I heard you found
Some pretty words to say.
You found your little game to play
And there's no one allowed in.
Then, just when we believe we
Could be great, reality, it permeates,
And conquers from within again.
These days, we go to waste like wine
That's turned to turpentine.
It's six AM and I'm all messed up.
I didn't mean to waste your time,
So, I'll fall back in line.
But I'm warning you,
We're growing up.
There were many people who had more than respect for me after that fateful rampage. I didn't feel so much like an outsider in town anymore. They talked to me more often, invited me and Hawkeye to parties, dinners and outdoor events. Some of them went to the door in the morning, asking me for medical advice. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It was an anxiety attack at the worst.
I recalled Radar, following around all of the surgeons. He thought, with all of the great work they did, that they were sort of gods. Until the day he saw Hawkeye as a human being, he was a devoted puppy that did anything that was asked, even ripping a hole in the nurses' showers. He was a child with an innocence unmatched.
It was like that with these people. They were like children again, able to dream about one person who will save the day. As the sun sets, this woman would stand tall and tell the enemy to leave. They will obey and Crabapple Cove is safe, just like Superman.
I didn't expect to be so lauded. I knew myself to be an extremely flawed human being, deserving of a little admiration like the next person. And, to be honest, I had a past that they would all be frightened of. They could not imagine the naked little girl who lost her childhood to alcohol, divorce and rape. They were not going to understand the aspects of war I did. Most certainly, they would scratch their heads at the heinous acts I've done for the Army, from basic training onward.
They could not see me as one of them. I was above their human souls. I never liked that. I always tried to remind Crabapple Cove in many ways how human I am too. No matter what, each feat I achieved – from caring for Mrs. Pettigrew to walking my daughters to the store obviously pregnant – was looked upon as abnormal. I was their shining example.
Things did not change for much Hawkeye though, despite the fact that Crabapple Cove talked positively of him. While Cochran was praised for the medication being developed in his area of control, he was furious that the origin was from me. He could not reach me directly. He could snub me in public (which made him unpopular) and pretend that I was scandalous. Instead, he went after the one thing he could control and that was Hawkeye.
Cochran ignored Dad finally. Dad had serviced Crabapple Cove for long enough that his degrading was enough to drive Cochran out of town. Because Hawkeye had so recently come home, he had the chance to pick on my husband. His eyes again alighted on Love with vengeance.
Doctors rotated out of the area hospitals, offices and clinics. Friends were lost and spies were let in. Cochran installed people so much like Frank Burns that Hawkeye was itching to pick a fight with all of them and correct their procedures in the process. He kept his cool as much as he could, but even Hawkeye had his limits. There were only so many times he encountered and endured stupid slips in patients, messy rooms and people kicked to the streets for nothing paid. Hawkeye had to say something and that something did not help the situation.
Horrible things happened. We found dead animals on our porch, rotting and full of flies. Pig's blood was used on our windows, echoing messages of hate and danger. There were drawn pictures nailed to our doors, detailing lynching and beheadings. The girls even saw a burnt straw figure of Hawkeye, hanging from a noose from our back porch.
It was harassment and fear in every way. It grated on Hawkeye more than ever before and there was nothing he or law enforcement could do. Add in his worry about the girls, Dad and me (and twin children, it was confirmed), he was a wreck. It did not help that people were issuing happy and sad news at him all at once.
I tried to keep the news from him to a minimum. Everyone from the 4077th was always writing or calling. They knew there was always a conversation to be had, no matter what time of the day it was. However, Hawkeye was so frightened of his own shadow and what he'd find on our property that he could not bear to talk to anyone much. So, I took in every tidbit for him.
Margaret loved to call mostly. She was a BIG talker. Almost every other day, I received a call from Seattle. While Keith usually patched in the call, Margaret always took over and began a string of words I could hardly keep up with. But the latest news had me smiling. Other than being discharged from the Army with full pension and benefits, she finally managed to get a job to some "big city hospital" and was head nurse in no time. Then, there was the issue of Keith.
"Keith proposed to me again," she told me one day. "I didn't say yes this time. I told him not yet."
I was floored. I knew that Margaret was going to wait on any second marriage and I expected it. However, I didn't think she'd wait this long. It had been a few years since she and Keith had met and taken each other up as lovers. She was not pregnant and had plans to be eventually. Her clock was ticking though and even I knew it.
"What are you waiting for?" I asked her eagerly. "He seems like the perfect man for you. He drinks like you, appreciates you and lets you be an independent woman. He doesn't hold the past against you. What more can you ask for?"
"Did you know that Keith is also divorced?" Margaret sounded hurt.
I was mildly amazed. "No, I didn't. So? What difference does that make? Did they have children together?"
"No," Margaret said, "but she's been a thorn in his side. She is trying to get alimony. Alimony! They weren't even married long. She said that it's for restitution. There was nothing to compensate for! She pretended that she was pregnant, they married and then, she supposedly miscarried. Keith divorced her within a year."
I whistled. That was a common way for a woman to make money Stateside if they were single and looking for trouble or divorced and picking a fight. Margaret is lucky that Donald moved on and didn't take more than his fair share. Keith seems to have the woman who would do anything to cheat on him, including his greatest happiness.
"It's holding everything up," Margaret gushed. "I don't want to be married to someone still tied to his ex-wife. I don't her in the picture."
"I don't think he'll be another Frank Burns."
"No, but there is still a connection to her, like a ghost behind me. I am so afraid, Jeanie. He might keep catering to her needs and not mind to ours."
"Margaret, I doubt Keith will return to his wife. He has to move on. If he loves you enough, he will stand up to her in court and deny her the money. It's his post-military pay. There should not be a lot for her to take."
"You don't understand!" she screamed at me, stringing up profanity that would make a sailor blush. Then, she hung up.
The next day, Margaret called back. She apologized for her behavior and we continued our conversation, like nothing happened. This time, she went on about how her father was not pleased she decided to leave the Army and a civilian life He thought there was something else in the Army for her. There was a cushy position in Guam or some promotion somewhere in West Germany. All she had to do was ask.
"I've never used my father for any gain," I informed her. "You worked alone on your merits. In civilian life, it means everything."
"You think so?" Margaret was confused. "And here I was, thinking that because I was head nurse, they'd automatically make me one. So, this is because of experience?"
"That's the way. I think someone loves your Army experience and wants to utilize it."
"Well, I'd rather that it benefit other people."
"What did you have in mind? I thought you loved the hospital."
"Oh, I do, Jeanie. I really do. I just like what your father-in-law is doing. He helps his town, no matter what thy can pay. It's a gift we have. Who else has it? Who can we inspire?"
I agreed with her and continued speaking of her plans. Margaret had so many of them that I could not see her having a strong head for business. But she had some good ideas and I hoped Keith was able to hold them all down and use them rationally, one rational thread at a time. Margaret was severely disorganized in civilian life. There was nothing giving her order anymore.
Then, after the chatterbox named Margaret, there was Trapper. In the couple of years since we'd been home, he'd become more and more depressed, to the point where some days, he'd skip work and just drink or contemplate killing himself. Louise was always nagging at him and putting him down. There was no escape except for the girls and even so, Louise took them away from him. She wanted nothing more than to hurt him and to paint him as the abusive and dismissive father and husband.
Trapper was more of a letter writer and a face-to-face talker than one who called. He wrote beautiful letters full of despair, darkness and death. Sometimes, they were laced with some beer and stained with a million drunken tears. Other times, I heard the laughter in those written words or those visits. Korea could not leave him. He had been broken and he had to patch up what was left behind.
Worse, Louise was seeking a divorce. She found out the full extent of his infidelities in Korea and could not bear his hours at Boston Mercy and just had enough. She could not stand for his indiscretions and his misery and had to run away. Louise was vicious too, trying to pull his pay and his life from him. However, in the end, Trapper managed to accept the inevitable and he made the divorce quick, simple and painless. All he had to think about was Kathy and Becky.
They are my light, Jeanie. I cannot live without them. I had Shannon go home. Becky and Kathy need to be with me, to be home.
They were desperate words that didn't quite come true. The conclusion of the custody hearings did not come to Becky and Kathy being with Trapper completely. The court granted joint custody until the pair were legal adults. It was a few years away. For Trapper, it was an eternity. It meant Kathy and Becky were under Louise's thumb and not free to see him. He could not discredit their mother though.
Not the woman I still love. I cannot do that to her, Jeanie. Louise has raised them when I could not. She was an angel to have me in matrimony.
I tried to soothe the beast and found that I could not. I liked to turn to his successor, BJ. He and Peg has been busy rebuilding their lives together. They created their new dream home from BJ's salary as a doctor and kept the girls busy with a postwar world that didn't believe in the horrific beauty of the hills exploding.
There were days when BJ had a hard time adjusting to this new life. Peg would write pages to me, gushing forth about the sleepless nights, the endless walks and the untouched coffee. She couldn't shake BJ from his reverie. He'd pace the house, back and forth, for hours. He'd ignore Peg and his daughters. Then, he'd snap out of it and be well.
I cannot ask you for what happened, Jeanie. I can ask you for understanding. How can I reach him? BJ is so far away at times.
It was so different for Peg. There was not much I could tell her in a letter. It was easier to speak to her on the phone. Even so, it was difficult. There was no way to describe being in Korea without having her be there. And that was an ongoing battle itself.
I knew that Peg was in a category on her own. She was the wife left behind to care for a young daughter. There were not too many people she could relate to. Her revelations revealed to me a strong woman, but one that could not connect to other housewives. She alone had to finance a house, work several jobs and care for Erin. She did maintenance on the house, bartered with mechanics and secured their spot in the civilian world. There was nothing weak about that.
Even so, there was something about her I could not reach. Inside, there were the old days when she was alone and without BJ. They hardly had family in California to begin with. She had to rely on her wits to keep afloat. I admired her for it, but also could not see how she survived. Her words meant almost nothing to me.
~00~
We all longed for hilarity and gaiety as war dimmed lighter and lighter. We tried to exchange as much positive events in our lives as possible. We were acting like an extended family we could not shake off and it was wonderful to be that close. Better than that was the way we attempted to keep up with each other distracted.
Honestly, what amused us the most (other than Father Mulcahy and the Potters and Klingers getting along on their own) was Frank Burns. While we were all worried about plagues and floods, he finally divorced pissy little Louise. Instead of taking all of his money away from her though, he went bonkers…and traveled the country, looking for Margaret.
It was insane. His exploits were legendary. It was not just the ones he did in Korea that amused us to no end. He'd go into department stores with blonde wigs and pretend they were Margaret. He'd suck on their toes before the police showed up. Then, when he saw women close in appearance to the former head nurse, he'd go crazy.
"It was like he was in Korea, all over again," Greg recounted to me on the telephone once. "He would act like he was in Margaret Houlihan's tent. He'd be spitting boots. He pretended to paint toenails once."
"Did he try on bras yet?" I asked.
"In a Macy's in New York City, size C34," Greg told me with a snicker. "The saleswomen in there screamed and chased him three blocked before running into a horse and carriage. Then, when the police tried catching up, they lost him in Central Park. It was a chase!"
"I hope he didn't think he and Margaret were going for a ride."
"No. I don't think so. Jesus, Jeanie, I have to get General Morrison's men back on this. They're pretty helpful in getting Burns on a leash."
"What is going to happen to him, when you catch him?"
"He's gonna be locked up. He won't be able to come out this time."
The thought chilled me. Frank Burns, locked up for life? I couldn't believe it. It was tough. Sure, he was a doctor and formally from a M*A*S*H and the VA. The CIA couldn't think of putting him away…could they? It was ludicrous to think so.
"Jeanie, you there?" Greg's staticky voice rang out. "Being across the pond isn't grand, you know."
"Yes, I am still here." I looked out the window. Annabeth and Shannon were playing on the porch. "I'm sorry. I am watching my girls."
"You're obsessed with them," Greg noted. "You sure you don't need a head doctor?"
"No, I am not obsessed. I am happy."
"You sure as hell want to tell me something else?"
"That Frank Burns being put under lock and key makes me want to shout?"
I almost heard the crinkle of a smile cross Greg's face. "You got it, Jeanie. I'll give a call if anything changes."
I guess what astonished me the most was that Daddy showed up. Weeks before Christmas 1955, when Dad and Hawkeye were at the clinic, he paid a visit. There was no call and no letter to herald his coming. Just as he came and went into my life, there he was, at the door. There was something different about him though, as I stared at him in astonishment in the doorway. Daddy had changed, almost softened from the bitter man that hated the world for taking his wife. He was almost human.
"Jeanette, can I come in?" he asked politely.
I didn't know what to say. Shannon and Annabeth were having breakfast behind me. The sticky mess I saw on the dining room table meant that they were playing. I was stuck. I wanted to run away, to keep that distance between us, and continue my normal life. All he brought was bad news. I could not take that anymore.
I stepped aside anyway, dreading the impact. "I have coffee in the kitchen."
"Black," he said.
I picked up the order. Daddy had already settled with my daughters and tsked over the mess they made. He did not bother to correct them though. Just as I came from the kitchen with his cup, he was instigating a food fight. Shannon learned that he was a dark man long ago and was wary as she fought back. Annabeth was shier, but giggled nonetheless as she ducked under the table and then tossed her glass of orange juice around.
When I was slapped in the face with buttered toast, I had it. "Ok, I think that's enough for now!"
I put Daddy's cup down and ran to the sink to wash my face and to grab anything to clean up. Daddy was behind me, mumbling about finding anything to clean up. In all of the years I had known him, he had never helped me this way. He was not normal to be rummaging through my kitchen, inquiring about cleaning supplies. It was preposterous!
I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I can take care of it. Thank you."
"Then, let me take care of your daughters," he insisted.
"I can do it."
"Jeanette, give me a chance. I have changed little girls before. This is not my first time."
I didn't think Daddy had the capability to take care of children. I also believed that he never cared for me. Memories always came to me in snippets filled with Mom and my brothers. Daddy was never a part of the picture except to scream, drink and make scenes. I always stayed away from him if I could.
"Go ahead." I gave in. "I'll check in on you."
Daddy grunted something similar to not being trusted and went on his way. Before I was done cleaning the dining room, he had Annabeth and Shannon totally wiped down and in clean, ironed clothes. Shannon wasn't too pleased about the prospect of being babied by her grandfather, but Annabeth was the opposite. Oddly enough, she was attached to Daddy.
"Why don't we take a walk?" Daddy suggested. "The sea isn't so bad."
I conceded with him. I didn't think the house was so untidy. Immediately, Shannon and Annabeth had their coats on and were out the back door. Daddy and I followed. While the girls raced each other up and down the snowy sands towards the wetlands, we eyed them. He linked his arm to mine, taking in the chilly waves as they hit his boots.
"What bad news are you bringing?" I asked him cautiously. "Every time I see, there is nothing except death."
"Daughter, you are so suspicious of me?" Daddy shook his head. "I don't bring anything. I can tell you all of my work since Korea. That itself is bad news."
"What war are we going to join?" I sounded as bitter as he used to be. "What country are we destroying in the name of democracy?"
"Vietnam," Daddy confirmed. "Do you remember what they said about it?"
"The Communists were overrunning the French," I recited from memory.
"Well, these Communists have caught our attention. I've been over there, Jeanette. They are more pitiless than the North Koreans."
"Are you telling me that we are going to try to conquer some northern land because we hate some person's government?"
"North Vietnam is Communist. We cannot allow it to spread."
"But do we have to keep having wars to make that point?"
Daddy was taken aback by my statement. "Of course, Jeanie. We have to go to war. We cannot allow Communism to take over the world. To show that, we have to do it by force."
I bit my tongue. I knew better than to argue with my father. I saw the numbers as humans when he did not. It was part of his upbringing and his adulthood. He was Mars and longed for war above all things.
But something changed in him in seconds. "We cannot defeat them," he admitted to me quietly. "They are a powerful foe."
"What?" Now, I was mildly surprised. "If we cannot stop it by force, as you say, wouldn't that defeat the purpose of your intention?"
"The Communists are far superior than we are and know the jungles better than we do," Daddy continued, ignoring my last statement. "Their hold is spreading in Asia. We cannot keep spending millions of dollars on countries we cannot conquer."
It was the first time I heard his voice shake. My father had confessed so much to me already and all of it without flinching. Now, he was devastated. His theory of world domination for democracy was crumbing beneath his feet. Our empire was falling apart and he could not be there to pick up the pieces, for it was impossible to.
I smiled and curled together. "Sir, why won't we see where the girls went to? I am sure they're out of sight now."
I was exaggerating. Shannon and Annabeth were little dots in the distance, at least six houses from home and near the river and wetlands that dump its watery loads into the ocean. They were fine. I wanted to makes sure that Daddy will be the same.
"You know, when you were born, your mother was so disappointed," Daddy said out of the blue. "She felt like she failed me. She banished you from her sights mostly and she doted on…on your brother. I felt so sorry for you, the little runt of the litter. But you're a fighter, like these Communists are. They are so small, but yet they have a mighty voice. They never disappoint."
Being compared to Communists aside (that was a little alarming), I thought back to all of the Chinese and North Koreans we dealt this. The humane ones were so scared. They sought food and water, like we did. They had emotions and feelings too. One was even so gentle that I thought we'd manage to get him smuggled to the States.
I never thought Daddy would see them as human beings now. He was not hungry for their deaths anymore. In his grey eyes, I saw nothing more than wistful peace. He longed to run away, far away from the ideas of his past. He could not reconcile the two and it was hurting him.
"I will suggest little military action," he announced. "I do not believe we can hold out against Vietnam."
I could have hugged him. "I think it'll be wise," I said. "I think we should turn away from being the police. Now, did you ever see the wetlands? They're almost frozen this time of year."
Following lyrics are "Turpentine" by Brandi Carlile.
