Post by melinda on Jan 30, 2017 6:01:55 GMT -6
Hawkeye hung up the phone in shocked silence, which was quite unusual for him. Every time he would get off the phone with his long time friend BJ Hunnicutt, it would revitalize him. No matter how often or how far apart their phone calls were-BJ was a busy family man, with three young kids running afoot, Hawkeye always felt a sense of renewal after hearing his friend's voice. They had been through so much together, they had laughed, shared stories, on the rare occasion they'd argue but always forgave each other, they had shared a tent...they went through war together. And they had survived war together.
And there were the increasingly numerous phone calls such as this, where, yet again, they'd lost a common friend.
And on this day after Christmas, it was to Hawkeye's shock and heavy heart, that he'd learned, via phone call from BJ, that he'd learned that beloved Father Mulcahy, friend, father, Padre, champion of the children, the fighter of the unjust, the perfectly imperfect man of the cloth, had died.
The normally quite loquacious Benjamin Franklin Pierce was at a rare loss for words. Hell, he couldn't even put together a coherent sentence in his own mind, which was quite the rarity.
"Aw, Nertz, don't you ever stop talking?" Frank Burns had grumbled once, after a grueling thirteen hour session of meatball surgery.
"I tried it once. I didn't like it. Or so I recall my mother telling me. I believe I was three years old, the last time I stopped talking," Hawkeye chortled.
"And that only lasted because it was the first time Hawkeye had slept through the night without waking her up to ask for water, food, a story, anything," Trapper had laughed, only egging Hawkeye on more.
"That's not true, Trap," Haweye went on as he ramaged through his clothes, looking for a warm shirt to put on this unusally cool evening in Korea. "I didn't make a sound through the entire movie we watched last week."
"That' s because your tongue was stuffed down Nancy's throat," Trapper chortled. "And wasn't Henry mad! That had been his girl!"
"Both of you, put a sock in it! Some of us are trying to sleep," Frank groused as he tossed and turned under a couple of blankets.
"You should have seen his face! " Hawkeye howled. "His face was as red as, well...as his nose. He'd been drinking a bit during that movie, don't think I didn't know about that!"
Just then a mildly perplexed Mulcahay had walked in, and he sighed with a soft smile. "I suppose I've walked into something of which I'm not quite sure I want to know about."
"I sure as heck don't want to hear about any of their shenanigans, but try getting these two to pipe down so a gentleman can get some sleep," Frank complained, his face nearly buried in blankets.
Mulcahay audibly startled, as he hadn't seen Frank in there, and Trapper and Hawkeye continued to laugh."Put a sock in it," Frank continued crankily.
"I beg your pardon?" Mulcahy sighed, adjusting his glasses.
"Not you. Them! These two..it's always these two!"
"But I..."Mulcahy tried to protest, but Frank wouldn't let up.
"Those two never shut up! they talk and they talk and they talk.."
"Do we talk and talk and talk?" Trapper looked at Hawkeye in feigned bewilderment. "I thought we were jovially conversing."
"I thought it was more along the lines of a playful banter. Father, what is your opinion?"
"I"m not sure I'm the proper person to judge," Father Mulcahy spoke up.
"Oh put a sock in it too!" Frank retorted, and then all eyes fell upon him. Mulcahy raised his eyebrow, and Frank sat up, trying to talk his way out of that one.
"Never you mind, Frank," the good padre sighed. "Anyways I thought you fellows might like to know that the young man you just worked on passed away. I barely got to him in time to give him his last rites."
Now the three surgeons all stared in disbelief. "We just finished him...we thought ...he was stabilized..."Trapper said while Hawkeye sat on the edge of his bed, unable to process his next thought.
"He had been. Henry went to check on his vital signs, and this fellow's heart rate had dropped. Henry tried his best, but I'm afraid the young man went rather suddenly," Mulcahay explained, turning to leave when Frank said, as usual, a rather inappropriate comment.
"He wasn't a man anyways. He was one of them. He was our enemy. No loss if you ask me."
Hawkeye stood up, ready to face off with Frank, when Mulcahay shocked everyone by raising his voice. His face reddened, Mulcahy took off his glasses and angrily addressed Frank.
"Now listen here, you...you..you...you cretin! That nobody you claim was a young man. His grieving mother is outside my tent, crying and waiting for a translator to arrive so she may ask me questions, so that I might explain to her how her young boy was out plowing his field one minute, and the next a land mine was lodged in his throat! that young man you claim to be nobody, left behind a mother who's husband had recently died, leaving behind her and her young daughter. This boy was no more than twenty, yet he was looking for ways to provide for his mother and sister. Now you tell me, Frank Burns, who will tend to their needs, to make sure they have anything to eat, to make sure they are safe from this blasted war effort! Who will care for the females as they cry, as they unload their burdens of their heart, who will provide comfort and reassurance that their lives will be okay? Who will, Major Burns? Who will?"
Hawkeye and Trapper, and even Frank, were all silenced by the unexpected burst of outrage from their friend.
Hawkeye went up and put his hand on Mulcahy's shoulder. "You will, Father. You will."
no one said a word as the padre adjusted his glasses, wiped down his face with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and apologized. "You're right. I will. Good night, Hawkeye, Trapper." and he glared at Frank. "Major Burns."
Frank would finally fall asleep, and Trapper and Hawkeye would indulge in more than a few martinis, but finally sleep overtook all three of them.
But that image of the perfectly inperfect man of the cloth would stay with Hawkeye forever, as well as memories of not just him, but Frank, Trapper, and Henry as well.
As Hawkeye struggled to walk away from the phone, it occured to him that out of the memory of he, Trapper, Henry, Father Mulachy, now only Hawkeye remained.
Colonel Potter had passed some few years prior to this conversation Hawkeye had with BJ.
One by one, his friends from the 4077 were leaving him.
there was once a time when Hawkeye hated the thought of Korea, couldn't stand to be in that hell hole, thought that he would never give a second thought of his time there once he'd made it back to America.
And now all Hawkeye could do these days, as his own age progressed, as he started feeling and looking the part of time passing by, was cling to the memories of his brothers and sisters from the 4077.
as he'd stated in his farewell speech at the end of the war, he'd loved them, one and all.
and one by one, they were leaving this world.
Hawkeye stepped outside and inhaled a deep breath of cool and crisp early winter Crabapple Cove air.
The thought had occured to him that he himself might not experience many more of these winters.
there were no guarantees in life, that was made perfectly clear with the news that Mulcahay was now gone.
his weathered hands shaking, Hawkeye opened the door to step back inside his home, and looked around his home.
He'd been a son, a surgeon, a lothario.
In this life, though, he supposed, that one of the roles that had meant the most to him was that of a friend.
And good friends were becoming harder to find, and even harder to keep.
He dug out his phone book, put on his reading glasses and searched for his phone book that he'd kept, where once a little black book had held prominince.
After finding the name of Radar, and knowing that Hawkeye was now to pass along the sad news of Mulcahy's passing,it was then that Hawkeye realized just how much his friends had indeed been part of his life.
whether it be by sharing a cramped tent in Korea, the occasional reunions over the years, phone calls or letters, Hawkeye's friends had always been there for him.
Until they weren't.
and it was with hands shaking, his voice sullen, and a heavy heart, that Hawkeye picked up the telephone.
"May I speak to Radar please? Yes, Radar...it's Hawkeye...listen, are you sitting down?..."
That wasn't the first call that Hawkeye had started out prefacing that way, and it apparently wouldn't be the last.
that was part of life.
Losing loved ones, watching loved ones hurt, struggling and hurting...all very real parts of life.
Just as importantly, so were friendships.
so were Hawkeye's friends. And considering how tough life could be, he was all the more grateful for having the friends he did to help him get by times like this.
All in all, Hawkeye knew that he'd been a lucky, lucky man.
In this life, he'd loved his friends, every one.
the end
And there were the increasingly numerous phone calls such as this, where, yet again, they'd lost a common friend.
And on this day after Christmas, it was to Hawkeye's shock and heavy heart, that he'd learned, via phone call from BJ, that he'd learned that beloved Father Mulcahy, friend, father, Padre, champion of the children, the fighter of the unjust, the perfectly imperfect man of the cloth, had died.
The normally quite loquacious Benjamin Franklin Pierce was at a rare loss for words. Hell, he couldn't even put together a coherent sentence in his own mind, which was quite the rarity.
"Aw, Nertz, don't you ever stop talking?" Frank Burns had grumbled once, after a grueling thirteen hour session of meatball surgery.
"I tried it once. I didn't like it. Or so I recall my mother telling me. I believe I was three years old, the last time I stopped talking," Hawkeye chortled.
"And that only lasted because it was the first time Hawkeye had slept through the night without waking her up to ask for water, food, a story, anything," Trapper had laughed, only egging Hawkeye on more.
"That's not true, Trap," Haweye went on as he ramaged through his clothes, looking for a warm shirt to put on this unusally cool evening in Korea. "I didn't make a sound through the entire movie we watched last week."
"That' s because your tongue was stuffed down Nancy's throat," Trapper chortled. "And wasn't Henry mad! That had been his girl!"
"Both of you, put a sock in it! Some of us are trying to sleep," Frank groused as he tossed and turned under a couple of blankets.
"You should have seen his face! " Hawkeye howled. "His face was as red as, well...as his nose. He'd been drinking a bit during that movie, don't think I didn't know about that!"
Just then a mildly perplexed Mulcahay had walked in, and he sighed with a soft smile. "I suppose I've walked into something of which I'm not quite sure I want to know about."
"I sure as heck don't want to hear about any of their shenanigans, but try getting these two to pipe down so a gentleman can get some sleep," Frank complained, his face nearly buried in blankets.
Mulcahay audibly startled, as he hadn't seen Frank in there, and Trapper and Hawkeye continued to laugh."Put a sock in it," Frank continued crankily.
"I beg your pardon?" Mulcahy sighed, adjusting his glasses.
"Not you. Them! These two..it's always these two!"
"But I..."Mulcahy tried to protest, but Frank wouldn't let up.
"Those two never shut up! they talk and they talk and they talk.."
"Do we talk and talk and talk?" Trapper looked at Hawkeye in feigned bewilderment. "I thought we were jovially conversing."
"I thought it was more along the lines of a playful banter. Father, what is your opinion?"
"I"m not sure I'm the proper person to judge," Father Mulcahy spoke up.
"Oh put a sock in it too!" Frank retorted, and then all eyes fell upon him. Mulcahy raised his eyebrow, and Frank sat up, trying to talk his way out of that one.
"Never you mind, Frank," the good padre sighed. "Anyways I thought you fellows might like to know that the young man you just worked on passed away. I barely got to him in time to give him his last rites."
Now the three surgeons all stared in disbelief. "We just finished him...we thought ...he was stabilized..."Trapper said while Hawkeye sat on the edge of his bed, unable to process his next thought.
"He had been. Henry went to check on his vital signs, and this fellow's heart rate had dropped. Henry tried his best, but I'm afraid the young man went rather suddenly," Mulcahay explained, turning to leave when Frank said, as usual, a rather inappropriate comment.
"He wasn't a man anyways. He was one of them. He was our enemy. No loss if you ask me."
Hawkeye stood up, ready to face off with Frank, when Mulcahay shocked everyone by raising his voice. His face reddened, Mulcahy took off his glasses and angrily addressed Frank.
"Now listen here, you...you..you...you cretin! That nobody you claim was a young man. His grieving mother is outside my tent, crying and waiting for a translator to arrive so she may ask me questions, so that I might explain to her how her young boy was out plowing his field one minute, and the next a land mine was lodged in his throat! that young man you claim to be nobody, left behind a mother who's husband had recently died, leaving behind her and her young daughter. This boy was no more than twenty, yet he was looking for ways to provide for his mother and sister. Now you tell me, Frank Burns, who will tend to their needs, to make sure they have anything to eat, to make sure they are safe from this blasted war effort! Who will care for the females as they cry, as they unload their burdens of their heart, who will provide comfort and reassurance that their lives will be okay? Who will, Major Burns? Who will?"
Hawkeye and Trapper, and even Frank, were all silenced by the unexpected burst of outrage from their friend.
Hawkeye went up and put his hand on Mulcahy's shoulder. "You will, Father. You will."
no one said a word as the padre adjusted his glasses, wiped down his face with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and apologized. "You're right. I will. Good night, Hawkeye, Trapper." and he glared at Frank. "Major Burns."
Frank would finally fall asleep, and Trapper and Hawkeye would indulge in more than a few martinis, but finally sleep overtook all three of them.
But that image of the perfectly inperfect man of the cloth would stay with Hawkeye forever, as well as memories of not just him, but Frank, Trapper, and Henry as well.
As Hawkeye struggled to walk away from the phone, it occured to him that out of the memory of he, Trapper, Henry, Father Mulachy, now only Hawkeye remained.
Colonel Potter had passed some few years prior to this conversation Hawkeye had with BJ.
One by one, his friends from the 4077 were leaving him.
there was once a time when Hawkeye hated the thought of Korea, couldn't stand to be in that hell hole, thought that he would never give a second thought of his time there once he'd made it back to America.
And now all Hawkeye could do these days, as his own age progressed, as he started feeling and looking the part of time passing by, was cling to the memories of his brothers and sisters from the 4077.
as he'd stated in his farewell speech at the end of the war, he'd loved them, one and all.
and one by one, they were leaving this world.
Hawkeye stepped outside and inhaled a deep breath of cool and crisp early winter Crabapple Cove air.
The thought had occured to him that he himself might not experience many more of these winters.
there were no guarantees in life, that was made perfectly clear with the news that Mulcahay was now gone.
his weathered hands shaking, Hawkeye opened the door to step back inside his home, and looked around his home.
He'd been a son, a surgeon, a lothario.
In this life, though, he supposed, that one of the roles that had meant the most to him was that of a friend.
And good friends were becoming harder to find, and even harder to keep.
He dug out his phone book, put on his reading glasses and searched for his phone book that he'd kept, where once a little black book had held prominince.
After finding the name of Radar, and knowing that Hawkeye was now to pass along the sad news of Mulcahy's passing,it was then that Hawkeye realized just how much his friends had indeed been part of his life.
whether it be by sharing a cramped tent in Korea, the occasional reunions over the years, phone calls or letters, Hawkeye's friends had always been there for him.
Until they weren't.
and it was with hands shaking, his voice sullen, and a heavy heart, that Hawkeye picked up the telephone.
"May I speak to Radar please? Yes, Radar...it's Hawkeye...listen, are you sitting down?..."
That wasn't the first call that Hawkeye had started out prefacing that way, and it apparently wouldn't be the last.
that was part of life.
Losing loved ones, watching loved ones hurt, struggling and hurting...all very real parts of life.
Just as importantly, so were friendships.
so were Hawkeye's friends. And considering how tough life could be, he was all the more grateful for having the friends he did to help him get by times like this.
All in all, Hawkeye knew that he'd been a lucky, lucky man.
In this life, he'd loved his friends, every one.
the end
