DISCLAIMER: M*A*S*H and it's characters don't belong to me, they belong to FOX. The only character of my creation is Major Oberman. I don't make any money from this either. Nor do I have any money. Treat it as an exercise in typing skills.
AFTERWARDS
1.
July 27th, 1953. A day I will remember for the rest of my life as the day the Korean War finally drew to a close. That was the official date, of course. No one bothered to tell the troops at the front. They continued shelling and trying-sometimes successfully- to kill each other for some hours before anyone bothered to tell them that they could pack up and go home. Or attempt to go home. Our efforts at the 4077th M*A*S*H were all delayed. BJ was brought back from the airport to treat the last of the wounded and then when we really did get to leave, it was by a whole mish-mash of transport, whether it be motorcycle, truck or in my case, chopper.
In a way I felt sort of sad to leave the 4077th. In war, you make close friends very quickly due to the constant danger you feel yourself to be in. Now that we were all split up, forced to be individual people instead of a member of the 4077th M*A*S*H, it felt strange. I wasn't Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce, Captain USAMC, serial number US12836413, I was plain old Dr Pierce again. I felt like I'd left half my identity on the ground there where the Swamp is- no, was.
"Coming into land now Sir."
The chopper made its rapid stomach churning descent and landed on the pad without too much of a thump. I smiled at the pilot and mouthed a 'thankyou'; he would never have heard me above the roar of the motor anyway. Ducking my head, I hopped out and grabbed the remainder of my belongings. Now where to? In an ideal world, there would be an aeroplane just waiting to take me to Tokyo, then Los Angeles, then Maine and a bus to Crabapple Cove. But Korea was no ideal world; I had certainly learned that over the past three years. Running my hand over the stubble on my face, I sighed. Hopefully I'd be able to get a shower and a shave before I reached home, the last thing I wanted to do was to show up looking like this. Maybe in Tokyo. I grabbed a corporal. "Hey, do you know when the next flight is to Tokyo?"
"About an hour sir." I thanked him and walked off. I serve my country for three years, saving lives and then I have to wait literally weeks to leave Korea after the war ends under the shade of a tin shed on a boiling hot day.
***
Tokyo, 6pm
I'm beginning to get used to this whole waiting around for an aeroplane. There isn't another flight to the U.S. for two hours- and I've been waiting four already. The place is crowded with the army, all wanting to get home as quickly as they can. I can't even ring Dad to let him know I'm on my way home because the queue for the telephone is only marginally longer than that for the bathrooms. At least I'm clean and dressed in full army regalia now, a sight to make a soldier's family proud. Little do they know the horrors they experienced, the scenes of human beings maliciously inflicting wounds on each other, and the mental anguish. It was the latter that got me. Seeing a mother smother her own son to save the lives of a group on a bus, seeing an endless line of wounded and knowing that you can't work fast enough to save them all…it makes you wonder why you bother play God. You can't save the world. Not even a tiny bit of it. It depresses me. I need a drink.
I can't see the bar for the people, so scratch that idea. What's the matter with all these people crowding the airport? They should have been home by now. I poke the guy next to me and ask him. "It's mainly the doctors and nurses from all the hospitals," he tells me. Tell me something I don't know. "Plus the POWs- the ones that made it out alive." He goes off to find his friend, who's somewhere in the drinks queue.
"Plus the POWs- the ones that made it out alive." His words rattle around in my head. I know or knew a POW, or I at least thought she was a POW… could she be somewhere in this mass of people? I don't want to get my hopes up; it was in the early days of the war when her jeep was shot at and the occupants taken hostage. For all I know, she could have been raped, pillaged and left for dead by a group of snipers on their own, no need to take them prisoner, just shoot them. Even if she was captured by the enemy, the POW camps were hell on earth and well; she may not have made it. I still feel that tiny glimmer of hope though, because the description in the casualty list has never changed over the years:
Major Sarah Alison Oberman, Major USAMC- missing in action, presumed dead or prisoner.
Although that statement, 'missing…dead…prisoner'- it tends to cover all bases. I really could do with a drink, although I doubt they'll serve them on the airplane. I begin to push my way through the throng.
2.
***
Los Angeles
I think I should be feeling a little more excited to be back in the good old US of A. I feel more like an interloper though- so many things are different to the way I remembered them. Was it only three years I was away? It could have been three centuries the way the place seemed to me. At least there were more telephones here. At the first opportunity, I called Dad. Dialling the number, I realised my hand was shaking. Why? Maybe it was because after being in the army for three years I now had no one to tell me what do to and when. I had to think for myself now. Weird.
"Hello?" A voice answered at the end of the line. Dad? It had to be him- who else would it be? He sounded so much older though and a little frail even. Rubbish, I told myself. You hardly had the opportunity to speak to him in Korea and now your mind has built up a different image based on your memory.
"Dad?" I asked, my voice faltering a bit. "It's me, Hawkeye."
"Hawkeye?" His voice raised on octave. "Where are you, son?"
I grinned. It was fantastic to be able to hear his voice and know I was several thousand miles closer than last time we spoke. "Los Angeles, Dad. I'll be home tomorrow if all goes well."
I heard him sniff. "That's great son. You're okay now?"
I guessed he was referring to the time I spent in the mental hospital just before the war ended. I still didn't like to think about it, that poor kid frequented my nightmares. It was such a cruel thing to do; yet if the woman hadn't of done it I'd be dead and buried in Maine now. Sighing, I answered. "Yes, fine Dad. I'll see you tomorrow then hopefully. 'Bye."
"'Bye." He echoed, and instantly I felt terrible. He was my father for goodness sake, we hadn't seen each other since the war started- surely we had more to talk about beyond a two minute phone call…if he hadn't of brought up the matter of the baby, the mental hospital…
Being a doctor, I had of course seen patients with mental problems and been in mental hospitals before. But it was completely different seeing it from a patient's point of view…frankly it scared the wits out of me. There were people who were completely crazy in there…I wasn't like them, not at all. I wasn't crazy… Furiously, I shook my head to try and remove the thought of those hot, sticky days at the end of the war…no. I wasn't going back there. I could deal with the senseless slaughter and bloodshed, but not the…the murder of an innocent.
I headed for the bar. (At least it looked I might get served here- I could actually see the bartender. I didn't even get the chance to get halfway in Tokyo.) Dammit, where was that still when I needed it?
3.
***
Crabapple Cove, Maine
The taxi rolled to a stop outside Dad's house. For a moment, I sat completely still, just taking it all in. The trees out the front seemed to have grown a foot since I last saw them and the late summer flowers were drooping in the warm afternoon sun. The house itself I was relieved to find looked exactly the same- neatly whitewashed boards sparkled and the porch was immaculately tidy, just how Dad liked it. I sighed, comforted. At least something was still constant in my life. The cab driver cleared his throat noisily.
"You should get your lungs checked. Seems to be a frog residing in them." I cracked, getting the money out of my pocket like he wanted. "Thanks." I grabbed my bag out of the boot and waved him off. I turned to find my father standing on the porch, a wide grin rapidly spreading across his face- a reflection of my own. "Thought I heard a car." He came down the steps. "Welcome home Hawkeye."
I ran towards him, dropping my bag on the front lawn. "Dad!" I yelled, running to give him a long hug. "I've missed you so much," I whispered into his shoulder. "And this place too, good cooking, decent weather…everything."
"I know son, I know." Dad stepped back and held me at arm's length, giving me the once over. "Can't have been easy." He commented, and I knew he could see the effect the war had on me through my appearance.
"Add a bit of spit and polish and I'll be fine." I joked, trying to reassure him. "And get me out of this army gear. I'm dy- no longing- for some clothes that don't say Property of U.S. Army on them. C'mon, let's go inside." I picked up my bag from where I'd left it and helped him up the porch steps. This worried me. He certainly wasn't getting any younger, and according to him I wasn't either. "Mmm…something smells great. What is that, dinner?"
Dad nodded. "Yes, I made something special in the hope you'd been home. Roast chicken." He beamed. Dad wasn't the greatest hand in the kitchen, so it can't have been easy for him.
But…chicken? Chicken…squawking…crying…baby…I put my hand to my face, breathing heavily, trying to stop the flood of memories. I could hear Dad's voice in the background, "Hawkeye…are you okay?"
I leaned on the kitchen bench for support, trying to stop hyperventilating. "Yeah Dad, fine. Just um…do you mind if I have just vegetables? Korea kind of turned me off meat." I smiled weakly.
Dad was scrutinising me. I guessed Sidney hadn't written him about what had happened, during that time he'd gotten a couple of letters from me (they probably made no sense whatsoever) and one from the 4077th. I was grateful he didn't know the details, I didn't want his pity. I could get through this on my own.
4.
***
"Son, I don't mean to be forgetful, but have you always drunk that much?" Subtle Dad, very subtle. What he really meant was, Hawkeye, you drink too much. Cut it out.
"No, but tonight's a celebration. I'm back from the war, remember? Been gone three years." I couldn't help throwing that in. No one knew what it was like to have battles raging constantly in your mind, unless you'd been there.
Dad set down his fork. "I know. Just…take it easy Hawk. You're all I have." He picked up his fork and set it down almost immediately. I knew from my childhood that he was about to say something I wasn't going to like. "I know Benjamin that it must have been a horrible experience. Naturally you're not going to come through unscathed. If you ever feel the need to talk, to me or someone else, I don't mind- please just say. You don't have to deal with it alone."
No way. I wasn't going to speak about it now that I'd just managed to squeeze all that into the back of my mind for the tenth time that day. "Thanks Dad, but I'll deal with it in my own time." I think he just wanted to know why I was in the hospital. Stress and battle fatigue had been written on my file, but who was going to believe the army?
He nodded. "Right Hawkeye. I just wanted to let you know, that's all." We ate the rest of the meal in silence. I just didn't feel like talking.
***
'Hawkeye! Hawkeye! Wake up, you're having a nightmare!" Dad shook my shoulder.
Slowly I began to come back to the world of the living, gasping for air. "Oh…thank God." Blinking rapidly, I scanned my eyes around my bedroom. Yes, I was back in Maine. Not in Korea. But…it had all seemed so real.
"What happened, Hawk?" Dad asked gently, sitting down on the bed. "Want to talk about it?" He handed me a glass of water.
I took it thankfully and gulped greedily. With a deep breath, I began to tell Dad about my nightmare. They say talking about them makes the fear disappear, but retelling it to Dad just made it more real to me. Just like in the dream, I could see the whole scene being played out in front of me. "We were on the bus," I began. "Just like before, but there was me and a whole busload of chickens. They were making such a noise, I knew that if the enemy heard them, they'd come and shoot us all. So I had to strangle the chickens, one by one. And as I was doing that, the chickens turned into people- my friends. I was strangling them all! BJ, Hot Lips, even Radar was there… They were all dead, I had killed them. I tried to bring them back to life Dad, honest I did, but…it was too late. The North Koreans had found us and one of them turned to me, the only one alive with all my dead friends around me. One of them turned and pointed his gun at me…I saw it discharge and head straight towards me. I couldn't move, I could only watch this bullet travelling and thinking, I deserve this, I killed all my friends. Then I woke up." I spread my hands out on the bed.
Dad remained silent for a few moments. "Hawkeye, I don't know what to say. It sounds dreadful." Dad hugged me. "You're safe here, I can assure you that. Maybe tomorrow you might want to give BJ a call?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I need to speak to someone. No offence Dad, but you don't know. You weren't there." I pulled the blankets up higher. After all my sweating and thrashing about, I was suddenly cold. "I think I might try to get some sleep." No way would I sleep though. Not after that.
Dad patted my arm. "Goodnight Ben." He walked to the doorway, then stopped. "I love you Hawkeye."
I swallowed hard. "I love you too Dad."
5.
***
Life in Crabapple Cove soon set into a new, but comfortable routine. I helped Dad a bit around the small hospital in the mornings, talked to BJ most days and in the afternoons tried to adjust to what everyone called a 'normal' life. Soon I'd have to figure out what to do. Dad couldn't keep on supporting a son with a taste for gin forever, nor did I want him to. But the problem was, I didn't know what to do. Open up a general practice, move to a big hospital, work in a little hospital? Before the war I'd wanted to be chief surgeon in a big city hospital. Nowadays it all sounded nice, but if it didn't happen, I wasn't too fazed. I pushed the swing on the front porch. Of course, there was plenty of time later to worry about all of that. Today I could just relax and watch the world go by. I closed my eyes, listening avidly to all the sounds of the bees in the flowers, birds in the trees…Autumn was great in Crabapple.
"Hawkeye?"
My eyes flew open, then blinked rapidly. I couldn't believe what I was seeing or hearing. Standing in front of me, was a very familiar sight I hadn't seen since Korea. No way. I was certainly dreaming. How many of these martinis had I drunk? "Sarah?" I eventually blurted out.
"The one and only." She smiled. "Mind if I sit down?" I shook my head and moved over. She sat down beside me and I drank her in thirstily. She looked lovely. A little thin perhaps, but lovely. She still had the legs for the pale blue dress she was wearing…mmm, definitely. She took off her hat and put it down next to her handbag. "So," she began, "how's things?"
"I'm well…" I started. "Sarah, I thought you were dead."
She laughed. "So did everyone, I hear. Mom practically fainted when I walked in the door. I wanted to surprise her."
"But…but…we heard you'd been captured by the North Koreans, then-"
She put a finger to my lips. "Shhh…I was the one there, let me tell the story." She crossed her legs and leaned back against the chair. "We were captured. But not killed. I think the North Koreans wanted to use us as bargaining tools with the U.S. It never worked out though; we were taken to a camp and left there for the remainder of the war. It was awful." Suddenly she laughed bitterly. "'Awful'. There's so many more words I could use to describe it, but I don't want to go back there…too much needless death and destruction. So many people who became such good friends died there, Hawkeye, of such simple ailments…I could have fixed it; given the right equipment. War is hell; I agree wholeheartedly with whoever said that. I was just one of the ones who made it out alive; given a shower and some new clothes. 'Here, go home and thanks very much'. So I'm back home now, lost at a loose end…how are you Hawkeye?"
I shrugged. Somehow what had happened to me during the rest of the war was fairly trivial in comparison to Sarah's ordeal in the POW camps. Oh I know she hadn't said much to me about it, but I'd read so much in the newspapers about it…there was no way she could have escaped that hell. I decided to play along with her 'block-it-all-out' theory. "Fine."
"You are not. Well, not totally anyway. You've got a drink in your hand, that's a start. But where's that devilish look in your eyes?"
"Oh, that? Hired it out to some med student for $50 a week. Works on the ladies apparently." Fortunately, Dad chose that moment to roll up the driveway in his car. "C'mon, come and meet my dad." I grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her up off the swing.
"Hawkeye, I've already met him!" She laughed. "Don't you remember that spring break? And you told me you loved me! That'll teach me to believe what you say! You can't even remember if I've met your father or not!" She laughed again.
I had to grin. Sarah could see straight through me. "Come and see him again anyway." I ran down the steps, still holding her hand. "Dad! There's someone here I want you to meet!"
Dad looked up wearily and I felt a pang of guilt. I should help him more, he's not getting any younger. His face relaxed into a smile when he saw it was a girl; he'd often remarked how I was failing my reputation as a ladies' man since I got back. "Hello…" he stuck out his hand, "Good to see you again Sarah."
"Likewise, Dr Pierce." Sarah turned to me after shaking Dad's hand. "See? At least your father remembered!"
I held out my hands. "What can I say?"
"Come in, Sarah, come in. How long are you staying? I remember you were from…Virginia?" Dad ushered her into the parlour.
Sarah nodded. "That's right. I can stay only a few days I'm afraid Dr Pierce. I start work next week in Philadelphia." She looked as pleased as punch.
Hey! She hadn't told me! "That's fantastic." I said. "Congratulations."
She smiled and accepted Dad's cup of tea. "What about you Hawk?"
I shrugged. Dad chose to reply for me. "He's still thinking about it. First he has to work out which town has the highest proportion of single ladies." He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Yes, there is very important research going on in that department." I winked back at him. I could see where this was heading from a mile away. "What are you doing tonight, Sarah?"
"Me?" She feigned shock. "Not much. I'm not wise to the nightlife of Crabapple Cove, Maine."
"Perfect!" I clapped my hands. "Then I'm taking you out dancing."
She nodded. "All right." Over the top of her head, I could see Dad mouthing, 'well done'. At least someone was happy.
6.
***
"Ow! Hawkeye, I haven't danced for such a long time. Now my feet hurt!" Sarah whined, leaning down to take her shoes off, hand on my shoulder to steady herself.
I chuckled. "You could have said, 'Gee thanks for taking me out Hawkeye. I had a lovely time.' But no, you just start complaining."
"I was going to, but then you cut me off. So now you'll just have to live without it." She stuck her tongue out at me cheekily. I grabbed her shoulders. "What?" she asked, unsure.
"It's just that I think that…well, that tongue needs a closer look. I have to inspect it." I whispered into her neck, kissing her soft skin…
"Hawk…" The tone of her voice cut through me like a blade. "This isn't what I came for." She pushed me away.
"Then…what? Sarah, I thought…I don't know." For once I was lost for words and even glib comments. That was odd.
"Look, I probably led you on, I don't know. I'm sorry. It's just that during the war, I had a lot of time to think things over, then think them over again and again…Ben, you're a special guy. But you've got no room in your life for me. There's your Dad, your martinis, your ego…you want a good time. I've seen too much now to ever be able to relax completely and enjoy myself. Why do you think it never worked out before? You need change constantly and also a challenge. I don't want to be chasing you and then alternately ignoring you for the rest of my life. I want a husband, a family, a job. Something stable. I guess I just came one last time for closure or whatever you want to call it." She looked into my eyes and then hugged me spontaneously. "Don't look so hurt Hawkeye. I'm only saying what you already know, but you won't admit, not to yourself." Sarah squeezed my arm, blissfully unaware that I was crumbling to pieces from the inside. "I love you Hawk." She stretched up and kissed my cheek. "But not in the way I guess you want."
I didn't know what to say, what to do. "But, but…you said you loved me."
She nodded. Damn her. She was too patient, too understanding. "Once I did. But now…Hawkeye, your friendship is much more important."
"What made you change your mind?" I had to know.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Hawkeye, nothing's ever dull when you're around, that's for sure. But you…you always have to be the one on top, leading the charge, the best. You control the shots." Sarah smiled ruefully. "Most women would love that. I did once, but Hawkeye, I don't want to be your sidekick. If anything, I wouldn't mind being your equal. But I know that will never happen." She pinched my cheek playfully. "Come on, I'm tired. Take me back to the hotel and we'll talk tomorrow."
I nodded. She wanted me to stop taking the lead, stop being so egotistical. I didn't understand what she was talking about, but sure, I could adapt. We drove back to Sarah's hotel in silence. I was still trying to digest all that she'd said and Sarah stared, unblinking, out the window. "See you tomorrow?" She'd reconfirmed as the car rolled to a stop. I nodded. "Good." She'd smiled lightly. "See you then." Then I'd driven away in total silence, cruising to the local park. Stepping out of the car, I practically fell onto the nearest bench and cried under the gentle glow of the moon.
7.
***
"Hiya Hawk." Sarah jumped into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "How are you?"
"Fine." I muttered. If this was what it took for her to see that we were equals, I suppose I had to do it (no matter how much I hated it).
"You're still angry about what I said last night."
"Try stating the obvious next time." I pulled away from the kerb. I had no idea where we were going, but I had to at least try to show I didn't care.
She made a face. "See Hawkeye, this is always what it comes down to- you and me fighting over petty little things. Cold harsh words, bitter silences…over things that probably don't matter that much in the grand scheme, like you sleeping with Joanne and making my life hell at the 4077th…And when I say I want to stop it all, stop the games, you refuse. How on earth can I make you understand?" She turned away from me angrily.
"Maybe you could speak sense!" I retorted. "You're not totally innocent. I remember you flirting with Paul back in med school- and what about your holier-than-thou attitude in Korea? Playing the weak little woman? That's a lie. You're so hypocritical Sarah, you used me for your own devices, to get away from the front…and you speak about ME being a hypocrite! Geez!"
"I asked you for help then, but if you want to talk that way Hawkeye, pull over. Let me out."
I came to a screeching halt, enjoying the momentary look of terror on her face. "Your stop, ma'am?" She threw me a haughty look and grabbed her purse. "Have a nice life!" I called after her.
The next few moments passed in a blur. She must have crossed the street without looking, because the next thing I heard was the screech of brakes and the acrid smell of burning rubber. Instinctively I knew what had happened. I jumped out of the car and ran blindly to the limp figure lying in the middle of the road. The driver was wandering around aimlessly, head in hands. "I didn't see her, I couldn't stop…" he moaned.
"Go and get an ambulance!" I screamed at him, bending down to look at Sarah, grabbing her wrist. There was still a pulse, fast and irregular, but she was in shock. "Sarah, can you hear me?" Nothing. "Sarah? Speak!"
Her eyes fluttered open, wandering but failing to focus. "Hawkeye?" she asked, unsure.
"Yes, it's me. Where does it hurt?"
For a few heart-stopping moments, I thought she was dead. Then she spoke. "Nowhere. Hawkeye…" she muttered, stopping abruptly.
"What?" I asked urgently. "What is it?"
She smiled dreamily. "I changed my mind. I'd like to be your sidekick."
I think my heart burst at that point. "Good. Now just don't die on me." I began palpating her arms, legs, abdomen- I couldn't feel anything. It must have been internal injuries, because Sarah was far from well. "Does this hurt? Hurt here?"
"I'm going to let you down. Sorry." Her eyes closed.
I yelled her name and shook her angrily, tears from my eyes falling onto her failing body. "Don't you dare! Wait, the ambulance is here. You'll be fine, I promise." Then her eyes flew open, and for an instant, I saw everything I needed to know and realised that she was dying. I'd seen that look too many times in Korea to forget it. Why? Why now? Why not before the war or in twenty years time? The thump of her pulse faded away under my fingers gradually until I could feel nothing.
Nothing. Nothing left.
FINIS