Alright, so in the course of watching M*A*S*H I'm way past the point where Trapper leaves now. Because of that, this is most likely very out of character. I'm having a hard time copying some of Trapper's characteristic words and attitude, and I think I've made this letter way too mushy (I'm a girl, after all).
But I've had this idea for a while now and it seems like a realistic idea. I mean, surely Trapper would send letters to Hawkeye and the rest, right? I can't believe we didn't get to see any of them on the show - then again, maybe the fact that Wayne Rogers left (from what I've read) on a bad note explains that.
Anyway, I'm sure it's been done before, but here's my version.
Hiya, Hawk.
I know what you're thinking – took me long enough, didn't it? I can actually picture you, you're holding this letter in your left hand and you're looking around, maybe calling somebody if you're in the mess tent or anyplace. "It's Trapper!"
Then again, maybe I'm wrong. I know we said that we'd write as often as we could, if one of us got out. And I tried, I really did.
Guess sometimes it's harder to talk with a pen than to talk to one's face.
I'd ask how you are, but I can already guess the answer. Still, what's changed? How's my replacement? Is he another Ferret Face, or is he your new surgeon in crime?
Speaking of that … charming… man, I can't believe he got home. Would you believe he called me in the middle of the night, boasting about coming back home? He sure gave the kids a fright with those loud rings.
They've grown so much, Hawk. It's unbelievable how quickly they grow if you're not there to see it. I've got back my old position at the Boston hospital and it feels good, being able to provide for them. To put food on the table. Actual food, not that dump we were given. If the war don't kill you, that sure will.
I wish I could've stayed longer, you know. The orders were so sudden and Radar tried to contact you, but he couldn't reach you. I couldn't stay any longer.
It's funny, the feeling when I left. I know we're tough men and we're not supposed to talk about this, but I think sharing a tent in a damn war zone for almost a year changes things, right? So I'll just come out with it.
I couldn't wait to get back to Louise and the kids. I mean, I hadn't seen them for almost a year - hell, I would've cut off my hand if I had had the guts.
And yet... Sharing lives like that so intensely for so long just does something to a man. Working under conditions we worked in is so different from working in a clean, sterile hospital. I mean, it's definitely better than working in a makeshift OR that is bombed every few days, don't get me wrong. It's just that it's different.
There are some new colleagues, some old, and that's all fine, except sometimes I wish it was you I was working with. Or Henry, or hell, even Frank. Because sharing, saving and losing lives does something to people, Hawk. You're forced together and you've got to make the best of it. I guess we did – but then again, we got lucky. I hope that you're lucky this time, too, and that the new surgeon (not so new anymore now, I guess) is a good one. It's important both inside and outside the operating room.
Henry… God, I was devastated when I heard that news. He didn't deserve to die any more than those kids do. It still makes me angry, sometimes - but I guess you're no stranger to that.
So how's this new colonel, Potter? I heard he's a regular army guy, good luck with that one.
I gotta go – I've taken this day off to write you and to spend with the kids, but I haven't actually spent any time with them yet, and Louise is yelling for me to come down.
I just want to thank you again – you thanked me, once, for being there to make it bearable. I can say the same to you – thank you. You made hell a little easier to live in.
And I don't think these words have ever had more meaning – good luck to you, Hawk. Take care. I hope that this godforsaken war will soon end and you get to be home again.
Goodbye, my friend.
Trapper
