I've Been A Rock
It was a cool, gray morning as the sun rose high on the horizon over the tall jutting mountains of Korea. The dreary morning matched the somber, sorrowful mood that had enveloped all of the personnel at the 4077 MASH unit. It had barely even been one day since they had received the shattering news that had brought a smothering feeling of grief crashing down on the camp like a thick, heavy blanket. Barely one day since Radar had staggered into the OR with tears in his eyes and his voice cracking to deliver the communique that their friend and newly discharged commanding officer, Colonel Henry Blake, had been killed in a plane crash on his way back stateside. Just 24 hours before, they had been in this very room cheering and celebrating the fact that Henry was going back home to his family, his civilian life, and now they were left to cope with the heartbreaking news that now he would never make it. His wife was going to have to face life without her husband and his three children would now be growing up without their loving father.
Sitting alone at one of the tables in the mess tent, Hawkeye Pierce leaned heavily forward onto his elbows as he drank a cup of coffee, lost in his own thoughts. It just didn't seem real to him. The night before, he, Trapper and Radar had thrown a private going away party at Rosie's for Henry. They had laughed, loaded up on alcohol and chowed down Korean cuisine as they reminisced about the lighter moments that they shared during the nearly four years the four served together here. After dinner, Henry's dear friends had presented him with a new suit for the trip home that they'd had made and brought in from Seoul. It had sadly turned out to be the last thing he would ever wear in his tragically short life.
After Radar had dropped the bomb and they had finished operating on the wounded, Hawkeye, as chief surgeon, had taken it upon himself to offer what little comfort he could to the personnel in order to help ease the burden on Father Mulcahy. It didn't escape Hawkeye's attention that the young chaplain had quite a strain on him with grieving medics and officers alike walked up to the tent one after another and it was very late before the small window went dark for the night. Hawkeye had kept himself so busy that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly grieve for his friend but, in all honesty, he didn't want to. He'd dealt with this gut wrenching grief at one other point in his life when his mother died after a short but intense illness when he was a child and he now felt his chest tighten once again at Henry's untimely passing. Hawkeye knew that he would mourn, and when he did he would grieve deeply, but he also knew that he wasn't ready to weather that emotional storm yet. Taking another sip of coffee, he stared absently into the dark liquid, turning as he heard the mess tent door swing open behind him.
"Good morning, Hawkeye." Father Mulcahy said quietly as he retrieved a cup of coffee for himself and came to sit across from his friend.
"Morning, Father. Did you manage to grab any sleep last night?" Hawkeye greeted, allowing his concern for the young priest to distract him from his own emotions.
"I think I did nod off for a few hours. Funny, I was going to ask you the same question, Hawkeye. How long have you been awake?"
"I've been up all night. I tried to rest for a little while but my mind refuses to shut down so instead of possibly waking Trapper and Frank I got up and came in here for a cup of coffee. To tell you the truth, I'm glad for a little company. It was starting to get a little too quiet in here."
"Thank you for giving me a hand last night in the wake of everything that happened. I noticed that you were giving support to some of the enlisted men who seem to be handling this better than others. You seem to be dealing with this tragedy pretty well considering how close you were to Colonel Blake. Are you sure you're okay, Hawkeye?" Mulcahy asked, sensing that the camp's chief surgeon wasn't coping as well as he'd have others believe.
"I'm not as okay as you might think, but I really don't want to talk about it right now, Father. I don't think I can." Hawkeye said, knowing that Mulcahy was just reciprocating his concern, but he was glad when the chaplain was willing to not push the issue.
"Just know that whenever you think you can talk about it, my door is always open to listen." Mulcahy said sadly, putting a hand on Hawkeye's arm momentarily, and let the subject drop into a wave of silence as both men retreated back into their own haunting thoughts.
After finishing his coffee, Hawkeye left the mess tent and walked slowly across the silent, empty compound. Taking a moment to glance at the flag that flew at half mast on the flagpole, he turned with a quiet sigh and headed for the Swamp. As he opened the door, he was angered although not surprised to find Frank already gone. Deciding that he needed a drink to numb the pain enough to get him through the day, Hawkeye stepped over to the still and poured a martini into a glass, taking care to be quiet so that he wouldn't wake Trapper who was still sound asleep. It had nearly destroyed his resolve the night before when he and Trapper had been talking about what had happened and trying to work it out in their minds.
"I still can't believe that all this has happened. I mean, just last night we were celebrating. This isn't right." Hawkeye said quietly, handing a martini glass to Trapper and getting one for himself before sitting heavily on his cot.
"Yeah. It doesn't seem real. This may sound ridiculous but I keep expecting Henry to come walking through the door and ask us for some of this stuff." Trapper agreed, shaking his head sadly as he stared at the liquid that swirled around the glass in his hands.
Suddenly, Hawkeye's reflection was interrupted when Trapper's martini glass came flying across the room and smashed to pieces on the door of the tent with such force that it knocked it open slightly, missing Hawkeye's head by mere inches. Stunned by his friend's sudden violent display of grief, Hawkeye sat for a long moment staring at Trapper in shock. Then he stood up and walked across the tent and stood looking down on the other man who was still sitting on his cot with his head in his hands.
"Trap?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't hurt you did I?"
"No. You didn't hit me. It's okay."Hawkeye said softly.
"Damn this stupid war! I've never seen such an unjust waste in my life! Isn't it bad enough that we have to watch kids die every day who were dragged into this mess! Now it's taken Henry away from his family! This is not right!" Trapper shouted, all of his pent up rage suddenly exploding to the surface.
Hawkeye sat on the cot beside Trapper and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder to provide whatever comfort he could. It was then that Trapper's composure crumbled completely and he broke down. Hawkeye tightened his grip around Trapper's shoulders and gave him an avenue for his pain. They remained like that for a long time in the silent tent, the only sounds were the sound of Trapper's quiet sobbing and the gentle bubbling of the still a few feet away. When Trapper had cried himself out, Hawkeye settled him on the cot and covered him with a blanket before finishing his drink and heading out of the Swamp.
Hawkeye was so deep in his own thoughts that he barely heard Trapper wake and sit up slowly. When he heard his friend yawn, he looked up at the other man sadly.
"Have you been up all night?" Trapper asked sleepily, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes.
"I couldn't sleep. I tried but my mind just wouldn't stop racing long enough for me to drift off. I ended up going to the mess tent for a while so I wouldn't wake you or Frank." Hawkeye said.
"Speaking of the latter, where is Ferret Face this morning?"
"I have no idea, nor do I care. It makes my blood boil to see how eager he is to take command. He seems like he doesn't care what's happened. I mean, I know there was no love lost between him and Henry but this is cold, even for Burns."
"My thoughts exactly. Listen, I don't know about you but I could do with some food. Why don't we head over to the mess tent and find out what they scraped together for breakfast." Trapper suggested.
"You go ahead, Trap. I'm gonna take a quick shower first and then I'll meet you there." Hawkeye replied, grabbing his towel and a change of clothes before heading out the door, leaving Trapper more than a little confused.
Twenty minutes later, Hawkeye joined Trapper and Margaret in the mess tent and tried to force himself to eat something. He sat there silently playing with his powdered eggs and drawing comfort from the mere presence of the other two at the table. Though she didn't say anything, Margaret couldn't help but be concerned at Hawkeye's silence and his lack of usual comebacks and cracks about the army food.
After he had finished playing with his breakfast, Hawkeye left the mess tent and took a slow walk around camp. He wanted to at least try to corral his wildly scattered thoughts so he could manage to relax. No matter how hard he tried, Hawkeye just couldn't get Henry's death out of his mind. A few minutes later, he heard hurried footsteps coming from behind him and someone calling out to him.
"Hawkeye! Wait a minute!" Margaret called breathlessly as she caught up to the wandering surgeon.
"Yeah, what's the matter?" Hawkeye asked tersely, stopping short and turning to her.
"I should be asking you that question. I'm very concerned about you. You seem to be taking this hard which is understandable but you don't need to bottle up the way you've been doing."
"I've been trying not to let myself think about it too much. It's still so fresh and just too painful right now. If I give too much leeway to my grief now, it's going to overwhelm me and I can't afford to have that happen. I have to be a source of strength right now."
"Why don't we have a drink, Hawkeye. I could use one and it looks to me like you could as well." Margaret began, an idea occurring to her.
"That would be a good idea but the officer's club isn't open yet and I don't really want to go back to the Swamp right now." Hawkeye said.
"I have a bottle of Scotch in my tent that I got the last time I was in Tokyo. I'd like it if you'd share it with me. I don't want to be alone right now and you look like you could use a friend so why don't we keep each other company for a while."
"Okay. Since you put it that way, that does sound pretty good."
When she walked into her tent with Hawkeye, Margaret was silently hoping that he would make some sort of comment about them being alone there together but she grew more concerned when he sat down on the edge of her cot without a word. Margaret removed the scotch from her foot locker and poured two glasses. She handed a drink to Hawkeye before retrieving her own and sitting down on a chair next to her cot.
"So, why aren't you with Frank? I didn't see him this morning so I assumed the two of you were together."
"He's too busy to worry about how anyone is dealing with this. The last I saw of him, he was busy moving things into the office and setting up his tent. To be honest, I was surprised when he didn't try to sound assembly this morning."
"I suspected as much actually. I wasn't at all surprised when I went back to the Swamp this morning and found Frank gone. It's a good thing for him that he didn't sound assembly because if he had, I would have gone out there and beat the hell out of him. He doesn't seem to care at all." Hawkeye said angrily, surprised when he felt Margaret rest her hand lightly on top of his own.
"Hawkeye, what's on your mind? I can tell that there's something else bothering you besides Henry's death. You seem to be running from something and that's not like you. I really am concerned about you. Please talk to me, as a friend." Margaret said, voicing the concern that she had.
"I've been trying to avoid thinking about this because it brings back the last time I felt this intense heartbreak. The last time was when my mother died when I was young. Ever since Radar gave us the news yesterday, in my mind I keep going back to watching my mother fight her illness only to have her lose that battle. I keep remembering the day that I came home from school and asked my dad to take me to see my mom in the hospital only to have him sit me down and tell me that she had died an hour before. When I think about Henry leaving on that chopper yesterday morning, looking so happy to be getting back to his family and the fact that he never made it, it just brings that everything else back like a tidal wave and I try to block it out. I can't go through this again, Margaret. I just can't do it."
"Hawkeye, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I never should have asked." Margaret whispered.
"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known. I don't talk about that much because it is so painful. I always hoped that I would never have to go through that kind of pain again but now it's happening again." Hawkeye said, his hands shaking so badly that Margaret had to take his glass from him so he wouldn't drop it.
"I know it isn't easy but you need to allow yourself to grieve. Keeping everything inside isn't healthy. Just know that you aren't alone."
Margaret moved to sit on the cot next to Hawkeye and once again placed her hand over his in a small gesture of comfort. It was then that the barriers Hawkeye had put up around himself collapsed and he finally allowed himself the chance to grieve. When Margaret pulled him into a gentle embrace, however, the flood gates opened in his broken heart and Hawkeye broke down and wept like a lost child in her arms.
"It's okay. I know it hurts, Hawkeye. We're all hurting. Just let it out. It's okay to cry. I'm here. You're not alone. I'm right here." Margaret whispered, trying to ease some of Hawkeye's pain. She sat with him for a long time, holding him in her arms and whispering softly to him as he cried his heart out against her shoulder. When he finally quieted, Hawkeye sat up and looked at Margaret gratefully.
"I'm sorry, Margaret. I didn't mean to lose control like that." Hawkeye said hoarsely, drying his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I don't think badly of you. You really needed to let that out. I'm glad I was able to help." Margaret began, noticing then that Hawkeye's eyelids were beginning to droop slightly. "Maybe you should go take a nap. You look exhausted. Trapper mentioned to me this morning that you said that you didn't sleep last night. You need to get some rest."
"I couldn't sleep in the Swamp last night. Every time I tried, I kept thinking about Henry. That's why I ended up in the mess tent for a cup of coffee. To be honest, I didn't want to sleep." Hawkeye admitted, a yawn giving testament to how tired he really was.
"Well, you can sleep here. I was planning to catch up on some charts anyway so I'll stay with you. Maybe you'll rest easier if you're not alone."
"Maybe I will at least lie down for a while even if I can't fall asleep. I'm a little stiff for some reason."
"It's because you're so tired. I know something that will be able to help you to relax. If it's okay with you, that is." Margaret said as Hawkeye nodded in agreement. She then pulled him back to where he was resting against her and began lightly massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck. She couldn't help but smile when Hawkeye sighed quietly.
"Where did you learn to be so good at this?" Hawkeye asked tiredly. Margaret's gentle machinations were very relaxing and he was fading fast.
"Just a little trick that I was taught in nursing school. Seems like this is exactly what you need. Your muscles are in knots."
As Margaret continued to massage his shoulders, Hawkeye felt himself gradually beginning to relax. His muscles were starting to loosen and his eyelids were slowly falling. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer and as his eyes slid closed completely, he welcomed the comforting embrace of slumber as readily as he did Margaret's.
Margaret continued to rub Hawkeye's shoulders for several minutes when she realized that the tension in his muscles had loosened and he was completely relaxed. Then she glanced down at his face and allowed herself a caring smile as she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. His eyes were closed, the lines between his brows had smoothed and he seemed very serene and peaceful as he slept. For a moment, Margaret sat on her cot holding Hawkeye in her arms, just listening to the sound of his slow, even breathing. Then she gently lay him down on her cot, taking care not to wake him, slipped a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket before moving over to her desk to complete some charts from her post op shift the night before.
It was two hours later when a soft knock on the door of her tent drew Margaret's attention away from the paperwork she was working on. Glancing over at her cot to where Hawkeye was still sleeping peacefully, she got up and quickly went to open the door so it wouldn't awaken him.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Margaret, but I was wondering if you might know..." Trapper began.
"Wondering if I might know what?" Margaret asked, wondering for a moment why Trapper hadn't finished his question.
"Well, I was going to ask you if you might know where Hawkeye is but I see the answer to my question. What's the deal here if you don't mind my asking?"
"I can explain. I caught up to Hawkeye earlier and invited him to come in here and have a drink with me because he didn't want to go back to the Swamp. I did finally convince him to open up with his grief and he told me something about his past that caused his resolve to crumble and he ended up crying in my arms."
"That's probably best for him but, no offense here, that doesn't explain why he's sacked out on your cot." Trapper interjected.
"Oh! Well, Hawkeye looked exhausted and I remembered what you said this morning about his being up all night so I suggested that he go and take a nap. He told me that the reason he hadn't slept is because he couldn't sleep in the Swamp so I told him that he could sleep in here. I gave him a shoulder massage to help relax him and he nodded off. So I laid him down on my cot and he's been sound asleep since. Do you want me to go and wake him?" Margaret asked.
"No, let him sleep. He needs the rest. Just do me a favor, huh? Make sure he gets home tonight."
"Sure. I'll see you later."
"Right."
The sky outside had long sense fallen into darkness when Hawkeye finally stirred. As he slowly opened his eyes, it took him a moment to remember where he was. When he did, he sat up and saw that Margaret had fallen asleep at her desk with her head resting lightly on her arms.
"Margaret?" Hawkeye whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.
"Huh? What's wrong?" Margaret blinked owlishly in the dim lights. "Hawkeye? Are you feeling any better now?"
"A little bit. You wanna know something? If you ever get tired of being a nurse after the war, you definitely have a career as a massage therapist."
"I'm glad I could help. You really needed the rest. Trapper was looking for you earlier. When he realized you were here, he inquired about what was going on but once I explained it to him, he didn't say anything else about it."
"Good thing it was Trapper. I don't want to think about it if it had been Frank. Listen, I'm going to head back to the Swamp and try to go to bed. Now that I took such a long nap, my body seems to want more sleep."
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning."
"You bet. Oh, and Margaret?" Hawkeye said, turning back from the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks again."
"What are friends for?" Margaret said with a wink as she watched Hawkeye walk away into the dark.
Later that night as Hawkeye was sleeping, two shimmering figures stood by the foot of the bed. One of the figures was a middle aged woman of short stature with jet black hair and ocean blue eyes and the second figure was none other than the spirit of the late Henry Blake.
"I can't believe that my little boy has grown up to be such a strong man. He makes me proud every day."Hannah Pierce smiled.
"Yeah, he's one of the best." Henry said sadly.
"I'm glad that he finally allowed himself to grieve. Honestly, I think today was the first time he's really let himself mourn my death. Do you think he's okay now?"
"He's not okay now, far from it. He's got a long way to go. But if he stays being the man I remember, there's no doubt in my mind that he will be."
With one final glance at his friend, totally oblivious to the spiritual presence in the room, Henry felt Hannah's hand on his shoulder and the two spirits vanished as quietly as they had come, determined to keep a watch over these people.