To the one whom I love,
Hiya BJ… It's Hawkeye.
Know that right now if you decide to stop reading this letter and throw it into the fireplace in a fit of rage, that I would not hold it against you. I'd be disappointed yes, but blameful – no.
If you do decide to read on and see what I have to say – I'd like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thirteen years is a very long time for two people that were as close as we were to not speak to one another. But considering the circumstances that have led to such a rift between us, I'd say that it is acceptable.
I am just going to get right down to business Beej… I am dying. In a day or two, my liver is finally going to cry, uncle.
I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but this isn't my handwriting. Sidney Freedman has flown out to the hospital where I am at and is helping me out.
You see, for the past few days, I've been actually been composing letters to all of the people whom I love, to express how much their friendship and guidance has impacted me over the years. Also within the letters, I have apologized for the numerous ways that my poor behaviour and my addiction have hurt them.
If you can find it within yourself to continue reading; I'd be honoured to do the same with you.
I suppose I should begin with the first time I met you… Boy was I sure livid at the time. My so called best friend, "Trapper" John McIntyre, left without saying goodbye to me. What's worse was that I missed him at the Kimpo airport by only ten minutes – ten lousy minutes!
Let me tell you Beej, when Radar first presented you to me, I thought,
"This guy looks like he just hopped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He isn't going to last even one week at the 4077th before the horrors of war tear him down until he is nothing more than a whimpering child. Either that, or some crook of a supply Sergeant is going to scam him for all he's got – including the shirt off his back – at the weekly poker game."
Only a few minutes later when you helped me fast talk Radar out of getting busted for impersonating an officer – I was proven dead wrong.
As that dreadfully long day played out, I realized that even though you were naïve about life in a warzone, you'd eventually settle in and find your place at the 4077th. Furthermore, I had a very distinct feeling that you were to become a dear companion of mine.
I think what sealed the deal on my high opinion of you, was the first time you met Frank. In your highly inebriated state, you saluted him and uttered those immortal words, "What say ya, Ferret Face?"
You then proceeded to lose what was left of your balance and fell face first into Margaret's spectacular breasts.
My immediate thought was, "This type of first impression would even make Trapper proud! I guess if Trapper would have liked him, I can too."
Later that night, or I suppose early the next morning when the booze had finally worn off – I awoke to the sound of you softly weeping. Between your sobs, I heard something else that surprised me… the sound of you praying. You begged God to see you safely through the next eighteen months and to make sure that Peg and Erin would be able to carry on in your absence.
The vulnerability in your voice really tugged on my heartstrings. My mind was basically made up that I would actively try to get to know you better. However, at that moment I knew that as somebody who had been around the military block a few times, that I needed to take you under my wing and show you that it is possible to adapt and function in the insane situation we were both in. I also knew in my bones that it was my duty as a decent human to take of you until you'd be able to stand on your own two feet. I think it took only a matter of three days until it clicked that you and I were destined to be friends.
I used to like to think that our thought patterns were tuned into the same station. You were thing ying to my yang; the ketchup to my mustard.
In the O.R we worked like a well-oiled machine. If we both had our gloved hands inside the belly of a solider, he was stitched up and on his way to Post OP in no more than three hours. Heck, I think that you and I could have broken the world record for the fastest team splenectomy, back in the day.
We pulled practical jokes on one another, as well as several other poor suckers. Many of which I never would have been able to pull off without you.
You were so good natured about all of the times I pranked you; or got revenge for your latest lopsided scheme. Sure some of your jokes weren't the best… nailing my damn boot to the floor comes to mind! Truth be told though, I actually enjoyed your duds as much as your successes because bugging you was just as much fun.
After our twenty-three plus work day was done; we'd drown our sorrows as boon companions at the Officer's Club, Rosie's, or at the still in the Swamp. Looking back on those binge sessions from an objective standpoint, I suppose one could say that they were the beginning of my demise.
However, knowing myself and the nature of the darkly surreal situation we were in – I would have turned to booze weather you were drinking beside me or not.
There were definitely times during the war where we would be on the outs. But hey, every friendship has its twists and turns. No matter what though, we always realized that whatever we were arguing about was miniscule in value compared to strength of the bond that we shared.
Every time we reconciled after one of these falling outs, I was always confused and a bit awestruck as to why somebody as put together as you, would waste energy on a neurotic nutcase like myself.
Think about it, Beej – you are Class A surgeon, have the patience of a saint, and are a wonderful family man. The big guy upstairs really did deal you a royal flush in life.
Even though we haven't spoken for several years; I've heard through Sidney and Colonel Potter about how proud you are about the wonderful person your daughter has become. I can vividly picture the big cheesy grin on your face the day you found out that Erin got accepted into Stanford's medical school. Your pride must have been through the roof, knowing that she was going to be the fourth generation doctor in the Hunnicutt clan.
From what I gather, Erin has the brains of her Father, and the compassionate nature and good looks of her Mother. Even though life hasn't turned the way you expected it to after the war – know that you and Peg did a hell of good job raising Erin.
Speaking of Peg… I suppose that it's time to get down to the core reason as to why I am breaking my silence. Looking the Grim Reaper in the eyes (or the "The Bastard" as we used to affectionately refer to him as, in Korea), was what it took I guess for me to finally overcome my own ego. Now at the end of all things, I am finally able to own up to the fact that what happened between you, Peg, and I, the weekend of Father Mulcahy's funeral is unequivocally my fault.
I would like to extend my fullest and most sincere apology toward you for it. My own selfishness and lack of decency is the reason why your picture perfect family split apart, like the deepest and widest valley in Grand Canyon.
I am not sure how Peg explained the course of events to you – or if she even had a chance to for that matter – so I am going to go ahead and explain how it all went down.
Like I said, it was the weekend of Father Mulcahy's funeral. It was a bitterly cold, horrendously gloomy, few days. Most of the 4077th gang was in Philadelphia to say goodbye to the stoic, brave and humble human being that was our Padre.
I still don't understand why a man of God was called home in such a tragic, grotesque way, like being hit by a city bus that ran red light. But he was… so it was only fitting that the people he helped so much during the war would gather to celebrate his wondrous life.
Of course the service was very religious in nature; but the unfittingly uptight mood instantly dissipated when Colonel Potter got up and delivered the eulogy. By the end of it, I don't think that there was a dry eye in the church.
After the service, the reception was held in a banquet hall in the hotel we were all staying in. I hitched a ride with you and Peg back to the hotel. When we entered the lobby, you headed straight to the reception while Peg and I, took what was meant to be a quick detour to the bathrooms.
Peg had wanted to fix her makeup which was all worn away and smudged from crying. Myself… well even though that at the time I had somehow miraculously managed to stay sober for four straight days (I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't dishonour Mulcahy by showing up drunk to his funeral), all I could think about was having a drink.
Anytime during the service – besides when the Colonel was talking – all I could think about was badly I needed to have a drink to deal with the harsh reality of the weekend.
It was a very daunting wake up call to realize that even though we were no longer living in a war zone; I could still lose the people that I care about most at any given moment, to that fucking Bastard. Secondly, seeing Margaret so happy with Trapper by her side drove me far past the point of buggy, as I am sure you can very well imagine.
Anyways, Peg and I agreed to wait for one another outside of the bathrooms before heading into the hall. As we were about to part ways to go do our business – some oaf of a bellboy was in a hurry and shoved between us, causing Peg to loose grip on her handbag. Subsequently, the numerous contents of her purse spilt out all over the floor. I immediately bent down and helped he gather her belongings, when the small, five ounce, stainless steel flask that was concealed in the inner pocket in my suit jacket; fell onto the floor.
I could feel all of the blood leave my face when Peg immediately stopped what she was doing and picked up the flask. Forgetting about the mess on the floor, she stood up with the flask in hand and in a very cool and calm voice asked three simple, yet poignant words, "How could you?"
The guilt and anger I felt boil up inside of me was more than I could handle. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, but other than that I felt completely numb. You know what I'm talking about – the kind of numbness that overcomes a person when they experience a terrible trauma, or when they feel an immense amount of guilt about something. In this situation, I would obviously fall into the latter category.
Not knowing what to say, I simply finished gathering up the rest of Peg's belongings and put them back into her purse. I then stood up, gripping her bright red handbag until my knuckles were a ghostly shade of white. With my head hung down muttered the only thing that I could manage to articulate in my state of shock was to mutter that I was sorry.
What happened next surprised me. Peg gently placed a hand on my cheek, causing me to look from my feet. Instead of seeing anger and disgust in her eyes like I had expected to see – I instead saw empathy. For some reason, Peg's expression broke the spell of the shock I was in and I burst then out into tears like a toddler.
Seeing that people were beginning to arrive for the reception, Peg knew that I had to get the hell out of that lobby… and fast! She quickly grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to the south wing where you and she shared a room.
After hastily ushering me inside, she closed the door behind me and locked it with the chain lock. Peg then led me to the queen sized bed in the center of the room and told me to sit down while she did something in the bathroom.
By that time my uncontrollable sobbing had slowed to a soft weep. As I sat on the edge of the bed wondering just what I was doing alone in a room with your wife; I heard the sound of my precious gin being poured down the bathroom sink. After running the tap to wash away any excess booze in the sink and in my flask – Peg emerged, and placed the empty flask on top of the oak encased television set.
Without saying a word, she sat down beside me on the bed, so that there was very little distance between her body and my own.
Feeling the need to make up and excuse about why after I swore you and Peg that I wouldn't drink during the trip, I began to spew out manic nonsense like nobody but I can. After a while, Peg got tired of hearing the ranting of an old drunk and muscled her way into the conversation, telling me to shut up. It stunned me when she then said that she didn't care about the booze.
She then went on to say that she was disappointed by the fact that I was going to go into the mensroom in the lobby to tie one on, because it would have meant the end of our friendship, Beej. When I asked her exactly what that meant; Peg told me about how for a little over a year at that point, you were becoming increasingly more agitated with my weakness for spirits. According to her, if you saw or suspected that I was drinking that weekend, you were going to cut all ties with me on the spot. She said that before you left for the airport back home, the two of you had a monstrous argument about me. Peg tried to convince you to change your mind, stating that it was unreasonable for you to expect me to get through such a dark weekend without having a drink or two. Moreover, she drove home the point that it would be more than a shame for us to fall out because of a disease that I couldn't control. From what Peg told me, there was nothing on the planet that was going to make you change your mind.
If I got drunk in Philly, that was that. Everything we shared whilst in Korea and after the war would be null and void, and there would be no chance of reconciliation.
My jaw damn near scraped the floor when I finally processed what Peg had just disclosed to me. I was hurt, confused, shameful, and brimming with rage all at once. For some reason, my body had decided for the second time that day that the appropriate response to feeling like a deer in headlights, was to bawl like a baby.
Peg pulled me close and let my hot, salty tears fall onto her soft chest, while she stroked my back in an attempt to comfort me. After a minute or so, I was able to get control of myself and sniffed back my sobs as I pulled away from her.
I then thanked Peg for stopping me from drinking, and told her that mere words couldn't even begin what it meant to me that she cared about my wellbeing… that anybody cared about me.
I then began to explain that I had sensed for a while that you were beginning to be fed up with your best friend being an uncontrollable drunk, and also about how much I hated myself for what I had turned into after coming home from Korea.
Peg told me that she understood that my need for alcohol wasn't my fault, that she knew how much I was hurting after Margaret left and how my depression took another nosedive after Dad passed away. She said that she knew all about what an alcoholic feels and that no matter what they do – they can never shake the urge to scratch that itch and have a drink. Apparently growing up her Mother struggled with alcohol.
I couldn't help but to express my utmost relief that what I was feeling wasn't just because I was a special form of a screwball. I then went on to vent about how lost and angry I had been since coming home from Korea, and how I was righteously pissed off about the shitty hand I was dealt since leaving the service.
Peg and I then went back and forth talking about my problems, and the issues that you are her were having with your marriage. She said that lately you were becoming increasingly distant and snarky at home. She tried to find out what was bugging you, but you just wouldn't budge; like you were withholding a huge secret. I asked her what you thought such a secret might be. You see BJ, this is where things started to get messy… her reply was that she thought you were having an affair with the head nurse in the general surgery department of the hospital you were working at.
It was now Peg's turn to burst into tears as she told me all about how she felt she was lousy wife. She then went on to say that she deserved to be cheated on because she had let her looks go, and put being a good Mother and an exemplary homemaker before the needs of your relationship. She wasn't fulfilling the vow she had made to you on your wedding day to tend to your needs as her husband.
I told her that she was absolutely crazy to think that she had let herself go, and that she deserved to be cheated on. Furthermore, I told her that if you were cheating on her – you should be locked in a padded cell and have the key thrown away.
Somehow through our innocent embrace of comfort; our lips suddenly met and before within seconds I found myself doing something that I never would have imagined myself doing in a million years… making love to your wife.
That's right Beej – I was one hundred percent, stone cold sober when I decided to tear your world apart. It wasn't the alcohol… just my own pathetic self.
God, if I would have known what would have after that; I would have never allowed myself to succumb to my primal need to lie with a woman. I was just so damn lonely, Beej. I think there was maybe two other times between the time Margaret left me, and that incident with Peg, that I had made love.
Exactly three months to the day, I awoke at nine am on my living room floor with a bottle on my stomach. As per usual, my head was pounding out the 1812 overture and my mouth felt like I had been sitting with my mouth open in a dentist's chair for a year straight. There was also some moron, obsessively pounding on my front door.
I begrudgingly scraped my sorry self off of the floor, and stumbled toward the front door. When I opened it, I didn't even have a chance to speak before you bent over like an angry steer and rammed my body into the banister of the staircase. I collapsed onto the floor and you straddled my hips and began to beat the living shit out of me.
After your adrenaline had worn off and my face was a swollen, bloody mess – you collapsed to the side and laid down on the floor out of pure exhaustion.
I am not sure how long we lay on the floor in silence, before I finally asked you the simple question of, "why".
The image of what you proceeded to describe, still haunts me to to this very day... You said that your surgery been cancelled, so you decided to go home for your lunch hour, early. You walked into the house and called for Peg, but there was no reply. Getting worried that something might be wrong, you then went through the house frantically looking for her. When you opened the door to the bathroom connected to yours and Peg's master bedroom, you were beyond astonished by the sight in front of you.
Peg was naked, slumped up against the corner where the bathtub and met the wall, with a bottle of Jim Beam bourbon in hand. There was a fair sized pool of dark blood pooled beneath her bottom. Between her legs sat a bent out of shape wire coat hanger.
She looked up at you through her glassy, red rimmed eyes and simply said that she was sorry. You immediately scooped her up into your arms and threw her into the back seat of your bright orange Chevrolet car and sped her to the hospital.
About ten hours later, Peg had come out of sedation from her surgery to stop the hemorrhaging in her uterus. In a bout of tearful remorse, she confessed about what happened between her and me in Philadelphia three months prior. She told you that it had to have been my child, because, it had been a little over seven months since you and her had been in bed together.
After Peg recovered, and you returned home from out little visit; was when I suppose you filed for divorce.
I've never heard from Peg since that one weekend. I hope that wherever she is that she has found some happiness in life.
I know that my apology probably doesn't mean anything all these years later… but I am so sorry.
In one brief moment of ill judgement, I managed to throw away the beautiful gift that was our friendship; destroy your marriage; and cause Erin to have to deal with growing up in a broken home.
I know that throughout this letter I have mentioned God a few times. Seeing as how I was such a skeptic of a divine creator in Korea – and pretty much my entire life – it must seem odd. But you know as well as I do, that it is very common for terminal patients to suddenly embrace faith. When I was still in practise, I never knew the most hardened skeptics would suddenly wake up one day and decide to believe in God. Now on the other end of the spectrum, I now know that lying in a hospital bed with nothing much to do except look back on the course of your life; is more than enough to scare anybody into believing that there has to be more than what's in front of us on Earth.
If I really do end up looking the big guy in the eye and having to account for my Earthly sins; I am sure what I did to you and your family would be on the top of the list. Heck, it is probably enough for the big lever to be pulled and send me plummeting into the fire filled void that is Hell.
If you have managed to get to this point in this ridiculously long letter (I think Sidney's wrist is about to fall off), I want to finish off by saying a few more things.
The first being that I hope you and Erin go on to live for many more years to come in prosperity and happiness. You both deserve to.
Secondly, your friendship in Korea and up until its ugly demise was truly one of the greatest blessings I have ever received. During my breakdown at the end of the war, you allowed me to lean on you until I got back to my usual state of abnormal. We laughed, we cried, we screamed at each other, and beat the shit out of one another, too. Thank you for making yourself available for me. You are one in a billion, Beej.
Finally, I want you to know that if I am granted passage through those Pearly Gates; I'll make sure watch over you and Erin, as well as Peg.
Living in Korea, all of the death taught me just how important it to connect with other human beings on a deep level. In such a dark place, I was able to find you – a soul that helped me through what I thought at the time would be the darkest period in my life.
Thank you BJ… I'll never forget you and the joy you brought to me and all of the people stuck at the 4077th in a confusing time and place.
It was an outstanding honour and privilege to have been your best friend.
With all my love,
"Hawkeye" Benjamin Franklin Pierce
A/N: Hi there. I would like to apologize for falling off the Earth here. I had quit my job and had been obsessively scrambling to finish my Math course before my deadline. And then right now I have been studying for my diploma exam on the 24th :/
Yes this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others, but I felt like it needed to be, because come on people – this is BJ and Hawkeye we are talking about here.
I hope why BJ and Hawkeye had a falling out makes sense now. The only thing logical in my mind for those two to break up would be for Hawkeye to hurt BJ's family somehow.
I'd just like to state that Peg doing what she did in the bathroom isn't intended to be a persuasive bit about what stance a person on abortion one way or another. As tragic as it was for Peg to do what she did to herself, it was a sad reality of the time period. I added it in to add an element of context and depth of the seriousness of the situation she found herself in as a married woman who had cheated and become pregnant with another man's baby in 1960's, North America.
I really hope that in this I accurately portrayed the nature of Bj's and Hawk's relationship.
Thank you for taking time out of your day to read!