Hair of the Dog

For the second time in recent history, Hawkeye awoke uncertain of his surroundings or the events of the previous night that led him to them. This time was much worse though (which was saying something considering last time he’d been mysteriously injured.) He was lying on the ground outside, and a quick survey of the area told him he had no idea where he was.

Also, he was naked. Did he even wanna know why that was? He was naked in the middle of nowhere with no idea how he’d gotten there.

And...was that—? Blood. There was blood on him. What the hell had he done? He inspected himself briefly. It wasn’t his blood. Maybe it wasn’t even human; it smelled different from the blood in the OR.

Aha! He found a feather, probably from a chicken by the looks of it, although he was no expert on birds.

So, he’d probably harmed at least one chicken at some point. And clothing had apparently been optional during these wild escapades.

He didn’t feel at all hungover, so he hadn’t been drinking. His brow furrowed. That wasn’t at all reassuring. No, that wasn’t good at all. If he was blacking out and doing crazy stuff when he was apparently sober then there was a pretty good chance he had really gone off the deep end.

He shook his head. That didn’t matter right now. Right now, he needed to focus on getting back to camp...somehow. He looked all around himself. He was truly in the middle of fucking nowhere. Great.

There had to be some sort of way to retrace his steps. He studied the area more closely. He briefly entertained the idea of crying out in the probably vain hopes he was closer to camp than he thought or that one of his friends might otherwise hear him, but he thought better of it, lest his voice fall on more sinister ears.

Cautiously, he headed towards some brush that appeared to have been recently trampled. He sniffed the air as he went, since apparently his sense of smell was almost as good as his eyes now. He thought he detected faint hints of whatever animal’s blood was all over him, but it was hard to tell with the blood still on him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He could only hope he was headed in the right direction. He wondered with some concern how far he would have to walk even if he was going in the right direction. He couldn’t have travelled too far last night, could he have? Had he made it all the way to wherever he had ended up on foot? He hoped so.

After a little while, he happened upon a small farm. Signs of life, that was probably a good sign. Something told him to stay hidden though. Probably had something to do with that chicken he might’ve murdered, he noted slightly amused in spite of himself. He continued travelling, staying hidden in the brush and tall grass as best as he could.

By the time he’d managed to sneak all the way around the farm, the sun was high in the sky. He had fewer clues to go by now in terms of which way he needed to go. He looked around, sniffed around, but neither sense told him much. He was almost as lost as he had been when he had started.

He couldn’t stay out here alone like this; he had to find his way back somehow. Think. Think. Think. He had to try to remember the previous night, but it was all a confusing blur.

He had run away from the 4077th and had kept running and running. He remembered that, but in a funny sort of way. Almost like remembering a dream. Before that, there had been something wrong… Something had been wrong with him, and BJ and Charles couldn’t figure it out and had been shouting. They had been afraid, and he had been afraid. Then, he ran. Then…

He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. Try as he might, he just couldn’t.

Suddenly, his nose detected something that broke his concentration. He thought he caught the faintest scent of some of his friends on the breeze, like they were distant but somewhere he might be able to find them. He followed the faint trace now; it was all he really had.

As weird as it was to suddenly be able to identify and track people by sense of smell, the ability was proving extremely useful in this situation. The scents, that he had determined belonged to Colonel Potter and Radar, were getting stronger as he moved forward. He probably should have been more concerned about his appearance and current state of undress, but he was much too concerned with no longer being alone and lost to give that much consideration.

Finally, when the scent was at its strongest, Hawkeye could hear voices to go with it. He practically ran towards them until at last the two men were in sight.

“Colonel Potter! Radar! Boy, am I glad to see you guys!” He shouted as he approached them.

“The feeling is mutual, son. You gave us all quite the scare,” Potter said.

“Oh geez! He’s naked!” Radar exclaimed in lieu of a greeting, “And he’s got blood all over ‘im! What the heck did you do, Hawkeye?” The young man sounded utterly appalled.

“That’s a good question actually,” Hawkeye replied, while making a feeble attempt to cover himself, “One I’m not so sure I have an answer to, other than the possibility that I might have seriously harmed at least one chicken at some point.”

“You did what?!” Radar, animal lover that he was, managed to sound even more appalled than before.

“I might have,” Hawkeye said, “I don’t know.” He paused, wishing yet again that he had more clear memories of the previous night. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the hell happened last night.”

“Well, put these on,” Potter ordered handing him some clothes, “We can talk more on the way back.”

--

After a short walk, they reached the dirt road where Potter and Radar had apparently left a jeep. The three of them boarded it, and Potter asked Hawkeye, “So, what all do you remember about last night?” His tone was knowing, and it also held an implication that he was going somewhere specific with this line of questioning.

“Honestly, Colonel? Not much,” Hawkeye replied, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into it any further than that.

The Colonel, on the other hand, must have. “Tell me what you remember, all of it, even if it sounds kooky.”

Hawkeye looked at him skeptically, but he complied. “‘Kooky’, huh? I think I’ve got that covered.” He paused, considering the question and both events he could recall and the possible ones he couldn’t. “Well, I was in the Swamp, last thing I clearly recall. There was… I don’t know what had come over me, but there was this feeling that I couldn’t shake. I don’t really know how to describe it, but it made me wanna get real far away from the Swamp, like I was trapped. I’ve never felt quite like that in the Swamp before, usually there’s plenty of space for me to breathe in there, relatively speaking at least.”

“And then what happened?” The Colonel pressed on when Hawkeye paused.

“Well, I don’t know exactly,” Hawkeye answered, “I remember something was wrong with me. I was shaking, and I think I had some sort of fit or seizure or something. It-It gets blurrier from there really. I-I remember, I think, BJ and Charles were trying to help me, but I don’t think they knew what was going on anymore than I did.”

“Well, they musta done something to upset you ‘cause you bit Major Winchester,” Radar interjected.

“I did what?” Hawkeye asked. It might’ve been funny if he wasn’t so confused.

“Radar, that’s enough. We’ll get to Major Winchester’s part in all this fracas in a minute,” Potter said, sternly but not harshly. Returning his attentions to Hawkeye, he said, “What do you remember after the whole affair with Winchester and Hunnicutt?”

“Well, clearly not enough,” Hawkeye responded, “I just, sort of, remember… running. Running out of the Swamp, then out of the camp, and then I guess I just kept going until I was in the middle of nowhere, presumably making at least one stop along the way to grab a chicken or two.” The Colonel was right; it did sound “kooky”.

Even though being crazy did sometimes get people out of the Army, Hawkeye found himself incredibly anxious at the thought of the Colonel (or anyone else really) thinking he was nuts. He found himself even more anxious at the idea that he genuinely might be nuts. “Sorry, Colonel, that’s all I know, and I’m not sure what to make of it or how to explain any of it.” Aside from the obvious explanation that he had lost it, of course, but he kept that to himself, figuring that maybe it went without saying.

“Well, I do!” Radar interjected once more, “Hawkeye’s a wolfman!”

Suddenly, Hawkeye didn’t feel like the craziest guy in the jeep. “A wolfman?”

“Radar—” The Colonel began.

“I know it sounds crazy, sirs, but how else do you explain everything? He came back from Tokyo different, and he even got bit when he was there, and he’s been acting all funny lately, and last night when he bit Major Winchester and took off was a full moon!” More quietly, he added, “Oh geez, I guess that means the Major’s a wolfman now, too.”

Hawkeye had to admit Radar’s explanation made a ridiculous kind of sense; it was really uncanny how much the situation resembled the story Radar was telling. Still, it was just that— a story. He couldn’t help but laugh. “C’mon, Radar? The Wolfman?” He didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings, but it was just too funny.

“He’s right, son, The Wolfman’s just a story,” Potter said, “What we’ve got here is a genuine, bona fide, real life werewolf.”

Both Hawkeye and Radar stared at Potter in shock. Hawkeye couldn’t believe he’d really heard what he’d just heard. “A what?”

“You heard me, son,” Potter replied, “You’re a werewolf.”

Great. Everybody in this jeep was nuts. “Colonel, you can’t be serious,” Hawkeye responded, “Come on, this… this is a joke. You’re- You’re messing with me right now, aren’t you? Who put you up to this? BJ?”

“I certainly didn’t drop you off in the middle of the Korean wilderness, and neither did Captain Hunnicutt,” Potter said.

“Well, no, but—C’mon! Werewolf?! You have to be kidding me,” Hawkeye continued.

“‘Fraid I’m not,” Potter replied, “I’ve been around awhile, and I’ve seen a lot, and I believe I know a werewolf when I see one. Radar was right in his own way; you came back from Tokyo different, but I wasn’t completely sure about it until last night.”

Potter was serious. Potter was dead serious and talking about werewolves. Good old rational, down to Earth Colonel Potter was trying to seriously convince him that he was a werewolf. For the first time in a while, Hawkeye didn’t feel like he was going crazy; rather, he felt like the whole rest of the world was going crazy. It was enough to make his head spin.

“You think I’ve gone crackers, don’t you?” The Colonel asked him, “It’s alright. I would, too, if I were you, but I can assure you I haven’t. I even served with a few werewolves back in WW Two, if you can believe it.”

“With all due respect, Colonel, I can’t believe any of this,” Hawkeye responded. He looked down at his bloodstained hands and wondered if it would be worse to be insane or to be a “bona fide, real life” werewolf.