FEET OF CLAY
"I didn't drink at all during the First World War. During the second I only drank when I was off duty…I wish you better luck on your third war."-Doctor Anthony Borelli to Hawkeye in "Alcoholics Unanimous".
Veteran's Hospital, Honolulu, Hawaii, 1969
Lieutenant Colonel Sidney Freedman didn't have to look at his charts as he entered the room. It was fairly obvious the patient had suffered another trauma, although he was cheerful enough when they met.
"Welcome to Paradise, Sidney," Benjamin Pierce wryly said as he waved at the room. "You've got to admit, this is a lot nicer than the last time I was in a place like this." He nodded at the window. "I even have a beachfront view."
"You've never been to Hawaii before, have you?" Sidney knew how to be conversational with the man whose friends still called Hawkeye.
Pierce still had a smile, but it was fixed, hiding something deeper. "I never had the time."
"Right, sailor. So…do you think you're ready to talk?"
Hawkeye shrugged. "What's to talk about? I had, uh, some problems getting back into the swing of things in 'Nam and I, uh, decided to take a shortcut home."
"By driving your Jeep out into the jungle, where you knew you'd get ambushed?"
Hawkeye smirked. "I wanted to meet the locals."
Sidney sighed. "Hawk, I know what really happened. Margaret told me. So…I think we need to have that talk."
Hawkeye fidgeted. "I guess it started a few weeks after I got there…back in the fall of '67." Pierce looked down at his hands. "I really can do a lot with these, you know. I know I'm not the best surgeon in the field these days…God, remember how cocky I was back in Korea?"
"There's nothing wrong with a little cockiness. It helps if you know when to keep your ego in check, though…you always knew where to draw the line. Except…" Sidney trailed off, allowing Hawkeye to answer for him.
"Yeah. Except this time." Hawkeye stood up. "Do you mind if I get some exercise? I'm not used to being in bed alone." He started pacing around the room.
"Margaret told me that you kept telling her about a Doctor Borelli," Sidney said. "He was a consultant at the old 4077th, wasn't he?"
"Yeah, he showed up at a medical conference Trapper and I went to. Nice guy…had a problem with the bottle, though." Hawkeye sat back down on the bed. "Is that what Margaret told you? That I'd started drinking again because of him?"
"There are lots of reasons for someone to fall off the wagon. You wouldn't be the first guy it ever happened to."
"But I should have known better, dammit!" The earlier cheerfulness was gone now as Hawkeye got his self-loathing out in the open. "I was always able to handle it before…I thought, hell, Vietnam is just Korea with subtropical heat, right? I could still do meatball surgery in my sleep."
"But in Vietnam you didn't have friends like Trapper and B.J. to help you deal with it. And you hadn't seen combat surgery in what, fifteen years?' Sidney leaned forward. "You didn't have to go back. But you wanted to prove you still had what it takes."
Hawkeye looked down at the floor. "And I wound up proving myself right into a bottle, didn't I?" He looked up at Sidney. "Doctor Borelli told me he had feet of clay. I told him I could quit whenever I wanted to. And here I am, already on my second war. Sidney, I'm scared. I don't ant to wait and find out what might happen on my third."
"You're a lot stronger than you think you are, Sailor," Sidney reassured him. "It'll take time, but we'll get you through this, just like before. You don't have to wait for it to get as bad as it did for Doctor Borelli."
Hawkeye looked at Sidney with new understanding. "Because I saw myself in him back then…and that was the warning I got. And I should have listened to it."
"You can, now." Sidney knew he was right; Hawkeye still had time, and good people who could help him. "Now we can work to make sure this is your last war."
THE END
