May 30, 1954
Crabapple Cove, Maine
It's been some days since I've written, Journal. To be honest, other than the unofficial start of summer coming up, it's been pretty damned difficult to. With so much going on and more to ponder, I can't sit still enough to write and my hand hurts every time I think about it. There are also more pressing matters that required some attention.
One of them is Frank Burns. I know I've written about him before. But Jesus Christ, what an idiot! He was so inept at surgery that both colonels at the camp almost canned him for not following the book. He was so military and ridiculous that we did everything to sabotage his efforts, to make the war more bearable. He was so unchristian that he made my mother appear in every way to be a saint. Oh, I could go on about this miserable man!
He left the 4077th long before I began writing in this book. It wasn't too hard to figure out why. Dean had warned us about it a long time ago and it all had to do with a blonde head nurse named Margaret Houlihan. They had a torrid affair before Margaret decided she was going to marry Donald Penobscott. Frank wasn't going to give up his wife back home and wanted to install Margaret in an apartment, to visit her on the side when the urge got to him. Instead, he tried to save his marriage and tarnished Margaret's name in the process.
Well, Margaret's marital attempt is well-known. At the time of her engagement, she was so in love with Donald that she forgot all about her lipless wonder. This rocked Frank's boat so much that he went nuts and he was transferred out before Margaret returned from her honeymoon. After going insane every blonde he could, he was promoted to lieutenant colonel and sent to a position at the VA, close to where his wife and children were housed. All charges pressed against him were dropped.
That's the Reader's Digest version, to be honest. There's more to the story. But here's the thing: since Frank learned Margaret married Donald, he's been mixing himself with all of the blondes he could find, thinking they are Margaret. He'll accost them, suck on their toes, tried to paint their nails…whatever he did with Margaret during their ruinous tenure. Recently, a woman at the VA (and yes, she was blonde) got him going and he's heading this way, even though he told Hawkeye that he wasn't showing up.
This has gotten all of us up in arms and protective. While some people deem Frank insignificant, we do believe that he is using any means possible to get to Margaret. Come hell or high water though, he won't stand a chance. We've got people on the lookout for him. Greg Keller already has the MPs on his tail. I called Daddy for a small favor and he has his aide, Lieutenant Hastings, and his men checking every nook and cranny on the east coast. Colonel Potter also has a few friends helping out.
Frank has been allusive as to his whereabouts. Somebody will spot him and run, but that jackass is always one step ahead and sometimes leaves bread crumbs. Last he was seen, it was on a bus in Pennsylvania. Lieutenant Hastings noted his presence and ordered the bus stopped, but by the time his men surrounded the area, Frank was gone. He jumped out of a window of the vehicle and disappeared. He didn't leave a track that time.
Margaret is so nervous. I can't blame her! She says that she regrets this relationship everyday. Back then, she was uptight, tough and rude. However, the woman she was then is different than the one now. I am proud of the way Margaret grew in the three years we served together. She can beat this jerk (and has before, I must add). Frank is no match for Margaret Houlihan.
Otherwise, it's been a battle to keep people from killing each other. I will initially name a pair that have been trying to since the war. Yes, another debacle was Klinger and Zale. I didn't write of them much because their situation is immature and did not merit my time and energy. However, a short version of their antics will do just fine. They are just as responsible for our lives being spent on their drama.
We all agreed to put our differences aside for the reunion. This meant Zale and Klinger had to keep their mouths shut. Crabapple Cove is a big enough place they could keep away from each other for days and not know the other was present. However, the two seemed attracted to each other like magnets and their opposite personalities were drawn to each other. They never left each other alone!
Zale saw Klinger first, some days ago. He actually greeted the former company clerk civilly enough. Then, he had to comment about Klinger's recent run-ins with the law and how he couldn't go home to Toledo. He also boasted that he kept clean in the Army ever since being shipped from Korea and didn't pick up a Korean wife.
"I don't need someone's permission to marry, at least," Zale added. "Besides, the future Mrs. Zale will be pure American."
That got Klinger in defense mode. He immediately punched Zale's lights out without anybody lifting a finger to help either one of them. Klinger could take shit about his activities. Nobody insulted his wonderful wife.
From there, it went back and forth. Zale will see Klinger and make his comments. Klinger will see Zale and come up with some stupid shit that will cause another fistfight. Everybody has been caught in the middle of their interactions. It was enough that even Mrs. Pettigrew had to break one up. Larry accidentally got caught in the middle of one as he and his girlfriend sat on the beach.
Hawkeye once deposited Klinger with me until Zale could be handled (because we preferred one over the other and, quite honestly, we love Soon-Lee too and did not want to punish her). Once that idiot was out of town and headed back to base in South Carolina, Klinger was free. Soon-Lee didn't need to hear the bullshit and have Klinger defend her honor and Zale didn't have to have his lights turned off every time he saw Klinger. It was a fair trade.
The other argument is between Radar and Klinger. Just when we couldn't get enough of one bickering match, another started with Klinger in first place (it's almost like he's attracted to drama as much as Zale!). To be honest, the two had been at each other's throats since Radar gave his job to Klinger and was discharged. Well, Klinger still held hard feelings over the rotten way we treated him when he was company clerk job and never liked how Radar taught him the basics in the office. While they had been cordial at first, things boiled over yesterday.
It's Memorial Day weekend. Already, BBQs are starting up. The water is warm enough to swim in almost. Summer is almost here. We're all trying to enjoy ourselves and get into the swing of the hot season. And what does Klinger and Radar do? Argue about how things went back in Korea of course!
Radar did make himself out to be a martyr of sorts, a man who gave up so much so we could survive and the man who made up creative ways to solve problems. Klinger painted a picture of sacrifice, like a lamb to the altar, and the man who filled in some large shoes. They each had a story to tell, one taller than the other, about how well they did as company clerk, even though Radar was not around with Klinger in charge of the office. Radar had the guts to scream at Klinger that he'd be nothing without the tutoring. Klinger denied that it even happened!
Father Mulcahy actually broke up that fight by getting into the fight itself. Klinger was cruel and aimed for Radar's glasses, meaning to break them. Radar learned a few new tricks and headed right for where the sun didn't shine. And as the good Padre got right in the middle and was punched and kicked in the head simultaneously by two headstrong men.
BJ relayed the story to me after it finished. Father Mulcahy was quite annoyed by the childishness of both and managed to hit one and then the other with his right fist. It went so fast that nobody saw it coming. Klinger and Radar were very shocked! They sat on the beach, stunned into silence.
"It was like a blur," BJ swore. "Father Mulcahy was pretty damned fast."
"At least someone has a little reason," I replied. I was irritated myself that my home is becoming a place for fighting, especially for Klinger. "What happened next?"
"Father Mulcahy pinned Klinger down with one leg and managed to get Radar with his arms," BJ continued. "Mrs. O'Reilly got in the way and took Radar. The colonel went to Klinger's side. Then, there were so many people in the way that Father Mulcahy had to fight his way out and knock some sense into the two individually when they tried going for round two."
"'There is only one kind of shock worse than the totally unexpected: the expected for which one has refused to prepare,'" I quoted.
BJ was confused about where the source was and countered with one citation of his own. "'God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterward the bruise.'"
"'Her eyes were full of a hot liquid (she did not think of tears at first) which, without disturbing the firmness of her lips, made the air thick, rolled down her cheeks. She had perfect control of herself – Oh, yes! – in every other way.'"
"Oh, ho, Virginia Woolf! Where did the other one come from?"
I pulled out a book and turned to the page in question to show BJ. Greg recently sent me a package full of goodies from England, as a gift of sorts for coming home in one piece and becoming a parent. Some things he thought prudent to share since we could not get some items here in the US, like books and some alcohol. One of the tomes he sent I was currently reading. The book, "The Charioteer" by Mary Renault, was published last year in England. He thought it was dribble and didn't like the homosexual theme in it. I loved it.
BJ waved it away. "I'll read it when Reader's Digest edits."
"Anyway," I picked up, "how did the fight end?"
"Your father-in-law managed to stop it before Father Mulcahy got out of control," BJ concluded. "Nothing much there. It was like a bar fight was controlled by the most sober man in the hall."
I sighed. "That isn't much," I commented lamely.
BJ shrugged his shoulders. "You had to be there. I have to say, your father-in-law is almost as fast as Father Mulcahy. Everybody was separated and sent to their corners. Mrs. O'Reilly has Radar standing in one. I think he's still there."
"And Klinger?" I actually was amused that Radar was still being treated like a child.
"Soon-Lee has a corner with his name on it too," BJ recounted in glee. "He's standing in your neighbor's yard. After their punishment, the unruly pair will first help her trim the roses and bushes."
I hooted just as a back cramp hit me. I almost stopped laughing, it was so noticeable to me. But I didn't want to say anything yet. I didn't know if I was going into labor yet or not. It was going to take time to figure it out.
BJ noted it. "You ok?"
"I'm fine," I reassured him, reducing my reaction to a giggle. "Now, what else did Mrs. Pettigrew con Radar and Klinger into?"
There was a laundry list apparently. Mrs. Pettigrew was going to keep them together. Even though Radar was short, she had ways to get him to higher heights. Her house needed some cleaning on the outside, with all the sea salt and all. There was trash to be picked up. Her railing needed some repairs. A chair didn't sit right. Oh, there was more for them to do!
And I sat there on the bed, smiling wider as BJ counted down the list, ticking each task on his fingers. At the same time, I was trying to time the cramping. It wasn't going in a pattern, but it subsided and returned half an hour later and then ten minutes later. It relieved me that it didn't worsen. But it meant I was getting closer to the due date. I had maybe two weeks left before full term.
Speaking of pain, my hand is cramping badly. I am going to stop writing now. Tomorrow, there's going to be a BBQ. Dad managed to get the local fishermen to sell us some early season lobsters. Hawkeye is going to cook them on the beach in the firepit. I am even allowed to go outside! How exciting is that?
~00~
It couldn't have been a better Memorial Day. The sun was shining. The water was warm enough to swim in finally. The lobsters were delicious. The company was harmonious. What more could I have asked for?
The only thing hanging over our heads was Frank. He still had not been located. After many attempts, everybody lost him in Connecticut. All parties had him cornered in some remote little town road. It was raining and hard to keep him contained in one spot. Frank spent time jumping from one side of the road to another to avoid men grabbing for him. Eventually, there was a loud noise from the woods and Frank broke free when everyone was distracted.
This information floated from one person to another as we ate, joked and enjoyed the warm Monday night. By the time the stars were out and the moon shone brightly, all of us remaining awake (Hawkeye and myself, BJ, Margaret and Keith Charles, Colonel Potter and Addie and Sidney) were tired and wary. Questions rang through our minds concerning this mad man. If we went to sleep this night, will Frank appear? Will the line of defense be broken as we slumbered? Will the chasers be on his tail if he arrived in Crabapple Cove and disturb the eerie quiet we craved? Is Frank even nearby, watching us?
Margaret broke the silence and addressed the elephant in the room. "We can take shifts."
"Huh?" BJ put down his beer bottle and looked at her.
"We can take shifts," Margaret repeated stubbornly. "We have to keep an eye out for Frank."
"Margaret, you're not in charge of him anymore," Hawkeye reminded her. "You don't have the lease on him."
"You let that one go ages ago," the colonel reminded her. "Let it go, Margaret. Burns has lost it. You don't need to feel responsible for him anymore."
Keith put his arms around Margaret. "They're right. Besides, he isn't getting into town without somebody knowing it."
"The locals know what he's like," Hawkeye added. "They'll hold him hostage."
"Eddie will keep him on him on the rocks," I reminded her. "He has friends that will take over."
Margaret's forehead crinkled into wrinkles. "You all don't know Frank like I do. He won't stop until he gets his way."
"Oh, don't me started," Hawkeye moaned. "I spent two years with the man and you're telling me that I don't know him like you do? Please. I've been counting biblical verses of hypocrisy through my eyelids. I could recount every whimpering snivel he uttered, from money to his wife. You can't sit there and tell me, Margaret, that I don't know him like you do. I just didn't undress him and play hide and seek with a deck of cards of nail polish."
BJ interjected before Margaret screamed (it was obvious she was going to explode). "The point is, the man is nuts. I'm sure there is some psychological explanation for this."
Addie sighed in exasperation, enough that some heads turned at her rudeness. I could have shaken her. Oh, she is a kind woman and a wonderful help. On the other hand, she is also impatient with situations and people and did not seem to understand anything zany (or, for that matter, support Sidney's profession). Anything without a reasonable explanation (except for the devout nonsense of the Bible) was nonsense. Life had an order and there shouldn't be deviance from that norm.
Sidney jumped in, ignoring his wife. "Obsession is something that gets pretty vague," he explained quickly. "It's also very board. It varies from person to person. They can hallucinate or they can get over the hurdle. They can lose the focus or keep their sights on it. Frank either has to have control or let his mind run with it."
"For example, Klinger," Charles said as he finished his lobster. He placed his plate at his feet. His aide picked it up and stood nearby, ready for the order to take it inside. Charles waved him away. "Wasn't he so obsessed with getting out of the Army?"
"It was a dream, if I remember our dear little orderly," Sidney clarified. He paused. "Some might view it as an obsession because he always found a reason to get away. But then again, Klinger could handle a breakup. He's foolish, but he found reason. Frank Burns has nerves of glass. The slightest shake will shatter them."
"One event hammered him into the mess he became," I recalled. I turned to Hawkeye and BJ. "Do you remember trying to locate him after he disappeared from the camp?"
"Worst time spent." BJ rolled his eyes.
"We could have been toasting the succession of fresh eggs in his cot," Hawkeye conceded.
"Obsession can bring about a nervous breakdown," Sidney continued, to prove our point. "The only way to get him through it is to lock him up and treat him. Frank is one extreme case. Margaret is an addiction he cannot break."
Margaret blushed. I saw that she was so embarrassed to be talked about in this manner. I couldn't blame her. To be the person who began this madness is something I cannot imagine. I mean, if Hawkeye had gone the same way as Frank, I would have rethought marriage and moving to Crabapple Cove. He missed people and places with an intensity I now understood, especially viewing this beauty myself. But to permanently be locked into a fantasy, forever chasing a mirage, could not be swallowed.
"I think I am retiring," Margaret quickly announced, as a way to avoid the conversation. She stood up with Keith. "I'll see you all in the morning."
Our eyes followed Margaret and Keith as they made their way back to the house. Dad was already there. He met them at the back porch and opened the door for them. There were a few words exchanged before the pair entered without my father-in-law. I did see that Dad appeared tense. He had something to say and approached us slowly.
"She seems so…I don't know…obsessive…herself," Addie commented quite casually. Everybody turned their attention from Margaret and Keith to her. "Don't you think this is a little out of hand?"
"I can reassure you, Frank is a real threat," BJ replied. "His scalpel is worse than his bite."
Addie looked at all of us in equal measure hearing BJ's evident threat. Her eyes searched for something that might have rationalized our fears – reassurance, confidence too – and found nothing. It seemed like her bravado cracked and that her theory of orderliness and praying to God went out of the window. She squared her shoulders and sighed again.
"So, where does Margaret Houlihan fit into the picture?" she asked carefully.
"A well-used ship that sailed past his docks, as we've said," Colonel Potter clarified. "Sidney isn't off. Burns really is off his rocker."
"Speaking of Frank Burns," Dad said as he came into our circle, "we have a phone call about him. Jeanie, it's from someone named Greg Keller?"
"I guess it's my turn," I said, frustrated. Greg could have asked Hawkeye and that was what made it worse. "I'll turn in afterward. Good night!"
Everyone echoed their sentiments as I got up and waddled inside, to the living room. Dad, who was a tad faster, went ahead of me, to make sure the phone line remained open, and kept talking to Greg until I arrived. He handed it to me and backed away. He also stayed nearby, in case I could pass on information or if I was weary.
"This isn't a social call, is it, Greg?" I greeted carefully.
"How did you know?" There was an exhale of smoke loud enough that I could smell Greg's cigar. "For all you know, this could be an early-morning call that could help a hangover or insomnia."
"I doubt it," I whispered as I saw a light upstairs turn on and then off. "What do you have for me?"
"Frank Burns is a menace," Greg announced. "Whatever the Army does to him is their business. But the CIA is interested in him. He's been in a war zone and can blab secrets. What else is new?"
"Did you capture him or is he still free?"
"Oh, no, we got him. Well, General Morrison's men did. But they handed him over to the CIA once I sent in the papers."
"Other than Korea, for what reason is he in custody?"
"Oh, ho, you're not working under us anymore. I can't tell you."
"For all that I've done, you can't at least tell your fellow American the truth?"
"You can't get the truth out of me. I don't know it myself."
I knew that this was going around in circles. But I was patient. Greg was going to tell me everything eventually. If Frank was an interest to the CIA, he must have done more than grabbed women who looked like Margaret. He may be a patriotic American, but even people like Frank were putty in the hands of the wrong people. His loose lips, especially in the state he was in, will certainly sink a few ships…because he told them to those on our side.
"Listen, is he going to be an issue later?" I demanded. "Do we have to hear from him again?"
"Right now, he's in a padded truck without a way to escape," Greg boasted gleefully. "I wouldn't ask much about him anymore, Jeanie. He'll go back for Fort Wayne, but he's bound to rush off again and get pulled by one of us. We'll keep tabs on him though. He won't get anywhere near you all ever again."
I was relieved. It was evident on my face. As I relaxed, I replied, "What am I telling everyone?"
"Just the truth." I imagined Greg shrugging his shoulders in indifference. "I wouldn't let any other details free. I told you enough."
"And what do I owe you?" I knew there was a price.
"Your pretty lips telling me all of your happy news," Greg promised. The tone of his voice was genuine. "You've done enough for me, saved my ass many times. I tried making up for it in Korea, but I don't think it's enough."
Surprised, I just wished him well and told him to go to sleep. I hung up and faced my father-in-law warily. While he caught me once under the guise of a spy, he wasn't going to again. Instead, I smiled to ward away the intense wave of awareness, paranoia and nostalgia. I had a purpose in the Army, but that was over now. I was never looking back.
"What news?" Dad asked, even though I'm sure he had an idea it was good.
"I think we can let our guard down," I informed him. "Frank Burns is in safekeeping. We don't have to worry about him anymore."
Dad nodded sagely. "Why don't you go to bed? You must be tired. I'll let everyone know."
I conceded. I shrugged away his help and ambled my way upstairs alone. I should have taken it, but I was stubborn. I wanted to savor this information alone. As soon as I reached the bedroom, I turned the light on and crawled into bed. Before I could allow sleep to claim me, I had to write in my journal. I reached for it and a pen, dated my next entry, and only wrote the following:
Frank Burns is no longer a threat. I think that's enough.
