My Funny Friend and Me
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fox owns MASH, and Disney owns the song from which I took the title.
May 23, 2000, Toledo, Ohio.
If Charles Emerson Winchester III was a stubborn and arrogant young surgeon, he was even more stubborn and arrogant as an old retired doctor. Thus he'd refused to admit to his circle of friends that the news of Maxwell Klinger's passing had hit him particularly hard.
Klinger was the third member of the "gang" to pass away since returning home. The first two had been Sherman Potter and Frank Burns. But while the gang that knew Frank did attend his memorial service, it didn't hold the significance that Potter and Klinger's funerals did. Potter had included Klinger and several others in a solemn toast to some of his old war buddies. After Potter died, Klinger had suggested that they consider the toast that night to be their own informal tontine. The others had agreed. But now it was guaranteed that someone other than Klinger would be drinking a toast to his old buddies.
Charles looked around the sanctuary. Half of Klinger's family was Muslim, and half was Orthodox Catholic; a testimony to the mixed religious heritage of Lebanon. As Father Mulcahy would be officiating, the Catholic half of the family had won out in their fight over where the memorial service would be held. Charles could hear the loud bickering between some discontented Muslim family members and some of the Catholic members over the church setting. Klinger himself had been raised by non-practicing Catholic parents, but the man who had taught him English, Uncle Abdul, was Muslim. Klinger had been an agnostic. At least, for the first half of the war. And then he'd married a Buddhist Korean. Soon Lee, however, had nothing to say about the setting of the service. She admired and respected Father Mulcahy just as much as her husband had, and had personally asked him to officiate.
The bickering grew louder. Charles scoffed. He couldn't understand a word of the language being spoken, except for what he'd gathered listening to Klinger's son Jameel translate, but he found it ironic that the family that had disowned Max was now fighting over how he was to be remembered. As far as Charles was concerned, Klinger would want to be buried in his best Sunday dress. His assertion was confirmed when he overheard Hawkeye and BJ make the same joke.
The old doctor shuffled the papers in his hands, catching the attention of Hawkeye. The other surgeon-turned-pediatrician approached him.
"Whaddaya have there, Charles?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Charles answered gruffly.
"Aw, c'mon, Charles," BJ chimed in. "You can tell your fellow Swamp buddies."
Charles shot a glare at BJ. "I have no desire to be reminded of that fetid and festering sewer I was forced to call home for two years."
Hawkeye and BJ's pleading grew louder until Charles finally gave in.
"Fine! If you two children must know, it's a eulogy."
The jaws of the other two men dropped.
"You're giving the eulogy?" Hawkeye said. "You, Major I-Don't-Associate-With-Lebanese-Looneys Winchester?"
"That's awfully nice for you, Charles," BJ added.
Charles rolled his eyes, trying to hide the discomfort he felt at being caught caring. "Yes, I'm giving the eulogy. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'd like to extend my condolences to the family before I go warm up for my speech."
With that he brushed past his former bunkmates, leaving them standing in disbelief.
00000000
The service opened with a slide show, and Father Mulcahy gave a brief message, which Jameel translated, before introducing Charles. The old doctor sighed. He'd forgotten that he would have to pause every few moments to let Jameel spin his words into Lebanese. Charles approached the podium, laid his papers out in front of him, cleared his throat, and began.
"I remember the first time I met Max. He was certainly a shock. I'm not entirely sure where he inherited his penchant for scams, but it had made him willing to go to extreme lengths to achieve a goal. In the afore mentioned case, the goal was to escape Korea. As you well know, he wore dresses in hopes of being discharged with a section eight. It was most undignified. But on occasion, when something of great value, such as one's life or freedom or that of a loved one, is at stake, dignity must be thrown aside.
"I suppose Max's efforts can be seen as some measure of security in who he knew himself to be. He wasn't afraid of what others might think. As a matter of fact, he welcomed their opinions, be it advice on a wardrobe selection, or a blunt statement that he was, in fact, crazy. I don't need to tell you that he preferred to hear the latter.
"He didn't limit himself to wearing dresses, either. I have been regaled with tales of his exploits, and I myself have witnessed many. He once wore a rubber suit on a day when the mercury in the thermometer refused to dip back into the double digits. He threatened to give himself heat prostration if Colonel Potter, our commanding officer, didn't give him a section eight."
Charles paused to laugh. He hadn't thought about it much at the time, being so preoccupied with Hawkeye and BJ's tub, but now he remembered how Klinger had driven Margaret out of the tent by jumping into the tub with her, unable to bear the heat anymore.
"I did my best to ignore the man, and he became, for a while, an even greater annoyance after he took over the position of company clerk from Corporal O'Reilly."
Radar was sitting a few rows from the front. He chuckled to himself.
"But try as I might, I found I couldn't avoid the inevitable. I had to request errands from Max, and that occasionally meant traveling with him. I remember once, I couldn't get a chopper to Seoul to catch my flight to Tokyo for some R & R. So Klinger drove me. We took a wrong turn and became hopelessly lost. There was an oncoming storm, and I'd found myself obligated to help some Greek soldiers whose truck had overturned. We spent the night keeping the wounded men stabilized, and I admitted to the then-corporal that I was...fearful. Max turned out to be a great help that night. The next day my dignity would not allow me to admit to the doubts of the night before. I blamed the whole thing on Klinger, especially after we discovered that we were 'lost' only 200 yards from the camp. But I shared an equal amount of the fault at least, and without Max, I may not have been able to pull those men—or myself—through the night.
"Max pulled many a stunt, but when the casualties flowed in, he kept pace with the best of them. He never pulled anything during triage or in the OR. He took his job quite seriously, though you may not have been able to tell from his outfit.
"After Corporal O'Reilly left, Max finally began wearing men's clothing on a regular basis. I don't know if he simply gave up, or if he decided that perhaps his job wasn't so bad after all. Although I suppose it was due in part to the fact that he realized he wasn't the only one in camp who could have used a section eight..." Here Charles glanced at Hawkeye and BJ, who simply responded with looks of feigned innocence.
"Max taught me a great deal about myself, though it would take years to sink in. Somehow he was the only one in camp who could see straight through my Winchester pride. Well, I should add that Father Mulcahy was also skilled in that department. But then, he's been trained. Max was not. He was simply his snooping, conniving self. He came to respect a family tradition of mine of which he wasn't supposed to know anything. I'd expected him to respond the same way everyone else in camp had been. But he didn't. Furthermore, he essentially promised to keep his knowledge of my...secret acts of charity to himself. Out of respect for me. He was the last person I expected to respect me. And yet he gave me the most respect. Respect that, in hindsight, I'd say I didn't deserve.
"Max was often coming up with ideas to make money, and I bought into them more than once. Not surprisingly, whenever I stuck with him on an investment, it ultimately failed. The ones that succeeded were the ones I bailed out of. Had he come up with the Internet, I wouldn't have been wise enough to back him on it. He just didn't quit. Max was, quite possibly, the most tenacious man in Korea. I won't fail to mention, though, how he did exploit my gratitude to him. An autoclave once exploded, and Max pushed me to the ground. I avoided injury, but Max broke his nose. I was certainly overzealous in my desire to repay him, but he decided to push it as far as it would go. I suppose I deserved it. I'd treated him with contempt for so long, and he nonetheless sacrificed his nose to save my life. Not that he didn't have plenty of nose to spare."
Once that message was relayed through Jameel, the Klinger family burst out laughing. Jameel touched his own prominent nose and laughed.
"Once when Klinger was accused of stealing a camera and several other items from the camp, I chose to represent him at his hearing. But this I did out of my own desire to prove myself skillful with words. I didn't do as well as I would have liked. But Max didn't hold it against me. He essentially fired me, but he forgave me later."
Hawkeye and BJ glanced at one another, each mouthing, "Essentially?" and chuckling.
Charles paused, not really sure where he was going with this. He'd strayed from his notes a bit, reliving story after story for his audience. He tried to refocus himself, but the tales were reminding him just how much of a friend Klinger had become.
"When Max was married, I bid him farewell, telling him that I had no doubt that with his penchant for scams, he would in no time own South Korea. It had surprised me just as much as it had anyone when Max announced he was staying in Korea after the war. And this after I'd begrudgingly learned everything there is to know about downtown Toledo. He'd given it all up for a charming young woman, who today sits in the audience, missing Max more than most of us."
Charles looked up at Soon Lee. The elderly Korean woman had tears in her eyes. Charles swallowed to rid himself of a lump in his throat.
"Max once said something to me that I immediately denied. He pointed out that we were not all that different from one another. And over the two years I was at the MASH 4077th, I found, much to my chagrin, that Max was right. I limited our similarities to admitting that we had the same blood type and calling Max my cell mate. But in reality, we were similar in many ways. We both loved to seize an opportunity to increase our wealth. But Max wasn't afraid to start small. We both wanted out of Korea. But I threw my weight around, while Max devised more...creative means.
Charles smiled as memories came flooding back. His voice broke. "I have to say that in some ways, Max was my better. He was willing to help out wherever needed, and he actually became a friend when I least expected it. When I least deserved it. I don't know if it was something Father Mulcahy taught him, or if it was something he'd always done. But I'm forever grateful to the friendship Max extended to an arrogant aristocrat like myself. I'll never take something like that for granted again. And it is my sincere hope that none of us will."
Charles looked over to the coffin. He collected himself again and gave his concluding words: "Goodbye, Maxwell, my funny friend. You shall truly be missed."
And with that, he stepped down from the podium. Jameel followed, grasping Charles hand and shaking it firmly. "Thank you for your words about my father," he said.
Charles smiled and nodded. "The pleasure is all mine."
It had been so unlike Charles, Hawkeye thought as he looked around. And the result was that there wasn't a dry eye in the place. Including his own.
You see the patterns in the big sky
Those constellations look like you and I
Just like the patterns in the big sky
We could be lost we could refuse to try
But we made it through in the dark night
Would those lucky guys turn out to be
But that unusual blend of my funny friend and me