Crazy

I sat in the back of the mess tent last night, there was a movie on. I can't remember what, having paid it no attention. It was just nice to have other people around me, beats being sat in my tent all alone.

I've never really had friends. Well of course I had friends, just not the truest kind. No one to just let rip to about a really hard day in surgery, or tell in a fervours excitement when something wonderful has happened. Some nights I weep with loneliness, scrubbing my face in the morning so no one knows it but me.

We were army brats, my sister and I. Perpetually the new girls in school. As soon as we had managed to fit in we would have to pack up and move on. Our friends would promise to write, but they never did for long. We were forgettable. So in the end I sort of shut down and didn't really bother making friends. There didn't seem to be any point.

No one made me come out here. I volunteered. That is another thing I keep to myself. The others, those who are drafted, talk about how hellish war is, about missing their homes and civilian lives. They just wouldn't understand.

The army is all I know. It is so wildly chaotic but the only stability in my life (now there's a paradox) in fact it is my life. In the army you know where you stand, how to live, what to do. That is rather comforting in a way. To have the right thing laid out in a rule book. Having standards to measure performance against and be rewarded (or punished) accordingly. I even like the uniforms. They are rather flattering and the men look so smart and handsome in them. Unlike say, a Hawaiian shirt and Groucho glasses.

Ah yes I bet you were wondering when he would get a mention.

I heard somewhere that apparently the things we despise in other people are the things we see in ourselves. It may seem silly but I think it may be true.

Which brings me to Captain Pierce, Hawkeye. The most unmilitary man in the United States army, the anti soldier. At first I couldn't stand the sight of him, well I could because he is very handsome; oh you know what I mean. He is a loose cannon, absolutely unruly. Always making jokes and terrorising the nurses, and Frank of course.

I never truly loved Frank, and I don't think he really loved me. We were just two lonely souls both devoutly military. He reminded me of my father in that respect, if a little more affectionate.

The cracks began to show early on. I knew he would never leave his sugar momma wife. That this whole thing was a game to him. But I tried to forget it, to live in the moment.

Then I became engaged to Donald (what a disaster that was!) and Frank took it very badly. Yes I rubbed his face in it, because well really I wanted to make him jealous, hurt him and prove that other men wanted me too. In the end he snapped and 'accidentally' sliced my finger with a scalpel. Pierce had to sort me out. He started defending Frank. Can you imagine, Hawkeye defending old Ferret face! Saying I was being cruel to him. Geez talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

So I pointed out that he was by no means innocent, always making mean jokes and criticising Frank's medical skills (valid points, but even so) Then he said 'but I never kick him when he's down, only when he's not looking.'

I felt so wretched then. Hawkeye was right.

I can't remember when I began to see Hawkeye in a different light. He was nothing like Frank or Donald. Which used to infuriate me. He would turn up to roll call in his bathrobe, ran my underwear up the flag pole, and the still, sheesh don't get me started on the still. No way was Hawkeye a military man, He is a doctor, one of the best, certainly the best I've ever worked with. Healer of suffering and sickness in all its many guises.

He was ever so fond of Corporal O'Riley', Radar. He used to keep animals and Hawkeye became their doctor too. Even staying up one night to deliver the guinea pig's triplets. Oh and the false alarm about me being pregnant. He was ever so sweet then, to me and Fluffy the rabbit.

Hawkeye makes friends easily. People are just drawn to him. Yet for all his outward charm and humour he has a vulnerable side. I have one too, not that I admit it. I want so badly to be in control, it's frightening being vulnerable and open. I think Hawkeye understands that. Maybe that's why he makes a special effort.

He often pays me compliments. About things like my being a good nurse and 'all round good egg'. It is a rare thing being complimented in such a sincere friendly way that I never know how to react. So more often than not I just stand there stunned into silence. Then I replay them in my head later and secretly glow.

I'm not sure he knows how those innocent throw away lines make my day. Or the time when I came back from delivering a Korean baby, and the whole camp feared I'd been kidnapped or something, that I noticed how wonderfully happy he was to see me. I honestly hadn't expected him to care. That I miss him when he goes away, I can't sleep those nights for worry. Particularly when he went away to the front. A rumour started that he was dead. Only then did I truly realise how much he means to me. It would be unthinkable to loose such a man, a fine surgeon and wonderful friend. My friend.

Of course he came back and I didn't tell him. Maybe I was too scared or just couldn't find the words. Turns out he wrote his will back there. Left me his Groucho glasses, to remind me of my silly side that apparently I show all too infrequently. It hit home that yes I did have a silly side. That it was okay to let it show, better than okay even. Still it's hard to break through. That was what I saw in Hawkeye, why he used to be so hard to take. He was so free and open. Wasn't scared what anyone would think, could be himself no trouble. Even if himself almost got hanged for mutiny.

Recently I've realised Hawkeye is probably my best friend. It's nice; I've never felt that about anyone before. He is the one I turn to. Who makes me laugh. Who listens to my problems, and being a typical man offers solutions whether I like it or not!

I suppose the most important thing is he makes me feel safe. Being so close to the frontline, we've come under attack before, from snipers and what seemed like the whole war turning up on our doorstep. It's funny, Hawkeye is the anti soldier. He hates guns and would probably try and joke his way out of capture. And yet, he is the one who I'd want to be with in those situations. He might be crazy, but he's not stupid.

One day I'd like to tell him all this. I really do want to. To hear the words flow from my mouth and into his ear. Watching his face. His most handsome face. But then he would react, perhaps the way I want (not that I really know what that would be) but probably not. Rejection is difficult anyway, but from him. He who has replaced the patients and rule book as my reason for getting up in the morning. An angel in this hell of a war.

Sometimes I think it's better not to know truth. At least then you can still hope.

I must be crazy. Well if craziness is being filled with sweet silent delight from just hearing his laugh and watching his smile, then so be it. I'm crazy beyond Klinger's wildest dreams. Sidney is going to have a field day.

I'm laughing now, who'd have thought it. My stomach hurts and tears are streaming down my face. I'd better stop before these pages get ruined.

You know I can't remember why I started laughing (told you I was nuts!). Or writing in fact. Maybe this was supposed to be a letter, or the start of a diary, or I just wanted to pour out my feelings on paper for the first time ever. It's very therapeutic, maybe I'll do this more often.

Well it's late, and anyway there's always tomorrow.