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ankhmutes · 2 months

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We Love You, 1952 : M*A*S*H*

I was watching MASH and on Tumblr, aimlessly scrolling when a mutual somewhere posted something about this episode, and I posted something, and I figured I should actually WRITE something instead of babble about it. SO I did a thing. It took me a couple weeks with some last minute help from the amazing @caffiene-fueled-fuckery without this person I doubt this would have turned out as lovely as it is.

and some nice art too, I got inspired (ish) it's not my best work but I kind of like it.

No warnings, really, just mentions of war. Faint allusions of shipping Hawkeye with a variety of people, so I guess if you squint, Hawkeye could be shipped with anyone but I do fly the flag of Hawkcahy quite high.

The theme music filled the air as hundreds of thousands of households gathered in front of the television. In Eight houses, however, there was an extra air of anticipation. The station had hinted that a MASH unit was going to be interviewed, and all those households had their fingers crossed for it to be 4077th. The chatter in every house hushed, until the voice of Clete Roberts filled the room.

“Good evening. This is Korea, October 9, 1952. I’m Clete Roberts, and I am speaking to you from the recovery room of the mobile Surgical hospital, A MASH.”

Eyes moved from Clete, scanning the background for anything familiar. No one recognized any person, only bodies of nurses flitting around in the background, and drab surroundings. Clete’s voice echoed through eight households, and hearts skipped beats as he continued to speak.

“The fighting began out here two years ago, and in spite of the ongoing peace talks, an end seems nowhere in sight. This isn’t the first time we’ve been to this particular unit, but we’ve returned because of its record of efficiency, and the people who make that record are a truly unique story.

“Doctor? Could I bother you for a second? “

“Sure, set up a tray and I’ll remove the sutures, okay?” A stoop-shouldered doctor spoke, his dark hair glinting in the light and his heavy-lidded eyes ringed with dark circles. In Maine, an older man inhaled sharply, nearly choking on his cider. It had been years since he had laid eyes on his son, and the boy was before him. He saw the little boy in the tired, haggard doctor as the name flashed on the screen.

Capt. B.F. Pierce

Surgeon

Daniel chuckled as he saw his son slip the stethoscope in his pocket, knowing the boy wasn’t quite paying attention. He drank his cider slowly, savoring the sound of his boy’s voice.

“As a Practicing surgeon, how do you cope with these Unusual circumstances?” Clete spoke in his strong voice. Daniel leaned closer, his eyes unflinching as he heard his son speak.

“Well, usually I just, uh, turn my mind off and hope it’ll all go away.” Daniel let out a long sigh, watching Hakweye gaze off into the distance. He knew those rough times, especially after his wife had died which made Hawkeye retreat into himself. “That, uh, doesn’t uh, seem to work, though, so most times you just, uh…” the man shrugs, “do your job and try to forget that there’s a war going on outside the window.”

Somewhere in Hannibal, Missouri, a steel-eyed and silver-haired woman smiled gently as the camera changed from the sad-eyed boy she had read about in numerous letters, to the face she had cherished for over forty years. Her Sherman. Her heart fluttered as she saw the words on the screen, floating under her husband’s tired, tired face. She knew that face, it was the face she had seen on numerous sleepless nights, when one of the children wouldn’t go to bed, or one of those nights where he had an ornery patient. It was a face she knew that wouldn’t go away for a long while. She could see the pride in his eyes.

COL. SHERMAN POTTER

Commanding Officer

The slim man shook his head tiredly, and Mildred put her hand over her heart, almost an echo of her husband’s visage as she listened to his voice soothing her tired heart

“I’ve seen the casualty reports, and the number of wounded men that pass through here is staggering.” Clete sat across from Sherman, leaning forward in concentration. Mildred smiled with gentle sadness, knowing what her husband’s reply would be, she had heard him answer that question countless times, and his letters showed his frustration with the sheer volume of patients that had gone through their camp.

“Yeah, we’ve got enough clientele here to open a hospital.” Mildred smiled as Sherman fiddled with the nameplate, recognizing the discomfort; not with the question, but with the situation. “Makes for some long sessions in O.R. I’ve seen surgeons so tired they almost fell asleep on their patients.” Mildred leaned back in her chair, pulling a quilt closer to her as if she could feel Sherman in the chair near her, but his blanket still lay neatly folded in the seat. Her attention returned to the screen, now showing a young man that brought a bright smile to her face, recalling her husband’s latest letter inquiring about some patterns to be sent to–

CPL. M. KLINGER

Corpsman

Arabic chatter immediately quieted, as many sets of eyes were glued on the TV, the sizzling smell of sausages mingling with strong onions and the sweetness of cardamom in the air. Abdul leaned against his sister, whispering in her ear and translating the English, but everyone knew the Klinger name. It was no doubt their loved one, Max, on the screen, everyone relishing his beaming countenance.

“What’s your most difficult problem here?” Clete leaned over to Max, who was holding on to a broom, shifting slightly as he spoke, Abdul pausing to let his sister hear her son’s voice, knowing she could sense more than just words, through his voice and facial expression.

“Well, uh, for me, the toughest is getting used to doing things the army way.” Laughter broke out among the Klingers, light chatter and swatches of fabric being tossed around. “You see, back home in Toledo, when we needed something, we just stole it—-borrowed it.” Abdul shook his head and laughed, as his sister wept and put her hand on the TV, cradling her son’s face through the screen.

The Grange hall in Iowa erupted with excitement and shushing, as the bespectacled young man appeared on screen, some flashes erupting through the hall as people took photos of the TV set with the name on the screen.

CPL W. O’REILLY

Company Clerk

Uncle Ed beamed with pride, holding his sister close to him as she wept openly into a plaid handkerchief. A girl in a blue gingham dress hollered with excitement, shoving a boy next to her for a place right in front of the TV, leaning in close to hear.

“You know, back in Iowa, if you wanted somethin’ all you had to do was ask for it.” The crowd all nodded in approval. “But, I mean, wow. Over here, they got, uh, paperwork and requisitions for everything.” Grumbles broke out among the older men, reminiscing about their own experiences in the service during one of the Great Wars. Shushes filled the room as the screen changed.

Daniel Pierce chuckled as he put down his glass, putting aside his plate and tray as he leaned back in his easy chair to listen some more, his eyes immediately latching on to the lean frame of his son as he leaned on a desk in a recovery ward. Daniel recognized the kind of room, and smiled as he listened to the younger man speak. In his mind’s eye, he saw the toothy smile of Hawkeye’s, dressed in his own medical coat, trying to give the cat a medical exam.

“What do you miss the most?” Daniel wanted to swat the microphone out of the reporter’s face, but chose to sigh and lean forward, his hands on his bony knees.

“Well, just offhand I’d say, uh, uh,” Daniel frowned, he knew his son must be exhausted, but this was a new reach. “A mattress thicker than a matzo…” Daniel snorted in amusement, his smile mirroring his own son’s. “...my own bathroom with a combination lock… any woman out of any uniform.. “ Daniel rolled his eyes and smirked. “...and the entire state of maine.”

‘I miss you too, son,’ Daniel mouthed quietly as the old man who was Hawkeye’s superior appeared on screen. Daniel was grateful for a man like Sherman Potter. Hawk really needed someone to keep him in line, and Sherman didn’t seem one to take too much crap, but still give him enough room to cause chaos without hurting anyone. Too much.

Mildred remained curled up in her seat, her eyes fastened on the screen with intense concentration once Sherman came on again, burying her face in his blanket. She could swear she still smelled his aftershave.

“Well, I miss playing spoons with my wife.”

“Playing spoons? I don’t understand.” Mildred giggled loudly, blushing and feeling like a schoolgirl all over again. “You mean music?”

“No.” Sherman smiled, his hands moving up slightly. “You cuddle up together like two spoons in a drawer.” Mildred rolled her eyes ever so slightly, moving forward to get to her cup of tea. “Wait a minute. That’s a little personal. Maybe you shouldn’t use it.” Mildred put down her tea cup and put her hand to her lips, almost in consternation of Sherman’s sudden formality. She could see he was anxious, and most likely missing her. She just took more sips of her tea, her eyes drinking in every nuance of her husband.

“Whatever you say.”

“Aw, what the hell. I’m sure there are plenty of people back home who do the same thing.”

Mildred sighed as her tea cup clinked softly and she shook her head in unison, copying Sherman. She smiled as she saw the next face, the young man so youthful and sweet-looking.

Angelica shouted at the other girls to shush–her brother was on TV. She could finally see him after so long, and he looked much too skinny. She had to wonder what they were serving him over there as she shoved Martha Margaret out of her seat, almost tripping over Ruth and Naomi who were sprawled out on the floor. Angelica grinned as she saw her brother’s smile and his name flash on the screen.

1ST. LT. F. MULCAHY

Chaplain

“Father, what do you miss the most?”

Angelica watched her brother smile in his coffee cup, holding it just like their mother did. He looked too casual in his black T-shirt, but she was pleased he still wore his crucifix that she had given him before he left for Korea.

“He mustn't miss much over here, huh?” Jude asked, leaning over the back of the creaky couch. Angelica swatted him away ferociously, while the younger girls shouted at the young priest to sit down in a huff.

“Well, let’s see. I think a chapel that didn’t double as a mess tent. You see, I’m very fond of stained glass.”

“Yeah, the amount of glass windows he broke playing baseball as a boy. Da whipped his butt raw.” Angelica snickered as she leaned back, surrounded by her girls, the novicates who were the nuns-in training and the priest, to watch what her brother was writing home about. The smirk fading to a frown, she wondered if perhaps it would shed further light on his cryptic letters home.

Mrs. O’Reilly sighed with a smile as she saw her son. “What do I miss the most? My very own room.” She laughed as she nudged her brother, knowing that Walter never quite had his own room, he always had to share it with the animals he ended up bringing home.

“You’ll have to excuse my appearance, my hair hasn't seen a beauty parlor since Tokyo…Oh, thank you.” Margaret smiled, and Margaret’s parents smiled at the sight of their daughter. “What was the question?”

MAJ. M. HOULIHAN

Head Nurse

“What do you miss the most around here?”

“Around here? Well, frankly, I’d have to say a sense of order and discipline.” Margaret’s father nodded and shook his fist in the air in agreement, as Margaret’s mother huffed and smirked. She was just content to see her daughter looked all right, even if just a tad frustrated…

Screaming and hollering rang through the air as Peg called over her friends, her arms wrapped around her little girl, Erin, pointing to the TV. “That’s Daddy! See, your daddy’s on TV!” She nearly swooned as she saw her husband’s name come on the TV.

CAPT. B.J. HUNNICUTT

Surgeon

“Well, one thing I miss is my wife’s cooking.” Peg shrieked with delight and giggled, as Erin reached out to the TV, her eyes moving from the photo on the TV of BJ and Peg, then the TV. “What am I saying? Anybody’s cooking.” Peg giggled and cuddled her daughter, asking if she saw her Daddy, and kissed Erin’s chubby cheeks, wishing her husband was home already. She didn't even mind that mustache he had grown, and how long his hair had grown. She just wanted him home.

Everyone grumbled as the Truman clips rolled, wanting to see their loved ones some more, and beverages were refilled. Diapers changed, and animals fed until the sound of Clete’s voice brought them all back to their respective seats in front of the TV.

Angelica shouted with delight as she pointed out her brother in the background, behind Clete, sipping his coffee peacefully. People milled around Clete, and Angelica’s eyes watched her brother with a pang of sadness, realizing how alone he really could be, surrounded by all these people.. An island unto himself, thought Angelica as she held a pillow closer to her body, whispering at Jude to shut up so she could hear the TV.

War, like politics, makes strange bedfellows. The 4077th is a highly diverse, if not disparate group of people. And yet the war seems to have molded them into a family….. Each family member watching the special nodded almost as if in unison to Clete’s words. Their faces reflected the happiness that they held for their loved one and their companions, now able to recognize and put a face to the names they read about so frequently in the letters and heard about in phone calls, oftentimes in the background, a strange tinny sound from so far, far away.

Mildred smiled softly at her husband’s words, knowing he meant every word dearly.

“I would say, all things considered, and without overstating it, they’re just about– they’re just about– No, forget “just about” They’re the best bunch of people I’ve ever worked with in my entire life.” Each family member beamed with pride at the words from Colonel Potter.

“When you share the horror that we do day in and day out…” BJ shook his head. “You don’t just feel close, you cling to each other.” Peg frowned and held her daughter closer to her, almost afraid to wonder what horrors her husband dreamt of at night. She hoped he would dream of pretty things, such as the time they took Erin to the beach, or when they bought their house… but Peg found herself making a promise to hold onto BJ for however long he needed it when he returned. She would try to make home a safe place again…

“I hate the damn army, but I love these people.” Abdul translated for his sister, their smiles matching Max’s, so grateful he had found such wonderful friends. The section 8 had become much less of a concern, and Max’s mother found herself murmuring to Abudl that he had grown into such a wonderful young man, as she gestured to the screen, the warm scent of tobacco filling the air.

The people gathered in the Grange Hall in Iowa leaned towards each other, giving each other comfort throughout the narrative, until Radar’s face came on screen. “The way people come and go around here. You know, you just get to know one person, and he leaves, and then there’s another person.” Ed whispered to his sister, wondering what had made Walter so cynical. Most likely that CO, they had before- what was his name? Henry Blake? Ed recalled his sister had made a cake to send to that poor family in Illinois.

Margaret’s parents chuckled at their daughter’s words, holding up their respective cups of scotch and sparkling bubbly water. “Well, you have to understand, I’m regular army. Most of them are not. They’re a terribly unruly and undisciplined bunch, and I thank god for each and every one of them when those casualties roll in.”

Both of her parents smiled, saying in unison, “That’s our Margaret.”

Daniel Pierce smiled–he knew his son more than his son knew himself. He could see the honesty and shadow of denial in the young man’s eyes. “You get close to everybody in a place like this. Some more than others, of course. Uh, my bunkmate for instance, B. J. Hunnicutt. Uh, clean cut, family man, even temperament. In spite of that, I really like the guy. “ B.J. seemed more than a friend, more like a close comfort. And what was that of the Mulcahy fellow he heard about in every letter? That nice young man had dominated a number of letters home, Daniel thought with a fond smile as the young man’s face filled the screen.

Angelica’s fellow nuns nudged her, asking how come her brother looked so sweet, but was such a devil when he was a boy? Angelica laughed and shook her head, telling them she had gotten her revenge on him when she had bitten his toe.

“And then, of course, There’s Major Winchester, our newest arrival.” Angelica could tell her brother wasn’t too thrilled with Major Winchester–he had his I must not tell lies face on.. “Someone should say something nice about him. Uh… H-He’s a very good doctor.” Angelica could read into her brother’s words, recalling their mother muttering under her breath at the grocery clerk a few choice words in an almost-forgotten Irish Gaelic as she smiled the same smile that her son had put on, and Angelica was echoing a similar smile.

MAJ. C.E. WINCHESTER

Surgeon

Charles’s family murmured in delight and acknowledgement as soon as Charles filled the screen, his name bringing pride to the patriarch.

“Tell me something about the people here.” Honoria laughed from her position on the settee, nearly tipping her cup of tea. Mother scolded Honoria, while Father’s eyes darted askance, with a half-smirk on his lips in his wife’s direction.

“No, I don’t want to get into personalities, uh, here.” Honoria giggled again, this time earning a mild half-hearted flutter that couldn’t be called a swat, in her direction. “However, there are some people that I will try very hard to forget. Of course, I know I never shall. One in particular who is, you might say, well, let’s start with immature, self-righteous, arrogant, everything I abhor. For the record, the only thing that makes him marginally acceptable is his skill as a surgeon. Of course, even in there his conduct is insufferable.” Honoria asked her mother and father which one Charles was talking about, since there were so many people he complained about, and they all started debating, since there was no way any of those people they had heard about on the TV matched Charles’s ramblings. Honoria knew better, smirking at the TV as she feigned interest in her parents’ debate. She knew her brother could be fancying someone, possibly one of the roommates, she just couldn’t see Charles paired with any of the nurses–he never mentioned them….

Daniel hollered with laughter, slapping his knee. “Our head nurse is really something. Uh, Major Houlihan. Margaret. Did I mention she’s really something?” He knew his son would admire a woman just like his own mother, but he was vaguely sure his son liked both Margaret and a certain fellow….

The commercials filled the air. People got up to refresh drinks, fill plates, and use the restroom in a hurry. Chatter filled the air, asking questions about ‘the others’- They were used to hearing about BJ, Charles, Francis, Sherman, Max, Margaret– but they never had heard about the other people around that particular loved one. Daniel hummed and wondered to himself about That nice young man Francis, and the roommate B.J.-- what exactly did that name stand for? Charles’s family discussed the merits of Charles’s roommates and the head nurse, Margaret–surely she would be suited for Charles–while Honoria rolled her eyes and perused her brother’s records. Peg sipped coffee and rocked a sleepy Erin, not wanting to put down her baby, her only physical extension of BJ.

The air hushed as Clete came on the TV, his voice strong and filling the sudden void.

This is just the beginning of autumn in Korea, and there’s already a real chill in the air. Before winter even arrives, the temperatures will dip below zero, and all that after a summer of unbearable heat. If you were going to hold a war, this is probably the most brutal climate on Earth in which to do it.

“You’re five miles from the front on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and the O.R. Sessions must be a source of great tension. What do you do to relax?”

“Relax?”

“You get a chance to relax, don’t you?”

“To relax, I like to stay in shape, so I drink a lot. That’s uh.. That’s the really big sport here.” Daniel frowned and glanced at his own bottles, resting on top of the record player. He knew Hawkeye had been exposed to some heavy drinking, particularly around the time of his wife’s death, but Hawkeye's flippancy unnerved him mildly. He knew of the still in his son’s tent, but he was slightly nervous about how exactly his son would drink away his terrors… he didn’t want Ben to end up like his Uncle Archie, now would he…

Jude poked Angelica, who startled and turned towards the TV, blankets and pillows flying everywhere as nuns fought for a good spot to see Angelica’s handsome brother.

“Poker. I know that may sound very strange, but poker relaxes me.” Angelica shouted in indignation, Francis had taken every red cent from her and their other siblings when they played poker as children. “There’s nothing more satisfying than shearing the flock, as it were.” Angelica knew that smile– her brother was breaking rules again. “Of course, it all goes to the orphans. Well, almost all of it.” She knew of the customary tax, as it were–seventy-five percent went to Francis’s cause, and then twenty-five would go to Francis himself. Sometimes he called it a ‘finder’s fee’- Angelica called it a ‘fleecer’s fee.’

Honoria hollered at her parents, suddenly unladylike, as her brother’s visage filled the screen. Her parents paused to scold her, waiting until after Charles had made his appearance.

“Music is my sanctuary–classical. It reminds me that there is still some grace and culture left in the world.” Honoria rolled her eyes as her parents called her ‘unladylike’ and ‘unseemly for a young woman of your station, they don’t holler.’

Peg giggled and snuggled Erin, who gave a milk-drunk gurgle of contentment, baby snores wafting from the not-quite-baby, not quite-toddler in Peg’s arms. “Oh, in general, I’d say with a lot of horseplay–taking out your frustrations on other people.” Peg scoffed, knowing her husband and his practical jokes. “You know, good, clean, American fun.” She still hadn’t gotten the ink out of that dress, the victim of the last practical joke he had played on her right before he had left for Korea… But right now, she didn’t mind it one bit. It helped her smile, remembering her BJ.

Daniel Pierce rolled his eyes and cleaned up his drinks, knowing his son was definitely one of those people.. “I don’t want to lie to you. I’ve established some wonderful temporary relationships with a lot of the nurses here. I like to think of myself as a social director of the heart.” Social director, indeed, Daniel recalled the numerous phone calls he had gotten for ‘Ben’ or ‘Benji’ or ‘Benjamin’--his favorite was of a nervous young man, right before Hawkeye had left for Korea- asking for ‘Benny-”

LATEST NEWS FROM THE KOREAN FRONT: MOVIETONE NEWS

“How has being a part of all this, the war, changed you?” As Clete asked each person, each family held their breath, half-waiting to hear what their loved one would say. Letters and phone calls were one thing, but it was something else to actually see their loved one say the words….

“Very impressed now, with the…” Daniel watched Clete tower over Hawkeye at the desk, presumably in the recovery ward. “...terrible fragility of the human body and the uh…” Daniel let out a sharp breath, realizing what Hawkeye’s next word would be, “the unbelievable resiliency of the human spirit.” He could see in his mind’s eye the last time he had kissed his wife good-night, and the last time his wife had kissed their son good-night. He was fairly certain it was the same image Hawkeye was seeing.

Peg shivered, suddenly feeling a cold shiver of ice shoot through her as she watched the cold ice shoot over her husband’s visage, not wanting to see that look in his eye again. “And it’s made me…” Peg bit her lip, unable to tear her eyes away from BJ, red lipstick smearing her teeth. “Very, very angry.”

Honoria glanced askance at her parents, sitting stiffly and formally in their chairs. “It’s allowed me to work fairly closely without becoming contaminated with people of vastly divergent points of view.” Honoria smirked as she looked up from the record-sorting, seeing the truth of his words in her brother’s eyes, and the flicker of distaste in her parents’ eyes.

“I’ve learned more about myself and how much I really care about people. Um, I feel as old as I’m ever going to get.” Margaret’s mother smiled, her smile a match to Margaret’s own. “Older than I ever intended to be. And I… really can’t wait to go home.” Both parents let out small sighs of relief and agreement, wanting their daughter back safe.

“When this is over, when there’s no more reason for you to be here, what memories will you take home with you?”

“That’s easy. The face of every kid who’s come through here.” Daniel nodded and held up his coffee mug to his son’s words, he knew the feeling all too well from his own experience in 1917. He still couldn’t forget the haunted faces of the soldiers he had seen from the Ardennes.

“But there must be other things you will recall.” Daniel mouthed, ‘good luck.’ Hawkeye was always a mauldin child, oscillating wildly from one extreme to another, in-between a mere suggestion.

“I don’t know. I don’t think that you remember the bad stuff as much as you think you will. I think uh, I think I’ll never forget the day I go home. At the moment, I can’t imagine it.” Daniel took a swig of his coffee, allowing it to burn his throat on the way down, he needed the distraction from the pang of fear he felt for his son.

Honoria’s eyes snapped up at the moment she heard her brother’s voice, and her eyes widened.

“No memories. I blot it out as it happens.” Honoria shivered, recalling their younger brother and the vacant look she had seen in her brother’s eyes.

Margaret’s parents smiled fondly at their daughter. “The people here at MASH. They’re like family. No, they are family. Yes. Family.” It was hard to forget the cherished relationships between people who shared quite an adventure.

Angelica shook her head at her brother, rolling her eyes at the ceiling, knowing he was a sucker for those little fellows, never wanting anyone to go without a parent’s love. “The little Korean children. Their smiles amidst all this despair.” Angelica remembered their mother, fondly feeding the neighborhood children pies, saving scraps for the less fortunate, and practically giving away everything she’d knit to others less fortunate. Bless his soul, Francis had inherited their mother’s gentle nature, and their father’s fierce streak.

Abdul echoed Max’s words, nodding with emphasis and smiling as the dark-eyed Klingers all nodded in agreement, feeling Max’s warmth emanating from his smile, and understanding that there was happiness to be found… “All the good times. That’s what I’ll remember. I think there were three.�� Abdul knew that was one of the many reasons he kept sending Max all these dresses.. Someone needed a smile out there, and seeing an hairy middle-eastern man in a dress could make anyone forget the horror surrounding them even for a moment.

Mildred smiled fondly, curling up further in her blanket, letting the steam from her tea warm her face, sipping as she watched Sherman on TV. “What these young people have–their dedication, their devotion, almost, their high spirits–has rubbed off on me. I feel ten years younger. I’m a better doctor, and most important…” Mildred couldn’t stop smiling–it was her husband on TV, and she could hear his voice as if he was right next to her. “I’m a better human being and I don’t have to remember that. It’s part of me.” She knew the man spoke gospel truth, Sherman was one of those rare men that were willing to be flexible, to learn from others, and shed his old skin every once in a while. She wouldn't have stayed with him all these years if he had still remained as stern and unyielding as he had been in their youth.

The people in the Grange Hall had left, the novelty of the programme wearing off, but Radar’s family had remained. They huddled around the television, their blankets wrapped around their shoulders and smiles on their faces as they watched Walter on the tv, relishing the sound of his voice. “One day. One very bad day.” Radar’s mother could recall that very day. “There’s people here that suffer every day. And, uh… I don’t really want to talk about this.” She knew the pain, having lost her husband and knowing the pain of watching peoples’ suffering.

Angelica blinked at the sudden change, taking in her brother’s tent, she knew it was his tent, from the desk in the background. Only Francis would drag all those books all the way to Korea and play poker with the boys, turning around and giving the winnings to the little children.

“When the doctors cut into a patient, and it’s cold, you know, the way it is now today…” Angelica remembered bundling up with Francis to run outside in the cold and was unnerved that something could be colder than Philadelphia in winter. “Steam rises from the body.” Whispers broke out around Angelica. “And the doctor will– will warm himself over the open wound. Could anyone look on that and not feel changed?” Jude whispered to Angelica, realizing now how and why Francis was such a good priest–‘he’s got a way with words, hasn’t he?’ – Angelica nodded as the image jerked slightly, her brother suddenly putting his spectacles back on. She could see the glimmer of tears still in his eyes, and the breath left Angelica’s body, for a split-second she could feel her soul leave her body and cry out at the injustice her brother was witnessing every day. Her lips parted and she merely nodded to Jude, the pain too sharp for words.

There’s no way to summarize what you’ve just seen and heard, save to say that, God willing, all these exceptional people will be going home one day. Let us hope that neither they nor any others will have to assemble for such a purpose again. Good night.

The TV clicked off. Each person drifted off in their own thoughts, finishing up their nightly routines with the spectre of their loved one next to them. Daniel locked the doors, turned out the lights, and curled up in his large bed, holding on to his wife’s pillow. Mildred washed up the dishes, listening to a recording of her and Sherman’s favorite song, humming along as she danced herself to bed. She brushed off Sherman’s half of the bed before kissing his photo and turning in for the night, composing her next letter to him in her head as she drifted off in a peaceful sleep. Abdul and Mrs. Klinger got the little ones ready for bed, chattering among themselves in Arabic, debating what outfit they should send to Max next. Margaret’s parents each laid in their own beds, in their separate households, sharing the same thought of how much they loved their daughter and how lucky they were to have her in their lives. Angelica herded all of the novice nuns to their dormitory, taking a moment to make sure Jude would behave, before locking herself into her room. She crossed herself, taking off her habit and wimple, messy dark blond hair falling about her in wild curls as she brushed through her hair. She sang to herself a childhood song she used to sing with Francis, half-praying for her brother and his companions in the 4077. Honoria sorted the records, making her way to her bedroom and falling asleep to the sound of her brother’s favorite record, putting up with the caterwauling just so she could pretend he was down the hall, being a brat and torturing her with the music. Peg had laid Erin down for the night, and was curled up in bed, wearing BJ’s pajamas. She inhaled his aftershave and talked to BJ as if he was lying next to her in the bed, the small charade allowing her to drift off to sleep.

On the other side of the world, In Korea, it was chaos. Blood painted the OR red and people glanced up for a moment, eyes on a clock.

“It’s bedtime back home.”

Murmurs about what their loved ones may be doing at that very moment drifted about, not knowing that every thought was about them, love from afar surrounding every soul in the 4077.

#mash 4077 #mashblr #mash fandom #m*a*s*h 4077 #if you squint you can ship hawkeye with anyone #colonel potter #father mulcahy #john mulcahy #hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #charles emerson winchester iii #margaret houlihan #maxwell klinger #sherman potter #the interview episode with clete roberts I forget what season but it's in the later season five maybe?

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caffiene-fueled-fuckery · 10 months

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My M*A*S*H Fic Olympics Contributions

Hello!! I thought I’d link the pieces that I wrote for the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics that ended on Monday. I didn’t get to do all 7 days, but I got 5, so I’m super proud! Links and brief summaries below!

Day 2: Weather

Title: When It Rains, It Pours

Pairing: Gen, Hawkeye & BJ, Charles & BJ

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,129

Status: Complete

Day 3: Horror

Title: Blood in the Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort, trauma response, blood and gore

Word Count: 2,159

Status: 1/2 Chapters

Day 4: Orange

Title: Shades of Amber, Heart of Gold

Pairing: Gen, Max Klinger & Kellye

Prominent Tag(s): POV Max Klinger, One-sided Attraction, Colour Theory

Word Count: 362

Status: Complete

Day 6: Injury

Title: God, Keep My Head Above Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): Deaf Character, Hearing Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 3,766

Status: Chapter 1/?

Day 7: Secrets

Title: Halfway Between

Pairing: Gen, Radar O’Reilly & Max Klinger, Radar O’Reilly & Henry Blake

Prominent Tag(s): s03ep24 Abyssinia Henry, Episode Continuation, Max Klinger Sees Ghosts, Grieving Radar O’Reilly, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,868

Status: Complete

I had a lot of fun the past week writing all these pieces! It was definitely a challenge, especially being so new to the fandom and trying to gauge how my interpretations of the characters fit into the narratives. I’m typically an angst writer, so the short piece about Kellye was a challenge, but I ended up being really proud of it! Also, the OC in both the fics with Father Mulcahy are the same OC. I’ll put some details about her down below! Those fics were both floating around in my head before the fic olympics started so yeah, it was self-indulgent. Apologies, lol. If you give any of these a read, I’d love some feedback! Reblogs are welcome! :)

About my OC in the two Mulcahy fics:

Name: Della Woods

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: May 12th, 1922

Age: 29 (at the start of the war)

Hair Colour: Chocolate brown

Hair Style: curly, falls just below her jaw

Eye Colour: Light brown

Skin Tone: very pale

Height: 5′9″ (yes she’s tall for a woman, esp in the 50s)

Job: Nurse, has experience with psychiatric patients (though this doesn’t come through in the first fic, I hadn’t really thought about it yet)

Love Language (giving): Physical Touch (main), Words of Affirmation

Love Language (receiving): Quality Time, Words of Affirmation

Temperament: Energetic, Playful

MBTI: ENFJ

Scars or markings: One above her left hip that curls around onto her stomach (from an accident many years ago), lots of freckles

Her relationship with Mulcahy: they’ve been really close friends/best friends pretty much since Della joined the 4077th, which was just after Mulcahy did. He got very comfortable with her over time because she never tried to pull anything on him, but she wasn’t cautious around him and actually called him by his name (which is John in these stories bc I can’t keep up with how many times it’s changed, but he tells the other nurse to call him that so idk that’s what I went with). She’s very physically affectionate and likes to tease him, and she’s pretty much the only one who can get away with that. Aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that Mulcahy will be vulnerable in front of.

While he’s shy, Della is a social butterfly, and she’s kinda wild when she wants to be, which makes him worry. It’s warranted, she’s a bit of a daredevil, lol. But when the roles are reversed and he pulls something reckless, she’s all over him. And again, aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that’s comforted him/seen him cry, and also is the only one that knows how to handle him when he gets sorta panicky (I wrote in another post somewhere that I headcanon him as having terrible anxiety). They both love each other a lot and overall it’s a very playful relationship, but don’t mess with either of them because you will feel the other one’s wrath.

When it comes to jealousy, Della knows she gets jealous and tries not to, but ultimately fails. Mulcahy on the other hand doesn’t understand why his chest feels so tight when he sees her off with some guy or hears the other men talking about her (she sometimes sleeps around and dates but it’s really only because she can’t have the person she really wants. Or at least she thinks she can’t). They both have rather intense feelings for each other, but Della never said anything because she figured she could never have him and he never said anything bc of his vows and also a lot of denial. TLDR; they’re chaotic and playful but also very emotionally close and care about each other a lot. Best friends fr.

Other random facts about Della:

-she’s incredibly perceptive to subtle changes in people and their moods

-99% of the time is chaotic and playful but when something happens or someone is upset she immediately cools to like 1% and is incredibly gentle. It’s like whiplash, honestly.

-she’s terrified of birds. Especially chickens. But somehow, hot chicken sandwiches are her favourite...

-she has a friend back home who is deaf and knows very basic ASL

-her mother died when she was a teenager

-she’s from Philadelphia, PA, just like Mulcahy, but they never met before the war

-she became a nurse and moved into an apartment with her best friend, but her friend moved out when she got married, and now Della just has a vacant room in her apartment back home

-she shares a tent with Nurses Kellye, Baker, and Able

-Klinger knows she has feelings for Mulcahy but never says anything about it. Just sort of gives her a knowing look

-Frank actually doesn’t bully her like he does with a lot of the others. He actually seems to like her. And everyone is bewildered by this. But Della is a little shit and will use it to her advantage to help the others

-Mulcahy may be camp therapist tm but Della is group therapist tm. She’s also the only one who knows how to calm Mulcahy when he’s anxious (I head canon that he has horrible anxiety but I’m likely just projecting but its fine) and is the only one (other than Margaret and BJ/Trapper) who can calm Hawkeye when he’s it one of his rants or is overstimulated (back on my ADHD/Autistic!Hawkeye bs)

-She used to play field hockey

-She finds her dress uniform too stuffy and would much rather wear her worn in fatigues instead

-She’s a night owl and goes on walks a lot at night after stressful days

Anyway yeah so that’s my M*A*S*H OC. I might make another who is closer to Radar’s age bc let’s be real, he needs a friend his own age. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. I was brainrotting and needed to put all of this info somewhere so here it is!