With only one day to go before Hawkeye and I had to go back to the 4077th (and no urgent calls from Colonel Potter yet), I picked up my journal again, flipping through the pages that I did not write in and dared not to read until then. Hawkeye had apparently written quite a bit when I could not, so much so that it was a little scary to me. He dated them on occasion, but most of the time, he put lines across the page and started a new entry without thought and like he did not care anyway. He worried, fretted, ranted and even cried on the pages, wrinkled black and white lines of sadness, shaped in circles of blue.
The first entry was in March, the day I was supposed to be in Seoul with Colonel Flagg and also the day that Colonel Coner was hung for mutiny and other charges (so I heard later, ironically enough). It was very frantic and erratic, written in haste after surgery. I don't think Hawkeye even changed out of his old bloodied white gown because some of the pages were covered in crusty brown substance. It was blood. It was probably my blood, amongst other soldiers. It was months old already and still very frightening to see.
Jeanie was only supposed to be in Seoul. She said that she was going to Seoul, only to see what Colonel Flagg wanted. He wanted her and four other people from her West Germany days to see him, setting up as a meeting from General Somebody or another that needs chocolate brownies with a laxative filling. She didn't even make it, just like the others who were found dead on the way to Seoul. I found out that she didn't make it the hard way.
Potter was told that Jeanie and her driver had been driving next to a regiment when the North Korean planes came by and bombed the area. The jeep flipped over and the driver had died when he was crushed under the jeep. Jeanie landed and cracked her ribs again, mere weeks after recovering from her rendezvous with General Daddy "Heartless" Morrison. Then, seeing the medic dead, she took his bag and tended the wounded like a good little nurse. The soldiers that were alive went across a bridge that the North Koreans didn't bomb, where ambulances and some jeeps waited for them.
After Jeanie had helped the last one across and made sure that they were safe, she tried crossing the bridge herself, but didn't make it because about a few hundred yards behind her, another bomb hit the ground. She crawled for a few feet after shrapnel hit her in the back and neck and finally rolled down the ditch and into the river, where the unwounded men dragged her out, one of them treating some of her wounds. Another one of them had an extra jeep and offered the ride. Seeing that she was from this neck of the woods, brought her here because it was closer than the 8063rd or the 8055th.
I almost didn't recognize her. I almost didn't know that it was my Jeanie. All I saw was a jeep and a man yelling that a critically wounded woman needed attention. I ran and the first thing I saw was long hair. Dark long hair. It was loose and singed at the ends, up to the shoulders. Severe chest wound with broken ribs, burns on the back and neck with little shrapnel, a severe loss of blood and a hand clenching something. When I took a closer look, wiping some of the dirt off of the woman's face, and saw Jeanie behind them, her eyes barely opening, both very still.
Beej was behind me, seeing what I saw, only his face could not tell me what he thought. He only said, "She better get into surgery."
"I don't think she can make it to the table." I knew that Jeanie could, but it was doubtful. I had to try.
I got Klinger and Father Mulcahy to take her in and Margaret was going to start to prep her. Before she could go in, Jeanie's eyes started to close and I thought it might be the final time. She let go of the picture, the one of our daughter, saying my name softly. Calling for me. She wanted help. And I might not have been able to help her.
I pocketed the picture in my jacket and followed Klinger and Father Mulcahy into Pre-Op. I prepped for surgery and started operating on her. A few minutes later, when everybody settled into another long session, I started to lose her. Jeanie, I started to lose you.
The news hurt, especially from Kellye. "Blood pressure and pulse are dropping, Doctor."
"Dammit, Jeanie, you have to live, DAMMIT!"
I tried everything I could, but I knew that she died and she was almost given up for dead. I wasn't giving her up for the hooded figure yet though. Potter and BJ almost pulled me away, but I got her back in a couple of minutes. Jeanie lives again. Her blood pressure and pulse were up according to Kellye and she was back to fighting, like I always knew she would. She fought harder than most people would.
Afterward, I had Klinger and Father Mulcahy take Jeanie to her cot in The Swamp. I could not watch her immediately afterward, but had Kellye look in from time to time if she could. Then, when I was finished, I went to The Swamp to be with her.
I wanted to cry as I finished the entry. Then, I saw the line underneath it and another entry and wanted to continue reading. I knew that Hawkeye was not one to express his inner thoughts on paper, even to his Dad, but this was as close as I could get to him concerning that horrible day. Thankfully, he wasn't around to see me read the entries and cry, sitting on our hotel bed as the sun strode right on in through the windows. He claimed to have another surprise for me and ran off (other his wedding gift of a small crystal necklace on a silver chain). Everything was easily hidden if he didn't try to read my body language, but dammit, he was good at it.
I trained my eyes to read the next entry, which was short (only a paragraph long) and said more about my progress medically.
Jeanie woke up today, only a day after her surgery to be precise. We talked of many things and I chewed her ear off. She didn't want to eat and sat up, only wondered what was going on. Pulse 90, blood pressure 118/77 (all day), temperature 100.2 (morning at 0600), 99.8 (afternoon at 1200), 100.1 (nighttime at 1800) and 99.9 (midnight). I think she's hurting and not admitting it. She coughed up some blood after laughing.
I flipped through pages and pages of Hawkeye talking about the same thing for a few days, but then it stopped. Next, he talked about how I got up from my cot for the first time while he was on Post-Op duty, stubbornly sitting up and walking around the Swamp until BJ told me to go back to my cot, irritated with me. My vital signs went back to normal, the weather became warmer and our chief surgeon stopped worrying for once. Hawkeye seriously thought that I was going to be ok. He talked of ordinary things for a while and how I playfully teased him, let him have the journal to write in for a while, kissing him awake every morning I could and even making breakfast in bed for him once, even though the food from the Mess Tent wasn't the greatest and my cooking skills were practically rusty.
The next "angry" entry ("helpless" is more of the word Sidney would say) was the day Colonel Potter sent me to the Funny Farm. Hawkeye had not written anything beforehand, leaving the picture and the "I'm sorry" entry intact and writing underneath it, dating it May 6, 1953.
Jeanie tried committing suicide about a week ago today. Klinger caught her just in time in her deed and had Father Mulcahy run back to The Swamp to wake me up. I lifted my head as soon as the dartboard hit the door and saw this journal open to a page, with two words and a picture telling me what she was going to do before the good Padre said anything to me.
I told Chuckles and Beej to stay put, yelled as I did. They woke up to the noise, like Colonel Potter and the rest of the camp. The colonel even asked what was going on as he came into the tent. I said, "I have no time to explain!" Then, I ran outside to catch up with Jeanie before something went boom and tiny pieces of her went flying into the sky again.
Father Mulcahy, Klinger and I got her back into the camp just in time. She passed out from the trek from the minefields, coughing up more blood. I had not seen her do that since the day she first woke up from her surgery. I thought about letting her rest and seeing what happens next, but I saw the marks on her wrists hidden underneath her jacket sleeves and knew. I just knew.
Beej and Margaret helped me with her, to ease her back into her cot and to keep her there. While unconscious, they saw the damage. Jeanie had taken something sharp and cut her wrists. For what reason, I did not know. I thought that she was happy. I thought that she was getting better. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn't happy with me. Maybe she wasn't happy anymore and just pretended out of love for me.
Sidney came by after Colonel Potter called him. He talked with me as Love slept from her second surgery (shrapnel swimming in her lungs and we did not know better) and said that it wasn't my fault. Jeanie had been unhappy for a long time, he pointed out. She wanted life to go on as planned and played it like that. After Dean died, she didn't mourn like we did. She didn't have the time or allowed herself to like we did. She was more concerned over other things and could not stop to think. Her father tried to kill her. She went to Seoul and ended up being blown up. She died, went to heaven and came back. Now, she's back at the camp and unhappy.
Jeanie has been hopeless for the longest time. She unloaded herself on me Day 1. I took her under my own drunken wings because she looked lonely, more than lovely really. Henry was yelling at her and I thought to ask her out, like any other nurse I saw. I ended up with more than I bargained for in the long run. I fell for her that night and gave up nurses gradually except for Margaret once. Only once I cheated on Jeanie and she forgave us. It was in her nature to do it, although I knew her brother was going to kill me. Jeanie's love for me stopped it and stopped me from rescuing more damsels in distress.
I just didn't know that Jeanie was still miserable inside. She's been through a lot during this war and it wasn't my fault. I was the person who made her laugh, kept her sane and drank with her like she did with me. She kept herself alive because she knew that I loved her and she loved me back. My love kept her alive as hers kept me alive.
Also, Sidney said that Jeanie normally would not have done this to herself, but a lot of things happened all at once and life caught up with her. If she talked things out, she'll be ok. If she talked things out, the healing process could be faster than he anticipated because of how much progress she already made with many other things, things she didn't tell me about.
One of things that I knew bothered Jeanie was me not talking to her about Shannon. I didn't think she would understand. I knew that Shannon was my daughter from the morning she was born. I just didn't want to admit it. What could I do when I was all the way here and not all the way over there, taking care of her? I knew that I wasn't ready to be a parent and it still frightened me, waiting in anticipation to know the whole truth. I was a father. No, I am a father.
Trapper did a good job watching out for her and our uneasy friendship had now turned back to what it was almost. Even if we aren't as close as we used to be, at least I get a word or two from him. Now, it's Dad's turn thankfully. So far, so good. Shannon's in safer hands now and he is enjoying it more than I thought. He writes about those days a lot, claiming it to be the best in his life after so much has happened to us. He cannot wait to meet Jeanie too.
Today begins a long a few weeks until Jeanie comes back. I'll count the days and visit her as often as I can.
I had tears in my eyes reading that. Hawkeye blamed himself, shared his feelings about Shannon and didn't say a word about it. He did many things behind my back as I did to him. He kept to himself a lot more than I bargained for, knew that Shannon was his daughter the moment she was born and even felt regret about cheating on me. Of course, I forgave him and Margaret! What else could I have done? I love them both dearly now, much more than ever before, because we are a family. We've unloaded on each other for months now, hiding, scrambling and even crying. We've cracked, splintered and mended. And it was not yet over and there were still hurdles to jump over.
The war was not yet over. Those wonderful peace talks were on once more and this time, we've been promised that they would be good and give us the results that we've been craving for. There was more pain to go through during this process and I knew it. We could only take the joy as it came to us, one bit at a time. Hope was always there.
I looked to the last entry Hawkeye wrote, dated June 5, 1953. It was some weeks after I left the 4077th for the Funny Farm.
Jeanie came back to the camp earlier today and the party we held for her was a success. I wasn't there most of the time, although Colonel Potter, Margaret, Kellye, Chuckles and Beej did a good job of keeping her occupied. I was in Seoul, picking her up the necklace and to talk with her father quickly. I did arrive back in time to see her though. I tossed her in the air and held her. Then, I announced a date for the wedding out loud and nobody objected, not even Father Mulcahy, who suggested that I stop by to see her father and ask for his blessing on the marriage in the first place. He also helped me organize everything. Without his help, I wouldn't have made that decision.
It was an amazing day and I was so glad to see Jeanie Love smile again, a genuine smile I had not seen in ages. She was shocked, but I think she was over it soon. She was happy.
I think the scars have started to heal for her. Now, it's time for me to do the same.
I smiled, wiping away my tears, and closed the journal as if I was finally putting a bandage over an old wound. Hiding it under my pillow and thinking, I flopped on the bed as if I was sleeping. Like Hawkeye, I dove into the deepest thoughts and wrote them down, not showing the other anything, but guessing a lot of what the other was thinking. I knew that Hawkeye was not telling me everything. In those entries, he said a lot more than what he could tell anybody about. Hawkeye was a private person and it always took some time for him to tell me everything he could about himself, through actions, speech (rant or otherwise) and even pranks.
Just as soon as my head hit the pillow, Hawkeye opened the door to our room, sneaking in like a thief in the night, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He leaned in and kissed me deeply. "Did I wake you up?"
"No, you didn't." I kissed him again as I sat up, hungry for just him. I would even get pregnant again if it meant spending this time with Hawkeye.
Hawkeye waved the bottle and two glasses, mouthing, "Wine?" as he continued to kiss me.
"If we don't stop, I don't think we'll get to it, early as it is for drinking," I replied, pushing him away so that he could pour. When he did finally obey me (a few minutes and many more kisses later), I asked, "What year?"
"A good year, 1943." Hawkeye laughed, topping up the glasses and handing me one. "Wouldn't old Chuckles be jealous?"
