Dear Hawkeye,

It feels incredibly strange writing you a letter like this, but I suppose it's no more strange than this situation we find ourselves in.
How's life at the 4077th? I miss being busy and having a purpose, I miss being a part of things. Feeling nauseous while I slowly expand is so tame in comparison.
I can see why you miss this place, it's beautiful, however I'm sure it's more exciting when you're here to break the ice. The townspeople seem friendly, but so far they seem to regard me as little more than a curiosity. Later on when I'm feeling a little better your father has kindly offered to take me to meet some of his friends, so we'll see how that turns out.
I hope everything's okay where you are.

Yours truly,

Margaret


Dear Hawkeye,

What were you doing that made Trapper decide you needed a babysitter? I hope you're looking after yourself, son.

Sorry for not writing to you sooner, your letter must have got lost in the mail because it arrived at the same time as the one you wrote to Margaret. She's doing okay. Some days she'll open up and we'll have a chat about the army or you or her father, but she retreats again pretty quickly.

She responds fairly well to some good natured teasing, however.

I'm starting to get a vague sense of how you two connected with each other. You draw her out and she snaps back. You always were a sucker for a girl who could hold her own. Remember Patty Smith when you were in fourth grade? I can't remember why she set your locker on fire, but I've got no doubt you were asking for it.

I'm not sure what your intentions are in regards to marrying her (though I'm of the strong opinion that you should ask her to do so), but I've given her your mother's rings to wear in an attempt to stave off the rumour mill, as some of the speculation about who she is and why she's here was starting to get out of hand.

She decided that it would be best to tell people that you two got married in Korea, that way it's not too much of a stretch as to why she's living with me or why the baby might come out looking suspiciously like you.

The poor girl got a letter from her father the other day. I'm not sure what was in it, I haven't asked, but she looked miserable. I'm glad you sent her to me, Hawk. If I ever see that Colonel Houlihan I'll be giving him a piece of my mind.

Stay safe, son.

Love,

Dad


Dear Margaret,

Glad to know you got there okay. I'll bet dad is trying to spoil you rotten. I'd do anything right now for one of his home cooked meals right now, even a bad one.

I'm sorry you're feeling rotten. It must be pretty bad to take down someone who's had first class training in nausea tolerance courtesy of the mess tent here at the 4077th.

Frank's been in fine form since you left. Not only has be been moved out of The Swamp "for his own safety", but he's also been attempting to put the moves on your replacement. Thankfully, though, she's not one to discriminate with her dull and has smiled politely at him on more than one occasion.

Part of me wishes you were still here because life was better when you were here to give it orders, but mostly I'm glad that you're safely somewhere with decent living conditions.

Speaking of you not being here, when are we expecting impending parenthood to develop into a full blown case of baby? Just so I have a specific date to throw all my worries at.

Your South Korean correspondent,

Hawkeye


Dear Dad,

How's the weather over there? I'm only asking because it's starting to get warm here, which means roasting season is around the corner. If it's not trying to freeze us, it's trying to cook us. Maybe the whole country is sick of this war and is trying to get rid of us. I wish the clowns in charge of this circus would listen to it and send us home.

You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you and Margaret don't hate each other.

It's great that you've managed to get Margaret to open up a little. By the time I get out of here you'll know her better than I will. If the war stank before, it's positively rancid now. Our kid will probably be in high school before I get out of here.

Who'd have thunk it, Margaret Houlihan voluntarily going around telling people she's married to me.
Though to be honest that idea is less strange to me than it was.I'm not sure what happened, dad. Whether it's the sudden distance, our current situation or something else entirely, but I have feelings for her, and they seem to be getting deeper. What do you think she'd do if I really asked her to marry me, run a mile or laugh herself stupid? I'm having a hard time getting my head around it all. When did I start feeling like this? How did we get here? I wonder if she has any idea, because I sure as hell don't.

The other night in an attempt to cheer me up Trapper organised a date for me with one of the new nurses. I was so mad when I found out, dad. I yelled so loud Henry almost called the MP's.

As far as he was concerned I'm not married to Margaret so am free to do whoever I like. Hell, he's married and he still does whoever he pleases, but it felt wrong. It felt really wrong.

Oh, and forget giving Margaret's dad a talking to, I'll give him a knuckle sandwich.

Hawkeye


Dear Hawkeye,

Time here seems to be be passing both quickly and very slowly and, if the dates in my calendar are correct, then that means I'm now 15 weeks pregnant. You can tell we didn't plan this, the baby's due mid January, the middle of winter! Your dad has arranged with one of his friends for me to go and stay in Bridgton a little before that time just in case we get snowed in. I've never lived this far away from a hospital before.

I must say that I'm mighty relieved to be past the 12 week point and into lower risk territory. I don't know what I would have done had I been sent home only to lose the baby as well. Your dad gave me a checkup the other day and says everything is fine.

I'm not used to living somewhere so quiet. Now that my nausea seems to have passed I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do with myself. I'm slowly reading myself through the books in the living room but I'm just not used to having time to myself, or sitting still for that matter.

Maybe I should do something more productive, like knitting a few clothes or blankets, but it's hardly nursing.

See if you can trip Frank over for me, preferably next to one of the puddles outside the latrine,

Margaret


Dear Hawkeye,

No roasting weather over here, just lots of boiling, and that's for the lobsters. Took Margaret to the Lobster Festival last weekend and she had a great time. I've gotta see about sending you a photograph of her sometime soon, because she's looking positively radiant.

The rumour mill has slowed down ever since she put that ring on her finger. Some have even offered congratulations for the baby, though old Betsy Stein is still eyeing her suspiciously.

I think Margaret is confused as you are about how you've ended up at this point but, given the blush that creeps up her face sometimes when your name comes up, I'd say she's harbouring some pretty sizeable feelings of her own.

I don't think she'll run or laugh at you, Hawk. I think asking her would not only make her very happy, but would also provide her with a sense of security she's so far been lacking. It'd be a solid decision for the future, for both of you.

As for that business with Trapper, I'm proud of you, son. Margaret truly is a keeper, though I hope you two didn't damage your friendship too badly.

Try to stay uncooked if you can,

Dad


Dear Margaret,

This may seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of marrying me. Before you say it, no this isn't just because of the baby. Spending time without you has made me realise just how much you've come to mean to me, and I don't think anyone would make a finer wife. I don't expect you to stay home all the time, not if you don't want to.

Yours if you'll have me,

Hawkeye.


Dear Dad,

I just sent Margaret a letter asking her to marry. That might make me the world's biggest idiot, but it's a risk I had to take.

Oh, and Trapper's fine. I think he was a bit taken aback, but he understood.

Your son,

Hawkeye.


Dear Hawkeye,

Your last letter caught me completely by surprise, but yes, yes I'll marry you. Is it strange that this feels almost normal? I suppose that's a side effect of having spent the past month or more telling people that I'm your wife. It's a relief, actually. I can settle here, I can stop keeping part of me ready to move on when needed.

But that's not my only reason for saying yes. Like you our time apart has brought clarity to some feelings. Time away from the army and a letter from my father have shown me that what I was brought up to believe were most valuable in a man and a husband are not so important after all. It's shown me that kindness and decency are of far more value than the brass on a collar.

I'm proud of what I achieved in the army, but rank and title are of little use to me now.

It is you who has stuck by me and provided for me when you could have easily done nothing at all. That alone speaks volumes.

I'm counting down the days until the war is over.

Your fiancée,

Margaret


Dear Hawkeye,

I'm proud of you, son. You've made a certain young lady incredibly happy. Never have I seen a wider or more beautiful smile. She's been a lot happier since as well. Last night Margaret and I had a talk about mom. She wanted to know what her name was and what she was like, and then we had a look through some of our old family albums. We had a lovely time. I hadn't realised how much I needed that. You're right, too, there definitely is a person under there. She's a lot warmer since you last letter, and very sweet under all those defenses of hers. I think mom would really like her. I think mom would be very proud of you.

I hope they let you come home soon.

Love,

Daniel.