Rarely did incoming calls have someone all the way back home in the States on the other end. Even more rare was that person drunk. Not slightly intoxicated, flat drunk. The operator had choice words for the company clerk of the 4077, who’s face was beginning to turn shades of red even before the call was connected.
“MASH 4077.” Radar greeted in his best polite tone. He quickly held the receiver out away from his ear with a wince. “Uh, Sir I can’t- “ more drunken sputtering sounded and he had to remove it again. “Sir if you just - I can’t - you want who?” The poor clerk switched the receiver over to his other hand, then propped it against his shoulder so he could try to write down what was being said. “I’m sorry Sir, we don’t have anyone here named That Bastard.”
Wrong thing to say apparently as that just prompted the guy on the other end to get louder. Finally, finally he got a name. “Yes sir, yes. I’ll page him.” Radar thumbed on the loudspeaker “Um Admiral King pleas come to the phone. Your brother is on the line and he’s not patient.”
@coca-colonial