Trespasses
September 13, 1969
Hawkeye had just gotten settled on his couch to watch The Sound of Music—again, for the umpteenth time—when the doorbell rang. With a sigh, he smacked his knees and stood right back up again. He went over to the television and, a bit reluctantly, turned it off. Julie Andrews had been in the middle of proclaiming that the hills were alive with the sound of music, and who was Hawkeye to doubt her? He smiled and silently promised Julie he'd get back to her as soon as he took care of the guest with the lousy sense of timing.
He opened his front door and blinked. The young woman standing on his porch was nobody he recognized, and his initial thought was that she'd gotten mixed up and actually wanted one of the neighbors. He put on a tolerant expression, all the while thinking that this would be a two-second conversation and he would get back to his movie before Julie even finished her opening number. "Can I help you?"
"Are you Hawkeye Pierce?"
He nodded, taking a closer look now that it was obvious she was at the right address. He guessed she was around 20 years old… slim, tall, blonde, cute. She was dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a powder-blue T-shirt. Her fine, flyaway hair fell to her shoulders. She definitely wasn't a patient of his, but he was starting to realize that there was something familiar about her…
She held out her hand and he shook it, a little dumbfounded. But then she said the words that made everything fall into place: "Hi. I'm Erin Hunnicutt."
Hawkeye involuntarily took a step backward, his knees a little weak. It was absurd, but the first thing out of his mouth was, "How the hell old are you?"
She seemed to understand that she'd thrown him off-kilter. With a warm smile, she said, "I'm 18. Just started college. Harvard, actually… I'm pre-med."
He let out a low whistle. "Eighteen," he echoed. "Jesus, it seems like you were born just a few years ago. I mean, I wasn't there when you were born, of course. But I—when I met your dad, you were an infant, and he talked about you all the time, so it sort of seemed like I knew you then." He realized he was rambling and made himself stop. He got his bearings and finally did the hospitable thing: gestured for her to come into his house.
She stepped into his living room and looked around, seeming to take everything in, and he worried that she disapproved of his bachelor ways, the empty soda and beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, the days-old newspapers on one end of the couch still waiting to be read. He hurriedly picked up the empty bottles and took them into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Please have a seat, Erin. Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No thank you."
He needed a beer, though—desperately—and he got himself a bottle from the fridge, downing a gulp before he even left the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he tried like hell to sound composed as he returned to the living room. "So Harvard, huh? Congratulations—that's quite an accomplishment."
Erin was sitting on the couch, so he settled into the armchair nearby. His leg bounced up and down a few times before he made the conscious effort to stop it.
She leaned back into the soft cushions, getting comfortable as she spoke. "My dad was so proud when I got the acceptance letter. Whenever Charles would visit us, he talked about Harvard all the time in such glowing terms—well, I don't have to tell you that, I'm sure. He probably did the same in Korea." She was referring to Charles Emerson Winchester III, Hawkeye was astonished to realize. That meant B.J. and Charles were still friendly enough that they visited one another. It was a little mind-boggling. Hawkeye tried to focus on her words even though his brain was racing wildly. "I only just started at the end of August and it's a little overwhelming, but I'm excited. It's an honor just to be there." There was a pause and Hawkeye was trying to figure out what to say next when she switched gears on him. "I'm sure you want to know why I've come to see you. It was a couple hours' drive up here from Cambridge and I wasn't even sure you still lived at this address—Radar thought it was current but he couldn't swear to it."
Radar… the company clerk who never really stopped clerking. He kept tabs on everyone from the 4077th, even the people who didn't necessarily want to be kept up with.
"So I was taking a real chance that I'd even find you. And then that you would talk to me. You're being polite, but you're also being very quiet, Hawkeye. I can tell I've thrown you for a loop."
"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But of course I would talk to you, Erin. Why would you even wonder about that?"
She leaned forward, her eyes intent on his. "Because you and my dad haven't spoken in something like 15 years."
It felt a little like a punch to the gut. Had it really been 15 years? He calculated in his head as memories roared back. Yeah… the numbers did seem right; the last time he had seen Erin Hunnicutt, she'd been 3. He was still having a hard time getting used to the idea that this young woman before him—this college student—was B.J.'s little Erin. It made him feel old, to see such a clear example of the passage of time.
He snapped back to the present and Erin was still watching him closely, waiting. He wasn't sure what to say to her. OK, so it had apparently been 15 years since he and B.J. had last spoken. And so…? Did she have a point?
He took another swig of beer, then decided to be direct, otherwise they might be sitting here all day, staring at one another and beating around the bush. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Yeah—at least I hope so. Would you tell me what happened between you two?"
"Happened?"
"Why you stopped being friends. My dad won't say. I must have asked him a hundred times—there are still pictures of you in his photo albums, and whenever we would look through them, I'd ask, 'Why doesn't Hawkeye ever visit anymore? Why doesn't he call?' And every time, Dad would only say that sometimes friendships don't last. That was his stock answer. No details, no explanation." She tilted her head to one side and in that instant, she looked so much like B.J. that Hawkeye felt like he was stumbling backward in time. "So I'm here for an explanation, I guess. Because I haven't gotten one from him. And I know how close you guys were, during the War. I know what you used to mean to each other. I have the letter, you know."
"The letter?"
"You don't remember giving it to me? I guess that must've been the last time you were out to visit us. I was really little. You gave me the letter you wrote while you were in Korea, when you were making out your will. Instead of leaving something frivolous to my dad, you wrote down the names of all the soldiers he had operated on."
Hawkeye jolted. He did remember giving her that letter. Right before he left Mill Valley in heartache and shame, he had the presence of mind to hand it to little 3-year-old Erin. In fact, he actually snuck into her room and woke her up before he made his getaway, wanting to say goodbye to her for the last time. And to give her the letter that he always took with him on his Mill Valley trips, waiting for the right moment to hand it over. Erin, I wrote this for you during the War. It was sort of meant for both you and your dad, but I want you to have it now. I may never see you again, honey, so take this and put it somewhere safe. You'll understand it when you get older.
"Yeah," she said now, reading his expression. "I still have that. It's important to me. And I know my dad was important to you. Will you tell me what happened between you? Please?"
Hawkeye took the last swallow of beer and then set the bottle down on the floor at his feet. So much for a Saturday afternoon of watching The Sound of Music on TV. He stared at his hands, debating what to do. "It might be difficult for you to hear," he warned her.
"I don't care. I'm a big girl. Pre-med at Harvard, remember?"
"Do the details really matter that much?"
"The details are the reason my dad lost his best friend 15 years ago. So yes."
In spite of his misgivings, Hawkeye had to smile at her tenacity. She reminded him of Margaret Houlihan in that way. The no-nonsense type.
The truth was that his falling out with B.J. had been entirely, 100% Hawkeye's fault. And if he explained that to Erin, she would at least know that her dad was blameless in the matter. It wasn't a pretty story, but the whole saga was in the distant past, and that somehow seemed to dilute it.
Besides, he most definitely wasn't going to tell her everything. No way was he going to make the same mistake twice.
"All right," he finally said with a nod. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you."