A Toast II: Unintended Consequences

Summary: When morale is at an all time low, BJ starts writing a letter that ultimately leads to a letter burning ceremony and a compound wide picnic.

Disclaimer: I love MASH, but I don't own the show unless you count DVDs.

Please have a tissue or something next to you when you read this, because I was tearing up as I wrote this.

AN: Well, I've been wanting to do this for a few days now, actually. I had always wanted to do a letter writing fic in the MASH fandom, but I never really gave it much thought. Well, here I was thinking about my previous story and I decided to write another MASH. And if you've read my other story, you'll probably know who is going to crop up.

So, I started looking on Wikipedia and, lo and behold, I found that the big day is Nov. 14 and today is Nov. 5. I swear I didn't really connect dots on this until I looked it up. The birthdays in this story are all actor birthdays, but I think the really awesome one was Winchester's birthdate.

Now, I have yet to see a story where written letters are burned, so if you know of one, let me check it out! Especially, this kind of story. And please excuse any OOC behavior you may find.

I guess this would be after Frank, because Winchester is in this one, but before BJ starts his moustache 'cause I don't really like it.

BJ lay back in his cot and stared at the ceiling.

It was another lull that had gone on for the past two weeks and there was literally nothing to do. BJ really wanted to wait for letters back home before starting his writing jag again, but he was bored.

Turning his head, his best friend lay on his own cot. Hawkeye seemed to be trying to take a nap, but it was clearly not working.

Winchester, Charles Emerson III, was on shift and BJ wasn't so he felt kind of jealous.

"Nothing to do," Hawkeye gave up trying to sleep and sat up, the tossing and turning having made his hair ruffled.

"I hear you," BJ put an arm over his eyes and sighed.

"Tired of letter writing, are you?" Hawkeye chuckled.

"No. I just want to write even more," BJ huffed, leaning up on his elbows.

"So, why don't you?" the other man swung his legs over the edge of his cot and stood. "Write a letter to someone."

"In the camp?" BJ tilted his head.

"Sure, why not?" Hawkeye shook his own. "We'll set up some sort of penpal thing. I'm gonna head over to the Mess tent, you want to come with?"

"Nah, I'll just lay here a few more minutes."

"Okay."

BJ watched as he left and plopped back down on his cot. 'Letter writing. To who? Someone in camp?' BJ thought about it. 'I would see them all the time, anyway, so I guess that would be a moot point. One of the patients?'

It didn't take long for an idea to start forming.

Someone in camp that he'd never met? That's an idea.

Someone who had been in the camp, but transferred out before he got there? That was an even better idea.

Nodding, BJ got up and found his pad of paper and a pencil.

Dear…

He paused. Who could he write to? Sydney Freedman, the shrink that had seemed to have adopted the 4077th? BJ hadn't seen him in awhile, so that might be a good idea.

But no, because Sydney was planning a visit in the next few weeks…

He stared at the still blank piece of paper.

Dear…

It had to be someone who he would probably never meet, if ever, and it would have to be someone that BJ felt that he could have gotten along with.

Half-forgotten stories suddenly became clear and pencil was put to paper.

Dear Henry,

You don't know me, but my name is BJ Hunnicut. I'm the one who replaced Trapper John when he went home to the States. I live in the Swamp and am a very good friend to Hawkeye. He's told me all about you and I wish I had had the opportunity to meet you and know you and Hawkeye's told me that he wished the same.

Everyone is doing okay here, Henry. They all miss you, I can tell. Especially when it gets close to the anniversary of your death. Radar, poor kid, still tears up when someone starts talking about you. I think he took it harder than a lot of others because he looked up to you like a father figure. Colonel Potter is our CO and he really understands what everyone goes through when the anniversary comes around. He listens when someone has to talk about you and Father Mulcahy sometimes talks to him, too.

Father Mulcahy is a great guy. He is a really good friend and I sometimes see him and Hawkeye talking in the morning when both of them think that everyone's still asleep. The Father is a warm, caring person, but he can only take so much before he starts to crack. I remember this one time, when I got here, someone was talking to him about you and it really seemed to bother this guy. Father Mulcahy gamely sat there and talked about you with him for almost three hours. I saw Fr. Mulcahy two hours later and he looked really terrible. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that the guy he was talking with had brought back some good memories. It was just hard to think about when the hurt was still fresh. It took all he had to not get up and just walk away, but he stayed because he had to listen to this soldier get these feelings out.

BJ had to stop to wipe a tear from his eye. He was glad that he was doing something, but he was starting to tear up.

Shaking his head, he took his letter, pad and pencil and headed over to the Mess tent.

"Good afternoon, BJ," he looked over to see Fr. Mulcahy walking toward him. "Going to eat, I assume?"

"Yeah. Hey, Father," BJ smiled slightly. He waited for him to catch up and resumed walking.

Spotting the letter, Mulcahy smiled warmly. "Writing home, again?"

"Huh? Oh, nah. Hawkeye sort of gave me the idea to write to someone else. So far, it's given me something to do."

"May I ask who the letter is to?"

"Oh… well," BJ smiled sheepishly. "I… I decided to write to Colonel Blake."

"I see," Mulcahy nodded, eyes going bright. "That is a very good idea. I'm sure he would like that."

"I really wanted to meet him," BJ admitted. "I'm sort of mad that I never got the chance to."

"Instead, you found the next best thing," Mulcahy reached under his glasses and wiped away some moisture. "A perfect way to get close to him."

"I didn't actually think of it that way," he lifted a shoulder. "But, yeah. I guess I am."

They entered the Mess tent and saw that not many people were there.

"You know," Mulcahy added, getting some coffee. "His birthday is coming up."

"Really?" BJ smiled ruefully. "I didn't know that…"

"Didn't know what?" Hawkeye suddenly appeared beside them.

"That Colonel Blake's birthday was coming up," BJ told him.

"I guess it is," Hawkeye fell silent for a few minutes as the other two got their food. "He was a great guy."

He led BJ and Mulcahy over to the table he commandeered. "Hey, Father? Remember this one time when Henry was convinced that someone was in the OR with him after midnight?"

"Ah, yes," Mulcahy chuckled. "I will probably never forget that!" Seeing BJ giving them his undivided attention, he turned to him. "There was this one night, a few months after we established the unit…"

BJ sat in fascination as Mulcahy and Hawkeye regaled him with the OR mystery, the mystery of Radar's missing hat and the time Klinger accidentally gave Henry a makeover before his meeting with some big-wigs.

"You should have seen the look on Henry's face!" Hawkeye laughed. "I promise you, you will never have seen a more hilarious look before or since."

BJ grinned at their laughter. They obviously enjoyed their time under Henry Blake's command.

When BJ was cleaning his tray, Mulcahy suddenly stood with his coffee. "I would like to stay and reminisce more, but I do believe I found something to do."

"Well, by all means, Father," Hawkeye waved. "See you later."

"Have fun," BJ called after him. "I wonder what he had to do."

"Do you really?" Hawkeye smiled at him brightly. "As long as someone's found something to do, I'm happy with it. It's boring when no one is doing anything."

"That's true," BJ nodded, deciding to leave Fr. Mulcahy's activities be. Deciding to add on to his letter, he read over what he'd already written.

"Another letter home?" Hawkeye watched him.

"Huh? No, no. It's to Colonel Blake," he shrugged. "You said to write a letter to someone, so I thought it would be something to do."

"Henry really would have liked you," Hawkeye chuckled. "Were he still alive and you written him, I'm pretty sure he would have sent booze, candy and a letter masquerading as a small novel."

Sitting in comfortable silence, BJ turned back to his letter.

It's been boring here for the last two weeks, but I'm sure you understand what everyone's going through. Fr. Mulcahy was just here and it looks like he's found an activity to keep him occupied. I wonder if he'll tell me later if I ask.

Hawkeye's here with me in the Mess tent and he told me some interesting stories about your time here. I also found out that your birthday is coming up soon, so Happy Birthday! You know, just recently, we celebrated Major Winchester's birthday on Halloween. He's the one that replaced Major Burns after he lost what was left of his marbles when Major Houlihan got married. Shocking, I know… Winchester is okay for a tent mate, much better than Frank was at any rate. Winchester can give as good as he gets and that's why me and Hawk like him. He doesn't really take things sitting down. Hey, here he comes now.

"Hey, Winchester," Hawkeye lazily waved. "What's the news in Post-Op?"

"Boring," the Bostonian huffed. "There is simply nothing to do around here."

"Happens," BJ nodded.

"But at least Fr. Mulcahy found something to do," Hawkeye mused. "And BJ's writing to Henry."

It took a few minutes for them to realize that Charles wasn't acting like himself. Their newest looked like he wanted to say something, but looked like he kept thinking otherwise.

"Spit it out, Charlie," Hawkeye frowned. "What's on your mind?"

"Ah, yes… Well, I presume that Hunnicut is writing a letter to the infamous Col. Blake?"

Suddenly, Hawkeye leaned forward. "You can call him 'Henry' , too, you know. Yeah, BJ figured that Henry might like an update on everyone, so that's what he's doing."

"A noble endeavor," Charles nodded jerkily. Slanting his eyes at the letter in question, he cleared his throat. "I know, Pierce, that you were one of the few really close to him, but… I recently overheard something that… Well, quite frankly, I can't seem to wrap my head around it."

BJ frowned. "What did you hear?"

"Did… did O'Reilly's goat really…?" it was obvious that Charles was trying to tread lightly on the subject lest Hawkeye fall into a mood.

Thankfully, Hawkeye just started laughing. "Oh! Oh, BJ! I forgot about that! Hey, I remember this time when a busload of new patients had just come in…"

BJ chuckled as the tale was told, but was actually really interested in Charles' reaction. The bigger man had a small smile on his face as he watched Hawkeye animatedly retell one of his favorite memories. Charles may seem like a snob, but this was one occasion that he dropped those well built walls and seemed just like any other person in the outfit. BJ frowned as he thought about it and realized that Charles had casually been dropping little questions about Col. Blake since he'd found out about him.

Shaking his head, BJ watched Charles give a laugh. 'Guess Charles wanted to meet him, too.' BJ felt himself like the prickly doctor just a little more.

Still nothing to do, I'm afraid. I started this letter yesterday and it really looks like it may be ending, but Hawkeye had encouraged me to write more about some of the others in camp and what they're up to. I'm not quite sure what I want to do about this when I'm done and I might end up with a lot of pages, but Hawkeye told me that he'll help me figure something out when I finish.

Fr. Mulcahy is out and about this morning. He seems rather relaxed about something and that's good, because he's lately been tense about something or other. Winchester sends his regards and I really do think that he's been fishing for information about you. He's not really bad. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how to fit in and make friends. I'm watching him right now in the Swamp. He's muttering to himself and writing something in a small pocketbook. I guess it's important or something.

"Hey, Beej," Hawkeye poked his head inside the tent. "Want to take a walk around camp or something?"

"Just let me get some coffee," BJ immediately hopped up, grabbing his paper and pencil. "Hey, Charles. Want to take a walk?"

BJ and Hawkeye exchanged questioning looks as their fellow just kept muttering, writing and scratching out what he didn't like.

"Wonder what he's writing about," Hawkeye commented as they neared the Mess tent some minutes later. "Seemed important or something."

"Morning, Captains!"

They turned and grinned as Klinger waved in his newest ensemble. The long sleeved dress was covered with his fur robe and the look would have probably worked if not for the cigar in his mouth.

"Morning, Klinger," BJ chuckled as their resident cross-dresser curtsied. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," he smiled welcomingly. "How are you two doing? Going out of your minds, yet?"

"Nope," Hawkeye told him. "BJ's writing a letter to Henry and I'm being taken along for the ride."

"Hey, good idea, Captain Hunnicut," Klinger's smile turned soft. "Bet Col. Blake'll like that. He was a good guy."

Hawkeye started chuckling. "Klinger, I seem to recall you and Henry going on a date…"

BJ laughed as they got their coffee and took their walk. Henry seemed to just take everything in stride.

When me and Hawkeye took a walk this morning, we ran into Klinger. He has a new dress and he told me that it was based off an idea that you had given him. Klinger really is a great guy. He shared some stories about you, too. He wasn't as close as he could have been, but he really thinks the best of you. Seems to me that a lot of people in this camp miss you. Do you miss them?

BJ was just checking some equipment in the OR when Margaret Houlihan breezed in.

"Major," BJ nodded.

"Hello, Captain," she nodded back. They worked for a few minutes before Margaret suddenly turned to him. "I miss him, too, you know. Oh, I won't pretend that Major Burns and myself didn't give him a hard time, but he really was a good person."

"Are we talking about Col. Blake?" BJ asked, amused at the abruptness.

"I don't know who you think we're talking about, but that's what I thought…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"That's okay, just wanted to make sure," BJ studied her. "I don't suppose you want to talk about him?"

"Well, I wouldn't say we were friends," she lifted a shoulder. "I just didn't think he would… well, die, you know? I mean, I always knew that any one of us could die, but not that way… Always thought it would be a bullet or bomb or something like that. Not on the way home…" she wiped a tear away. "I wouldn't recommend him as a good officer… and he had no business being in charge of a unit, anyway… but where it really counted? He was a good man. There was this once, I remember. The generator was acting up and…"

BJ sat there and listened to Margaret talk for over an hour about her side of the late Colonel's reign. They had managed to get some work done before their shift was finished.

"BJ?" he turned to see her tremulous smile. "Thanks for listening. I really needed that."

Major Houlihan talked my ear off about you today. I could tell she was sorry for a lot of things that she and Major Burns did to you. I'm told that they were some nasty things and I know that you didn't deserve some of those things even if they were justified. She's something else, that one. Seems to me that she really took the news of your death hard. Like a lot of others here… I think she's been looking for someone to tell her that you forgive her. I know why, but she really was thinking of what was right for the unit at the time, even if she wasn't going about it the right way. It was her job and she was doing it to the best of her ability. Maybe you can find it in you to give her that peace? I think she would appreciate it.

I think something's going on among the others here. Chatter has picked up and people actively seem to be doing something, but I don't know what it could possibly be. I have noticed, however, that people seem to be talking about you more. It's good to see everyone letting out their emotions. I have a feeling that they've been keeping it bottled up for some reason and it's good to release all of it. I wonder what the catalyst is, but then I remember your birthday is coming up in a few days. Margaret said that, if I wanted, I could tell you hello from her and I wonder how she knew about it. Maybe one of the others told her about my letter to you. I still don't know what to do with this when I finish with it…

BJ ambled into the Mess tent with Hawkeye and his ever present pad of paper and pencil.

"Morning, Colonel," Hawkeye waved as he spotted Colonel Potter and Radar at a table.

"Mornin', boys," Potter glanced up at him to smile before returning to his paper. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much," Hawkeye sat down with his coffee and BJ sat next to him.

"Something seems to," BJ commented as he noted the increased murmuring.

"Everyone's talking about Henry," Hawkeye told him. "Apparently, a lot of people are starting to remember his birthday is coming up and everyone's been telling stories to those who haven't been here when Henry was."

"Awful nice of them," Potter nodded, turning to the silent company clerk at his side. "You okay, Radar?"

"Uh, yes, sir," he nodded sadly. "It's just hard to remember Col. Blake sometimes."

"Yeah, it is," Hawkeye reached over and patted his arm. They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting Radar work through his emotions. "But you know, Radar… It does help to share memories with your friends so that they remember him, too."

The youngest sniffed and nodded hesitantly. Looking up at him, he smiled slightly. "Hey, sir? Lately, I've been hearing a story that I don't remember having happened."

Hawkeye frowned. "Which one is that?" he had to smile as Potter put aside his paper and leaned forward. BJ noticed, too, and hid a smile. Seemed like everyone wanted to know about Henry.

"It was a water balloon?" Radar frowned.

Hawkeye shook his head. "Too many times, Radar. Give me something else."

The young man pondered over it. "Oh! It was a water balloon and some kind of paint…?"

"Oh, yeah," Hawkeye nodded. "That one. Well, now. You see, Radar, you were off at another unit helping their clerk and that's why you don't remember it. Here, I'll tell you…"

We had breakfast with Colonel Potter and Radar.

Colonel Potter has a horse named Sophie and Radar had given her to him on his wedding anniversary some time ago. It was really sweet of him to do that.

Colonel Potter is really understanding when something reminds someone of you. Granted, time has faded the pain, but not erased it completely. Radar still laughs as he looks back on some of your adventures, but I can tell he'll cry when there's no one around except for his animals. He's a really great kid.

Hawkeye and Radar miss you the most, I think. You should know that they really do set store by you and they'll miss you every day for the rest of their lives. It's true in others, too. When this war ends and we all go home, a lot of us will remember you and what good times they had while you were here with them. The rest of us will remember the stories and shared memories of those who knew you, but it won't be the same because we'll never have that connection. Colonel Potter, Winchester and myself don't really show it, but we'll always regret not having that connection. I know I will.

November 12th rolled around and BJ still didn't know what to do with his letter.

Evidently, Hawkeye didn't either.

"Well, what do you want to do with it?" Hawkeye frowned at him. "Save it? Stuff it in a bottle and send it out to sea or what?"

"Maybe I'll just burn it," BJ pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I guess to make sure he gets it."

Hawkeye nodded just as thoughtfully. "Good a way as any other…" They pondered on that before they decided to head over to the Officer's Club for a drink.

Walking along, BJ studied their surroundings. "It's always been like this hasn't it?"

"Yeah. It took some getting used to, but it's home."

They met up with Fr. Mulcahy, Klinger, Charles, Margaret, Radar and Col. Potter just outside the Club.

"Ah, BJ, there you are," Mulcahy grinned. "I was just wondering if you've finished your letter yet."

"Oh, yeah," BJ nodded, returning the smile. "A few days ago, actually."

"What are you going to do with it?" Potter questioned.

"Well, I was thinking about burning it later," BJ mused.

"Would you mind me going along, too, sir?" Radar asked shyly. "I… wrote a letter, too…"

"Well, so did I," Margaret started smiling. "I guess you'll just have to bring me along, too."

"Hey! Whaddaya know?" Klinger produced a rather thick envelope from his purse. "So did I!"

"Guess we all did," Potter chuckled as the others gave the affirmative. "So, it looks like we're going to be burning these things together."

"You're burning your letter, Captain?" a passing enlisted man paused. "That's great! Me, too!"

"Hold on, son," Potter frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I heard some others talking about how Captain Hunnicut was writing a letter to Colonel Blake and how they were going to do that, too," the soldier explained as a few others joined them. "I thought it was a swell idea, so I decided to write one, too. And, well, it gave me something to do, so I told one of the nurses that I was going to write to Col. Blake."

"I never really met him," the nurse in question piped up. "I overheard Captains Pierce and Hunnicut talking about him and it really sounded fun, so I asked someone else if they knew Col. Blake."

Soon, it became clear that word had spread about BJ's letter to Col. Blake. It was even more clear that the idea had inspired others to write their own letters to the late Colonel.

"Well," Klinger chuckled as Potter dispersed the chattering crowd. "I guess BJ did the impossible."

"Oh?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"He got rid of the boredom and gave morale a boost," Potter answered. "Good job, Hunnicut. Never have I seen morale get such a high boost in all the years I've been serving. And by such a unique way."

"I just wanted to write a letter to someone," he laughed, feeling light and content for once in a very long time. "I didn't think this would happen."

"But it did," Margaret smiled toothily. "And now everyone's got a letter to burn."

"That's what happens in camps," Potter nodded. "Actions have unintended consequences. This just happened to be one of the good ones."

"Well, kid," Klinger slung an arm around Radar's shoulders. "What say you and me plan this letter burning party?"

"Party?" BJ frowned.

"Well, of course," Radar beamed. "We have to have a party on Colonel Blake's birthday!"

The morning of November 14th dawned bright and clear.

Two oil barrels were set alight in front of the Swamp as the entire camp turned out for the letter burning ceremony. In two long lines, the personnel of the 4077th MASH unit patiently waited with their letters - some as long as a small book - for their turn at the fires.

At the end of one line, Charles, Radar, Fr. Mulcahy and Klinger chatted with the others around them, while Margaret, Potter, Hawkeye and BJ stood in comfortable silence.

"What a day, huh?" Hawkeye grinned as he twirled his thick envelope around.

'When did he get the time to write a letter?' "Yeah," BJ lovingly caressed his.

"This really was a great idea," Margaret nodded. "Thanks for writing that letter, BJ."

"It was something to do," he shrugged modestly.

"But it was a really good something to do," Hawkeye nudged him.

Soon, the eight of them were the last ones with letters. As the assembled crowd looked on, Charles dropped his in. "Happy Birthday, Colonel."

Radar was next. "I really miss you, sir."

Margaret was crying as she dropped hers in. "It really was a pleasure serving with you."

Klinger dabbed his lace handkerchief to an eye. "Never forget you, Colonel."

Potter dropped in his own. "You started a fine unit, son."

Father Mulcahy dropped his next. "May the Father watch over you on your birthday. Amen."

Hawkeye smiled as he dropped in his. "We had some good times. Here's to you, Henry."

And then, BJ stood in front of the fires. "It was nice getting to know you, sir. Happy Birthday, Henry." He watched as his letter burned and heard the deafening cheer.

They had a camp-wide picnic in the field just beyond the compound where a few memories of Henry were made. They ate and drank and shared good and bad memories and stories with each other of the late Colonel. The kitchen staff really came through as cake was given out; BJ laughed as he discovered birthday cake.

It was as BJ leaned against Hawkeye in helpless laughter at yet another of Henry's antics, that he realized that his seven good friends were in a circle around him.

Looking out over the field at the lounging picnickers, he smiled as he remembered the last part of his letter. Looking at his circled friends around him, the words he had written came back to him in perfect clarity.

Well, I think this will be the end of it. I've written so many pages about the people you left and the people you will never meet. The changes and what's stayed the same… I think what will never change is the connection that you forged in bringing all these people here together. Things in other places of the country, the world, can change and they do. But here, in Korea, at the 4077th, this right here, the bond that's grown even stronger with your memory, will never change. That's the way it should be. And that's the way it will always be.

You started what I see before me today. You brought in all these memories and traditions and quirks and people and they share what you have done. I came here and I felt like I belonged here. Radar, Margaret, Klinger, Father Mulcahy… they welcomed me more or less from the start. You brought them here. You brought them here and they are some of my closest friends. They showed me the ropes and I love them for it. But Hawkeye? He is the closest friend I will ever dream of having. He is the one who has always been there for me when I'm feeling the homesickness, when I'm being overwhelmed by this place. He is my sanity and I love him for that. I don't know what I would be, or where, had I not stepped off that plane and found my best friend in this hell of a place. And I have you to thank for that.

Henry, if there has ever been any doubt that you have accomplished something during your time here, please lay that doubt to rest. You have done an extraordinary thing in bringing this group of misfits together to create the most successful, close knit unit I will probably never see again in my lifetime. You have given me something that I never dreamed of having and I still reel from the novelty of it even now. You have indirectly saved my life and I hope you know that, because I'm still here writing this to you. All these people, who served with you and who didn't, will know who you are and how you were instrumental in establishing this haven for us. That knowledge will stay with us forever.

But the knowledge that my best friend in the entire universe is here because of you? That, Henry Blake, is your greatest accomplishment. And I will be forever grateful to you for that.

Sincerely yours,

BJ Hunnicut.

AN: Yeah, you were either waiting for Henry to show up or was reading and was all: What the hell, woman? You're not going to finish the letter? What's wrong with you?

I couldn't fit Henry in this one, folks, sorry. Maybe next time, yea?

Colonel Henry Blake

McLean Stevenson

Both great men, taken too soon.

Nov. 14, 1927 - Feb. 15, 1996

Rest in Peace