Remember

[qzee.livejournal.com]

Title: Remember
Author: Qzeebrella
Disclaimer: M*A*S*H is not mine, no profit being made from the story below
***


I close my eyes every now and then and remember.

The pain I felt minutes before headquarters contacted me with news of Colonel Blake's death. The sour taste of air around Major Burns growing stronger as he got weirder and weirder, just before going AWOL. The ache hovering over Hawkeye whenever one of his patients died. The loneliness, fear and homesickness that was always there, all over everything in camp and inside of me.

I breathe in and remember. Klinger's perfume and the need inside him to go home. The flowery perfumes of the nurses. The sharp smell of antisceptic and the horrible smell of blood. The smoky, dirty smell of Rosie's bar.

I breathe out and go on my way, then a hint of a sound will reach my ears and shake loose a hundred memories. The sound of chopper blades in the air. Gunfire and explosions all too close. Moans of pain. Terrified crying. Frank Burns high laugh. The rustles and gasps in Hawkeye's tent any time he and Trapper John were alone or when he had a nurse in there. So many sounds, so loud, deafening me to the present.

I take a bite of my chicken and taste camp food again. It was okay, in a threeday leftovers heated up kind of way. The dust and dirt and boredom that filled the air in Korea heavy on my tongue. The salt of my tears when I was feeling others too much and not able to feel me.

My cat Mr. Bear rubbing against my face reminds me of my bear Fuzzy, who I left over there. I couldn't bring him home. He had soaked in too much pain. Too much death. Too much sadness. Just too much of everything. So I left him behind. Left behind the kid I was and went home a different man.

I thought by leaving him there, I'd leave the worst of the memories behind, but they came with me. Sunk deep in my mind like seeds in the ground. Sprouting up at the worst times and all over the place, like weeds. And like weeds, I couldn't get rid of them. Still can't though over fifty years have passed since I came home.

I know now that the memories will always be there. I'll always remember the people I met there. The doctors, the nurses and the guys, all like family. The soldiers who passed through, especially those that died. The Korean children who begged for food. The orphans and the ladies who'd sneak into a guys tent for a few measley dollars. I remember the chopper pilots and my friend Sparky who I never met, except over the radio. I even remember my bear Fuzzy and wonder where he is now.

The memories haunt me. They crowd around me. They make me feel again what I did back then. They make me remember what it was like to always be surrounded by other peoples pain, fear, saddness and oh so much more. They make me remember the comfort I found in the friendships I made there and in my animals who's feelings were not as strong or as powerful as the peoples.

I will never miss the war, but I will always miss the people I knew back then. I remember how Colonel Blake treated me like a son and think how proud he'd be of his daughters and his grandkids if he were around and hope he's glad I've told them about him. Klinger and of how he came home a year after the war, without his second wife, but with a small baby. Hawkeye and the lasting pain he lived with in his soul once he was home. BJ, who I lost touch with, the majors, Nurse Kelly and all the guys. The soldiers, some of whom I've met again at farm fairs and rummage sales. I remember them now.

I remember all the fun we had together in the camp, whenever we could let loose and have fun. I remember the chaos and that no matter how scared I was sometimes, that the people of the camp were always there for me. Without their being there, without them helping me through it, I don't think I would have made it home. I don't think I'd still be a good man. Without them, I would not be whole now.

So, I'm glad. Glad I had all of them. Glad that I was part of the best bunch of people you'd ever likely meet. Glad that I made it home. Even if it means I'll always be haunted by the memories I made over there.

Comments

[curiouser1228.livejournal.com]

This is beautiful. A fitting tribute for the day.

Thank you!