The upcoming Christmas season, my first one in Korea, started off peaceful (and blurry) enough. I mean, I was nervous about my father's upcoming visit (so was Dean and Henry, I could tell by their faces when seeing them), but was happy to be walking myself around for once and putting the awful incident with Simmons behind me. I was out of the wheelchair a few days after Dean first came to visit me and I took it slow and drank with feeling to help recover, as Hawkeye said it was what the doctor ordered (and what the doctor was also used to doing). Even the gin from the still numbed the remaining pain in my shoulder and side.
"Disgusting," Frank mentioned one night, the day before my father was expected to come. "You three are disgusting and a disgrace to this man's Army!"
"Come o-o-off it, F-Frank," I replied, slurring some of my words and knowing that I was drunk silly again (and not caring about it, since I wasn't on shift anytime soon). "My f-father is coming to vi-visit tomorrow and I want to forget a-about i-it."
"She's got a case of the heebie-jeebies," Hawkeye added after me, toasting my words and drinking himself.
"And a case of the jeebie-heebies," Trapper chimed in, laughing.
"Your guys have the worst conduct ever!" Frank replied, sitting on his cot (which was very wet and cold, I've noticed through the haze). "Colonel Morrison is coming here tomorrow to inspect the troops and you…you…you animals are drinking like there's no tomorrow, like it was going out of style. And, and, and…"
"And what, Frank?" Trapper asked innocently as an olive tumbled slowly down from gloved hand to his martini glass. "Is something the matter?"
Frank put his hand to his cot, knowing that something was totally wrong with it. Seeing like us that it was wet, he smelled when he brought the vile liquid on his cot to his nose. He then wrinkled it when he detected what it was.
"You animals used my cot as a latrine!" Frank accused, pointing his finger at us after he quickly wiped his fingers on a handkerchief of his. "And you three made sure that it was cold enough so that it would stick and turn into ice!"
I giggled, knowing that it wasn't true, and pointed at Frank's dark behind. "F-F-Frank, if y-you weren't w-wearing the same clothes all the time…"
By then, without managing to explain the situation, I lost it and was laughing, spilling my drink close to the stove, our only way to stay warm (other than the gin, I mean). Around me, I heard the same merriment, which made it all the funnier.
"I think what she means is, Frank," Hawkeye continued, laughing along with me and Trapper, "is that if you'd look to your own tushy and not worry about everybody else's, you'll be fine. And you wouldn't have to worry about Hot Lips cleaning it up for you though. She has the rubber mats and boots ready for you."
Frantically, Frank then tried to look at his behind, going around in circles like the camp mutt with fleas. It soon became another comical scene, like a dog or cat chasing its own tail and failing. Soon though, it dawned on him what we did (especially when he saw an empty helmet, next to his cot, with a thick icy layer inside of it), so he went to his footlocker, trying to find a new set of clothes, throwing this and that thing out and hitting us with various objects of his. While I did not appreciate being thrown some underwear, boots and maybe a letter from his wife in Indiana, it was still comical to see the scene unfold in a way that made it worth our time being in Henry's office.
"I don't know what you did, you…you…you miscreants," Frank finally sneered, denying the facts as always. "However, I'm sure it was sneaky. You're going to pay for this, I'm sure of it!"
"So, Frank, what are you going to explain to the laundress?" Trapper inquired. "Or, for that matter, to Hot Lips with the rubber things?"
"Ooo…ooo…you guys, go jump in a lake!" It was all Frank could say before he ran outside, covering his back and ass with an extra towel and his change of clothes from his footlocker.
"I think it was more interesting when it was frozen," Hawkeye remarked when the major left our presence.
"I wonder if H-H-Hot L-Lips smelled it earlier." I laughed again, this time harder and knocking myself off of the chair I was sitting on. I landed on the floor with a satisfying thumpand laughed harder at my own stupidity.
"Then it might keep Major Malpractice out of line and perhaps in the latrine for a while," Trapper commenting, ending the conversation by asking if we wanted more to drink to keep warm.
~00~
The next day, I was sobered up enough and was ready to meet my father afterward, for the first time since 1936 (a miracle I wasn't drunk, since we had wounded and I took a shower so that I could function properly). It had been almost fifteen years since that awful day, but I think it is high time to see him again, despite my fears and deep hatred of him…and the fact that he was better off out of my life like I was out of his.
Henry, Dean, Hawkeye, Trapper, Margaret and Frank stood in attention at the Post-Op doors (bundled up), waiting for my father's jeep to roll in. As Simmons had volunteered for a shift in Post-Op and opted to be inside, we were not worried about him for the time being (or him being in the Swamp, for that matter, as he moved out quickly into a spare tent erected, just for him). However, Radar was ordered to stand at attention at his office space, so that little bugger was nervous enough waiting for us to come in.
Daddy was late as usual (he was always late to everything except for battle or to the bar). He had us standing at that door for more than an hour after the appointed time of arrival, shivering and anxious as hell, before his jeep showed up at the gates of our little paradise in Korea. His driver knocked over the camp's new sign that read, "Best Care Anywhere" as it flew through the camp roads, dodging this person and that. And even then, there was no apology for the tardiness or the mess left behind. There was just another one of his expectations of total obedience.
"Ten, hut!" I heard Henry say as my father's driver saw us where we were and drove towards Post-Op, stopping in front of our miserable little group. I could see already that not only were most of us cold and nervous, but also dribbling snot down our noses.
"At ease, gentlemen," Daddy said afterward in a loud voice, hopping out of his seat from the jeep like he was a spring chicken and not sixty-seven years old and so battle-weary from two previous wars. He then waved his driver away (one that sped out of camp pretty quickly instead of breaking in the Mess Tent or the latrine as all other drivers usually do) and stood there, looking at us. He then spotted Dean and smiled upon sight.
"Ah, Dean, you've made it to Major!" Daddy then exclaimed, grinning wider. "Good job! I'm proud of you, son." He then patted Dean on the shoulder, ignoring the frightened wincing visible on my brother's face.
Then, Daddy went to Henry, who was next to Dean. "Henry Blake, it's good to see you again!"
Henry stood in attention still, jumpy (like Hawkeye and Trapper would say, he looked like he was having a baby, which happened a lot when he was tense). He then saluted and nodded his head, taking Daddy's hand when it was offered to him. The shaking went on until Daddy pulled away, trying to make the scene appear as natural as Henry could be.
"It's good to see you again, as well…Colonel Patrick Morrison," Henry replied. "I mean, Sir. It's good to see you again, Sir."
Majors Burns and Houlihan still stood in attention, saluting even in the cold, which amazed me, seeing as how they did it for five minutes straight. It caught Daddy's attention quickly after seeing Henry. It was something (other than Dean's recent promotion) that made him smile. And trust me when I said it, smiles from that man were few and far between. Not to mention, Daddy's smiles were usually sincere…something he frequently never was.
"Majors, it is a pleasure to meet you," Daddy said carefully (I could hear it in his voice) as he saw Margaret and Frank saluting.
"Major Margaret Houlihan, Sir, and this is Major Frank Burns," Margaret replied rather enthusiastically, shaking Daddy's hand as he held it out, her arm (and Frank's) down from saluting. "I'm head nurse of the 4077th."
"And Major Burns just happens to be tagging along, impersonating an officer," Hawkeye added.
"Pierce!" Henry warned, a really troubled tone in his voice.
"Oh, just ignore him, Colonel," Margaret continued in the same tone as before, her eyes shining with pride as Daddy shook Frank's hand as well. "They're unmilitary-like in their conduct always and would do anything to discredit any decent officer."
"I was going to ask the man's name and get to know him, but already I can smell a prankster amongst us." Daddy looked from Margaret and Frank to Hawkeye, his own grey eyes (like mine and Dean's, I noticed for the first time ever) shining and red-rimmed. "In fact, I see two of them and my daughter, I assume justly, joining them."
"I'm Captain McIntyre and this is Captain Pierce, surgeons at war," Trapper said to Daddy.
"The Marx brothers with the ringmaster between us," Hawkeye added with his own smile and a wiggly wave.
Daddy just shook his head and then looked at me, suddenly using his pointing finger to summon me in crooked and twisted motions that only frightened me. "Jeanette, let me see you."
I walked forward as bravely as I could, three even steps (as was traditional), and stood before my father. I showed him no fear, nothing that could tell him that years had passed and we had a life that was barely a family one. I wanted to show him how being a girl was just as good as a boy and that I was nothing less than Dean and my other brothers were.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" I asked politely, saluting.
"Yes, Jeanette," Daddy replied, putting his overly large hands on my shoulders and then around my neck as I inclined my head down with respect, not wanting to look into his eyes. I used to do it when I was a child and I thought he'd like it still.
Instead, I felt like I was getting choked. The grip around my neck tightened slowly as I continued to look down on the ground, which scared me out of my mind. The drunken part of my mind was going paranoid and screaming and the rational part of my mind was trying to find a way out of the danger. I knew that if I tried battling back, the abuse would be worse (the embarrassment factor never registering in my mind for once). I had to either die or hope that I will live.
Dean saw me getting choked and moved forward quickly in my defense. He was the only one who was able to without being reproached except for maybe Henry, if Daddy was in the mood to handle him. However, Dean did it with such respect that Daddy didn't quite notice him at first until he cleared his throat. The man just continued to choke me until Dean finally caught his attention and started talking.
"Sir, why don't we move inside, so that you can view Post-Op?" Dean asked him. "I'm sure that Colonel Blake would want to show you how the hospital is run and how he commands from his desk. Major Houlihan has already volunteered to give you a tour of the camp and also show you to your quarters when you are ready to go and rest."
Dean then put his hand on Daddy's, gently rubbing the tough calluses with his own dirty, cold fingers, ungloved and used to the chill, until the grip around my neck loosened and I was allowed to breathe more easily. Daddy slowly let my neck out of his imperial grip, pushing Dean's hands away gently and telling him to get back in formation and not to bother him anymore. He was annoyed, to say the least, that he was disturbed when seeing me for the first time in years and worse would pull rank on his favorite and youngest son.
"Jeanette, look at me," Daddy then ordered after Dean went back in formation. I wanted to walk away and to ignore this man I called "Father", but I obeyed the order nonetheless, not knowing what I was going to tackle next.
When I looked up to Daddy, he took my chin in his hands, staring into my own eyes with his own (grey to grey, very cloudy and hazy even). "Jeanette, every time I look at you, I see myself in a female form," Daddy admitted. "You are too much like me in appearance and mannerisms, much more so than all of your brothers. Be careful next time, before a disaster comes. You might not be ready for it when it comes to you."
Then, he let me go, walking around me, as if nothing – nothing! – had happened and calling out to everybody that a tour of the hospital and camp was a good idea. A minute later, shocked and surprised by the words I heard (not bitter or cruel), I turned around, watching Henry holding the door for everybody. He was trying to stay behind and not in the front, so Daddy could not reach him easily enough if something offensive came from his mouth. Not to mention, I think it was safer if I stayed with Henry in the back anyhow (he perhaps thinking the same thing), to have a shield, even if he was like Daffy Duck on a sinking ship.
I jogged over to Henry, my shock mostly gone. "Are you frightened of him like I am right now?" I whispered frantically to Henry as we got out of the cold and wind. "Did you see that? Did you see what he almost did to me, Henry? Oh, God. It makes me wants to run and hide."
"If you want to call that hulking figure before us 'frightening', then be my guest," Henry replied. "And yes, I saw everything. Just be careful, Jeanie. You almost got killed out there and your butt in a sling."
"I don't think so," I said back softly, partially listening to Margaret show Daddy around the office first, like a perfect tour guide, and demonstrating how fast Radar works for us. "He has better things to do than kill me."
"We'll see." It was Henry's last words before Frank turned around to shush him, mumbling about disrespect in officers and how the US Army can't find any decent people to become them.
The tour went on regardless and my thoughts kept themselves to Daddy and what it looked like he was going to do if he had to chance to, when he was alone with me. Well, I didn't think that I was going to be strangled in front of company again, but Dean and I never knew with Daddy sometimes. He was a complete mystery most of the time and most of it was why he hated us so, even Dean.