Ok, so this is just a short drabble from Hawkeye when he's back home at his own practice after the war. I'm planning on writing some more MASH fanfiction in the future. Hope you like it!
Mystical Dreams
Strangely Missing
It was a funny sort of situation; not the humorous type, but rather a strangely ironic one.
Hawkeye never in his wildest dreams imagined he would ever think of the war in this way, yet here he was contemplating the small things that he had taken as a given back then.
His glass of straight scotch in hand, and stethoscope dangling around his neck, he leaned back into his high backed leather office chair and thought of how much stronger a home brewed martini from the still would be. A hunk of junk that miraculous mechanism had looked like, and yet, it was the beauty of the liquor it produced that had soothed so many bitter wounds. It was small things like that that Hawkeye was now without; those things he had taken for granted. Like the familiar ringing tone of 'Mail Call' as the swamp door clanged open and shut behind the footsteps of Corporal Radar O'Reilly, or the sound of mischievous laughter coming from an old best friend as he sipped another martini, and the yell for a military salute from an infuriated major with bouncing blond hair, even the sight of a bright red cocktail dress held up on hairy Lebanese legs.
With all of the sickening and horrifying experiences the war had created Hawkeye still found himself expecting to see, hear, touch and taste all of those memories that he had become accustomed to ever day. The things that had not been terrifying or horrific, the things that had made the terrifying and horrific ideals better in the tiniest of ways. The simple things he found himself, strangely enough, missing.