Title: Confessions Of A Still
Author: Tu
Rating: G
Season/sequel: Any
Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. (I wish I did!)
Author's Notes: Just a random bit that popped into my head while at work. Told from an inanimate objects point of view. Reviews welcome.
Most people who enter the Swamp see me, but they don't really SEE me. I sit here on the table and watch the world around me. I watch the camp as they go about their lives in this hellhole. I watch as shift after shift, they go on. Wanting only to go home and forget this place, this war, this hell on earth they are stuck in. And if I give them a bit of joy, so be it.
I wasn't always like this. Nice and clean, with smooth lines and clear parts. In the beginning, I was bulky and made of copper and bits and pieces taken from broken things around camp. The coil from a truck, sheets of copper from a run over storage bin. But after "Ferret Face" dropped me, I was rebuilt. I was strong, faster, better. Gone was the copper and junk parts. They were replaced by glass and semi-broken surgical tools. I became more than I was.
I watched as the four men around me interacted. Three against one. Not that I cared for the one. "Ferret Face" had dropped me after all. I watched as four became three. Trapper and Hawkeye had given me life and in return I made theirs a little more bearable. I knew the names of the people who entered the Swamp, after only a few weeks. My favorite was Radar. Sweet, shy, somewhat naive Radar.
Time passed. Spring became summer. Summer became fall. Fall became winter. And so on and so on. I watched as the people around me struggled. Struggled to make sense of what was going on, to keep sane, to keep alive. Yet through it all, I knew that I was only a stopgap.
Then, almost as suddenly as I began, Trapper was gone, Henry Blake was gone. And new faces entered the Swamp. BJ and Sherman Potter were just what were needed. Soon "Ferret Face" was gone, and a new pain took his place. Charles Winchester, III. How I despised his horrible, horrible music. Then, Radar left, leaving a hole in me.
And, so it went, for what seemed like forever. Tell, one day the end came, as all things must come to an end. I watched as the camp yelled and hugged each other. I watched sadly as trunks and bags were packed. I wondered what would become of me. I watched as Hawkeye and BJ tried not to show the sorrow they felt at leaving each other. Then I was but in a box and shipped away. When I was once again assembled, the world had changed.
Many years have past since that day long ago when I was unpacked here in Crabapple Cove, Maine. Everyone I knew has grown older and changed so much. Yet I still stand. I know I'm still here because, as much as he hated that place, I remind Hawkeye of what he had, what was taken from him, and what is to come. I watch as children have been born, moved away, returned with their children, and so on.
Today, I know I'll be taken apart. Sixty-five years have past since Trapper and Hawkeye cobbled me together in Korea. For Sixty-five years, I have done my job. Parts have been replaced, upgraded or just removed, but still I worked. I can feel the sadness in the house.
Hawkeye is gone. After I've been emptied tonight, I won't be refilled. Hawkeye's grandchildren will take me apart and put me in the trunk that's under my table and to the attic I'll go. Tell the day someone throws me away or tries to put me back together.