To the one whom I love,

Maxwell Q. Klinger… where do I even begin?

Well, I suppose under normal circumstances I'd ask about how Soon-Lee and your kids are doing. However, this letter isn't under normal circumstances.

Why's that you ask? Well, to be blunt Klinger – I'm writing to you from my deathbed.

Yes, that's right. That monkey on my back finally won the battle

I know that after the war – as well as during it – you and I weren't the closest of pals. We were both so preoccupied with our jobs and suffering, that we just, shall I say actively, co-existed together?

But please, don't take that the wrong way. You, my friend, are truly one in a million.

First of all, during the first half of the war, your devotion to trying to get out on a section eight was one of the most valiant and admirable acts of the entire war. From dressing up like you blew out of "Gone with the Wind"; to the time you traded a guy entire Lebanese salami for an edition of LIFE magazine about Maine was astounding, in my opinion.

I still have that magazine you know! I smile every time I read it because I think of you.

I swear if you were to become a billionaire suddenly, you'd still give a guy the shirt off your back if he needed it.

In the early days of the 4077th, you were just the crazy hairy guy who wore woman's clothing, in my mind. As the war progressed, and especially after Radar got discharged; I began to notice increasingly many of your wonderful qualities.

For instance almost everybody (including myself), made fun of you simply because you weren't book smart. Well, let me tell you this… we were dead wrong for doing so. There are very few people who can lie and finagle their way in, or out of a sticky situation the way you can. Your types of smarts are a natural born gift in my opinion.

Another quality of yours that I have admired over the years is the unadulterated passion and dedication that you apply to all aspects of life. Let me tell you, before Korea – I did not think that it was possible for a sane man to work as hard as you did, to try and convince everyone that you crazy.

Every time I saw you proudly strut across the compound in high heels and fancy dress, I thought to myself, "There goes a brave man."

Some of the stunts you pulled. like the time you tried to eat a jeep. Or even the time you constructed a glider and tried to fly your way out of Korea, did make me question if you were crazy or not. Also, a few of your outfit choices were slightly questionable at times. The fruit dress you wore on the day the Henry Blake left camp was definitely eccentric, to say the least.

Looking back on the war now, if I wasn't a surgeon and didn't have so many responsibilities during the war – I think that probably would have joined you in your antics. Believe me, I know why you did it. The blood, the mangled bodies of children and teenagers, messes with a guy quickly.

I don't think I had ever told you this before but when you announced at the 4077th farewell meal that you were going to remain in Korea until you and Soon-Lee found her family - I was proud. I also thought to myself that you really are one of the most selfless, caring men I had ever seen. All these years later, that notion still holds true.

At the second 4077th reunion in 59' I, of course, drank far too much as usual. It was only eight at night, but I was just about ready to pass out. Instead of letting me fall face first into the table, you slung one of my arms across your shoulders and with one hand on my back, guided me back to my hotel room. You stuck around while I threw up everything I had ate and drank that night, helped me clean myself up and put on my pajamas before putting me to bed.

When I awoke the next morning, I found a glass of water, two slices of toast and a note from you which read,

"Hope you don't feel too lousy this morning, Doc. See you in a few years at the next reunion. Please try to take better care of yourself. You are too smart to let yourself go on like this."

Even though such a short note may not have seemed like much to you, it meant the world to me. You know why? Because it said to me that somebody cared that I was slowly killing myself.

I felt so damn lonely at that reunion because, in a room full of people, nobody besides you, Radar, and Potter bothered to say more than a few words to me. Most of the night, I just sat in the corner and drank by myself because I felt ashamed of what had happened to me after the war. I was so lost in my own grief and depression that I wasn't the Hawkeye all of those people once knew.

I am lying in a hospital bed, waiting for my liver to finally conk out as I write you. Before I leave this world, I needed to let you know that even though I never said to your face – I love you, and I am very happy that our paths crossed.

Thank you for the numerous laughs you gave me during the war, as well as allowing yourself to be used as a verbal punching bag from time to time. You, my friend, understand the true meaning friendship and the concept of human decency.

If I do end up in Heaven, I think that I'll fly around in a floral dress and a pair of hot red pumps in your honour.

I know that life after Korea has been a bit of a bumpy road for you. That being said, I hope that the future brings you and your family nothing but prosperity and joy.

Yours truly,

"Hawkeye" Benjamin Franklin Pierce