Disclaimer: I wasn't even born when M*A*S*H was being made. All I own is this fic and the computer I wrote it on.
He's complaining about the war, wondering when it will end, and you join in to disguise the fact that you're not sure you really want it to be over. You're not sure why. Because over means home. Over means seeing your wife and daughters. Over means real alcohol, not the homemade swill you subsist on out here in Korea. Over means a return to sanity.
But over means you'll lose him. Over means spending the rest of your life with her, pretending she's your only one. Over means over.
Would it be worth it if this war never ended, just so you could be with him every day? Because once you step back onto American soil you'll have to forget these feelings. It's wrong, you told yourself every day for the first few weeks of living in hell. But not anymore. How can it be wrong when it feels so right?
You'll never tell him, even though you want to so desperately. This is the one thing you'll never share with him. No-one can know. Ever. Sometimes it takes everything you have to stay silent. It physically hurts watching him chat up every nurse in camp. There are days you'd happily throw away everything to have him look at you like that. But you can't.
Whilst the war rages on, you fight one of your own between your head and heart, and you want more than anything for your heart to be victorious. But it can never be.
This conflict will continue in perpetuity.