in scope.

April, 1954

Meeting at a diner-style seafood restaurant in Augusta, Maine, the world's unlikeliest and yet most inevitable couple were having brunch prior to what the woman called *Close-order drill*. They were trying to meet more and more to get their relationship going. They stumbled and fell more often than not.

But, since most of Hawkeye Pierce's and Margaret Houlihan's relationship had consisted of grade-school antics, this adolescent-style one was actually a vast improvement.

"How...many of them were you really with?"

"Margaret, you don't want to know that."

"That many, huh?"

"If I say the number was close to 100, can we move on? This kind of conversation is set to explode."

"100? There weren't that many nurses during our entire time there. Someone is exaggerating to pad their ego."

If it weren't for his pride and the gorgeous, cocky smile Margaret wore, Hawkeye would have known enough to let it go.

"Sorry, honey, but that wasn't a counting number, so much as a percentage. Now, can we...."

"No, we can not! 100%? How could even you...Typical, Pierce. That number exceeds our patient recovery rate! Why you feel the need to brag...."

Before Hawkeye could retort, Margaret caught herself and remembered who had asked who about what.

"I'm sorry, darling, its just..."

"No, Margaret, its not just! To me or to you! Except for Kelly, Able, and Baker, and maybe Dish, I barely can discern between names. The other nurses and I got along because we could all die tomorrow. Most of them probably wouldn't know me from the neighborhood lush. It was a way of getting by. You wrote reports, Radar had his animals, and Klinger played at being the Countess Of Monte Cristo. We all did what-and who-we had to."

"I said I was sorry! Its only that ...should we all just forget each other, in order to forget that place? We said we were family. But its been less than a year, and it feels like three. Hawkeye, I loved those girls like they were my own sisters. And I know you loved them for more than just their bodies."

"Well, of course. You can't---ya know---24 hours a day. The only time we even tried that was right after we lost SpearChucker, Duke, and Ugly John. We were nuts from grief. We couldn't even tell people we knew them. I do love those ladies, and I hate the thought of not knowing about their careers, their kids, whatever...but what are we supposed to do? I mean, its a little early for a reunion, Margaret."

"Is It?"

May, 1954

"Sherman T. Potter, here."

"Colonel? This is Peg Hunnicutt, out in San Francisco."

"Ah, the lovely Mrs. H! What can I do you for, Peg?"

"Well, sir, Margaret Houlihan contacted me, and..."

"Did that dunderhead Pierce finally propose to her, or did she belt him again?"

"Neither, Colonel. She and Hawkeye said that we should all try and get together this July, on the 1st anniversary of the war's end. My hubby-who now has a bruise on his arm-kinda volunteered me to put it all together, since I did it for the families' get-together in New York."

"Well, by all means, count me and Mildred in, and I'll betcha Max and Soon-Lee will be tickled pink at the thought. The Padre's been feelin' a mite nostalgic, as well. By the by, Max is out of the psych ward. Lad finally seems to have his head on straight, praise be."

"Oh, I knew you'd all come, Colonel, but that's not why I called. Look, we need a hall-preferably a big VFW somewhere, to hold this in. BJ said half the Generals in the Pentagon went through basic with you."

"Knew em' when they were the ones sayin' no General was worth a tinker's damn. Peg, consider the phone call placed. A big, bee-you-ti-full VF-typeW will be the 4077th's USA auxiliary."

June, 1954

In Washington to testify about the recent chaos at General Pershing Veterans' Hospital in River Bend, Missouri, Sherman T. Potter knocked on the office door of General George Johansen. Potter had served with him and his late brother Ferdie during the First World War, and they had broken out of the same POW camp together, with the help of medic Duncan Macleod. He hoped Georgie would have the answers about the reunion hall. No one else had.

"Sherm, you old snitch! How's the testimony goin' ?"

"Aaah, the usual, Georgie. Wally Wainwright was embezzling the place blind. He and his crew are gone, thankfully. But right now, we have no administrator. That's not why I'm here, though, General."

"Aaah, yes. Your reunion. Sherm, I placed a call and found out that your request got---re-routed."

Potter started to feel the blood drain from his face. Re-routed was a nice way of saying that someone, somewhere, who had no right to say anything about it, had gotten a *brilliant* idea about how something "should" be done.

"You outrank me, Georgie, so forgive my lack of respect when I ask by what moron's authority?"

"Tacken in recruitment. He wants newsreel cameras running as the 4077th has its get-together. He's adamant, Sherm. And there's more."

"With 'Tacky' Tacken, there usually is, Georgie! Does he understand the people involved-at all? They are not what you might call Recruitment Poster materiel."

"You know old Tacky, Sherm. Thought capturing the Kaiser's helmet would get him First Lieuie. Nearly got his butt shot off, all for a prop. Old Wilie never carried the real thing with him. Full of ideas, our Tacky-or full of something. He knows that your people were Iconoclasts- to put it mildly. He wants to show young people a different Army, and in a different setting. Tell, me, Colonel-your people were always fond of Tokyo, weren't they?"

"Course. Make it to Seoul, that's good. Make it to Tokyo, then the war is somewhere else. That's kind of a given, General. What's Tokyo got to do with our little shindig?"

"It's where your Reunion is going to take place, Colonel."

Potter now felt the blood rushing back to his face.

"Now, look, Georgie. I'm regular Army. I dance where I'm told. But this is a private affair, and the Army has got to keep itself back. Just give us an available VFW hall, and some reimbursement fundage for travel expenses, like we requested, and all's well."

"Sherm? Do you think I want to play with you like this? I raised all those objections, to Tacky. But he says he's gonna cut you off at the pass until you give in. Now, it'll be all on the Army's Tab, and you'll leave day after Thanksgiving. Staff only, no spouses, I'm afraid. But it'll be great. We'll gather ya, then bring you all back. Now waddya say, Sherm?"

"I'm still regular Army. If I told you what I have to say, I'd be shot for TREASON!"

With that, Potter stormed out. Within a month, the Reunion had gathered such steam, though, that the lack of a hall was intolerable. General Tacken was as good as his word, even blocking off a few non-VFW venues. Surprisingly, Pierce was the one who urged giving in.

"Look, Colonel, I don't like it, either, but, ya know, we gotta go through with this. Everybody's calling me to find out when and where. Just exact two promises from these people, and I'll corral the stragglers."

"Georgie? Sherm? We'll do it. But two things, in writing. One-Never Again. I don't care if Harry, Ike, AND Doug want it, our get-togethers are OUR bulwark, from here on in. Two---Oh, well. Did you now? Well, yours truly being made the new Chief Administrator of Pershing General was the second thing. What an interesting Co-inky-dinky-doo that you all had the same idea!"

Hanging up, Potter felt both a little unclean, and a little refreshed. He had made his deal, and would allow himself to enjoy the benefits. For months now, he had put up with the inane stupidity at the Veterans' Hospital. Now, he would move like he had thought of since coming home.

"Max? With the exception of yourself, the Padre, and Doc Taylor, review all personnel files. If they can be fired, fire em. If they can't, transfer em'! We're cleaning house, son."

Max Klinger smiled a bright smile. The Colonel was back.

"Yes, Sir! It seems our little aftermath is finally coming together."

Despite himself, Max would enjoy firing a certain secretary who felt it was her sworn duty to test his marriage vows. He would enjoy telling Soon-Lee even more. To him, she was the most beautiful thing on Earth. He wondered why she worried about competition.

December 27, 1954

The reunion was delayed until after Christmas. But now, all were assembled aboard the large plane. Lacking their spouses was rough, but they'd dealt with that before. Two things that two people couldn't deal with were the confined spaces and the loud roar of the powerful engine. They needed a distraction. They, of late, found that distraction - in one another.

"Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Margaret?"

"The engine is getting to me. Is the lack of space getting to you?"

"Very much so."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Margaret?"

"Wanna make out?"

"I thought you'd never..mmmhh!"

As the new couple's lips locked, a lonely Frank Burns watched as his former lover and former Chief Tormentor went at it. He was determined not to make a fool of himself at the reunion, so he turned away. He walked over and found someone he hadn't met before-his replacement, Charles Emerson Winchester the Third.

While Frank tried hard to be more human, Sydney Freedman, occasional psychologist for the 4077th, saw Radar O'Reilly shivering in the corner.

Concerned, Freedman went to speak with the young man. He was concerned because he liked Radar, but also because they shared a secret. Like their friends Connor and Duncan Macleod, Sydney and Walter were Immortals. Sydney was nearing 2000, while Radar had only died two years ago, and then awoke Immortal. Radar's face told Sydney that the boy's weird senses-his "Radar"-sensed something-something bad.

"Walter, what is it? Do you sense one of us? I don't think anybody on the plane.."

"Doctor Freedman, I'm feelin' somethin'. But it ain't one of us, and not a Wamphiri-guy, neither. Its...BIG! Its hurtin, too. I think...its headed for Tokyo. Oh, we gotta turn back."

"Radar. The position we're over right now is near where Colonel Blake's plane was shot down. Could you be sensing that? Your senses are a lot different than the rest of us, remember."

"I spose' so. Jeez, life was a lot clearer fore' I got myself killed."

As the plane made its approach toward Japan, on Odo Island, a reporter named Stephen Martin heard an old legend of a powerful beast. In Okinawan, it was "Gorilla-Whale", or Gujira. Struggling with the dialect, Martin simply wrote one word in his ledger : GODZILLA.

That night, terrible storms struck Odo Island---and something--emerged from the sea. Like Radar, it had fond memories of a simpler life. Unlike the young man, though, it had the power to bring about the fall of all creation. And it would use that power.

Chapter 2 - The Reunion and The Reptile  December 28, 1954 -Early Morning on Ohto Island

"Not what you had planned for, eh, Steve?"

Reporter Stephen Martin's friend, a former aide to the great and tragic Admiral Yamamoto, had a very Japanese bearing, but a positively British talent for understatement. With the natives of Ohto Island in an uproar, claiming that a monsoon on two legs named Godzilla had wrecked their homes and poisoned their wells, this was indeed not what he expected.

All in all, he'd rather have been home, seeing if Cousin Perry was going to win his first case as a Defense Attorney. But his editor, George Taylor, had insisted he go to Asia, to investigate the massive disruptions of shipping around the Sea Of Japan. He was at least able to get out of his other assignment.

"No, my friend, this is not what I had in mind. But if some sort of Jurassic leftover actually exists, here on Ohto, then it'll make Carl Denham's Kong look like a monkey's uncle."

Since Skull Island had sunk into the sea, back in 34', no one had been able to confirm Denham's accounts that said King Kong was from a place full of dinosaurs. Whatever lived here, on Ohto, would be utterly confirmable. More, Stephen Martin could repay a debt to an old friend, by granting him an exclusive look at the creature.

"I'm told, Steve, that Yamane-San was quite pleased that you passed the news to him first. Will Serizawa-San also grace us with his presence?"

"I'm afraid not. Serizawa's scarring keeps him out of the public's view. But Dr. Yamane will be here, as they say, with bells on. Wild horses, and all that!"

Once, in strictest confidence, Dr. Serizawa had told Martin that his scarring came from analysis of bacteria lifted from meteors taken from a site in Korea. The place had been a POW camp, but when Stephen tried to find it, he got stymied by talk of classified material. The only thing officially on that site-ever-was a MASH-a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, the 4077th.

Ironically, it was a reunion of that same Unit, to be held in Tokyo, that he had ditched to be on Ohto Island. He was a good reporter, and felt that covering a bunch of over-happy, drunken medics preening for newsreel cameras was beneath him. Suddenly, Stephen Martin and his friend had their reverie broken by a sound of thunder.

Back in Tokyo, those same medics were neither drunk nor happy. Everyone seemed on the surface to get along well enough. But the only one who seemed genuinely pleased was the event's organizer, General Tacken. His old acquaintance Sherman Potter was going to do his best to change all that.

"Well, well, Colonel Potter! How is it going? My boys sure put a lot of attention to detail here, didn't they? Bet you folks appreciate it. Any problems, though? No need to make an unhappy newsreel!"

"General, I can honestly say on behalf of my former command, that, except for the fact that you have commandeered our 1st Reunion, relocated it on the other side of the globe, didn't allow our loved ones to come with us, packed us all into a single transport, AND put us up in barracks instead of hotels, that absolutely everything is hunky and dory."

The Colonel's sarcasm rode a wave straight over Tacken's head. He put two thumbs up.

"Aces, Sherm! Aces! Wait'll ya see the food! Quite a spread!"

While walking over to place flowers by a picture of Henry Blake, Sherman Potter wondered if he shouldn't sell drilling rights to the General's head next time he visited  Texas.

Across the makeshift Hall from one another, BJ Hunnicutt and Trapper John McIntyre exchanged harsh stares. This was not their first meeting. It had taken Hawkeye Pierce's direct intervention to keep the two from each others' throats. As it stood, both San Francisco Bay Area Surgeons might one day be friends. Today, however, was not that day.

"Hey, BJ, are we good?"

"If you're asking me whether or not I'm going to start another fight, Trapper, then the answer is yes, we're good for now."

"How's Hawk holding up?"

"Well, so far, he's good, too. He stopped talking to his invisible friend, anyway, as soon as things were settled."

Neither McIntyre nor Hunnicutt would admit this to him, but it was only because of their concern for Hawkeye's sanity that the recent unpleasantness had been settled amicably. All his barely-lucid talk of time-travel and invisible friends had sobered the two up and made them put aside their considerable differences for their friend's sake. Still in all, it had been rough. Very rough.

"I'm glad to hear that, BJ. Really. If he starts in again, though, I'm tellin' Sidney."

"Trapper, on that, and only that, we're agreed. How's about we steer clear, though? This is a big room, and there's lots of people we can talk to besides us."

Trying desperately to avoid starting in again, Trapper nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan ta me."

It was a credit to these two men that, despite the images of chairs being broken and tables overturned and scores settled running through their minds, that they did in fact steer clear of one another-for as long as they could.

Some people, however, did not know when they were annoying the living hell out of another human being. One such man was Frank Burns. The now-constant subject of his attentions was Doctor Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. Not quite believing all the stories about Lieutenant Colonel Burns, Charles had been gracious and attempted to chat with Frank on the plane over. Now, to see Winchester's face, you could see he was a believer.

"D--hhaoctor Burns, I never said we SHOULD have made use of the Atomic Bomb in Korea, meehrly that we should have allowed General MacArthur the negotiating option of it. One cannot expect to actualllly use such powers without retaliation."

"Hey, MacArthur didn't bluff, pal! When it came to the Big A, he'd either use it or lose it. What's the point in having the power of the Hydrogen Bomb if we never touch the darned thing?"

"Doctor---Frank, there are cerhtain things one never does, just because one can. Surely you know your H.P. Lovecraft, and the folly of seeking power for its own sake?"

"Lovecraft? Nah, I'm not into that Porno filth. Give me movies where people keep their clothes on, friend!"

"Be-heee that as it may, Doctor, my point is, the civilian sector could have suborned the military without humiliating one of the greatest military minds in history. Truman could have had MacArthur as his staunchest ally, but was too stubborn to see a third path."

"Here, here. Yeah, that little piano-player just about ruined everything there was to ruin. Heh! Good thing we've got a man like Ike, now."

"No, no! Again you misappehrend me, Doctor Burns. I did not vote for Truman either, but I feel, given what he was facing, he did a passably competent job. I, too, am glad that General Eisenhower now sits in that office. But you, Sir, would do well to show proper respect for all those who have held that office-well, perhaps not Harding, but thennn..."

"You know, I am a Lieutenant Colonel. You are still just a Major, buddy! Howzabout some proper respect aimed in YOUR direction? Er, I mean, aim it at me...I think."

"I am an inactive resarvist, 'Colonel' Burns. Even if ,though, I should have the graaaave misfortune to serve under you as a Buck Private, I should like to think that I would still deliver this message to you:  Get back from me, You Sad, Strange, Pathetic Little Willy-Worm of a Man!  Get gone from my sight and darken my door no furthar!"

With that, Winchester stalked off. Without rank to back Frank up, he had been told off by quite a few people, this day. Charles, who did not know Frank, was his last hope. Burns wandered the hall, lightly sobbing. If it had not been for the wreck of his home life, he would never have come.

His cries did not go unnoticed.

"Should I try, Margaret?"

Margaret Houlihan looked up at her current love from her chair.

"Most of them, he had coming, Hawkeye. But for a few of those remarks and pranks...well, honestly, honey, you do owe him. But tread carefully and be gentle, that's all I ask."

Bravely, Hawkeye Pierce went over to awaken the Frank Burns he had seen only briefly during the war; the human being, underneath the bluster and pain. Problem was, with Frank, that it was less a simple wake-up and more of a ritual summoning.

As Pierce walked over, trying to figure out the right words to banish the monster, so to speak, a thousand other conversations took place. Most of them had nothing at all to do with the 4077th's senior staff. There were lovers who finally broke it off, and lovers who couldn't. There were grudges buried and renewed.

In at least two cases, young women presented young men they had known with pictures of children with familiar faces. There was a casual denial of responsibility, and an equally casual proposal of marriage. Ironically, the delighted young woman who was proposed to was lying; the one who was asked how many lovers she had was telling the truth.

Incidents were recalled, to joy and regret.

Almost everyone had a story of where they were when the news about Colonel Blake came.

Zelmo Zale forged a strong business partnership in the hall that would one day lead to a Fortune 500 company. His new partner was one Luther Rizzo.

Max Klinger was civil enough toward everyone, and good-naturedly accepted dress jokes, even from Zale. For the most part, though, he stared and stared and stared at a picture of his wife Soon-Lee, and never ceased to marvel at how much it hurt to miss her.

Carefully, discussions began about the many health problems that a number of them and their children had been having. They wondered if it didn't have something to do with the war, and the grim times they had all been ordered never to speak upon.

Finally, Pierce felt he had the words to calm Frank Burns down, and let him have a good time, while he was there. He approached the nervous surgeon.

"Frank?"

"Yes, Pierce?"

"Why don't you just...calm down and... have a good time, while you're here, ya know?"

"Well, gee. You think so? Honest Injun?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, alright, then!"

Burns calmed down, and with everyone having vented at him, he became part of the larger conversation on the floor. He even hit it off with quite a few people.

Meeting in the middle of the floor were Pierce, Houlihan, Potter, Hunnicutt, McIntyre, Winchester, Klinger, Radar, and Sydney Freedman. They all stared over at the apparently reborn Frank Burns, and, without meaning to, all uttered the exact same question about this turn of events.

"That Worked?"

On Ohto Island, a face stared over a hill. But it wasn't standing on top of the hill; it was standing behind it. It was the face of something impossible. Nature's perfect killing machine married roughly with mankind's perfect doomsday machine. It was not a face that Doctor Keiyho Yamane, his daughter Emiko, or Stephen Martin would ever be permitted to forget.

It was the face of Godzilla. It then departed Ohto Island, making way for a destination no one could precisely guess, with the exception of Radar O'Reilly, who had felt the beast's coming for hours, now.

"General, there has got to be a mistake! This food is--is--"

"Ain't it great, Sherm? I had to search high and low, but I found it. This is the typical diet of the 4077th MASH. Liver, Fish, Corned Beef Hash , and Chipped Beef! They don't serve this exact meal, anymore. You guys are soooo lucky."

As the General smiled, everyone - including Frank and Hawkeye - stood in dumb silence. No one had expected this particular *spread*. While the radio played music over the loudspeakers, Father Francis Mulcahy looked up and quietly said something to his employer.

"Forgive me. Please. But is there possibly any way this day could be made any worse?"

Just then, the music silenced, and news came over-grim news.

"This just in to the Armed Forces Radio Network. Reports are confirmed of a large dinosaur-like monster emerging from Japan's Ohto Island. Possibly 200 feet tall and believed to be radioactive, this giant strange creature is called Godzilla. The Great Fear is, the monster may be headed directly for Tokyo Bay. More news will be delivered as we recieve it. The Armed Forces Radio Network now resumes its program of music with the immortal *StarDust*."

For 15 minutes, absolutely no one spoke.

All waited for someone, maybe BJ or Trapper, to yell, 'Gotcha!'. But this never happened. For good reason. It wasn't a joke. Sidney Freedman looked over at Radar, who grimly nodded his head. This was what O'Reilly had felt over the Sea of Japan, on the trip over. When someone finally spoke, it was again Father Mulcahy, and again he looked up.

"You do realize I meant that whole 'day getting worse' thing in a purely rhetorical sense?"

Chapter 3 - What's Mine Is Yours, and Tokyo Bay Is Mined!

Shortly after 2AM , December 29, 1954

At different places and on different levels, the city of Tokyo was preparing for a possible assault by the mutated dinosaur known as Godzilla. They knew nothing of it, except that it was big, and that anything that big in a crowded city of eight million souls was bad news.

The news would simply get worse, leading some to ask questions. Some questions, and some answers were more worthwhile than others. In the face of a disaster that no city planner had made contingencies for since the Hyborian Age, however, all q's and a's seemed SOL. Much as Tokyo itself would soon be. For all this, the questions continued to be asked, with much vigor.

"What do you mean, they can't transport us out? It was easy enough for them to put their hand in our face, and get us into Tokyo. It was stunningly easy to put us up in unused barracks, and give us this stellar cuisine. When it came to running interference against us running our own reunion, there was no trouble. But now? Wait a minute, guys. Now we have a problem. With all respect, Colonel, we want to go home. Strike that. We want to go BACK home! All of us *civilians*, the dumb jerks who gave in at my even dumber request. I owe these people an apology, and the Army owes us all a ride stateside."

Hawkeye Pierce was, as always, more than somewhat brusque toward and disrespectful of authority, even if that authority's hold over him had technically expired. He retained his ability to raise his old CO's dander, and casually bring the crowd to his way of thinking. But in this case, he was also completely correct. Problem was, there was not a damned thing Colonel Sherman T. Potter could do about it. He wanted to desperately, but he had no authority here.

From the start, all their authorities, rights and privileges had been trampled. A small get-together of steaks, wine, and companionship, with the biggest problem being screaming little ones, bored out of their minds. That was the plan.

Sherman respected the Army, both the institution and the people. He knew it was no coincidence that so many of America's greats had served in the United States Military. He knew Harry Truman would do well as FDR's successor, because he had served with the man in WW1. You learned who people were, under such adversity.

But the institution he loved so well sometimes caused him to have an opinion of it so low, it made Pierce's tirades seem like The Star Spangled Banner. He was the first to admit, that when the army was wrong, it was wrong. When it set out to be wrong, though, things usually went way wrong. This was seven of those times.

"Hawkeye, everyone, I'm sorry. That's all I can tellya is, I'm sorry! The transport we used to get here is unavailable, now. Until they locate and depth-charge that economy-sized lizard, only certain people are leaving. Now, the good news is, the Japanese Self-Defense Force is pretty sure that they can, using the charges, kill Godzilla."

Trapper John spoke next.

"Not to be a wet blankie, Colonel, but exactly what is the bad news? More chipped beef? Where is that Tacken character, anyway? I want to give him a piece of my mind, if I can spare it!"

"Sorry, McIntyre. Tacky and certain other high-ranking officials are hightailing it out Tokyo on the next available plane. And before any of you ask, yes, it is the plane we all came in on, packed like sardines. But that's not the bad news. The bad news is, that, should the depth-charges fail...the US forces in Asia will be unable to act against Godzilla. Seems that China and the two Koreas are acting antsy with one another, and things are pretty tense, over there. The public story is that any movement of US forces might be seen as an act of war."

Now Margaret Houlihan asked her question.

"Colonel, how can that be? Japan can't defend itself against an atomic dragon, for pity's sake! Can't the Army send a small force to back up the SDF?"

"No, Major. None. Not even a consultant. You see, the private story is pretty nasty. I spoke to your General friend, Pierce. The guy from the Peace Talks, remember? He clued me in to the real deal, and like I'm sayin', it ain't pretty."

Hawkeye did remember the one General he had ever really liked, and the way the man had excused Pierce's barging in to the Peace Talks at Panmunjon.

"What did he have to say, Colonel? I mean, I'm not big on tanks and bombs, but in the face of Godzilla, it almost seems to make sense."

The assembled crowd in the overstuffed hall shifted once again. A good reunion with some bad moments was rapidly losing all remaining luster. Hawkeye advocating military force didn't help calm the sense of the surreal taking over th normal world.

"Brace yourself, folks. He told me that the three countries in question are all working together to make damned sure US forces do not engage the monster. Despite their differences, the two Koreas are of one mind on this, and China's with them."

BJ Hunnicutt found that notion loathsome.

"Colonel, that doesn't make sense. What do they want, anyway? Why wouldn't those countries want Japan's capitol to survive? If that thing is 200 feet, then it could cause damage like we've never seen, just by walking through."

Radar interrupted, "Uh, I heard on the radio they think it's really more like 175 feet, BJ."

Just to release tension-and there was a lot of it-Hawkeye shot back, "Well, what's 25 feet between fiends?"

Potter took in his breath before answering further. What he had to say next troubled him deeply.

"It is currently believed that these three countries, which were hurt badly by Japan not too long ago, still want revenge for the goings-on during the Big One. I use the term *goings-on* quite loosely, because we forget what the Axis powers did, back before we put paid to Tojo and Uncle Adolf. Those folks have legit gripes, but this is a helluva time to be tryin' for payback. So, bottom-line....no US troops."

Frank Burns raised his hand, and Potter acknowledged.

"Uh, people? We're all being worry-warts! I mean, depth charges can poke holes in submarines. How can this--thing-possibly survive that?"

Wishful thinking is a wholly human trait, not limited at all to Frank Burns. Within the hour, the Reunion had resumed, and Radio Tokyo announced the operation had been a success; best evidence showed that the depth charges had killed Godzilla, lying there in Tokyo Bay. A grateful city slowly came back to life.

But a bespectacled young man merely stared out at the Bay, knowing what was still out there. In favor of his nerves, though, even Hawkeye did not pay attention to Radar's brooding, which turned into his falling asleep in a chair. The former company clerk mumbled in his sleep.

"Darnit...know you're out there... whaddya mean, this is your place?...Hey, I didn't drop nothin on ya, ya big creep...No, ya shouldn't. That plane--it's got generals and other big people. What's that light comin' from your MOUUTHHH!?"

Faster than anyone could see, Hawkeye was by Radar's side. Even he wondered how he moved that quickly, but was more concerned about his young friend.

"Radar---wake up! C'mon, kid, you're just having a nightmare."

Shivering, O'Reilly looked around. He was no longer at the bottom of Tokyo Bay. But he didn't feel any better for it.

"It wasn't a nightmare, Hawkeye. Colonel, Godzilla just killed the people on that plane. The one with the General who set up this dumb reunion. I tried to stop him, but I failed ya! I'm so sorry, Colonel."

Potter didn't wish to embarrass himself or Radar, but knew that the lad must be tormented by images of planes crashing. Henry Blake had been like his father. The Colonel briefly let Radar cry on his shoulder, then spoke.

"Walter---I know how ya felt about Colonel Blake, but it was just a dream. Godzilla is dead, Son. Tacky and his band of wastrels are probably on Okinawa, figuring out ways to get around the promise I got from him, not to do this again. It's all right! Really."

Radar sat down in his chair and shook his head. The young man was seemingly ranting.

"You're wrong, sir! All of you are! It wouldn't matter if our guys were here! If everybody's army was here! We ain't got nothin' that can stop Godzilla! Nothin' at all! He's hurtin' and he's comin here to make sure everybody else hurts, too!"

Before some unkind remarks could be made, Max Klinger stepped in.

"You're crazy, Radar. Look, we're pals, right?"

"I spose so, Max."

"Sure we are! One, you're still one big ache from your dopey wife ditching you on your honeymoon. If Soon-Lee left me, I wouldn't need a dress-cause they'd know I was nuts. That little vixen hurt my pal, and I ain't forgivin' that, ever. You just need time. It's her loss, not yours. Two, if that oversized iguana shows its face here, I'll betcha six shots from a 46mm cannon sends him to Dinosaur Heaven. Who knows, maybe he'll even get caught in traffic, stuck on the bridge. C'mon, lighten up. You're around nearly all the people that love ya, ya dope!"

Max's efforts were goodhearted, but wrongheaded, opening an old wound as they did. Radar's mentor, Sidney Freedman, knew that the former Mrs. O'Reilly had left her husband upon finding out that he would always be 21, while she grew older and died, as most mortals tend to. It was one of a couple of handfuls of drawbacks to the life of an Immortal.

Sydney also knew, as did Potter, and the Padre, that Radar's senses were not just vague feelings. If the current Ottumwa police officer felt the creature's presence, then it was alive. As Trapper  then demonstrated.

"Hey, Hawk, BJ. You catchin this? Is that a crane out in the water?"

"If it is, it's awful close to that cruise ship. Noisy, too. Wait a minute, Peg's brother owns a construction company, and cranes...don't have arms! Do they? Trapper? Hawk?"

Hawkeye Pierce said nothing. The moonlight, where he was standing, afforded him an unparalleled view of Godzilla. Years later, a shadowy, psychotic figure with a fondness for Cigarettes would try to intimidate Pierce into cooperating with him and his unspeakable agenda. Having viewed a creature straight out of Revelations, though, Hawkeye just didn't scare that easy.

Potter just pointed his head down.

"Go with God, Tackey. Maybe the man upstairs can use a planner."

Charity aside, Potter could not bring himself to say, 'a good planner'.

Their sleep in the uncomfortable barracks was fitful, at best. Nightmares were not uncommon. The city of Tokyo faced one that was very real, in the form of Godzilla. In the late morning, the medics would face an awesome decision.
 
 

Page 2