Hello there, folks! Here is the nineteenth chapter of this story!

Now for this chapter, Andrew writes a second later to his mom from the 4077. Only this time, he will inform her about how the guys are doing, and update her on some changes, such as Radar's departure, Klinger being the new company clerk, and becoming a couple with Margaret.

Also worth mentioning is that some of the scenes provided in this chapter might be based on certain scenes from specific episodes with Andrew in the mix. That being said, the scenes might be more concise than those in the fifth chapter.

With all that said and done, let's cut to the chapter! How will Andrew's letter to his mom turn out? Find out now!


AT THE M*A*S*H 4077:

It was a seemingly normal day in South Korea. The war was going on, missiles, grenades, and snipers were going off, and the 4077 was running as it should be. Fortunately, the 4077 didn't get many casualties, and except for a few, not much time was needed to be spent in OR, much to some of the medical staff's relief.

Currently, in the mess tent, Andrew was spending some time alone at one of the tables, with a pencil in his hand, and a couple of blank pieces of paper right in front of him. He's was planning on sending another letter to his mom. He wanted to update her on some of the changes that took place here since he didn't want her to be left in the dark about her son. It was only fair since he wrote her about it the first time.

After doing some thinking, Andrew was finally able to begin writing the letter to his mom. Taking the pencil, he started to write on the blank piece of paper.

Dear Mom,

This is your son Andrew Peterson writing you another letter, letting you know exactly how I'm doing at the M*A*S*H 4077 in South Korea. Things are running normally around here, with the wounded coming in and having to be treated in OR, and the war remaining as brutal as it ever was. But I'm not complaining.

I should probably tell you about how some of the guys here are doing. Most of them are doing okay. I'm in good hands here, so you don't have to worry about that mom.

Andrew spent a few seconds thinking about who to write about first. He then came up with someone and resumed writing.

I should start by telling you about Radar. Sadly, mom, Radar is not positioned in the 4077 anymore. He went back home to Ottumwa, Iowa. After some tragic news of his Uncle Ed passing away, the Colonel gave him a proper discharge, and Radar resigned from his position as company clerk in our outfit before being sent back home.

I do miss him. But it does bring me joy to know that he's back in the US, where he belongs. And that he never has to worry about being in the middle of the Korean War again. And I'm proud of that.

There are a few other changes here, but I'll get to those later. Right now, I should let you know how some of the others are doing. First off, I'm gonna talk about Hawkeye Pierce.

Pierce hasn't changed that much. He was teasing me for a while, but after a certain instant occurred, he got off my case about it. Despite this, he's still the same old obnoxious prankster that I told you about. I really hate to inform you that he even pulled a prank on me once.

Andrew was a little hesitant with this part. He didn't know how she'd react to it. She has always been protective of her son, no matter how old he has gotten. But seeing that a solution resulted from said prank made things even, he decided to inform her, while shrugging his shoulders.

Just the other day, I was on my way to the shower tent, ready to take a shower, when suddenly, Pierce pulled a string from the side of the tent, a trash can filled with trash turned over, and dumped trash on me, before the trash can hit me. I was so humiliated, you wouldn't guess how I reacted to it.


Andrew was shown heading for the shower tent, in his navy blue bathrobe. Being in a unit such as this was enough to get one like Major Peterson dirty and sweaty. And that's why taking a shower was a great idea.

Hawkeye saw Andrew approaching the shower tent from the side and got ready to pull the string that was in his hand. Andrew walked over to the door and was about to head inside to hit the showers.

But before he could open the door, Hawkeye pulled the string, and before the Major knew it, he felt trash being dumped onto him, triggering him to freeze in place. He was pelted by the filthy junk that he cringed, and he smelled awful. Before he could say anything about it, Pierce cut the string and resulted in the trash can falling right on top of Andrew.

Andrew was actually shocked by this at first. But it was quickly changed into pure annoyance when he heard Hawkeye laugh at this and then stepped out to show himself. Andrew pulled the trash can off and had it over his head. Furrowing his eyebrows, he stared at the cackling Hawkeye, as he started to piece it together. Hawkeye just pulled this prank on him. And he didn't like it.

"PIERCE!" The major bellowed furiously. "That wasn't funny!"

"What? There's no need to give me some trash talk," Hawkeye joked with a smirk. "Whoever smelt it, dealt it."

Furiously gritting his teeth, he took advantage of the trash can he was holding and reacted according

"I dealt you, Pierce!" Andrew screamed as he hurled the trash can in Pierce's direction.

Unfortunately, Pierce was quick enough to run off before the trash can could make contact with him. Instead, it hit the end of a post, where it then crashed with a thud and fell onto the ground with a dent in the center.

Six. Long. HOURS! That's how long it took for me to remove all the garbage off of me and the bathrobe, before I showered with my bathrobe on, scrubbed off every stain of trash on my body and robe! And then I had to hang up my bathrobe so it could air dry for a bit. I was not pleased by it.

As Andrew was scrubbing off the trash in a vigorous manner, making sure his body and bathrobe were completely free of stains, gunk, and slime, he heard some shouting outside the shower tent. Someone was lashing out at Pierce for what he did to Andrew, and it came from a woman.

"PIERCE YOU JUVENILE INSENSITIVE BOZO OF AN IDIOT! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO A SWEET WONDERFUL MAN LIKE ANDREW?! HOW DARE YOU DUMP TRASH ON HIM!? MAY I REMIND YOU THAT HE'S MY BOYFRIEND!?"

Andrew recognized that voice belonging to Margaret, who must've seen the prank being pulled on him, and he was strangely grateful for that. Nonetheless, it was still painful to clean up all this filth that resulted from the prank.

But don't worry mom. I'll have you know that I got even with him, by pulling a prank of my own. Well, I had some help from the head nurse. And what was done was show him how it felt to those who are depicted in dirty risque photos. Needless to say, the joke was entirely on him, mom.


"I'm puttin' on my top hat! Tyin' on my white tie! Brushin' off my tails!" Pierce was heard singing in the shower tent, pulling off some sopranos as Andrew tip-toed to the door.

Andrew couldn't help but overhearing his singing. He had to wonder why he sang like that. It left him entirely confused. But he decided not to think about it. Now was the time for him to put this prank into action.

Not making a sound, he slowly opened the door a crack and took a glance. He saw Pierce taking a shower with his eyes closed. Perfect. This'll give him the chance to do his duty.

Slowly reaching his arm in, he silently grabbed a hold of Hawkeye's robe; the only source of covering from revealing his nude body. With it in his hand, he put a sticky note in its place, explaining what he had to do with the bathrobe. With it placed properly, Andrew snuck out, closed the door without making a sound, and then he ran off to the Swamp. Now he has to wait for Pierce to be done.

In less than ten minutes, Hawkeye was done with the shower as he turned the water off. Shaking the water out of his face, he slowly opened his eyes to find a shocking discovery. His red bathrobe was gone.

"I could have sworn that I had it in here...what's this," he noticed a sticky note in the spot that it was placed in.

Peeling the note off, he then read what was written on it for a couple of moments. This is what was written:

To Cpt. 'Hawkeye' Pierce,

I'm sorry for doing this on short notice, but I had to take your bathrobe so it can be cleaned up in the laundry tent. I'm doing you a favor by washing off all the stains that I found. I hope you're alright with it.

Love from,

Maj. Andrew Peterson

P.S. Your bathrobe has been cleaned and is hanging up in the Swamp. Come and get it if your 'man' enough. Haha.

Hawkeye was shocked by this. Never mind the fact that the 'love' part seemed pretty sarcastic. Andrew decided to take his bathrobe, wash it up in the laundry room, and hang it up in the Swamp without his permission. He had no idea what this was about at the moment, but he couldn't stay in the shower tent for much longer. Other people need to take a shower next.

Feeling reluctant, Hawkeye creaked open the door, and poked his head out, making sure that nobody was around. Once the coast was clear, the captain dashed out of there, hiding behind some bushes, jeeps, and some tents. He kept doing this until he made it to the entrance of the Swamp. From there, he opened the door and expected to be alone with no one around.

But to his discomfort, as soon as he opened the door, some female voices were heard upon his entry. And wouldn't you know it? On his bed was the entire nursing staff in the compound, or what could fit. The remaining nurses were standing around his bed, making giggles and comments about Hawkeye being nude.

"WHOA!"

"Get a load of this girls," one of the nurses giggled. "Pierce now knows what it's like to be naked."

"Yeah. That is very 'nude' of you."

"Who's naked now?"

"How does it feel to have a high heel on the other end of the foot, peeping Tom?"

"Alright nurses. I think you've seen enough of me for one lifetime," Hawkeye insisted. "Now kindly leave me and my dignity to its peace and isolation. What do you say?"

"But Pierce, we've only started to enjoy the scenery. After all, you seemed man enough to come in here," that voice came from Margaret, who was on Andrew's bed with the perpetrator himself. Both of them cocked a smirk and had a drink in a martini glass in their hands. "This'll make a great riot."

"Don't sweat it, Pierce," Andrew assured him jokingly. "It's not like you have done anything dirty previously!"

"Ah, if it isn't the bathrobe-napper himself," Pierce referred to Andrew, realizing that this was a trick to prank him for what he did earlier and that Margaret helped him by gathering the nursing staff here to wait for him. "Well played again, Andrew."

"Alright, alright nurses, that'll do for tonight," Margaret demanded with a smirk and a chuckle. "I think we've seen enough."

"Yeah. Be sure to turn the other cheek Pierce," Andrew giggled, his arm placed around Margaret's back. "After all, we're in for a full moon tonight!"

The two of them clinked their glasses, drank the beverage down, and made some pig snorting noises before they started laughing again at Hawkeye's nude appearance. The captain then barked at the nurses to get out, which they did. He then demanded Andrew and Margaret to get out so he can get changed. They got up and left with the empty cups, laughing while at it. Once both of them were out, Hawkeye slammed the door and went right to changing up, grumbling about how the joke was on him.

So yeah mom. I got back at him, and it was worth it. I'm glad that I took care of that, and I showed him that I'm definitely not a pushover, as I showed him once before.

Anyway, I think the next person that I should tell you about is the Padre himself; Father Mulcahy. He's still the same Chaplin that I told you about before in the last letter I wrote to you. I've attended several of his services since I've been in the outfit, and they were pretty decent.

Aside from that, I've learned something else about the Padre. Mom, did you know that he has taken a hobby in boxing? I didn't either. At least not until I saw part of it for myself the other day. At the same time, I also revealed to him how I know martial arts, and where I learned it from. Needless to say, it was a surprise for both of us.


In Father Mulcahy's tent, we see the Padre himself in a grey sweatshirt, while wearing boxing gloves, as he was shown boxing a punching bag. Even though he, the resident priest in this M*A*S*H, took an interest in boxing as a pastime. Surely there was nothing that he couldn't enjoy this when not holding his services and acting as the Chaplin, right?

As he continued to box, a knock was heard at the door, which got his attention.

"Come in," he responded, not halting his boxing practice for a second.

Opening the door and stepping in was Andrew, who looked like he had something important to tell him.

"Hey, Padre? I was wondering if you-" Andrew cut himself off when he saw that the Padre was boxing with a punching bag. "Whoa! Father, I didn't know you could box?!"

"Oh," this caught Father Mulcahy's attention as he came to a stop. "Well yeah. It's...a pastime that I am into if I must say."

Andrew noticed how modest the Padre was being there. Considering how he himself doesn't think so highly of himself, he could understand what he was getting at. Still, it didn't mean he couldn't compliment him on what he saw.

"Well Padre, I must say that I am impressed," he smiled at him. "You are pretty good."

"Yes, well, thanks for that, I suppose," the Chaplin gave him a sheepish smile before asking. "Major Peterson, do you box?"

Andrew shook his head humbly. "No Padre. I don't box. However, I do know how to do something else."

"Oh," Father Mulcahy was curious. "Pray tell, what is it you're referring to?"

"Martial arts," Andrew answered. "I've learned some martial arts before joining this unit. Namely karate."

"Is that so," the Chaplin wondered. "Well, you are more than welcome to demonstrate to me...if you want to that is."

"Sure thing. I'll be right back," Andrew walked out of the tent for a few seconds, only to come back in with an old worn-out wooden chair. "I'll use this as a demonstration. Colonel Potter threw this chair out anyway, saying that it couldn't hold another person sitting in it without breaking. So it should be alright."

"Seems reasonable enough," Father Mulcahy rubbed his chin in anticipation. "Please do continue Major."

"I'd thought you'd never ask," Andrew smiled before raising his right hand out. "YAAAA!"

Andrew then slammed his right hand through the chair. And with relative ease, he broke the chair into pieces, with no splinters appearing from the act. Father Mulcahy was rather impressed by this. He had to know how he learned to do that.

"Wow Major. That was impressive," he praised him. "How did you learn to do that?"

"Aw, well it's nothing special," Andrew humbly rubbed his head. "It was just something that I learned when I was going through army training when I first signed up. It was something that needed to learn in case of emergencies, or likewise."

"I see," something else came to the Padre that he had to ask. "How come I never seen you demonstrate this before? You really did seem like you could have made use of it before."

"Well, the answer to that is simple Padre. I don't like showing off," Andrew answered honestly. "I'm not one to brag about my skills and go on about how they are the best. I don't see myself like that. And I never used it in situations where I'm angry since it wouldn't do me any good on my record, and I could be court-martialed."

"That is understandable Major," Father Mulcahy agreed. "Better to think of others than to think about oneself. Truly a humble attitude if I've ever seen one. And I get why you wouldn't use it on those doctors who got you furious. You have a clean record son, and it would be sad if it was soiled."

"Exactly," Andrew nodded, crossing his arms. "And besides, if I learned something about martial arts, it's that I should never use it for revenge or kicks. And that it's necessary only with self-defense."

"Those are wise words Major," the Padre admitted.

"They are," Andrew agreed. "Plus, I wouldn't get that angry that I'd have to use them. However, I will use them if I have to protect myself, and those that I'm close to."

"That is an honorable attitude," the priest remarked. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you'd use it to defend some of your friends in this compound, including your significant other."

Andrew knew exactly what Father Mulcahy was referring to, and he didn't disagree with him, especially since it was true.

"Yeah. I would use it to protect Margaret if it was necessary," he remarked bashfully.

"Amen," the Padre nodded. "Anyway, wasn't there something you needed from me before you got distracted?"

"Oh? Oh yes, there is," Andrew got to the point. "I wanted to tell you that the Bibles that you asked for have arrived in the compound. Would you like me to get them here, or get someone else?"

"No, that will not be necessary. I'll be happy to get them," Father Mulcahy told him. "I could use a breath of fresh air anyway."

"Fine by me," Andrew nodded. "I'll clean up the mess that I made for you, okay?"

"That would be appreciated," Father Mulcahy said. "Thanks. I'm happy that we had this talk."

"Same here," Andrew agreed as Father Mulcahy gave his farewell before leaving.

Andrew decided to pick up the pieces of the now broken chair and bring them to the trashcan to be scrapped.

So you see, I was very modest when I explained to the Padre about my knowledge in martial arts. It really does make a good impression. And I'm glad we talked about it.

Anyway, the next person that I should tell you about is whining Winchester...I mean Charles Emerson Winchester III. I should start by saying that he no longer is upset that another Major is in the outfit. Despite this, he's just as snobby and boorish as ever, not to mention lazy.

I mean it, mom. He refuses to take part in anything involving janitorial, sanitizing, washing, scrubbing, you name it. He feels entitled that a Winchester was never meant to clean and do a lady's job. Can you believe it?

One example of this attitude was the time the compound fell under salmonella poisoning due to a Thanksgiving turkey dinner gone bad. I had gone to a conference at the 8063rd with Winchester and Margaret so we weren't affected. This was the second time I interacted with the 8063rd.

But that's beside the point. When we came back, we had to take on cleaning and nursing details, all three of us along with the Padre. Needless to say, Winchester did not take the decision well.


In Post-Op, a lot of the personnel staff was affected by the salmonella poisoning, including Klinger who was hiding in his office out of fear of being attacked by the other sick staff members. Father Mulcahy was full of energy since he felt so useful to the unit. The three Majors were examining the sick and less fortunate, and it was the head nurse who knew what to do.

"What we need to do is help these sick people and do some sanitizing," Nurse Houlihan said.

"So in other words, nursing?" Winchester guessed with a look of disgust.

"Okay," Andrew was all for it as he beamed with enthusiasm. "I'll be happy to help out Margaret!"

"Some more than others. In any case, I'll just pop out for a quick shower and a short nap," Charles was being lazy. "Let me know if a doctor's needed."

Before he could walk out that door, Margaret had to threaten him to stop.

"Step one foot outside that door, buster, and you'll need a doctor!" She barked.

"Oh, you're in trouble," Andrew taunted in a joking manner.

Charles disregarded Andrew's comment and had to run it by him again. "Would you mind repeating that, Major Houlihan?"

"You heard me the first time," Margaret yelled. "There are bedpans to be cleaned, linen to be washed!"

"I'll be willing to help out with all of that stuff dear," Andrew saluted her.

"I know you will help out, darling," Margaret told him softly before glaring at Charles. "But a certain someone needs to stop being a lazy slob and help out! You can start with the linen."

"Start what with the linen, Major?" Charles huffed.

"Washing it!" Margaret hollered.

"What did you think she meant; burn it?!" Andrew retorted sarcastically.

"Not in the slightest," Charles retorted. "But really, surely you jest."

"Okay," she huffed while rolling her eyes. "You can start with the bedpans and work your way up."

"Absolutely not! Absolutely and unequivocally not," Charles refused, approaching the two other majors. "Me, wash and clean? I'm a doctor, not a woman!"

"What's wrong with cleaning stuff like a woman anyway," Andrew queried. "Back at home, I used to clean and sanitize everything in the house just so I could help my mom out. That was before I was drafted into this unit. My point is, I have no problem with doing nursing work, Winchester. So why should you?"

"Because as silly as this may seem, I'm a man, not a maid," Charles retorted. "I refuse to stoop to such a level."

"You got no choice Charles," Margaret threatened. "Andrew and I are going to do it, and so will you. And if you don't, then I hope you'll like an imprint of my boot tattooing your hind for the remainder of the war."

"You can make that two boots, with mine included if you backtalk my girlfriend anymore Winchester," Andrew backed her up.

"So, what's it going to be, Major Winchester," Margaret queried, as both of them were glaring at him.

Charles knew that he wasn't getting out of this since these two together were insufferable if it was necessary...to him at least. Letting out a sigh of defeat, he gave in, for now.

Do you see what I mean? He is really lazy. It took Margaret and me to threaten him to get a move on. And it didn't stop there either. When they were arguing about sheets being washed, Winchester called Margaret a...well, I rather not use the word. But it really set me off.


In the laundry room, Father Mulcahy, Andrew, and Charles were washing the bedsheets, with the Padre being in the perkiest mood, Andrew was somewhere in between (leaning more towards enthusiastic) and Charles was downright grouchy. Andrew did find Father Mulcahy's upbeat mood to be a little out of place.

"Uh, I don't mean anything bad by it, but washing sheets isn't that fun," Andrew said sheepishly. "We are just doing the right thing by doing all this."

"Ughhhhh, can these sheets get any cleaner?" Winchester whined.

"On the other hand," Andrew turned to face Charles. "At least it's better than how whining Winchester is acting!"

"I beg your pardon," Charles snapped. "Can't you see that I'm at least cleaning these godforsaken sheets!?"

"Well you don't need to be so antsy and negative about it Major," Andrew retorted.

Before Charles could fire another insult, Margaret came in, directing her attention at Charles with an irate tone.

"Major, when I say I want clean sheets, I want them clean, not battleship gray." She scolded Charles.

"Major, I have slaved over this cesspool until my back aches and my hands are pruning!" Charles bit back.

"I think you have more to worry about than just pruning hands," Andrew added his comment, crossing his arms.

"You stay out of this Major Peterson," Charles huffed before turning back to Margaret. "Major Houlihan, I was not put upon this earth to scrub bed linens. I hereby abdicate my tub and washboard."

"That suits me fine, Mr. I'm-a-doctor, not-a-woman," Margaret retorted. "Because there's a stack of bedpans outside of post-op with your name on 'em!"

"Hah! I'd sooner do the Lindy with Eleanor Roosevelt." Charles scoffed back.

"Do you want us to make you eat those words, Winchester," Andrew growled.

"Majors, please," Father Mulcahy tried to ease the tension between the majors, but to no avail.

"I'm up to my epaulets in sick people, and he whines about doing a little laundry," Margaret reveals in a scoff, pointing towards Charles.

"And here he is being a whining Winchester," Andrew added.

"Butt out Peterson," he snapped at Andrew before snapping at Margaret. "I am trying to remember that you are a woman and a fellow officer!"

"Don't patronize me, skinhead!" Margaret chastised him.

"You're not in charge here, bimbo!" Charles insulted her back.

Now Andrew felt his pupils shrink. That was one insult that he never thought Charles would use. He knew girls in high school that were bimbos. And Margaret was far from one. Furrowing his eyebrows, Andrew then stepped in and reacted accordingly.

"Now wait a minute Winchester," he got into his face and bellowed angrily. "Do NOT call Margaret a bimbo! Do you hear me!?"

"But she called me a skinhead!" Charles howled.

"Margaret is not a bimbo..." Andrew warned, glowering at him.

"Why am I not surprised," Charles groaned. "Considering how you are like her little dunce of a soldier!"

Now it was Margaret's turn to lash out at him again. "Don't you dare call Andrew a dunce, Winchester! Andrew isn't a dunce, and I better not hear you call him that again! Am I understood?!"

"Why shouldn't I? He does everything that you tell him to do! For all I know, he's like your little associate soldier!"

"Associate!? Now wait just a minute, buster," Andrew got heated again as he boomed. "I am not her associate, and she's not my associate! We treat each other as equals. That means that neither of us are better or worse than the other! Margaret and I are both equally important, and we are to be treated as equals! Is that clear Major Winchester!?"

"Well, Winchester? Are you proud of yourself," Margaret spoke on his behalf again. "Andrew has never given me problems when I want him to do something like simple ladies' work. He obeys my command perfectly. Why can't you be like him? Are you that lazy to want to do a woman's job? Or are you more into being self-absorbed with your inflated ego?"

"How dare you," Charles growled, having about enough of this.

The three of them started arguing like crazy. In this case, it was two against one because Andrew was siding with Margaret. It was getting outrageous that Father Mulcahy had to whistle to get them to stop and remind them about what they have to do, and why they have to do it. Apologies are exchanged, and they attempt to settle down and get back on topic again.

"I'm sorry for how I acted Padre. I just lost it when Winchester called Margaret a bimbo," Andrew sighed before facing Charles with a stern look. "Remember Winchester, Margaret is not a bimbo. Don't ever call her that again. Do you understand?"

"Ahem...crystal clear," Charles did not argue back unless he wanted to escalate further. They then got back to what had to be done and whatnot.

Yeah, mom. I was angry that Charles said that word, especially towards Margaret. She even thanked me for coming to her defense.

I'll get to her later. For now, I should move on to another person who has been doing well in the 4077. How about I discuss with you the last person from the Swamp that I haven't talked about yet in this letter?

BJ Hunnicutt hasn't changed all that much either. He's still happily married to Peg and he's waiting to return home to his wife and daughter. He is so faithful to her, I doubt that they'll ever separate. In fact, Peg had even sent Hunnicutt some cookies that she made. Why just the other day, he received a package from her, which contained the cookies that I'm referring to.


In the Swamp, Andrew was making his way in, as he opened the door and entered. He saw BJ on his bed with a box that he got from the mail.

"Hey Hunnicutt," he greeted. "What did you get in that box?"

"Oh, this," he turned to face him. "It's a gift that I got from Peg."

"You don't say," Andrew sat down on his bed. "What did she send you."

"She just sent me a box of cookies that she made," BJ answered.

"That's nice," Andrew grinned. "You must really like them, huh?"

"You have no idea," Hunnicutt answered. "Before I was shipped to this unit, Peg used to make these cookies all the time."

"It must've been a great time," Andrew mused at the thought.

"It sure was." It was then BJ got an idea. Picking up the box, he turned to face Andrew. "Here. Would you like to have one?"

"Really," Andrew was surprised by this. "Would it be too much trouble?"

"It's no trouble at all," Hunnicutt insisted. "Considering it a gift. My treat. What do you say?"

Andrew decided not to pass up the opportunity. So he shrugged. "Alright."

Graciously, Andrew took one from the box and then ate it. After chewing and swallowing it, it was clear that the major was satisfied with it.

"Hey, this isn't bad Hunnicutt," he complimented.

"See? They're great, huh?"

"Yes," said Andrew. "I must say, you are a lucky man to have someone like Peg as your wife."

"You don't know how right you are," the captain commented. "I think about her every day."

"I can see that," Andrew said.

They then went back to doing what they were doing before.

So yeah, mom. That's how Hunnicutt is doing. Nothing else to be said there.

Now I think I should move on to the colonel himself. Colonel Potter has been doing fine as our commanding officer in charge of the outfit. And as I said before, I tend to look up to him as a father figure.

Anyway, another thing that he seems to enjoy doing is throwing horseshoes. No really. There was this one time where I saw him throwing horseshoes at a stake, and I was impressed. I never really thrown horseshoes until he suggested that I try it out.


Somewhere in the compound, Andrew was walking from the company clerk's office. As a result of Klinger going on R&R, he had been filling in on getting stuff done, albeit temporary. Truth be told, he couldn't find it in him to replace Klinger. He was only doing this until Klinger got back. As he was walking, he heard a clinking sound, followed by the Colonel hollering.

"Yes! Yippee Yi yay!" Colonel Potter sounded excited as Andrew looked to check it out. "Buffalo bagels! I almost had it!"

"Hey Colonel," Andrew approached him. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Major," Potter looked at him with a horseshoe in his hand. "I'm just throwing horseshoes towards that stake over there."

The Colonel pointed to the stake, and Andrew saw it for himself.

"Oh. I see," Andrew looked intrigued by it. "Sounds like fun. I never played it before."

"You haven't," Colonel Potter queried. "Well, you have no idea what you've been missing out on."

"Yeah," Andrew shrugged casually.

"In that case, why don't you give it a go," Colonel Potter offered, holding a horseshoe out to him.

"Uh, I don't know, sir," Andrew said calmly. "I don't think I can do it."

"You have an arm, don't you?" Potter asked.

"Yes." Andrew nodded.

"Then you can do it," Colonel Potter proclaimed. "I insist that you try it."

"Well, okay," Andrew accepted, taking the horseshoe. "But don't expect me to be any good."

"We'll find out in a moment," Potter encouraged. "Just give it your best throw."

"Alright," Andrew then took the horseshoe, aimed for the stake, and tossed it.

He managed to hit the stake with the horseshoe, but he was simply calm about it, as he always is. Colonel Potter, however, decided to make a compliment on it.

"Well, that wasn't a bad throw."

"Yeah, but it's not the best throw that was done," Major Peterson was being modest again. "I guess it was just luck is all."

"Son, luck isn't what a man needs to throw horseshoes. It requires patience, focus, and a good throwing arm," the colonel exclaimed.

"I suppose that's right," Peterson remarked.

"Here. Have a few more throws." Potter suggested.

"Ah, what the heck." The major didn't see any harm in doing it some more.

And that's what he did. For the next couple of minutes, he tossed more horseshoes. Some of them hit the stake, some of them missed. Andrew really didn't care about that though. It was kinda fun. And that's what matters to him.

"I must say, Andrew, you really are getting the hang of it," Colonel Potter told him. "You've got most of them to hit that stake."

"Yeah, I'll admit, this is kinda fun," Peterson smiled. "Either way, the only thing that matters is that I'm having fun with it."

"That's what I was thinking."

"Anyway Colonel, I wanted you to know that I filled out all the forms in the office, and I kept it in such a neat condition," he mentioned. "I've taken care of everything in Klinger's place."

"Good to know."

"I think it was a wise decision to let Klinger go on R&R," the major said. "I haven't been doing a bad job with it. But I don't see myself replacing Klinger."

"Yeah. Both of you have your different methods of handling things," Sherman Potter admitted. "I do appreciate you filling in for him while he's away."

"You don't think that he left Korea as part of a Section 8 scheme, do you?" Andrew asked worriedly.

"If he did, we'd get a call from the MPs, and he'd be listed as AWOL."

"That's true."

"Anyway, since you've done all the company clerk duties, let's throw some more horseshoes."

"Sure. I got nothing better to do at the moment anyway."

And so the two of them continued to throw horseshoes at the stake for a while, with Andrew feeling relief at having some spare time on his hands.

So yeah. The colonel and I played some horseshoes together, and it was fun. It was also great for me to handle things in the company clerk's office while Klinger was on R&R.

Speaking of whom mom, there are a couple of changes that happened with Klinger. After Radar departed, Klinger became the new company clerk. As a result, he stopped wearing dresses and he doesn't pull the Section 8 schemes that he used to anymore, with a few odd exceptions. I do miss them though since they were amusing. But I guess that's just how it is.

Anyway, Klinger and I had gone to a field outside of the 4077 recently, where he brought a shotgun. I don't think I told you this, but he asked me if I know how to skeet shoot with a shotgun. Since you remember how I was enlisted in the army and went through that training program, it should be clear as to how I did with the shotgun.


Andrew and Klinger were shown walking towards a plain field just outside the 4077. In Klinger's possession was a shotgun; one that looked oddly familiar. Andrew was right beside him as they were dressed up in clothes that resembled those worn by hunters. Peterson was a bit confused by what they were doing out here where they were possible landmines in the field.

"Uh Klinger, I know this might seem odd, but just what are we trying to do?" Andrew asked.

"Let me ask you a question," Klinger started. "Have you ever been skeet shooting?"

Andrew gave him a look that looked like he was crazy. "Are you kidding? Of course, I've been skeet shooting."

"Really? How?" Klinger queried.

"I've been trained in the army on how to use a rifle," Andrew deadpanned. "Klinger, everyone who is enlisted in the army must know how to use a rifle."

"Ah yes. I forgot that you were in the army," Klinger said.

"I wonder what gave that away," Andrew rolled his eyes. "In any case, I suppose we're going hunting with your shotgun, right?"

"Oh, this ain't my shotgun sir," Klinger said honestly.

"It's not," Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Then who's shotgun is it?"

"It's Major Winchester's shotgun."

"You mean you stole it from him," Andrew asked cautiously. He didn't appreciate the thought of anyone stealing something from anybody, even from someone like Winchester.

"Stole is a harsh word," Klinger insisted. "Let's say I bargained it from him."

"What do you mean," Andrew crossed his arms.

"I have to do him a favor in exchange for using this gun. I have to be his personal butler for the next three days and to be on time. No questions asked."

"I see," Peterson shook his head. "It would make sense that he'd make a butler out of you."

"In any case, I decided that we should go hunting."

"For what? Ducks?" Andrew asked. "Because ducks aren't exactly in season around this time. It's not duck season."

"I know that. That's why we aren't hunting ducks," Klinger told him. "We're hunting for pigeons."

"Pigeons," Andrew looked a little concerned by this. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Are you kidding? What's the worse that can happen to us?"

"Do I need to list them out to you," Andrew retorted sarcastically. "Because if we're lucky, we might find a homing pigeon."

"Relax. Everything's going to be a-okay. Hunky-dory and whatnot," Klinger assured him.

"Okay. Then you go first."

Klinger only nodded as they were within a few feet from the field ahead of them. He then saw a pigeon flying nearby.

"Look! There's a pigeon right there! I'm gonna shoot it!" Klinger then aimed the shotgun at the pigeon and fired away.

The pigeon was shot down and landed on the ground with a thud.

"Hey. Not bad," Andrew remarked.

"Thanks," Klinger handed the shotgun to Andrew. "Now it's your turn."

"Alright," Andrew held the shotgun as if it was a rifle.

"Look sir," Klinger pointed. "There's a total of five pigeons flying our way in a flock."

"Right," Andrew huffed as he aimed the shotgun at them.

Without showing any hesitation, the Major fired away. He managed to shoot down all five pigeons without breaking a sweat.

"Gosh. I didn't think you had it in you," Klinger let out a low whistle.

"I told you that I was trained on using a rifle," Andrew told him slyly.

The five pigeons landed one by one. Unfortunately, once they landed, five direct explosions occurred in the field, resulting in Andrew and Klinger hitting the deck to avoid getting hit.

"Holy mackerel!" Andrew yelled in surprise. "Klinger, what the hell happened!?"

"I don't know," Klinger shouted. "Something tells me that that's no regular field and that those aren't normal pigeons."

"You're telling me," Andrew murmured. "Either those birds hit some landmines, or I just shot down five kamikaze pigeons!"

"I don't care what it was," Klinger got up. "I'm going back to the compound!"

"Wait, what," by the time Andrew got up, he saw Klinger making a beeline to the 4077. "Wait! Don't leave without me!"

Andrew scurried right behind them as their little hunting expedition came to an abrupt halt due to what just happened.

Yeah. It seems that Klinger learned something from this. Don't shoot pigeons that could be kamikaze pigeons, especially when they're right over a minefield. But he was impressed that I knew how to use a gun.

Anyway, I've mentioned something about Margaret earlier, and now I'm going to bring her up with you again. I've got some good news for you mom. Margaret and I are now a couple! I'm so happy since she's the first girlfriend I ever had. To be honest, we've been covering each other whenever someone gives one of us any backtalk or trouble. We've gotten closer since we were lost in the wilderness together. We've been very affectionate. We've even been kissing.

I learned exactly why she's called Hot Lips. Goodness, I would love to tell you how much I enjoy her kissing me, but I don't want to use up all the paper that I'm using to write you this letter. So I'm just gonna say that since we've been a couple, we spent the nights together when we don't have any work, and we've been having tons of fun together, just the two of us, alone.


In Margaret's tent, we see both Andrew and Margaret sitting on the latters' bed, where they were shown kissing mouth to mouth. They were in an embrace while doing it, and they were very delighted with what they were doing together.

"Oh Margaret, dear," Andrew panted in such a happy manner. "Kissing you makes me feel like I'm in heaven."

"The feeling is mutual darling," Margaret purred. "I love you, honey."

"I love you too sweetheart."

They resumed kissing for several more minutes. They came to a stop when Hot Lips came up with a game that they could play together.

"Hey Andrew," she smirked. "I have a game that the both of us can play."

"Really," he wondered. "What is it?"

"It's like this; you turn off my lamp. Then I turn it back on. And whenever I turn it back on, I kiss you for it," she said playfully. "Will you do it?"

"Uhhhhhh...sure," Andrew had a red blush form on his face at what she was explaining for a game.

"Okay. Turn off the light." She requested.

"Right," with that, Andrew turned the lamp off.

Suddenly, she turned it back on, and then she went over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Wow," Andrew murmured as he turned the lamp off again.

The same thing happened. She turned it on and then she kissed him again.

"Gosh..." He turned the lamp off for the third time.

Again, Hot Lips turned it back on and kissed him again. Then he turned it off, and then the same thing happened. And again. And again. And again. They kept doing this for a good 10 minutes or so.

As this charade continued, Andrew started to feel something bulge in his pants. He didn't know if it was from so much excitement or what, but he didn't pay attention to it. There was also the fact that he couldn't help but assume that they were playing a game of 'physical check-up'. His heart was throbbing out of delight.

"Isn't this fun, darling," she cooed seductively, after planting another kiss on his face.

"Oh yes dear," Andrew said with a low tone. "My heart is pounding because I'm having so much fun with you."

"I feel the same way."

After getting to feel each other's hearts, and felt that their respective hearts were throbbing, the two of them continued their little game of turning on and off the lamp and Margaret kissing Andrew every time she turns it back on.

This didn't go unnoticed by the guys in the Swamp, as they saw the light in Margaret's tent keep turning on and off. Charles was the first to notice.

"What the devil is going on in Major Houlihan's tent," he asked. "Why is the light turning off and on?"

"Isn't it obvious," BJ said. "Andrew and Margaret are having so much fun, and they are playing a happy game together."

"Either that or they're looking forward to happy hour," Hawkeye proclaimed. "I say we check on them."

"I'm with you stranger," BJ agreed.

"Count me out," Charles refused. "I'd like to stay in here and get some sleep."

"Alright, fine. No need to hold us back," Hawkeye retorted. "Let's go Beej."

"Right behind you Hawk."

They both left the Swamp and headed straight for Margaret's tent while Winchester caught up on some sleep.

It was now completely pitch black in Houlihan's tent as more kissing noises were heard between the pair. Suddenly, the two captains knocked and then let themselves in.

"Hey, just what are you two doing in here?" Hawkeye queried.

"You seem to be getting carried away with the lamp," BJ said, turning the lamp on.

"Wow." Hawkeye gawked at the sight before them. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh we were just having fun, and it got very romantic," Andrew murmured in such a lovesick manner.

Andrew's hair was pretty messy, and his face was covered with Margaret's kiss marks from her lipstick. In Margaret's case, she was snuggling her head against Andrew with her eyes closed, letting out a couple of moans of enjoyment.

"Whoa, you two really need to get a room," Hawkeye had his hands up.

"We'll leave you two lovebirds alone," BJ insisted.

Andrew and Margaret said nothing as the two captains left the tent, closing the door behind them. With that, Andrew then wrapped his right arm around his girlfriend, and they snuggled for who knows how long. One thing was noticeable, that bulge in Andrew's pants never went away. Nobody bothered to comment on it as the couple stayed comfortable in that position they were in.

Yeah. So as you can see mom, Margaret, and I really do enjoy each other, and that's why we're together. I'm happy that I have Hot Lips with me. I feel like a really lucky man with her around. I've included a photo of her in this letter so you'll know who it is I'm talking about.


Now Andrew was back in the Swamp alone, coming to a close with his letter. He only had a few more things to say in the letter.

Well, mom, I guess that concludes this letter that I wrote for you. I just want to say that I miss you, and I hope this war will end soon. I have to wonder what'll happen after the war between Margaret and me. We were both 'single' before being official, so chances are we might stay together. That would be wonderful.

Anyway, this is your son writing from the M*A*S*H 4077. Aside from me, the others in this compound say hello too. Hawkeye Pierce. BJ Hunnicutt. Charles Emerson Winchester III. Maxwell Q. Klinger. Father Francis Mulcahy. Colonel Sherman Potter. And Margaret 'Hot Lips' Houlihan.

I hope you get my letter. And I'll try to write again soon.

Sincerely,

Andrew Peterson

As soon as he was done writing it, he had a smile that showed he was satisfied with the letter. Having an envelope and a stamp on hand, he folded the papers up, stuffed them into the envelope, licked the seal of the back flap, sealed it shut, wrote the addresses required, placed the stamp in the proper area, and then he got up to get it to be delivered.

Things weren't too bad for him in Korea. He hopes that he'll be able to write to him again soon.

Only Andrew knows for sure about that...


END OF CHAPTER 19...

That's it for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I had fun writing this chapter despite how long it took to write.

A lot of the scenes seem to be scattered, but this is a special type of chapter, similar to chapter 5. I do hope that none of you are confused.

Also, the part where Andrew says that he sees himself and Margaret as equals in their relationship is a further deconstruction of the sexist overtone. Just to let you know.

One more thing, when I use the term 'associate' in this chapter, I mean the more modern term 'sidekick', to avoid any confusion.

Anyway. for the next chapter, Andrew receives a large crate delivered to him from his mom, which is revealed to be a large number of unpopped kernels of popcorn, plans are made to find a popcorn machine, movie plans are made, and more will occur. How will this go? Will a popcorn machine be found? And how will the other staff members outside the core eight react to this? Find out next time!

For now, leave a review if you want. Constructive criticism for those who are nice. And positive reviews are allowed anytime.

Otherwise, that's all I have. Until next time, take care of yourselves, and on that note, thanks for reading again people!