May 1, 1952
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington

Lorraine,

Things have started to pick up here finally and it's not too welcome right now. A battle rages on the front lines and more wounded are coming in, sometimes by the dozens at a time. I sit here in the Swamp for now, taking a break from everything (because we're in overhaul). Soon enough though, more men will come through here. There's a slight lull right now. Surgeons, nurses and all are sleeping alike unless someone has a shift and even then, we've been woken up for some problem or another.

I can't sleep really. I'm so tired that I'm too tired to sleep. I'm all wired up and still a little sick. I can't think of sleep when more work has to be done.

I'm also too worried. Mom has been writing nonstop to me, once giving me five letters in a day for mail call. I read them in chronological order, although none seem to make sense to me. She'll talk about Clarence and how he'll be home soon from shopping or from working in the yard or something. Or she'll be talking about moving to Ohio, when I know good and well that she hated the state, which is why she liked to stay in Illinois when we moved constantly, up until I was ten or so. Oh, hell, one letter even discussed how Daddy hit her all the time, which was way back at the end of my memories, where my understanding of things was not clear until scrutinized by my adult mind.

Actually, Mom would write of that last one to anybody way back when, as Grandmomma told me when I visited her in the Netherlands a handful of years back before she died (where some of my half-brothers also live currently). We don't know if it's true or not, but even if it was, why would she keep bringing it up, especially now? Was her mind wandering into the past and bringing it to the future? Do the losses of this year equate to regression?

Honestly, I think these two deaths have hit her hard, Lorraine. First, it was Clarence, the jackass that he was, who happened to be the so-called "love of her life", the person who saved from the evil "Military Man" (my father) and married her, despite being divorced from him for only a month, and took on us, Mom's children. Yeah, and you know how little good came out of it, that asshole who supposedly made himself our father figure. Second was poor Uncle Nathan, her twin, the brother that helped her and kept tabs on her from afar, despite everything that was going on. I never met him more than a handful of times my whole life, although it makes me wonder what he really knew and what more he could have done…

Trust me when I say this, Lorraine, but being a twin is like having another soul attached to you. Your sibling is like another part of you and you can't bear to lose them or to be away from them, you are that close. I can see the grief behind my mother's words and actions here. I can see how this supposed curse is getting to her and why.

You know, come to think of it, I saw very few moments of my mother having fun and being loose. Mom and Uncle Nathan, through their own moments of amusement when the former was not religiously stiff, would have their fun like me and Dean. Hell, they even talked quite openly about the curse, which was how me and Dead learned about it. They both joked, saying that we would break it together because we were stronger and cleverer than the last generation. Honestly, the two believed in this stupid idea and debated on its ending constantly. It was one of the few times (again) that I heard Mom say anything positive about us twins together, as if we were one entity and could work together.

In these moments, desperate measures had to be taken and we had to learn how Mom relaxed. From there, Dean and I would spy on them from the sitting room as they sat in the kitchen, sipping tea and coffee and talking about all of the family affairs. With the rest of our family overseas in France and in the Netherlands, there was little news from them as always and the conversations steered more towards family here, the past and perhaps each other. It seemed that they had enough to talk about, those twins that were surprised about many things.

I explained to you in the last letter about the curse when I was talking to Hawkeye and BJ about it. Like I said, family rumors say that the male twin would not have children and die while the female has children and more twins. What I didn't tell Hawkeye and BJ was that, if the male was born first, then he will die. If it's the female born first, the curse will be broken from the family line forever. Although some signs have pointed to me dying, Lorraine, I ignore it and don't really care otherwise because life and death has just the natural order of things. However, since Dean and I know that he was born first (I can't forget it as he reminds me a lot), we think that he's a clear target, especially in a war zone like this.

Then again, so am I. It can go either way. I mean, Dean is pretty safe here guarding the unit, but when he and his men are called to the front lines, or to Munsan like Daddy, then I get nervous and worried. It's not just about this curse we learned about as children, hiding behind walls and whispering to each other like fools. This about my brother's life and how I don't think I could go on with life without him.

Who the hell am I kidding? God, Lorraine, I shouldn't be worried about this curse because it doesn't exist and everything is a coincidence. God, I can't help it though. I really can't. I'm paranoid about it all of a sudden, especially after the sudden death of Uncle Nathan. I mean, as far as I could remember, every male twin as been killed, all except for Dean. Uncle Nathan had hit his head on hard concrete and his head was crushed in an instant. Great Uncle Henri, Grandmomma's older brother, was crushed by cattle when they broke through the fencing by accident. The next uncle, the generation before, had been shot in the head by an escaped mental patient. The uncle before him was killed in a dual through strange circumstances that nobody can figure out.

And so it goes stories that my mother said over and over again, the stuff for nightmares. I don't know what happened to the next men (I can't remember), but all I know is that they are dead and by unusual reasons. This death is starting to turn me into a believer of something, Lorraine. I don't know what it would be. I am sure it won't be the Christian religion.

Oh, God, it's starting to rain again. I-Corp said that it was going to rain tonight. In fact, it is pouring rain, now with strong winds and maybe some thunder and lightning. You know, it's very nice living in a tent (sarcasm is a wonderful thing, Lorraine). Jesus, it can't be thunderstorming NOW! We just got back a cold snap last week and spring seems to be in the air after the cold weather came. I mean, Hawkeye and I had a picnic the other day by the minefields as Dean watched us, yelling at me and then worrying silently when we didn't listen. BJ was hanging out the laundry outside and not inside over the stove finally. Klinger stopped wearing stockings and tights and is barelegged and hairy once more. Margaret shed her heavy coat and stopped wrapping her head in scarves. Frank stopped complaining about how he's allergic to the cold.

We just can't have cold weather again. We've all tasted the bittersweet warmth and left spring wrap its fingers around us. No, we can't have cold again!

God, I am upset that we have this cold weather, Lorraine. Not to fear though. There is always a reason for everything, as my mother would say about these things (and me cringing when I quote my mother). Perhaps, the reason why we're getting the cold is so that we could play out in something about to come. Granted, we don't get much snow here maybe some flurries (nothing sticking), but sometimes, the cold can be a good thing. I can explain this.

Last week, when the temperatures were in the low twenties (a rare feat for this time of year, I must say), Hawkeye and I stood outside of the Swamp instead of inside, not cuddled together and trying to get a good fire out of the stove. We weren't even trying to get a warm cup of coffee this time. Instead, we were outside in our regular Army uniforms, with no coats, scarves or anything else on that would ward off the cold. We both just had on Army issued pants, boots, summer socks, t-shirt and jacket and nothing more.

Our point in all of this? To prove another point. War is a hellish experience, so why should we stand about and do nothing about it? By standing outside without proper clothes on, we could get very sick and even go home. We both doubted it, since getting a cold could easily be mended. However, we wanted to protest in our own way and see how many others would join us. So, in a way, it was also a simple experiment and one that would hopefully boost some morale too. Our rules included no talking unless something was directed to us and no moving to get warm. We were just going to stand there in silence.

It didn't take too long before curiosity got to the best of everyone. People started to wonder and give us strange looks after a while just seeing us there, all silent and shivering from the cold. After all, all we were doing was standing there, watching people watch us, and not saying a single word to others or to each other unless spoken to.

Of course, the first person to notice us standing there was Frank. He was the first person to say something to us directly too. Says something about Major Malpractice, doesn't it, Lorraine?

"Immoral and sickening," Frank commented as he passed us by, going to his Post-Op shift and rubbing his arms, complaining about the cold. His comment was immediately disregarded as it just ridiculed us and we could ignore it.

Margaret was next in line, almost immediately behind Frank. For once, she came up with a different reaction than most, after the initial shock and disgust. I mean, her Regular Army composure seem to be gone for a minute and for once, she seemed human.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, standing before us. "You two are crazy! It has to be fifteen degrees out here! What sort of example are the chief surgeon and assistant head nurse giving to everybody?"

"War stinks and we want to go home," I replied simply, not facing Margaret when I talked. "Don't you agree?"

Margaret just stood there baffled and stared at us for a moment more. Then, I heard from her, "Oh, what the hell?" She then took off her coat, scarf and mittens, throwing them in a pile next to the city signs next to the Swamp, and stood next to Hawkeye's other side, shivering.

Next was BJ, about a minute later…quite literally. He was just coming off of a shift, if I remember correctly, and seemed pretty tired anyway.

"Hey, folks, what's going on?" he asked us, also extremely baffled as he stood before us three. I noticed that he had a couple of letters in his hands and generally had no idea what was going on, since he was not included in the plans we made.

"Oh, just join us and shut up!" Margaret snapped, shivering harder.

BJ gave Margaret a quizzical look. "What's in it for me?" he inquired, wanting an answer and at the same time wanting to go on his way to read his letters.

"You want to go home, don't you?" Hawkeye asked in return, without looking at him.

Hawkeye's usual partner-in-crime shrugged his shoulders and also threw his warmer clothing off at the same time his letters went into his back pants pocket, where they wouldn't be lost. BJ then stood there next to Margaret, shivering just like us, muttering about how crazy we all were and he in turn. He had no idea what was going on and refused to get the full explanation. However, he agreed with the concept of wanting to go home and thinking that this war stinks, hence him standing with us.

Soon afterward, we had people all over the camp asking what was going on, understanding the point (war is hell and we need to go home) and joining us. After a few good hours of standing in the cold, almost the whole entire camp joined me and Hawkeye outside of the Swamp (save for Frank, Nurse Baker, Radar and Colonel Potter), crowding around the tent and the building next to it. There was still silence. Nobody said a word. All that was heard was the usual business of the camp (drivers came by and they all said that we were all nuts) and some generalized coughing, sneezing and sniffling. Otherwise, everyone obeyed the order that nobody was to speak and was to stand there. By the time we had a huge crowd, I had since then lost feeling in my fingers and toes. I had yet to get frostbitten, although I knew it would come if I stood out there long enough.

Towards evening, it turned colder. Candles were lit when some went back to their tents for some and laughter was heard all the way around, when the silence seemed too intense. Things became more relaxed. Hawkeye finally let down his guard, allowing the more immediate people to talk, like the others were. Then, Margaret, Kellye, Father Mulcahy, BJ, Dean, Klinger, Hawkeye and I gathered together in a hurdled group, laughing about the day. It was the first time we had spoken in a real conversation in some time.

Shaking and coughing, Father Mulcahy said, "Who came up with this idea? This was great!"

Hawkeye and I looked at each other. "I heard about it from another unit, one further down south," I confessed (no pun intended). "I heard that everybody went naked to protest the war and most were let go on a Section Eight because of it. Once it was figured out it was a ruse, all were punished accordingly."

"Why didn't I think of this before?" Klinger mused, his skirt creeping up his legs with the cold breeze, possibly thinking up another scheme similar to this.

Sniffling, her nose all red, Margaret added, "This was a good idea, you two."

"Raised a little morale, I see," Dean commented, seeing the smiles, laughs and even jokes about the cold…and getting one. I could hear the congestion in his voice and see the snot coming down from his nose.

"And it's made my camp run amok," a voice behind us said. When we all turned around, there was Colonel Potter with Radar behind him, walking towards us. "Morrison, Pierce, break up this party. I want you two in my office…pronto."

"Yes, Sir," I replied automatically and humbly, since the colonel sounded a little more than miffed. Hawkeye shook his head and about to say something after me before the gallant commanding officer interrupted him.

"And put your coats on, you two," Colonel Potter added in a commanding tone as he told Radar (who recited with him) to tell everybody to get back to work and to get their warmer clothes on.

"Where did it all go?" Hawkeye asked, trying to be a smartass and all.

"That's an order," the CO even added, before the jokes even continued.

Afterward, the colonel disappeared to God knows where, but he was sure to be in his office when we got there. The order was still there though. Hawkeye and I had to meet him there on the double.

"Well, I guess the cocktails were stopped before they truly started." Dean shrugged his weary shoulders and coughed. "Thanks, you two, that was fun. It made my men smile and not jumping at shadows. Jeanie, I'll add this to the book of stuff we do. Hawkeye…wow, I can't begin to say how much this has made me forget things."

Hawkeye smiled and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I hope we all forget and go home soon." By then, Radar came by to us again, reminding us two that we had to be in Colonel Potter's office PDQ.

We followed Radar inside, coats and winter gear back on. However, Lorraine, the visit to the colonel's office was not as I expected. I thought that we were going to be punished severely for disturbing the goings-on of the camp, being unpatriotic and unmilitary and for being stupid and getting people to stop their work and stand to protest a war (seeing as how Frank complained about it, most likely). All and all though, we could have had worse and been court-martialed and dishonorably discharged. All and all though, it actually was a good visit to Colonel Potter and one that started out pretty heavy.

Hawkeye and I, seeing that Colonel Potter had been waiting for us to enter, sat down when we saw the colonel do the same behind his desk. Sighing with impatience, the colonel started. "Don't you think you two have gotten into enough trouble in this war already?"

"I don't see any trouble here, Colonel," Hawkeye replied. "I just see troubled people."

"Uh-huh, I see." Colonel Potter then turned to me. "Captain, you've been one busy girl. You've been in the United States Army since you were almost eighteen years old. That's over ten years at this point. In those ten years, I see nursing school, Boston, good old Washington DC, West Germany and then Korea. In-between those, you've been engaged – twice, I might add – and then happily unmarried and pregnant, drunk and disorderly and now protesting the war."

I sat in my seat, terrified and now expecting the worst. I did not expect this.

Then, Colonel Potter turned to Hawkeye. "Pierce, you've been drafted and have been an overall merry prankster. You hate the Army and you hate the war. You've been assigned the responsible position of chief surgeon of this unit before I came here and should have taken on an air of some responsibility. Already, you've shown a poor example of military discipline to this camp by many standards, even though you hold so high of a position. You're unmilitary, a joker and almost-always drinking, much like your fiancée here."

Hawkeye and I exchanged looks finally, unsure of what to say. We were not expecting the book to be thrown at us. We thought we broke Colonel Potter of most of that Regular Army crap a while back, with him proving to be one of the guys while keeping us all clean at the same time. There he was though, reciting to us what we've been up to and how wrong it all was and what a stain we are on the Army itself.

"However," Colonel Potter continued eventually (evenly too), "you two have also orchestrated the greatest morale booster in a long time. Standing outside in the cold without winter clothing? You have to be crazy enough to do it. But then again, you're all crazier than a bucking horse to do it. And I thank you both for the unusual day. It was quite amusing."

"Colonel, I thought –" I began, coughing as I did all of a sudden.

The colonel raised his hand to interrupt me. "Captain, it was a brave thing you do, a brave thing you and Hawkeye did to boost the camp's morale. I just hope my camp doesn't get sick from it. This I doubt very much."

Hawkeye sneezed suddenly, twice in a row, his green-gloved hands covered with thick mucus.

"Except for you two, I think we'll have no casualties of this incident," our commanding officer corrected himself, smiling. "Now, you two sure look like you need a drink to warm you all up."

"I think –" Hawkeye started before his own coughing spasm started, joining mine.

"You both should get to the Swamp now," Colonel Potter suggested, forgoing the alcohol. "You both looked flushed. Get some rest and stay warm. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning. My tent is just down the road."

"Thanks, Colonel," I answered as I stopped coughing for a minute, helping Hawkeye up when his legs did not seem to work. "We'll keep it in mind."

And so, here I am, Lorraine, the explanation about the benefits of the cold finished. I'm still a bit sick and have been allowed back into Post-Op. Hawkeye is a little better at least and, well, it's something. Frank, one of the only people who was not protesting the war with us, has caught our cold. It's been a few days since he's caught it and he's still not getting better. I guess this one will take a while to heal, especially with barely any hair on his head still.

The thrill of being out there in the cold, hoping to go home on a technicality, was too bittersweet, even for someone like me, who might not get out alive.

With all of my love (and mucus), Jeanie