Letters Home From Korea: From Quijonbu to Mill Valley, Letter #11
Letter #10
TITLE: Letters Home From Korea: From Quijonbu to Mill Valley, Letter #11
AUTHOR: willows_whiten/spell_divine
FANDOM: M*A*S*H
PAIRING: BJ/Peg
GENRE: Het
TABLE: #11: Song Titles A
PROMPT: 12. It's Never Too Late
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 3,821
SUMMARY: BJ writes Peg about various goings on in 4077th, some of which has become very old news.
WARNINGS: n/a
NOTES: I took some liberties with time lines.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine
Dear Peg,
You know you’re the love of my life, right? War’s funny. Or maybe it’s just life. All I know is that while I want nothing more than to get home to you, I wouldn’t be as quick to answer that I wish I had never come here. Don’t get me wrong: I wish I never had to leave you, and I hate war. But I am glad I met Hawkeye, and Radar, and everyone here (yes, even Charles). I would have preferred to have met them all elsewhere. But if I had to be here, I’m glad I have a few fond memories. That’s what I’ll tell Erin first when she starts questioning where I was. I’ll probably wind up telling her the bad parts later; I’ll probably tell both of you. Speaking of which, Hawkeye and I got on the topic of wills. I told him how we had written up one before I left because I wanted to be sure you and Erin were taken care of. Hawk said he wrote up one over here. He said he had a hard time figuring out what to leave me. He wrote up a list of all the young men I operated on to give to Erin. And honestly, I think that’s the best thing I could have received. He plans on giving it to Erin. I’m glad; it will give us an excuse to see each other Stateside (granted we get there), and then you’ll get to meet him. I’m sure he’s anxious to meet both of you since I constantly speak of you both. (And knowing Hawkeye, should he meet you, he’ll probably flirt with you. Not that I can blame him: you’re a beautiful woman.)
One of the many things I miss of home are 24 hour days. It feels like we’re in surgery for weeks at a time, and then nothing.
I‘m never sure what to write you because I don’t want to scare you or make you sick. But how many times can I write you and only tell you I love and miss you? I mean, I do, and I know you love hearing (reading) it, and I do try and say it constantly (because I mean it), but I also don’t want to sound like I’m hiding something, or have it sound like I just copied my last letter to you.
Do you think I’m egotistical? I never thought I was, but a few weeks ago (or was it months?) Charles accidently gave one of his patients a drug which paralyzed him. Hawkeye and I happened to be in post-op at the time, so we were able to revive the patient. Don’t worry, he’ll be okay. But what I keep thinking back to is how almost immediately after, I started badgering Charles for a “thank you”. After all, we had saved his patient’s life. So I thought it only polite. But now I wonder was it because I expected someone who claims so much superiority over me to hold my own basic rules of politeness, or did I want my ego stroke? I didn’t save the patient for him or myself, I did it for the patients. That’s why I became a doctor: to help people. I learned that from my father and grandfather. Therefore, the patient living should have been thanks enough. But Winchester was acting like we did nothing big and the whole things was a big scar on his perfect record. It just got to me.
I guess that’s really the bad part of the little good in the war. I love these people, but living in such close proximities, they annoy me from time-to-time. I know Charles and Hawkeye get annoyed that I always read everything you write me (you know, except for the “good parts”). But I’m just so proud of you two, I have to show you off to everyone. We always work through it of course; just like when you tell Erin to take her questions to Grandpa: it’s not that you don’t love her, just that we all have our limits. I can’t wait to be home so you can tell her to go ask her daddy. I can’t believe how big Erin is getting; I wish I was there.
I had a dream last night, and Margaret was talking about getting to see someone because that was the point of D-Day (I have no idea either). Potter called all the officers into his office, and said we were allowed to have a family member flown over here. Of course I thought of you and Erin. However, I was worried that your plane would get shot down. Potter assured me that because it was D-Day there would be no combat. So I put in a call to you and you two came. I gave you a long kiss, and Erin pulled on my pant leg. I looked down at her and she said, “My mommy!” I told her, “It’s okay, I’m your daddy.” She seemed satisfied by the answer. And being a dream, there was no war and Korea looked beautiful. We had a picnic, and then went fishing. Well more like I tried teaching Erin to fish, but she got bored, so she ran around. When I would catch a fish, I would put it in your face, causing you to shriek and giggle. And you got to meet everyone. And then everyone disappeared (I didn’t get to say goodbye!) and the war was back on. Then Hawkeye woke me up to say there was wounded for breakfast.
Did I tell you about when Hawkeye went to the peace talks? He just drove up there. I wanted to go after him, but Potter wouldn’t let me. Well, before he left, Hawkeye was complaining about how he wanted things to be a bright rosy red. So to welcome him back, we threw a big party, and everyone died their hair and clothes red. The hair dye has since washed out, of course. Luckily there were no wounded, because we all got drunk. (I know I’ve told you this already, but this heavy drinking is simply a way of escaping war. I won’t do it when I get home. I guess having so many men of a similar age in such close confines has made us revert to frat boy ways; after all, we were too busy studying when we were really in college. Don’t worry; I haven’t been fooling around over here.)
I love you so much. I miss you darling. Oh how I miss you. I long to come home to you. To be introduced to my daughter. To build that house in Stinson Beach. I had a drink with Potter last night. We talked about married life. It’s funny: people, especially men, talk about how horrible marriage is, and how you’re throwing everything away. But I don’t see it that way. After all, the only woman I want to kiss is you. The only woman I want to make love to is you. Maybe I’m just a lucky guy: I have a wife I adore, who’s not the jealous kind. That reminds me; one day, Hawkeye and I wound up at Rosie’s (a bar of sorts), and we ran into this solider who had gone AWOL. Well, we got drunk, sang a few songs, (off-key, of course), and decided to stay there and ignore the war’s existence. I danced with a couple of the nurses, and I can say, I prefer dancing with you. I mean, they were all good dancers, but it’s one thing to dance with someone, and another to dance with your wife. With any woman it’s just fun. With you it’s romantic. I want to take you dancing when I get home.
I was talking with one of the our new nurses and she asked why I wasn’t anxious to “welcome” her, and how I seemed to understand women. I told her I don’t understand women, but I have a wife I would do anything for. She then asked about you, then said she wasn’t sure which of us was luckier, but said we must have something unique. She then said it was too bad I was off the market, because I’m so good-looking. Hawkeye was jealous of course.
Have you kept in contact with Radar? I wonder how he’s doing. I miss him.
I know it’s been months now, but I still feel bad I doubted how much you need me. I just miss you so much it drives me crazy. I want to be home so badly. I miss you. I miss your cooking. I miss Erin. I’m afraid Erin and I will be strangers when I get back. Can you promise me you and I won’t be strangers upon my return? I want to be able to sweep you into the longest kiss you’ve ever had and have it seem strange.
I know it’s unfair of me to ask, but is that man still cleaning our gutters? And more importantly, does he know you’re hands-off? I still want to kill our dear neighbor for making a pass at you. I’m sorry. I just love you so much. I hate that anyone think it was okay to make a move on you just because I’m away. You’re my angel, and you have always have been. Have I ever told you that?
Being away, it makes me think of all my stupid mistakes, and of all the things I never told you. I try to avoid telling you too much from over here, but you know I’m surrounded by death. And it makes me wonder if you realize just how much I love you. I want to protect you from all unpleasantness, but I know that’s impossible; if it wasn’t, I never would have gotten drafted. There are plenty of attractive women here, some of whom I would have asked out in my single days. But not a single one so much as holds a candle to you. There’s no woman quite like you Peg Hunnicutt. I’m still honored you let me change your last name (you know what I mean). Every letter I get from you I read over and over until I can practically recite them. I long so much for you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself and Erin; but don’t you become too self-sufficient: I want a role in our family when I get back, okay? No one could ever replace you in my heart. If, God-forbid, the worst should happen, I want you to know I want you to remarry. You deserve happiness, you deserve a husband, and Erin deserves a father. I hope to be the one and only. I love you so much. And I admire you. Have I told you that? Over here, I’m surrounded by strong women, but none of them are as strong as you; not even Margaret. I asked Fr. Mulcahy the other day if he believes that angels can come to us in the form of humans. He told me he strongly believes there’s a little God in all of us, so he supposes some of us could become angles. I think you’re an gel Peg. I love everything about you. I hope you know that. You are definitely my better half, and I can’t imagine a better life than with you and Erin. I wish I could whisper in your ear a thousand times just how much I love you.
Hawkeye was looking for a song to woo a nurse, and I told him our favorite Bach song. He asked if it was romantic, and I asked if he had seen my baby pictures.
I miss my favorite dance partner; you do know by the time I get home you’ll have competition for that title right (and you do know I mean Erin right)? I want nothing more than to see your beautiful smiling face some place other than in my dreams (and I like to kiss it too and have a long evening to follow). I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again: I miss making love to my wife. I can’t imagine that sex with any other women could come anywhere near what it’s like with you. I really think sex is best between two people who truly love each other. I know you know that.
I don’t know how a man like me won the heart of a woman like you, but I’m glad I did. I’d give just about anything come home. I miss your coffee. The stuff here is lousy beyond belief.
Do you know that Hawk still doesn’t believe me that my name doesn’t stand for something?
When I get some free time, and I’m not drinking with Hawkeye, (re)reading one of your letters, playing a prank, reading, playing games, or sleeping, I’m daydreaming of you. I like imagining I’m back home, and you’re sitting at the desk writing a letter, and I’m sitting on the couch watching you. You say you’re certain there’s something better I could be doing, and I say I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. Then, I go up behind you and kiss the top of your head. You look up at me and ask what that was for, and I tell you nothing. Then I kiss your lips, and tell you that’s just for you being you. Then I kiss your lips again and I say it’s a thank you for being a beautiful, sweet woman and for being a wonderful wife. Then you kiss my lips and say it’s for being a sexy man and the best husband. Am I being silly? I love you so much darling. I miss you.
You would think being over here would make one less likely to want to kill someone. You know I never literally would. But we get a lot of pompous generals, etc. and I want to hit them, but I don’t. Darling, I have a confession. Please don’t judge me too harshly. There was this patient and he kept screaming bloody murder at Hawkeye for working on a non-American. Hawk’s like us and believes that people are people are people. Hawk yelled at the patient and harmlessly threatened him. (By the way, this patient was one of mine). Later when the guy was in post-op, Hawk wanted to apologize. I know Hawkeye, and knew he’d wind up yelling at the patient, so I offered to pass on the message. Hawkeye started yelling at me because I said I was calmer under personal attacks. When I got back to the Swamp that evening, the patient was holding his broken cane like a weapon at Hawkeye and I could tell the patient wanted to kill Hawkeye, and I panicked and saw red. I grabbed the guy, pulled him off Hawk, and yelled at him. I realize what I was doing and got someone to take him back to post-op. Peg, I’m still embarrassed that I lost my grip like that. What scared me more is that it was just Hawkeye; what would I do if it was one of you girls. You two are my whole world: I would go to no boundaries to defend you, to protect you. Of course Hawkeye doesn’t think I did anything wrong. But I don’t know; I should have let go of him as soon as I pulled him off. I think Hawk’s just happy I’m not perfect. Or maybe he sees it as I was putting my foot down. I just hope you’re safe.
I have a question, but I’ve been debating asking because I don’t know how to word it. But. . .is everything okay? With every letter I get from you, you sound less and less like yourself. Potter got a letter from Mildred where she was yelling at him for being so far away from home. I hope the distance I hear in your letters is just a result of not wanting to send a letter like that and not that you’ve stopped loving me. It’s okay if you tell me you miss me and you cry yourself to sleep. I love you Peg, and I don’t want any secrets between us, please? I never want you to doubt my love for you, because I’ll never stop. My love for you will only ever grow, I promise. I hope you believe that. I hope you still love me as much as I know you do. I wish I could kiss you right now.
Hawk and I invent card games, and one involves cards, chess and checkers. Maybe I’ll teach the games to you (except, you see, there are no rules).
How are things with your book club, knitting circle and play group? I hope you still laugh; you have a beautiful laugh. I hope you sing Erin to sleep; I miss your voice. How many pages has it been since I said I love you?
Thank you for the peanut butter cookies. Hawk couldn’t eat his because he’s allergic to peanut butter, but everyone else praised them. I thought it was really cute how you put names on them (and Erin’s saying “Daddy”). Has Erin started asking where her daddy is? If she has, I’m sorry. Do tell her I love her. How’s Waggle? And although I’m sure I’ve already asked, how are you? (And I expect more than a one word answer, just so you know. I love you.)
I’ve been thinking back to dating days, and trying so hard to please, and hoping she’ll like you, and all of that and I was thinking I’m glad that’s over. Although, I do still try to impress you, because I don’t ever want to take you for granted. And that feeling is how I would describe love. I’m glad I didn’t get drafted while we were dating. That’s a horrible trial to put that kind of unstable relationship through. Heck, I’ve heard of marriages falling part due to the separation. That happened to Klinger. We had a solider gone AWOL come through here; he was deserting because he had received a letter congratulating him on his brand new baby. He’d been over here for a year. I’m sure you can figure out the meaning of that. Please don’t do that to me. If you cheat, and don’t get pregnant, and it’s a one-time thing, please don’t tell me. If you do cheat, and get pregnant, please let me hear it from you. (I really want to request, please don’t cheat. It would break my heart.) I’m sorry I’m being so morbid (is that the right adjective?) It’s just, war tends to bring out so many “what ifs” that you’d never consider otherwise. I think it’s because it throws you into so many circumstances you would (and could) never be in otherwise. I love you darling and wish I was with you.
Do you know they serve us Spam omelets with powdered eggs? We were going to have real eggs once, but we knocked over the table to hide from a gunshot (don’t worry, it was only one shot and no one was harmed.)
The occasionally like to interview us (not sure who sees the movies), and we get to watch the full thing. Well, we were asked what we miss most about home. Potter mentioned spooning with his wife. I miss that too (with you, not Mildred, of course).
Sweetheart, by morning light, I’m thinking I wasn’t clear in what I was trying to say. I’m confident you would never cheat on me. However, I can’t help but think dark “what ifs” when I’m surrounded by people who weren’t prepared for the worst. That’s all I meant, honest.
Do you know what the word “sweetheart” makes me think of? “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.” I’m in love with you, Peg. Thank you for letting me call you sweetheart.
I’m sorry you have a cold; I wish I was there to nurse you back to health. Has Erin caught it yet?
I don’t remember you mentioning it, but, has our house become the one that everyone is always over? Let had that house when we were growing up. I can see you wanting all the toddlers over to fill your time and the emptiness of the house. Plus, I know you Peg, you’re infectious, and as these children grow, they will come to love you as a second mother.
Have you been keeping yourself busy so as not to feel lonely? I find I can distract myself from it, but I can’t full escape it. Kind of like with the war.
Did you get the bracelet I sent you? I almost got you the matching earrings, but I was afraid your ears would turn green.
I wanted to surprise you, but, I need some information. Klinger said he could make you a dress but I couldn’t recall your closet: what color would you prefer?
I’m sure you read about this in Stars and Stripes, so I felt you were the one person I owed an explanation to. Military records will show I received the Bronze Star. However, I don’t actually have it. I gave it to a soldier. I’ve spent all this time viewing myself as better than a soldier. I don’t kill people; I don’t try to play God. But receiving that medal made me a soldier, and I hated that. I still do. So I gave it to a soldier in Post-op; Hawk had told me the kid had been near death, and then one day he was sitting up in bed and hungry. He asked me why I was giving him the medal, and I told him it was for getting out of here with his butt in one pierce (after all, that’s why they were giving it to me.) As for the reasoning behind why I got the metal, I’d rather not go into that now. Maybe when I get home (if only because I won’t be able to resist your face as you ask).
I love you Peg. Some days, the only thing that gets me through is the thought of getting home to you in one piece.
Can we have a porch swing and a veranda on our new house? I was just thinking it would be nice to sit outside on a porch swing holding my wife. Although really, holding my wife anywhere sounds wonderful.
I could keep this letter for days and keep coming up with things to add, but then you’ll never get it. Besides, it all says the same thing: I love you. I miss you.
Big hugs and kisses to you and Erin,
BJ
P.S. I included my winnings from the latest poker game.
Letter #12
TITLE: Letters Home From Korea: From Quijonbu to Mill Valley, Letter #11
AUTHOR: willows_whiten/spell_divine
FANDOM: M*A*S*H
PAIRING: BJ/Peg
GENRE: Het
TABLE: #11: Song Titles A
PROMPT: 12. It's Never Too Late
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 3,821
SUMMARY: BJ writes Peg about various goings on in 4077th, some of which has become very old news.
WARNINGS: n/a
NOTES: I took some liberties with time lines.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine
Dear Peg,
You know you’re the love of my life, right? War’s funny. Or maybe it’s just life. All I know is that while I want nothing more than to get home to you, I wouldn’t be as quick to answer that I wish I had never come here. Don’t get me wrong: I wish I never had to leave you, and I hate war. But I am glad I met Hawkeye, and Radar, and everyone here (yes, even Charles). I would have preferred to have met them all elsewhere. But if I had to be here, I’m glad I have a few fond memories. That’s what I’ll tell Erin first when she starts questioning where I was. I’ll probably wind up telling her the bad parts later; I’ll probably tell both of you. Speaking of which, Hawkeye and I got on the topic of wills. I told him how we had written up one before I left because I wanted to be sure you and Erin were taken care of. Hawk said he wrote up one over here. He said he had a hard time figuring out what to leave me. He wrote up a list of all the young men I operated on to give to Erin. And honestly, I think that’s the best thing I could have received. He plans on giving it to Erin. I’m glad; it will give us an excuse to see each other Stateside (granted we get there), and then you’ll get to meet him. I’m sure he’s anxious to meet both of you since I constantly speak of you both. (And knowing Hawkeye, should he meet you, he’ll probably flirt with you. Not that I can blame him: you’re a beautiful woman.)
One of the many things I miss of home are 24 hour days. It feels like we’re in surgery for weeks at a time, and then nothing.
I‘m never sure what to write you because I don’t want to scare you or make you sick. But how many times can I write you and only tell you I love and miss you? I mean, I do, and I know you love hearing (reading) it, and I do try and say it constantly (because I mean it), but I also don’t want to sound like I’m hiding something, or have it sound like I just copied my last letter to you.
Do you think I’m egotistical? I never thought I was, but a few weeks ago (or was it months?) Charles accidently gave one of his patients a drug which paralyzed him. Hawkeye and I happened to be in post-op at the time, so we were able to revive the patient. Don’t worry, he’ll be okay. But what I keep thinking back to is how almost immediately after, I started badgering Charles for a “thank you”. After all, we had saved his patient’s life. So I thought it only polite. But now I wonder was it because I expected someone who claims so much superiority over me to hold my own basic rules of politeness, or did I want my ego stroke? I didn’t save the patient for him or myself, I did it for the patients. That’s why I became a doctor: to help people. I learned that from my father and grandfather. Therefore, the patient living should have been thanks enough. But Winchester was acting like we did nothing big and the whole things was a big scar on his perfect record. It just got to me.
I guess that’s really the bad part of the little good in the war. I love these people, but living in such close proximities, they annoy me from time-to-time. I know Charles and Hawkeye get annoyed that I always read everything you write me (you know, except for the “good parts”). But I’m just so proud of you two, I have to show you off to everyone. We always work through it of course; just like when you tell Erin to take her questions to Grandpa: it’s not that you don’t love her, just that we all have our limits. I can’t wait to be home so you can tell her to go ask her daddy. I can’t believe how big Erin is getting; I wish I was there.
I had a dream last night, and Margaret was talking about getting to see someone because that was the point of D-Day (I have no idea either). Potter called all the officers into his office, and said we were allowed to have a family member flown over here. Of course I thought of you and Erin. However, I was worried that your plane would get shot down. Potter assured me that because it was D-Day there would be no combat. So I put in a call to you and you two came. I gave you a long kiss, and Erin pulled on my pant leg. I looked down at her and she said, “My mommy!” I told her, “It’s okay, I’m your daddy.” She seemed satisfied by the answer. And being a dream, there was no war and Korea looked beautiful. We had a picnic, and then went fishing. Well more like I tried teaching Erin to fish, but she got bored, so she ran around. When I would catch a fish, I would put it in your face, causing you to shriek and giggle. And you got to meet everyone. And then everyone disappeared (I didn’t get to say goodbye!) and the war was back on. Then Hawkeye woke me up to say there was wounded for breakfast.
Did I tell you about when Hawkeye went to the peace talks? He just drove up there. I wanted to go after him, but Potter wouldn’t let me. Well, before he left, Hawkeye was complaining about how he wanted things to be a bright rosy red. So to welcome him back, we threw a big party, and everyone died their hair and clothes red. The hair dye has since washed out, of course. Luckily there were no wounded, because we all got drunk. (I know I’ve told you this already, but this heavy drinking is simply a way of escaping war. I won’t do it when I get home. I guess having so many men of a similar age in such close confines has made us revert to frat boy ways; after all, we were too busy studying when we were really in college. Don’t worry; I haven’t been fooling around over here.)
I love you so much. I miss you darling. Oh how I miss you. I long to come home to you. To be introduced to my daughter. To build that house in Stinson Beach. I had a drink with Potter last night. We talked about married life. It’s funny: people, especially men, talk about how horrible marriage is, and how you’re throwing everything away. But I don’t see it that way. After all, the only woman I want to kiss is you. The only woman I want to make love to is you. Maybe I’m just a lucky guy: I have a wife I adore, who’s not the jealous kind. That reminds me; one day, Hawkeye and I wound up at Rosie’s (a bar of sorts), and we ran into this solider who had gone AWOL. Well, we got drunk, sang a few songs, (off-key, of course), and decided to stay there and ignore the war’s existence. I danced with a couple of the nurses, and I can say, I prefer dancing with you. I mean, they were all good dancers, but it’s one thing to dance with someone, and another to dance with your wife. With any woman it’s just fun. With you it’s romantic. I want to take you dancing when I get home.
I was talking with one of the our new nurses and she asked why I wasn’t anxious to “welcome” her, and how I seemed to understand women. I told her I don’t understand women, but I have a wife I would do anything for. She then asked about you, then said she wasn’t sure which of us was luckier, but said we must have something unique. She then said it was too bad I was off the market, because I’m so good-looking. Hawkeye was jealous of course.
Have you kept in contact with Radar? I wonder how he’s doing. I miss him.
I know it’s been months now, but I still feel bad I doubted how much you need me. I just miss you so much it drives me crazy. I want to be home so badly. I miss you. I miss your cooking. I miss Erin. I’m afraid Erin and I will be strangers when I get back. Can you promise me you and I won’t be strangers upon my return? I want to be able to sweep you into the longest kiss you’ve ever had and have it seem strange.
I know it’s unfair of me to ask, but is that man still cleaning our gutters? And more importantly, does he know you’re hands-off? I still want to kill our dear neighbor for making a pass at you. I’m sorry. I just love you so much. I hate that anyone think it was okay to make a move on you just because I’m away. You’re my angel, and you have always have been. Have I ever told you that?
Being away, it makes me think of all my stupid mistakes, and of all the things I never told you. I try to avoid telling you too much from over here, but you know I’m surrounded by death. And it makes me wonder if you realize just how much I love you. I want to protect you from all unpleasantness, but I know that’s impossible; if it wasn’t, I never would have gotten drafted. There are plenty of attractive women here, some of whom I would have asked out in my single days. But not a single one so much as holds a candle to you. There’s no woman quite like you Peg Hunnicutt. I’m still honored you let me change your last name (you know what I mean). Every letter I get from you I read over and over until I can practically recite them. I long so much for you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself and Erin; but don’t you become too self-sufficient: I want a role in our family when I get back, okay? No one could ever replace you in my heart. If, God-forbid, the worst should happen, I want you to know I want you to remarry. You deserve happiness, you deserve a husband, and Erin deserves a father. I hope to be the one and only. I love you so much. And I admire you. Have I told you that? Over here, I’m surrounded by strong women, but none of them are as strong as you; not even Margaret. I asked Fr. Mulcahy the other day if he believes that angels can come to us in the form of humans. He told me he strongly believes there’s a little God in all of us, so he supposes some of us could become angles. I think you’re an gel Peg. I love everything about you. I hope you know that. You are definitely my better half, and I can’t imagine a better life than with you and Erin. I wish I could whisper in your ear a thousand times just how much I love you.
Hawkeye was looking for a song to woo a nurse, and I told him our favorite Bach song. He asked if it was romantic, and I asked if he had seen my baby pictures.
I miss my favorite dance partner; you do know by the time I get home you’ll have competition for that title right (and you do know I mean Erin right)? I want nothing more than to see your beautiful smiling face some place other than in my dreams (and I like to kiss it too and have a long evening to follow). I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again: I miss making love to my wife. I can’t imagine that sex with any other women could come anywhere near what it’s like with you. I really think sex is best between two people who truly love each other. I know you know that.
I don’t know how a man like me won the heart of a woman like you, but I’m glad I did. I’d give just about anything come home. I miss your coffee. The stuff here is lousy beyond belief.
Do you know that Hawk still doesn’t believe me that my name doesn’t stand for something?
When I get some free time, and I’m not drinking with Hawkeye, (re)reading one of your letters, playing a prank, reading, playing games, or sleeping, I’m daydreaming of you. I like imagining I’m back home, and you’re sitting at the desk writing a letter, and I’m sitting on the couch watching you. You say you’re certain there’s something better I could be doing, and I say I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. Then, I go up behind you and kiss the top of your head. You look up at me and ask what that was for, and I tell you nothing. Then I kiss your lips, and tell you that’s just for you being you. Then I kiss your lips again and I say it’s a thank you for being a beautiful, sweet woman and for being a wonderful wife. Then you kiss my lips and say it’s for being a sexy man and the best husband. Am I being silly? I love you so much darling. I miss you.
You would think being over here would make one less likely to want to kill someone. You know I never literally would. But we get a lot of pompous generals, etc. and I want to hit them, but I don’t. Darling, I have a confession. Please don’t judge me too harshly. There was this patient and he kept screaming bloody murder at Hawkeye for working on a non-American. Hawk’s like us and believes that people are people are people. Hawk yelled at the patient and harmlessly threatened him. (By the way, this patient was one of mine). Later when the guy was in post-op, Hawk wanted to apologize. I know Hawkeye, and knew he’d wind up yelling at the patient, so I offered to pass on the message. Hawkeye started yelling at me because I said I was calmer under personal attacks. When I got back to the Swamp that evening, the patient was holding his broken cane like a weapon at Hawkeye and I could tell the patient wanted to kill Hawkeye, and I panicked and saw red. I grabbed the guy, pulled him off Hawk, and yelled at him. I realize what I was doing and got someone to take him back to post-op. Peg, I’m still embarrassed that I lost my grip like that. What scared me more is that it was just Hawkeye; what would I do if it was one of you girls. You two are my whole world: I would go to no boundaries to defend you, to protect you. Of course Hawkeye doesn’t think I did anything wrong. But I don’t know; I should have let go of him as soon as I pulled him off. I think Hawk’s just happy I’m not perfect. Or maybe he sees it as I was putting my foot down. I just hope you’re safe.
I have a question, but I’ve been debating asking because I don’t know how to word it. But. . .is everything okay? With every letter I get from you, you sound less and less like yourself. Potter got a letter from Mildred where she was yelling at him for being so far away from home. I hope the distance I hear in your letters is just a result of not wanting to send a letter like that and not that you’ve stopped loving me. It’s okay if you tell me you miss me and you cry yourself to sleep. I love you Peg, and I don’t want any secrets between us, please? I never want you to doubt my love for you, because I’ll never stop. My love for you will only ever grow, I promise. I hope you believe that. I hope you still love me as much as I know you do. I wish I could kiss you right now.
Hawk and I invent card games, and one involves cards, chess and checkers. Maybe I’ll teach the games to you (except, you see, there are no rules).
How are things with your book club, knitting circle and play group? I hope you still laugh; you have a beautiful laugh. I hope you sing Erin to sleep; I miss your voice. How many pages has it been since I said I love you?
Thank you for the peanut butter cookies. Hawk couldn’t eat his because he’s allergic to peanut butter, but everyone else praised them. I thought it was really cute how you put names on them (and Erin’s saying “Daddy”). Has Erin started asking where her daddy is? If she has, I’m sorry. Do tell her I love her. How’s Waggle? And although I’m sure I’ve already asked, how are you? (And I expect more than a one word answer, just so you know. I love you.)
I’ve been thinking back to dating days, and trying so hard to please, and hoping she’ll like you, and all of that and I was thinking I’m glad that’s over. Although, I do still try to impress you, because I don’t ever want to take you for granted. And that feeling is how I would describe love. I’m glad I didn’t get drafted while we were dating. That’s a horrible trial to put that kind of unstable relationship through. Heck, I’ve heard of marriages falling part due to the separation. That happened to Klinger. We had a solider gone AWOL come through here; he was deserting because he had received a letter congratulating him on his brand new baby. He’d been over here for a year. I’m sure you can figure out the meaning of that. Please don’t do that to me. If you cheat, and don’t get pregnant, and it’s a one-time thing, please don’t tell me. If you do cheat, and get pregnant, please let me hear it from you. (I really want to request, please don’t cheat. It would break my heart.) I’m sorry I’m being so morbid (is that the right adjective?) It’s just, war tends to bring out so many “what ifs” that you’d never consider otherwise. I think it’s because it throws you into so many circumstances you would (and could) never be in otherwise. I love you darling and wish I was with you.
Do you know they serve us Spam omelets with powdered eggs? We were going to have real eggs once, but we knocked over the table to hide from a gunshot (don’t worry, it was only one shot and no one was harmed.)
The occasionally like to interview us (not sure who sees the movies), and we get to watch the full thing. Well, we were asked what we miss most about home. Potter mentioned spooning with his wife. I miss that too (with you, not Mildred, of course).
Sweetheart, by morning light, I’m thinking I wasn’t clear in what I was trying to say. I’m confident you would never cheat on me. However, I can’t help but think dark “what ifs” when I’m surrounded by people who weren’t prepared for the worst. That’s all I meant, honest.
Do you know what the word “sweetheart” makes me think of? “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.” I’m in love with you, Peg. Thank you for letting me call you sweetheart.
I’m sorry you have a cold; I wish I was there to nurse you back to health. Has Erin caught it yet?
I don’t remember you mentioning it, but, has our house become the one that everyone is always over? Let had that house when we were growing up. I can see you wanting all the toddlers over to fill your time and the emptiness of the house. Plus, I know you Peg, you’re infectious, and as these children grow, they will come to love you as a second mother.
Have you been keeping yourself busy so as not to feel lonely? I find I can distract myself from it, but I can’t full escape it. Kind of like with the war.
Did you get the bracelet I sent you? I almost got you the matching earrings, but I was afraid your ears would turn green.
I wanted to surprise you, but, I need some information. Klinger said he could make you a dress but I couldn’t recall your closet: what color would you prefer?
I’m sure you read about this in Stars and Stripes, so I felt you were the one person I owed an explanation to. Military records will show I received the Bronze Star. However, I don’t actually have it. I gave it to a soldier. I’ve spent all this time viewing myself as better than a soldier. I don’t kill people; I don’t try to play God. But receiving that medal made me a soldier, and I hated that. I still do. So I gave it to a soldier in Post-op; Hawk had told me the kid had been near death, and then one day he was sitting up in bed and hungry. He asked me why I was giving him the medal, and I told him it was for getting out of here with his butt in one pierce (after all, that’s why they were giving it to me.) As for the reasoning behind why I got the metal, I’d rather not go into that now. Maybe when I get home (if only because I won’t be able to resist your face as you ask).
I love you Peg. Some days, the only thing that gets me through is the thought of getting home to you in one piece.
Can we have a porch swing and a veranda on our new house? I was just thinking it would be nice to sit outside on a porch swing holding my wife. Although really, holding my wife anywhere sounds wonderful.
I could keep this letter for days and keep coming up with things to add, but then you’ll never get it. Besides, it all says the same thing: I love you. I miss you.
Big hugs and kisses to you and Erin,
BJ
P.S. I included my winnings from the latest poker game.
Letter #12