Title: Range
Summary: It's the end of summer in Iowa and Walter O'Reilly is again familiarizing himself with being back home and under his mother's watch.
Author's Note: This is the third installment of my one-shot series "Homecoming". You can find the first two on my profile, Drain, featuring Margaret, and Blink, featuring Peg and B.J.
The corroded Chevrolet jumped over the ruts in the road, rocking Walter back and forth in the passenger seat and banging him against the door.
"Sure is good seeing you back home, Walt," said Mr. McHarris from the driver's seat, staring up the dusty road illuminated by the one working headlight and to the darkness beyond.
"Sure is good being back, Mr. McHarris." Walter stared out at the passing scenery: fields of corn, clumps of pine trees, splintered signposts and more dust. Wind rushed against his face from the open window. Crickets chirped in the yellow grass.
"How's the year been?"
"Alright," Mr. McHarris said. "Gonna be a good harvest. My corn's already taller than the Allie. You remember Allie, huh, Walt? Shot up like a weed, she did. Already taller than the missus and only a few hands shorter than me."
"Little Allie? Really?"
Mr. McHarris laughed, "My little girl."
Walter listened to the air being split by the truck and the crunch of the tires on the road. He inhaled deeply, smelling clean air and a touch of cow manure, making him remember the dust and smoke that seemed to always clog the wind in Korea.
"How's Mom getting along?" said Walter.
Mr. McHarris sighed. "Alright, Walt, alright. I can't tell you how glad you're back, though. She's gonna really be able to use your help, seeing as the harvest'll be coming in a month. Shoot, us neighbors have been helping as much as we can but you know I've got my own place to look out for."
"Sure, Mr. McHarris, thanks for what you've already done."
"Set Old Ed up nice and fine, Walt. You'll have to stop by his grave sometime. Your Ma really brought out all the trimmings. Put him side by side with your father, she did. Shame you couldn't have been here for the burial."
"Yeah," said Walter, "too bad, but the Army isn't real good at doing stuff quickly."
Mr. McHarris laughed again, "Don't seem like they are. Seems like this durned Police Action is dragging out real fine."
"Sure does," said Walter.
"Hey, you were right up there, weren't you? Almost on the front lines. Any clue when we'll be getting the rest of our boys back home?"
"Real soon, I hope, Mr. McHarris."
"Well, here we are. Kitchen light's on. She's probably up waiting for you."
"Thanks, Mr. McHarris." The truck pulled up to the top of the drive leading to Walter's house. He peered at it through the darkness. The siding had once been white, back when his mother and father had first moved in before Walter was born, now it shown in the darkness as a bleak gray, darker in some places than others. The upper story shutters still needed repairing and there was a faded brown picket fence around the front yard. He could just barely make out dark shadow of the barn hiding behind the house.
"Don't mention it, Walt. Didn't want your mom driving all that way. Got your stuff in the back?"
"Yep." Walter stepped down from the truck, shoes hitting the dirt road. He slung his bag out of the bed of the pickup truck and came around the side to grasp Mr. McHarris's hand, hanging out the open window.
"Sure appreciate it, Mr. McHarris."
"Don't mention it," he said again, smiling easily. "And it's Dave now, Walt, from you."
Walter smiled, thankful for the darkness so that Mr. McHarris wouldn't notice him blush.
"Sure – Dave."
"See you around, soldier." The truck's wheels spun in the dust, turned in a u, and then clunked down the road. Mr. McHarris stuck his hand out the window to wave good-bye, before the truck carried him into the darkness.
Walter heaved his bag over his shoulder and slogged up the front drive, illuminated by the light spilling from the checkered curtains hanging over the kitchen window. His boots crunched up the rickety front stair, feeling the chipped paint of the banister beneath his fingers. The porch swing creaked gently in the breeze.
Inside the house, muffled by the front door, he heard a dog start barking. A moth fluttered vaguely up to the rusted porch light, making flickering shadows run across the welcoming mat.
Before Walter had a chance to knock, the door swung open, revealing his mother silhouetted in the light inside the house and obstructed by the screen door.
"Walter, that you?"
"Hey, Mom." Walter's bag slumped to the creaking wood of the porch.
"Getting in kind of late."
"It was a long way."
The dog was still barking. A large golden retriever rushed up behind Walter's mother's legs, growing suspiciously.
"Hush, Dixon. It's Walter, can't you tell?"
The screen door creaked open and Walter's mother stuck her leg out, trying to keep back Dixon, who got through anyway, running toward Walter, barks echoing sharply off the rafters of the porch, filled with bees' nests and spider webs.
"Hey, Dixon." Walter stuck up his hand, palm up, for the dog to sniff, but Dixon continued to bark, skirting Walter warily.
"Fool dog," his mother muttered.
"He doesn't recognize me. I probably smell like Korea."
"Well, don't mind him, come on into the light. Let me look at you."
Walter dragged his bag with him, shuffling his boots on the mat and stepping into the house, which smelled like cinnamon and moth balls. He inhaled deeply. He'd forgotten –
"Walter, you've got whiskers!"
Walter was pulled back to his mother, who stood in front of him, wearing a flowered dress and apron. She had little wrinkles webbing from the corners of her eyes. Her glasses glinted in the light from the lamp on the table, pressed against the wall near the coat hanger. Her hair was pulled into a bun, holding more gray than Walter remembered from two years ago.
"What? Oh yeah, given the excitement I must a' forgotten to shave."
"I don't think you were even shaving before you left," she said.
Walter smiled, finding his lips felt strangely stiff. Dixon had stopped barking. He was ruffling curiously through Walter's bag with his nose. "Yeah. I guess – yeah."
"You look so handsome in your uniform," said his mother, smiling so that her eyes scrunched up, lost in folds of skin.
Walter swallowed. "Look here," he pulled a little on the breast pocket of his uniform. "My Purple Heart."
His mother paused. The light glinted off her glasses. "Well – my, oh my, if it isn't just that." She drew very close, stretching out her hand to caress the medal. "My little Walter, imagine that," she said very quietly so that her voice was almost lost among the crickets chirping in the yard.
"Yeah – it's yeah…."
Her eyes met his and Walter felt something catch in his throat.
"It's good to have you home, son. If only Ed could have been here to see this."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Mom. I wish I could have got here sooner."
"Don't be sorry, Walter. I – you did your best, I know. I'm very proud of you – Imagine my little Walter, all dressed up and shaving, with a Purple Heart –"
"Ah, don't cry, Mom. I'm home. I'm safe. Everything gonna be alright now, too. I've come to stay for good, to help you run the farm just like it used to be – Well, maybe not quite how it used to be, what with Uncle Ed gone, and I don't think I'm really the same either – but you'll see, Mom. We'll work it out. You'll see."
Her head was pressed against his chest, lying on the Purple Heart that was pinned just above the skin hiding Walter's thumping one. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the familiar padding of her shoulders, the soft folds of skin on her back. He was taller than her. Of course he had been before, but somehow he remembered it now.
His mother finally pulled away, gently carrying his arms back to his sides. "I made some coffee, Walter, and an applesauce cake, just how you like it with extra raisons. I figured you might be hungry." Her eyes were glowing behind her glasses and she was smiling with trembling lips.
"Thanks, Mom, I'm starved."
"Well, then, you just go upstairs to wash up and I'll cut you off a piece – nice and warm from the oven."
Walter woke to sunlight spilling through the open curtains of his room and immediately sat up, realizing with a start that he had slept late. Why, there were the chicken to feed, the cow to milk, he'd have to go out to the cornfield to see if those darned goffers were causing any more trouble, but he – then he realized where he was and where he had been the last time he had woken up in bed, and it had been his cot, squished into the corner in the office and he realized that he was no longer in Korea, no longer surrounded by war and wounded and death, and no longer with his friends.
He felt tears prickle in his eyes and he blinked, reaching for his teddy bear by his side and then he realized that, of course, he had left that in Korea too. Deliberately, of course, but now Walter wished – maybe just a little he wished – but, no. No he didn't.
He had been used to getting up at all hours at MASH 4077, but it didn't seem like his head clock was quite set back to the pattern of the setting and rising sun. He'd have to remember that, getting up early to get the chores done before breakfast. He liked to make it to the top of hill to watch the sun rising over the mountains in the distance, painting the sky orange and red and burnt gold.
He smelt coffee wafting up the stairs and under the crack of his door. He could hear his mother rattling dishes in the kitchen below him.
He swung his legs off the bed. Dixon lifted his head from where he'd been laying at the foot of Walter's bed, just as he had made a habit of doing ever since Walter had found him wondering in the woods and brought him home eight years ago. Walter grinned and patted Dixon on the head. Dixon's tail thumped the floor and he barked appreciatively.
Walter threw on a robe and clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen, feeling the cold linoleum beneath his bare toes. His mom looked up from the stove, where she was tending a pot of steaming oatmeal.
"Good morning."
"Hey, Mom, why didn't you wake me? I've slept half-way 'til lunch!"
"I figured you might need the sleep, Walter."
"But what about all the chores –"
"I've been tending them since you were gone. I think I could manage one more day."
Walter grinned. Dixon padded into the kitchen after him.
"Take a seat, Walt. I've kept your eggs and sausage warm and cooked up a pot of oatmeal fresh. I don't figure that army fed you right. You look a little thin."
Walter sat at the kitchen table and stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He shrugged. "It was alright. The guys were always complaining about how bad it tasted but I never seemed to mind. Food tastes just about the same to me if it's not your cooking."
His mother laughed and put a heaping bowl of oatmeal next to his plate.
"Well, eat hearty, then."
"Walter, what's that smell?"
"Oh…that? That's just my bag. About five bottles of perfume smashed in it before I got home."
"Five bottles of perfume…?"
"For the nurses, you know, Mom."
"For the nurses?" His mother looked a bit too shrewd at that and Walter felt himself blush.
"Walter can you –"
"I'll go feed the chickens, Mom."
"Feed the chickens, and afterward –"
"I'll milk Willa."
"Milk the cow and can you grab –"
"Paper's on the table, Mom."
"The paper from the front…. Oh, never mind."
Walter paused, straining his ears.
"What is it, Walter?"
Walter frowned. "Nothing…I just though I heard – but…never mind."
"MA – I mean – O'Reilly residence…. What? Yeah, this is Walter…. Yep, that's right. Back from Korea in one piece…. Sure did miss the place…. I'll get Mom for you…. Nice talking to you Mrs. Robertson…. Oh, hey, listen, how's that pump running I hooked up for you before I left…. Hmm? That's swell, Mrs. Robertson…. Don't mention it – I'll get Mom…."
Walter grabbed the whistling pot of water off the stove and cursed as the handle burned his palm. He shook his hand out and grabbed a dishcloth, pulling the pot off the burner.
"What did you just say, Walter?"
Walter turned to look at the kitchen doorway, where his mom was standing, arms crossed over her chest. Walter faltered. "Gee – Mom, sorry, I didn't think…."
"If you were still smaller than I was, I'd have washed your mouth out with soap."
Walter found, much to chagrin, he was blushing.
"Mom – but, all the guys talk like that in the army."
"And I suppose you picked it up real fine."
"Look – Mom – I'm sorry. I'll try not to, but – but, you see – I'm – I'm just not a kid anymore, Mom."
His mother paused, frown drifting away from her lips. "No. No, I don't reckon you are."
She shuffled away and Walter felt his stomach sink, realizing that he had somehow said something very wrong.
Hey everyone, especially Colonel Potter, B.J., Hawkeye, Klinger, the Father, and Majors Houlihan and Winchester.
It sure feels weird to be writing you when two weeks ago I was able just to walk across the compound to say "hey" in person. Shoot, has it really been two weeks already? It sure seems like time has flown.
Well, I'm settled back in nicely, I suppose. It's taken a bit of getting used to but I'm managing. Being back home is real swell. I'd forgotten what it was to get up early and feed the animals and to find Mom in the kitchen cooking a warm breakfast. My mom cooks some real delicious food – I can't wait for all of you to get back home, too, and to come visit so you can try some.
The farm is just about the same. The fence needs a little bit more repair and the barn door is half-way falling off, but other than that it's just fine. Willa is having a calf and Mom's bought about ten new chickens, but all the goats are doing fine and there's a couple of babies that are just real cute.
I've told Mom all about you guys, how much you meant to me back in Korea. It's funny, but it seems like I realize that even more now that I'm back home. Friendship really did mean the world over there, in the middle of all that fighting. I'm kind of sorry to have left you, but I don't think I'd trade being back there with you for being back home with Mom.
I hope everyone's doing alright there. Klinger, if you're having any trouble getting used to being clerk or have any questions, remember, I'm just a telegraph away. Just try not to get your skirt caught in the filing cabinets.
B.J., I met your wife and Erin. They were both real sweet. Erin's just about the prettiest little girl I've ever seen. It took a little bit for her to warm up to me, but after she came out from behind her mom's legs she just couldn't stop telling me all about what she likes to do at home. She loved the little dolly you got her.
I told Mom about you, Father Mulcahy. She's never really liked Catholics, seeing that we're Presbyterians but I told her how you were always there for all the guys as a sort of shoulder to lean on when things got hard and she said that you sounded real nice, even for a Priest. Sorry about that, Father. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it.
Major Winchester, we had a barn dance the other night in town and the band was really swinging it. Everyone was dancing and singing along and it was a real good time. I thought of you and how much you like music and wished you might have been there to hear it.
Major Houlihan, I hope you're doing okay. I told Mom all about all your men troubles – I hope you don't mind – but Mom seemed to really warm up to you, even if she's never seen you before. She tells me to tell you not to give up on love, but not to settle either, 'cause love isn't anything to settle about. I'd probably be too embarrassed to tell you that in person so I sure am glad I'm writing you in a letter.
Colonel Potter, send my love to Sophie. I don't know quite how to say this, but what with returning home and finding my Uncle Ed gone, well, it's made me realize all the more just how much you meant to me. Uncle Ed had always been kind of like a father after my own dad died, and after I got to Korea I had Colonel Blake. But well…after Colonel Blake died I didn't figure I could ever really experience what it felt like to have a father again, but then you came along. At first I thought you were gonna be real strict, but then we kind of warmed up to each other and, well, I can't tell you enough how it meant to know you. I'm really looking forward to you getting home and visiting us. I can't wait for you to meet my mom.
And Hawkeye – Hawkeye, of all the people back over there, I think I miss you the most. I miss how you were able to make a joke out of everything. I've tried it back over here but it doesn't seem to be quite the same when I'm doing it. My Mom just looks at me strange like she doesn't realize I'm trying to be funny. I miss how you – well, how you seemed to just take me in and make me feel welcome, even if we were in the middle of a war. You're the best, Hawkeye, and I meant to say it before I left but somehow we were never able to say good-bye, and now I don't know how to put it into this letter except to say I love you.
I know that sounds kind of weird, but it's true, and that goes for all of you. You all made my time over in Korea bearable, and it's because of all of you that I've managed to make it safely back home. And all I can say is that I can't wait to hear that the war's over and all of you are coming home, too.
Love Radar (but everyone calls me Walter now, over here)
"Operator? Can you connect me to Patricia Haven, Lancaster, Missouri – you can? Really?" That quick? But there were all those lines to cross, all those hundreds of miles – but, Walter reminded himself, feeling a curious wave of deadened nostalgia, really there weren't.
The phone was ringing. Walter felt something in his stomach flutter, wondering, gosh, if she was going to remember him.
"Hello?"
"Hi – this is – I mean – is Patty Haven there?"
"Sure. Who should I say is calling?"
"Tell her it's – Walter."
"One minute."
"…Hello?"
"Patty? This is – Radar – I mean, Walter O'Reilly. We met in Tachikawa. You know, waiting for a plane…."
"Walter? Is it really you?" She sounded delighted. Walter felt his stomach collapse in relief.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's sure me. It's good to hear your voice, Patty. How are you?"
"I'm grand, Walter. Just terrific. Where are you calling from?"
"Ottumwa, actually. I – well, I got home, too. Discharged just the day after I met you."
"Oh, Walter! That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, I'm happy for me, too. I mean, my Uncle Ed died so I had to come back home to take care of the farm, but it's sure terrific to be back in Iowa."
"I'm so sorry, Walter. About you uncle, I mean."
"Ah, don't worry about it, Patty. But thanks. Hey – listen – I figured since we're, you know, only a couple hours away if maybe I could take the truck and meet you somewhere tonight. You know, just if you felt like it, Patty."
"Oh, Walter, that sounds very nice. I'd love to."
"Really? – I mean – gee, that's terrific, Patty. If I left right now I bet I could be there around six. Maybe we could – catch a movie or something. I haven't been to see a movie in ages. You know, at least not one that we got only because nobody else wanted it. Then we could get a couple of Grape Nehis, maybe. Listen, I'll treat you and everything –"
Patty was laughing but it was the kind of a laugh that made Walter's fingers go warm and a smile tug at his cheeks. "That sounds just wonderful, Walter. I'll expect you around six."
"That's great, Patty. I – I guess I'll see you then."
"Yeah, see you Walter."
"Bye." Walter put the phone down with a click. He discovered he was grinning. The kitchen was spinning round and there were millions of things to do. He rushed toward the stairs, thinking he'd throw on a clean shirt and maybe shave real quick. His mom had bought him a really swell smelling bottle of aftershave….
"Who was that, Walter?"
"Oh – just – just a girl, Mom," Walter paused half-way up the stairs, addressing his mother who had just walked through the screen door from the porch. "Hey – you didn't need the truck or anything tonight, did you? Only I was thinking of driving up to Lancaster –"
"Missouri?"
"Yeah, you see, there's this girl who lives there and we met over in Tokyo while I was on leave and I'd really like to see her again…." Walter could feel his face getting hot.
"It must be three hours to Lancaster, Walter."
"Mom…I – I know…. It's just – I'd really like to, Mom, and I already called Patty to say I was coming."
"You're gonna drive all that way by yourself? And then you'll have to make your way back in the dark…."
"Mom, I've driven in the dark before. Gosh, in Korea I'd drive around in the dark all the time and there I had to worry about snipers and landmines and, really, Mom, I'll be alright, honest."
His mother smiled, a faded, watery kind of smile. "I know. I just – I guess I'm not quite used to Walter the man yet, when the Walter I said good-bye to two years ago was still a boy."
Walter smiled. "I know, Mom. And I – thanks, I – I'd better get going. Patty expects me over there at six."
His mom was still downstairs when Walter returned in one of his clean shirts he usually wore to church on Sundays and smelling like aftershave and damp hair. She was leaning against the wall. She smiled when she heard Walter's feet on the stairs but Walter had caught the strange look in her eyes, flickering passed the cheerfulness as she said, "My, don't you look handsome."
"I – thanks, Mom."
"You be careful now, hear?"
"I will, Mom."
"And be nice and respectful with that girl."
Walter blushed. "I will, Mom. Patty – she – she's real nice."
"And you look her father in the eye when he comes out to shake your hand."
"Sure, Mom."
Walter was half-way to the rusty, Ford pickup sitting in the dirt driveway. His mom was standing in the open screen doorway. The sun was hanging low over the trees in the clear September afternoon sky.
"And, Walter –"
Walter opened the front door and dug the keys out of his pocket.
"I love you."
Walter paused. He looked over his shoulder and saw that strange, sad sort of flicker in his mom's eye again. Something tilted in his stomach and he hopped back down from the truck. He scampered up the porch steps and reached for his mom's hand lying on the chipped white paint of the banister.
"Love you too, Mom."
He pecked her on the cheek. She smiled and he walked back to the truck, hiding his own grin behind his back. He shut the truck door behind him and waved across the rearview mirror. His mom waved back. He pulled the lever to change gears and the truck jerked onto the main road. Dust rose up from the spinning wheels and Walter felt the familiar chugging of the old, rusty engine beneath him. He turned the wheel and brushed his hair away from his forehead, steering toward town.
Author's note that really has nothing to do with this story: I'm aware in the television series W*A*L*T*E*R – which was either never released or at least never did well – that Radar married, divorced, and became a police officer. However, in my happy world, Radar married a dainty, country lass, stayed married, and had five happy children – the first of which was a son and named Benjamin John for Hawkeye and Trapper, delightedly called B.J. by everyone else, but Hawk by his father.