Sixteen...

Seventeen...

Eighteen...

Nineteen...

Twenty. I stopped. Every morning at 8 am, when I get the chance, I do twenty routine push ups. Even if I get out of a forty hour shift at 7:59 am and I'm tired as hell; twenty push ups. Then, if I don't have to operate again, I write to my grandfather. I love him so much. He's like a dad to me. Keeping to schedule; I got up from the ground within my tent and grabbed a pen, a pad of paper, and my ipod, and headed to the mess tent where I normally go to write. I set my stuff down at an empty table, then went and grabbed a cup of orange juice. I sat back down, and prepared to write. 'Dear H-'

"Hey, Cal!" Oh, no. It's my best friend: Greg Stacey. Oh my goodness Greg Stacey. He's a pretty happy guy; always a smile on his face. He has short wavy brown hair, and bright blue eyes. "You writtin' to your gramps again?" He sat down across from me with his breakfast tray. Today there was hard bread buttered with some kind of fake butter, powdered eggs that were slightly green, and a slice of...apple?

"As a matter of fact, I am. Are you committing suicide?" I said, eying his tray.

"As a matter of fact, I am." He shot at me, doing a quick raise of his eyebrows, and taking a forkful of powdered eggs. He couldn't keep his face straight as he gagged a little. I chuckled a little, and went back to writing. "So, what are you writing to him about this time?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll tell him about that kid-"

And then, the shrill voice of my Colonel interrupted me. "CAPTAIN PIERCE!"

I cringed at the sound of my name, and quickly spit out to Greg, "What'd I do?"

He shook his head with wide eyes. "I don't know, but you should run. She sounds mad!"

And I grabbed my pad of paper, pen, and ipod, and booked. I ran to the serving table, and jumped over it. Then, I rolled under the flap that was like a back door. When I looked up, I came up to stare at the Colonel. "Oh shit." I murmured. Then I smiled nervously up at her. "Hi, Colonel."

"What are you doing on the ground, Captain?" She said with a very angry, army like tone.

"Well," I started to explain with a little nervous laughter. "It's a funny story. Um, I heard you call me, and you sounded a little angry, so I kind of ran away, and I took a wrong turn." I tried the smile again, but it didn't work.

"Do you know why I'm upset?"

I shook my head. I was now sitting up with my legs spread out. "No. But I bet your going to tell me."

She pulled out two items from her pocket. They were both circular patches of fabric that looked like silk. "Do you know what these are?"

I didn't have the slightest idea. "You're gonna have to give me a clue."

"These are two patches from my robe. Do you know what they are doing off of my robe!" She said sternly.

I hated it when she accused me of shit I didn't do. "I need one more clue. I am just so close to the answer."

"Don't fool around, Pierce! I know you cut these off so that I would be left with nothing to cover up with! How could you do that to me?!"

I looked up at her. "Margaret, look at me. Do I look like I did that? If I ever did something like that, I would have said, 'Sorry man, my bad, won't happen again.' I mean, really. Why would I do that?" She seemed speechless. "You know Colonel," I got up off of the ground and wiped the dirt off my pants. "I don't like it when people accuse me of something I didn't do. I am not my grandfather. I am my own person." Then, I walked away, sighing. I went back into the mess, and I sat back down across from Greg.

"What'd you do?" He asked, picking at his eggs.

"Someone cut two holes in the Colonel's robe this morning. She blames me." He sighed and I rolled my eyes.

"Your gramps really screwed up your chances of getting in the Colonel's good graces."

"I know. But I still love him." Then I got an idea. "Hey, now I have something to write to him about."

"Yeah, tell him how much he ruined your stay in the lovely 1404th." I shook my head and returned to my letter.

Dear Hawkeye,

I'm glad to hear that Tina is alright. It scared me when you told me that she fell off her playground and didn't wake up. I've known her since she was born, and I feel like an older sister. Not much has happened here since I last wrote. We're still doing meatball surgery, kids are still lying about their ages to get in the army, and Guy Mendel is still the stiff he was since he was hatched.

Something that's been happening a lot since I got here happened again like two minutes ago. Hot Lips just accused me of ruining her robe for my entertainment. My goodness, I'm getting so sick of it. You know that I may joke around, but I would never destroy property. Ever. And it's not just when stuff happens to her, no, it's when other people are getting pranked on that I also get blamed.

I'm sending you some money for groceries and things. I know that you make money with your private practice, but I just want you to be set.

"Hey," Greg interrupted me. "I'll see you later. The guys want to play some basketball." I nodded and he left.

Greggo says hi, and he can't wait until his Gran sends some more of her cookies so I can send them to you. You know, he's taken a real shine to the Hawkeye I've told him about. And don't worry, we are just friends, and we are staying just friends. Well, I should probably go, got a patient to check on in Post OP.

Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye,

And I signed it. I looked around, and the only other person in the mess tent at (I looked at my watch) 10:34, was the priest. He's a swell guy, so nice, handsome, and just all around saintly. "Hey Father," I called to him.

He turned and smiled at the recognition. "Yes Cal?"

"Um, could you read over this letter to my grandfather? I want to make sure I spelled everything right."

"I would be honored to." He smiled, and sat down next to me. I handed him the letter and he read it carefully. "Everything looks good, but I don't think you spelled your name right. As far as I know, your name is spelled

C-A-L, not A-R-T."

I looked around the tent, and no one but us was in there. "Father, can I entrust you with a secret?"

"Of course, my child. Anything you say is off the record."

"Cal is not my real first name. It's Artemis."

"Artemis?" he questioned.

"It's a long story."

He just smiled. "I've got time."