It was 0500 hours, the day was cold and there was snow on the ground at the 4077th. Because of the cold, Cpl. Randall "Radar" O'Reilly, Company Clerk, hurried on his way to the Duty Hut. As he passed the Nurses Quarters, he noted steam coming from the shower tent, and he could hear Capt. Hoolihan singing as she showered. Radar stopped, listening for awhile, thinking of Captain Hoolihan, naked in the shower. Radar had never seen a real live naked woman before, only pictures that he found in the magazines Capt. Pierce kept under his pillow.
Radar felt some lustful stirrings below his waist and realized that his winky was jutting out. Embarrassed, Radar held a clipboard over his groin area and hurried to the duty hut, hoping nobody would notice. He arrived in plenty of time to start a pot of coffee for Col. Potter. Radar walked around in the duty hut for awhile, dusting off the office equipment and filing some surgical casualty reports. He stopped to dust Col. Potter's collection of medical books.
Almost, but not quite by chance, the young Corporal knocked open Gray's Anatomy. Radar picked up the book, looked around to make sure that nobody was nearby and opened the large volume to the color illustration pages, specifically to Female Genital Anatomy, Part I. Some of the pages were stuck together and Radar breathed hard as he opened to a full page drawing of a vulva. He rubbed his cock through the thick cotton of his fatigue pants and propped his feet up on the Colonels desk...
"Radar! What in Sam Hill are you doing??!!" Col. Potter was early!
"Uh, uh, Sorry Sir!," exclaimed Cpl. O'Reilly as he stuffed his cock back into his pants, zipped up and came to attention. "I..I..was cleaning and this book fell open, Sir!"
"We don't DO that in This Man's Army, son!" Exclaimed Col. Potter.
"Uh, I wasn't doing anything, sir!" Radar replied. Col. Potter rolled his eyes in exasperation. "What did I do to deserve this outfit?", he muttered to himself. "It was bad enough finding Cpl. Klinger dressed like a floozy; now Cpl. O'Reilly's jacking off at my desk..."
His voice softened. "Son, in my day you'd have been shot for doing that, now they just send you to Leavenworth. You have an illness, Radar. It's called Onanism and there's no pill that can cure it. You're going to go blind and insane in prison, son. You already wear the thickest glasses in camp and, well, just look at your palms." Radar's eyes fell to his opened hands. His eyes strained, looking for telltale hair. The young corporal looked down at the floor, sad and ashamed. "I just can't stop, sir!"
"I know, Son, I know. Look, we're kind of fond of you here at the 4077th. I'll talk to Hawkeye Pierce and B.J. Hunnicut. Perhaps there's something that can be done, some new treatment or research on Onanism. "But Sir!" interrupted the Corporal. "If they know, maybe they'll talk and somebody'll turn me in to the MPs. I don't want to go to prison!" Col. Potter thought for a second. "Don't worry. I'll just keep this between us, in strict confidence. Understand?"
"Uh, yes SIR!" Corporal O'Reilly replied hopefully.
"Choppers!" Radar exclaimed. The Colonel sighed and told Radar, "Just put away the book and wash your hands, son. We've got casualties coming in."
The first helicopter brought in two wounded soldiers, and the surgical teams went to work. Team one, Col. Potter and Capt. Pierce, worked on a sucking chest wound, while Team two, Capt. Hunnicut and Major Winchester, handled a nasty abdominal wound. The nurses passed instruments to the surgeons, while Max Klinger, who was wearing a Candy Striper's uniform, brought newly sterilized supplies to the operating tables. The only sounds were of the surgical suction, the occasional clang of shrapnel being thrown into a bucket and Father Mulcahey giving the last rites to the two doomed men.
The conversation was casual, considering the life and death drama enfolding around the operating room. Once in a while the O.R. lights went out and plaster dust fell from the tent roof as North Korean artillery shells struck the camp.
"You'll never guess what Radar was doing in my office this morning," said Col. Potter dryly, as he clamped off a bleeding artery.
Captain Pierce knew. "Was he jacking off again? That's the third time this week that somebody caught the little creep. I think it was Radar who ruined my skin magazines. All the pages are stuck together and I'll have to take a jeep into Seoul to get more!"
"Now, don't get your hide in a lather" said Col. Potter. We've got to help the boy." A piece of shrapnel clanked in a bucket. "I'll help him!" cried Capt. Pierce, "I'll throw his skinny ass out on the mine field!"
"Aw, come on, Hawkeye." Said Capt. Hunnicut from the other operating table. "He's just lonely. Why don't you loan him one of the nurses that you've been banging? That will settle him down."
"No fucking way," said Hawkeye. "I've got a great deal here and I'm not giving up any poon for that little cretin!"
"Well maybe we could all chip in and send him into Seoul, to the red light district," suggested Hotlips Hoolihan.
"Count me out," stated Winchester flatly. "I'm not a charity agency and I don't spend my money unless it's a solid investment. Besides, he'd probably catch VD or something." Nobody else offered up their meager army paychecks to help the troubled young enlisted man.
"Or perhaps one of the nurses could take pity on him," Maj. Hoolihan suggested, looking around at the other nurses, who avoided her gaze.
"I've got an idea!" exclaimed Father Mulcahey. "I'll work with him, like we did with the boys at Father Benidito's Home For Boys. We had a special cure there that never failed to work, and it won't cost a dime..."
The next day, Radar arrived at work and went about his business, secure in the belief that his secret was safe with Col. Potter. Radar sensed the Colonel about to call him and went into the office just as Col. Potter shouted. "Radar!"
"Here sir!"
"Oh, there you are. Father Mulcahey wants to talk...ah, needs your help with something. Get over there PRONTO." It only took about two minutes to walk the short distance to Father Mulcahey's tent. The priest had had a string of tent mates, but they all had all eventually moved out, so Father Mulcahey had the only private tent in camp until Cpl. Klinger arrived. Those two hit it off and soon became inseperable.
"You wanted to see me, Father?"
"Yes, Radar, sit down," invited the bespectacled priest, patting his bunk. There were plenty of chairs and wooden ammo boxes in the tent, but Father wanted Radar to sit next to him. "Uh, Radar," began the priest, touching Radar's leg, "Colonel Potter told me that you had a problem in that you, ah, touch yourself. Is that true?" Radar's face turned crimson.
"I...I...don't know, what you mean," stammered the embarrassed Radar.
"Come on, Radar. You've been jacking off, haven't you? In the office, and the latrine, the shower and the mess tent?" Radar looked down at his boots dejectedly. "I can help you stop," continued Father Mulcahey. "But you've got to trust me, and we'll keep this just between us men, OK?"
Radar stared at his feet in silence. "You do want me to help you, don't you?" asked the Padre. Radar began to sob. "You need help, my boy, and I know how to help you stop. You do want to stop, don't you?" Hot tears of shame dripped from Radar's nose onto his dusty boots. The priest continued; "I'm the only one who understands, and I know the secret way to stop."
"You won't tell anybody?" asked the Corporal. "Absolutely," answered the priest. "Absolutely."
"Well...OK," I'll do what you say. I DO want to stop the filthy habit," Radar concluded. "THAT'S the way, my boy!" Said Father Mulcahey, eagerly. "We can get started right away. Show me which hand you use to commit the foul acts." Radar held up his right hand. "Just hold it out, palm down, like this," the priest instructed.
"Like this?" asked Radar. "Yes, just like that. Now close your eyes and imagine yourself jacking off while looking at a picture of some filthy whore..." Radar's prick rose as he imagined the models in Hawkey's skin magazine.
"Sister , will you come here for a minute?" asked Father Mulcahey, shattering the silence. "It's part of the cure," thought Radar. "Where would he find a nun in Korea?" The shock of a ruler smacking his hand jolted Radar's eyes right open. "OW!" he shouted as his eyes adjusted to the light. He recognized Cpl. Klinger in a Nun's habit just before the ruler struck home again. "Bad Boy!" the ersatz sister shouted. "OW!" Radar exclaimed. "I thought this was between us guys!"
"Oh, that's Sister Maxilla, she's going to be working with us on your problem," explained the priest. "She won't say a word if you don't. Do we still have our little secret, Radar?" Radar grimaced as he rubbed his bruised hand. "Uh, sure...yes, SIR!"
"That's the attitude!" gushed Father Mulcahey. "Now, whenever you get the urge to pull your pud, I want you to imagine how much it hurt when Sister Maxilla hit your hand with the ruler. Will you do that???"
"Yes Sir!" responded the little corporal. "Good, now I want to see you back here tomorrow night and we'll see how things went," continued the chaplain. Remember, our secret, OK?"
"Yes Sir."
Radar hoped that he wouldn't need too many of Father Mulcahey's 'treatments' as he walked back to the duty hut, holding his bruised hand. That Klinger really hits hard, he thought as he passed by the nurses' quarters. His eyes were drawn to the underclothes hanging on a clothesline outside and Radar felt the familiar stirring in his shorts. His hand throbbed and he averted his eyes...
That night, lying in his bunk, Radar's thoughts turned to the undies on the clothesline. Try as he might, Radar couldn't sleep, his tortured thoughts running to the hanging lingerie, the way that the nurses smelled in the OR, the sound of their voices, and...the sharp pain when the ruler struck home. In the end, Radar's lust won out and he pulled an old National Geographic from under his pillow and opened it to the illustrated story about some Borneo native women.
