Blowin' in the Wind
"I killed a man once." Colonel Potter mutters with a scotch on the rocks in his hand. His head bend down glazing at the shine that the ice makes in the liquid. "As an Army man, I have killed many men. But I was not as close as I was with this one particular individual." He sighs heavily, before proceeding while others begin to makeshift to get into a position to hear the story. There are only six individuals in the office filed with portraits—the Colonel, B.J. Hunnicutt, Hawkeye Pierce, Margaret Houlihan, Radar O'Reilly and Charles Winchester. B.J. and Hawkeye go into silent agreement to grab more scotch and gin happily filling their glasses.
"It was during the second World War," Potter begins. "I was stationed in Europe—Germany to be exact. We had a still quite similar to what you two-", he gestures to B.J. and Hawkeye "have in the Swamp- a still to make us happy during off hours. One day, we got a new bunkmate. He was a black man around my age and knew we'd get along. I had a feeling that he needed a friend considering the time period we were all in and so, I befriended him." He takes another sip of his drink.
"We played cards, drank till our bellies were full, sang in the light of the moon in order to pass the time. We shared stories about our times at home. I noticed he had an accent but he spoke English so well, I did not pay much attention to it. Looking back, I know that I should have. Anyway, just like our two jokesters over here," Again, motioning Hawkeye and B.J. "we had a helluva time. Until one night….
"It was a quiet night. No wounded, no gunfire, and it was a moment that many of us tried not to take for granted including yours truly. I sat outside that night, sipping what little of my gin was left and tried to remember the night as it was. My new friend was elsewhere with the others playing a game of poker. I just decided to sit it out. I. Unbeknownst to me, someone was observing me from behind. Being in the Great War, that feeling came many times so I paid no mind. But for some reason, after a few minutes that feeling of uneasiness never went away. So, I stood up and looked behind me to be greeted with a gun."
"Wow," exclaimed Radar who brought everyone back for a quick second. "What happened then, Sir? Who was it?"
There was a pause and then he answered. "It was my friend, Radar. The man whom I called friend. He had his gun pointed at me. He gave me an evil smile like all of those gangster movies you have seen. It turned out that he was in fact a German spy which, yes, is highly unusual and he was about to kill me.
"There was a scuffle, punches were blown but at that particular time frame, I did carry a knife on me. While he attempted to get his gun to my gut, I stabbed him. I still had my quick draw. I couldn't tell you how many times I did, I just know it was more than once but less than 10. I remember feeling and catching sight of the blood on my hands. I remember seeing his face become lifeless as he hit the ground. I remember his smirk becoming emotionless."
Colonel Potter took another hefty gulp from his glass, finishing it off and eyed his audience. Silent expressions were met as no one knew what to say next. As usual, however, the Colonel knew exactly what to say. "I'm not saying this to gain pity nor am I saying that I am some kind of hero. In situations of war, you do what you have to, even if that means ending friendships. I see the flood of young faces that come and go from this place. It always hits me, as it does to you because what they are experiencing should not ever be seen. I was in their shoes once, and I had to take a man's life for my own The definition of sacrifice has many meanings in this place. I don't want any of you here to have one set definition. If anything good can come from this "police action" it's this: perspective can be everything."
The crowd is silent and murmurs of agreement can be heard.
"I've sadden you enough tonight. Time to hit the hay." Potter stood up while everyone else took his lead. Radar headed towards the door first, rushing to his bed outside the office trying not to make it obvious that he was about to hug his teddy bear. B.J. and Hawkeye sat their glasses down on the desk were second to follow. No wise quips tonight. After hearing that tale, it was no joking manner. Margaret was next trying to hold in all her memories of her father's war stories. This one sounded similar to the many stories her father recited to her. Lastly, the Colonel was the last one seemingly appropriate to be herding the "sheep" out of the flock and into the barn.
"Sir," Radar said as the Colonel passed by. "What did you do with that man after…?"
His question was met with an elderly gaze. The Colonel walked to him and put his hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner. "Radar, I honestly couldn't tell you."
And with that, he walked outside to the camp of the 4077th MASH, gazing at the night sky which was very similar that night. He then walked on to his tent to sleep with his ghost in the closet.
How many years can some people exist before they're allowed to be free?
How many times can a man turn his head pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind.
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up before he can really see the sky?
How many ears must one man have before he can hear people cry?
How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?
The answer, my friend is blowin' in the wind.
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
A/N: This story was actually based on a story that my grandfather told me. This very instance did happen to him. I did change a little around, while I also made some of it up as my grandfather never discussed this during his many war stories he has told me for obvious reasons (my mother was the one who told me about it). But what is true is that this man did befriend my grandpa and, he was black which was, as mentioned very unusual. He was a spy and he did try to kill my grandfather one night as described. My grandfather was saved by a Bible in his pocket; the man stabbed him (he had a knife instead of a gun) in the chest where his Bible was in his pocket. My grandfather also had a knife and did what he had to do. The only real difference is that my grandfather served in the United States Navy and so these events happened on a ship during World War II.
The song, "Blowin' in the Wind" belongs to Bob Dylan.