Hi, everyone! I wanted to put a note here 1st before you get to this chapter. The next few chapters are going to be journal based. Also, some words are offensive and anachronic. Please understand that I do not use them to be offensive. They are part of the times, but it does not mean they need to be censured. If you have any issues, please send me a message. Thank you!


January 1, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

It's a new year! There are so many changes and changes we have. Now, we have three hundred and sixty-five days of them. Oh, I cannot wait!

Father Mulcahy and Sister Angelica had left two days before. They rang us when they reached their New Years' destination, Missouri. They spent it with the Potters and the Klingers. They promised to call when they reach California. BJ and Peg will meet with them. Afterward, they will land in Hawaii and Kellye and her parents will host them. Their final destination is Korea.

It snowed a little bit last night. It made indents in the sand and filled in some holes in the road. Ice coated on top afterward and continued to pelt the surface, even now, at night and shortly after midnight. Hawkeye almost could not make it home from Portland. He said that he almost slid off the roads many times.

Trapper called after dinner, just as we were counting down the minutes with our neighbors. He was sober and quite serious, Hawkeye said. Trapper did not talk to me. Hawkeye managed that call on his own. It sounded civil, from what I heard from the kitchen. They were slowing knitting their friendship back together. It'll take some time, though.

Oh, and Father Cyr called right after Trapper too. He will be returning here, to gather Father Mulcahy's contact information. He'd like to keep in touch and begin his humanitarian effort in Korea. God knows, the ROK will need it. If the US cannot fix what they left behind (and still without an armistice), then I am certain that Father Mulcahy will lead the way.

I dreamt of Korea last night.

I was carrying needed packages back to the camp. I was alone, huffing and puffing and cursing those dirty Swamp rats. BJ and Hawkeye were with me some time later. I could not tell when and how. The two of them were bickering about something. I didn't hear. I was more focused on returning back to the camp with the medicine.

"Can't you two keep it down?" I demanded. "I'm trying to think."

"Did you hear that, Hawk?" BJ taunted nonsensically. "Jeanie has steam coming out of her ears!"

Hawkeye stopped and leaned against a burnt tree. His helmet tilted to one side as he pulled a flask out. He drank heavily and passed it to BJ. He remained by Hawkeye, drinking. They took turns passing the flask. In the meantime, I was ahead of them and working so much harder. I didn't want to stop to drink. I had enough already!

I almost snapped at BJ and Hawkeye. I whipped my head around and was about to give them a tongue lashing when we heard a familiar whirling noise above our heads. We did not have to be told twice to make a run for it. All of us dropped what we had in our hands, no matter what it was, and sought cover in some muddy ditches.

The scene changed like one picture to another on a projector. BJ and Hawkeye were no longer with me. There was Henry. I heard his voice in my ear, like his mouth was right next to me. He was yelling something about being safe. I lifted my head to see him. In my dream, nothing told me that he was dead.

Then, the next picture flickered. I saw Dean and I was running. He was beside me, doing the same thing. We were taking cover nearby. The Chinese had broken through the lines. The camp was disbanded and we had no idea what happened to the 4077th. We were not AWOL. We were just twins, rushing away from what threatened our lives.

"Little sister, run like you mean it!" Dean teased.

Despite the situation, he always had a joke. Dean was older and thought he was stronger. I had to keep up. I just had to! My life depended on it. Dean will lead me to safety. He's never failed me before, even when we were growing up. There were things that were just out of his control.

Finally, there was Falk. My lover from West Germany kept kicking me from behind. He too urged me to keep moving. Faster and faster I went, through the rocky terrain and the bombed farms and jungle-like forests of Korea. All the while, I never thought why he was there. Falk was long dead by the time I arrived in Korea.

I woke up to the sound of an explosion in my head. My heart was pounding right into my throat. I never knew something so rough can creep up so unexpectedly.

Breath in and out. That was the best I can do. Korea will never leave me. It continues to linger in the background of my life. Some days, it leaves my mind at peace. Other times, I am begging for mercy and wishing I was too dead to see.

January 5, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Getting Shannon to school was a chore this morning. First, she did not want to get dressed. Then, she was pulling her hair and her ribbons apart. Next, while in the Packard with Hawkeye (he had the day off, mind you), she tried throwing her shoes and stockings out of the window!

Hawkeye had enough. By the time he returned home, I was ready to leave to go to town. He was upset! He ranted at me about her behavior, like it was my fault! I kept pretty damned calm though. Hawkeye cannot blame me for everything, not with what he did too.

I took one good look at him, square in his blue eyes. "I wonder who's encouraged her to be so wild?"

And I walked right out the door.

I heard Dad laughing on my way out. Even when I pulled the Packard out of the driveway, the cackle rang in my ears. I couldn't help it. I giggled too, all the way to the center of town. I parked the car in the church lot and I was still smiling. I thought I had won this round. I bounced the ball in Hawkeye's court and made him accept some responsibility.

Oh, Hawkeye later had his revenge. When the children were in bed, he cornered me in the basement. I was finishing up the laundry when he somehow lifted me up. He seated me on top of the closed washer and stuck his face under the folds of my dress. His mouth drew closer to the intended target. His tongue made my legs shiver.

"Hawkeye!" I squealed when his teeth nibbled.

He teased me to the point of begging for mercy. When I finally managed to get his face to my mouth, I tasted what his lips struck. Then, he tried picking me up again, twirling me around and around until we both landed on the floor, shouting at each other about keeping our balances and laughing all at the same time. A rug cushioned our fall. It was so delicious.

Except I was on top.

Damn him.

January 7, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Dolly came over today. She and I sat in the dining room, sipping some coffee as the twins and Annabeth played. Until the children went down for a nap, we spoke of neutral things and kept everything calm. Once we heard the happy snores, we were pouring some scotch into glasses and chatting like old friends.

She brought some news of her business. It was good too! Someone down in New York City caught her attention. Bonnie Cashin, a famous women's clothes designer, liked what Dolly was making and asked for her information! She offered to hire Dolly and make her one of the fashion advisers in her company, Bonnie Cashin Designs, and build an outlet of her store in Portland.

It was everything Dolly ever dreamt of. "It's so strange," she told me as she sipped her fourth glass of scotch. "Here I was, just selling off what I sewed, and this woman I've admired comes along."

"Almost like it was supposed to be," I mentioned. I giggled.

Dolly nodded enthusiastically. "To understand what women truly need is a blessing, Jeanie. Bonnie has an eye on the future for women."

I didn't quite agree with her. I am stuck between my old world and this new one. Yes, I can blend in with the other women without a nurse's uniform, but I am self-conscious. I can see the war scars. I can trace the lines of a tough childhood. I can marvel at the white stripes of hair in my reflection. Nobody saw the same shaking I did. They only respected a woman who helped them time and again.

My future did not include the same views Dolly had. I chose to have children and she did not. Contrary to popular myth, it never tied me down. My children gave me a different kind of freedom. I am not doing the same things I did in the Army. I am growing and so are they.

Dolly saw the frown on my forehead. "What?"

"Do women have to be this restricted?" I blurted out. "Do we have to keep fighting and glorifying women who make it happen?"

"Is there anything wrong with that?"

"I never said there was. I was wondering why there is a fight in the first damned place."

Dolly had to think about it. "It's almost like the Negroes. They always have to fight. They desegregated, but nothing changed."

"And with women, it is the same," I pointed out. "I always admired Rosa Parks. A tired woman and she helped to spark the beginning of a revolution."

"Do you really think it'll come to that?"

"I think the future will be riddled with accusations. It's a matter of how we can see past it and not divide the other."

"You're a little too ahead of your time, Jeanie," Dolly told me. She sipped her scotch with a speed that slowed down to a nap. "What do you think of Mr. King?"

"I find him fascinating," I admitted. "His words are strong and have powerful impact on me."

"What about the claims that he is inclined to complete black power?"

"They are not inclinations. I believe that his involvement in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference is a way to reach out to the white people. He wants to make sure everyone has a voice."

Dolly clucked her tongue. "I'd be careful if I were you, Jeanie. You say that to the wrong person and you'd see a burning cross on your lawn."

Honestly, I was a little surprised. Dolly was openly against convention. She flaunted it worse than Hawkeye did! She was hardly one to tell me what to do.

On the other hand, she had a point. The issue of racism in this country was one that hit us hard. Any white person who stood with his fellow black man was viewed with contempt. I was never going to back down though. I helped Hawkeye, BJ and Trapper enough. My instigating nature could not be quieted! A burning cross was frightening, but I've been through worse. Korea only had to tell me that.

"What can be worse than dodging bullets?" I challenged her. "At least I can see this in front of me. You cannot always hear the bullet."

This shut Dolly up. It wasn't just my forcefulness. She had drunken so much scotch that she was asleep. Her head rested against the upturned bottle. It was luckily empty.

I didn't bother moving her. I decided to leave Dolly there. I got up myself, hoping that I'd have a few minutes to myself. My bed was a comfortable idea until the children woke up. Besides, Dad was taking some time to sleep. Hawkeye was still working. I needed all of the rest I could get before going back to work tomorrow.

I had no luck. I heard Patrick throwing up in his room. Danielle was complaining about something and Annabeth was crying. I didn't know which way to turn. Each of them clamored for my attention…and all of them are sick.

Shannon came home sick too. Not only was she throwing up, she also had the chicken pox she contacted from another girl. Dad, Hawkeye and I are immune, thankfully, but it also means that Annabeth, Patrick and Danielle will catch it.

Dammit!

January 30, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

All of the children are better. These past several weeks have been tough though! Hawkeye, Dad and I alternated between taking care of the four. Between emptying buckets, hydrating and cleaning sheets, we had to stop eager nails from scratching skin. Then, we all had to contend with being sick while taking care of the sick.

Hawkeye's birthday is in next week. Mrs. Pettigrew promised a surprise. She would not even tell me what it is! She just told us to be at Eddie's at six in the evening. I am frightened that she'll do something drastic. I do not want to deal with a fancy meal and keep Hawkeye in check. It's bad enough watching four children who always want to get into mischief!

February 5, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

We are spending the night at Eddie's. We are too drunk to drive home. More on Hawkeye's birthday…later? Yes, maybe later…

February 10, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

God, I feel like I am in heaven and hell all at once. My throat hurts from the drinking. My lips quiver from all of the kisses Hawkeye gave me. My eyes keep adjusting to the changing scenery. My hands long for another glass of gin.

Ok, ok. I am hungover and I never felt this way since Korea. I am still working out Hawkeye's birthday and some things on our mind. Hawkeye and I have been competing drink for drink since Mrs. Pettigrew's surprise party almost a week ago. We honestly did not want this to end. We had too much fun that old habits crept in.

We both have had nightmares more than three times a week this past month. We cannot speak of them out loud. We have each other to hold for comfort. That was enough.

When there was a time to celebrate, we have a way to escape and be free. Thank God, it did not affect the children. May I cut off my own hand for being a bad mother. I feel worse for wanting to drink more.

February 11, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Radar called an hour ago. He had a question for Hawkeye about something. He did not tell me anything. His voice was shaky and he felt that he had to talk to the only person who'd help him grow.

I called Hawkeye over and handed the telephone over. For a few slow moments, it seemed like time stopped. Hawkeye did not say anything and just listened. He tried interrupting Radar, but kept getting cut off. Finally, after several minutes of feeble protests, Hawkeye sighed. I knew that sound. It was finality. It was the end.

There was nothing that could be done.

"Radar, you did the best you could and that was enough," Hawkeye said gently. "Sometimes, you win. Sometimes, the bastard does."

I crept away. I had to finish cleaning up the dinner dishes and take the garbage out. I had a sinister shiver run down my spine.

After the children went to bed, we plan to do the same. Hawkeye and I had a big day tomorrow. We were actually going to church. It's not for a service. It's because we are petitioning people to run their attention to those that are immigrating in and to be kinder. We've had an influx of European immigrants and Hawkeye and I do not appreciate how they are being treated.

While legal immigration stands in this country and many are recorded by the Department of Justice, it does not mean we are kind. Crabapple Cove is no exception. There have been houses broken into, children harassed and worse. Someone even did a mock lynching on the beach! Eddie broke that up and burned the effigy to ashes.

And it is not just people from southeast Asia that coming this way. We are getting people from Europe. They are escaping the postwar worlds or, worse, the Soviet Union. Many people in Maine do not intruders from outside the country. It's tough to put away their old prejudices, especially when war and physical differences define our age.

Technically, we are at odds with the Soviet Union. There's nothing hot blowing, but it's steamy enough. No war has been declared openly. I pity the boys who have to fight it if it comes down to it though.

To be honest, I hold the most empathy for the German people most of all. It is not because of Falk. Even though I despised what the Nazis did, I have a heart for those who had nothing to do with their actions. Even I have some feelings for those who turned a blind eye and continued on as life was destroyed around them. Everyone has their own reason to comply. I only hope they find peace within themselves in a new home.

Hawkeye has not told me what Radar called about. I did not ask. I think it's best left between the two of them. I cannot hold more secrets. This is one that Hawkeye must hold alone.

February 13, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Crabapple Cove is going to hold a vote!

A VOTE!

They are going to see if we can help immigrants get started when they settle in town.

Some people do not like this. They prefer that the foreigners stay in their own neighborhoods or not come at all. Hawkeye and I argued this to kingdom come. We came up with many reasons, one of them being inclusion and the American way. Hell, all of our families are immigrants to this country, each from a different time frame. Who is supposed to throw the first stone?

It was us.

We threw the first stone.

We challenged them…and won.

This mean it goes to the town council. If the vote passes, then Crabapple Cove can plan out how we help incoming immigrants and any crimes against them. Those who stand with us prefer help with the English language, sponsors and more. Some are even bordering on asking for refugees. They remember that we were in Korea and the news reports of how many people were reported to be fleeing to the south as North Korea snuck in. Some even remember the orphans that Father Mulcahy takes care of.

I could not be more pleased. Father Cyr's plea to help Father Mulcahy spread to others in different ways. Immigration is still an issue, but the people have been heard – we MUST help!

February 16, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

I found a note at the door this morning, before I went to work. It was in no envelope and was folded in half and stuck in our doorway. All it said was, "I'm sorry!"

I kept it with me all day today. It burned a hole in my pocket, reminding me of remorse somewhere. I do not think anyone has wronged us. I thought everyone in town, for the most part, was friendly nowadays. Why would someone do this? Was this some parent apologizing for Shannon? Or was it something else?

It makes me shake. It was really strange. I'll tell Hawkeye about it later, when he comes home. He might have more answers than I do. I cannot concentrate.

February 17, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

I did not tell Hawkeye about the note yet. We had more pressing concerns and it was not just the children that occupied my mind. Father Mulcahy called today. He was at an Army hospital in Tokyo, of all places! He said that it was a temporary spot. He was going back to Korea within the week. He did not say why he was in Japan in the first place. I feared that he was ill and did not want to tell us.

It was a long conversation, maybe an hour long, and Love was tired by the end of it. "If he dies, I'll punch his lights out," Hawkeye mumbled when he hung up.

"He might bite back," I warned him from the couch. I was sewing another of Shannon's ripped dresses. "God wouldn't let him come back unless he had the last word."

Suddenly, Hawkeye made a point of wanting my attention. His bright blue eyes shone as he sat right next to me. His hand crept closer to my leg. I timed my stitching to make sure my needle pricked his finger. I managed to get the webbing between his fingers though. It fulfilled its purpose.

"Does My Lady not want to be saved?" Hawkeye rubbed his black and white head against my shoulder. "I have brought upon you a stallion –"

"I am worried about Father Mulcahy," I interjected. "Korea is nasty. He doesn't have any one of us nearby to help him."

"I'm sure he drank contaminated water," Hawkeye reassured me. His hand slid behind my back and twisted to my hip. "He'll be right as rain soon."

"And you?" I turned to kiss him. "Will you be right as rain?"

"Once My Lady jumps on my white horse." Love winked.

I laughed. It was late and close to our bedtime. Hawkeye was convincing. I could not keep him away for long anyway. If I just finished up the dress, went to bed and ignored him, he'd badger me until I gave in. He had a way to making me hungry instead of tired.

Jesus Christ, he's bothering me again. It's close to midnight and we both have to be awake in a few hours. I should stop writing now.

February 20, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Frank Burns is dead!

Greg called me this morning. He isn't giving me more information other than he died, wrapped in a coat that made him hug himself. I have my suspicions though. There are two ways the man could have gone and it will not look good with the Army is either are true.

I have not told Hawkeye yet. I think I will wait until after dinnertime. The beer will taste better then.

February 21, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Last night was unusual. I told Hawkeye that Frank was dead. There was no ceremony. I felt that Love did not need to be prepared for the news. We were no longer in Korea. It would not affect us the same way.

Hawkeye was pretty damned skeptical that Frank died. He had no words for a minute or two. I thought he was in some state of shock, but it was more in sympathy at what he considered my naïve nature. It was enough that he put his crossword puzzle and beer down. I did not anticipate this.

"Frank can't die," he insisted. He sat up and folded his fingers together. "He has yet to get himself off of the naughty list."

Jokes aside, I still had to make Hawkeye understand that his nemesis from Korea is gone. It took a LOT of persuading and he argued with me all the way. For starters, I did not feel Greg had a reason to lie. Second, bringing news of Frank's death put a gleeful laugh into Greg's voice and he never sounded so joyous. Finally, he would not call me at an inconvenient time just to chat about some lie. This was important.

I had to bring on the only person who can convince Hawkeye that Frank was truly gone. When I called Greg, I also had to take time to coax Hawkeye to come to the telephone. Love did not want to listen to me and insisted that I was being foolish. Finally, when Hawkeye saw that I was too stubborn, he groaned, got up and spoke with Greg. I don't know what Greg said, but it dropped Hawkeye's mouth open within seconds. He stuttered some words of disbelief.

"Are you sure?" he kept asking Greg.

Greg said something about not lying to the husband of his greatest friend, etc., etc. "I hate the man as much as you do," he declared. "You think I'd tell you he's dead when he's not?"

"What was it? Firing squad? Suffocation by pillow? Poison?"

"Let's say he had an illness and died."

"His back must have given out."

"The purple chicken crossed the road and never came back."

"I hope it was with his purple earring."

"On the right side, I am sure."

The two of them went round and round in circles. Eventually, Hawkeye admitted that Greg was superior and bowed low, as if he was here with us. They chatted for a few more minutes and hung up, happy with each other. By that time, we had to get the children to bed. All of them were cranky and did not appreciate our tardiness. I have to say, they did try to change my mind otherwise!

Hawkeye and I talked about Frank long after the children went to sleep. We speculated what might have killed Frank. Honestly, I think it's murder. Hawkeye has the same suspicions I do. Frank was locked up in a mental ward. He had no access to anything that would hurt him. All he had were his fantasies.

Like me, Hawkeye also believes that Frank said the wrong thing at the wrong time and the Army had enough. However, unlike Hawkeye, I fear that Greg had something to do with it too. Like he said, he never liked Frank Burns. There will always be a reason Greg will off Frank and it could be that Ferret Face glared at him wrong.

This was another argument Hawkeye and I had. "Greg is guilty" I told Love. "No doubt about it."

"He's a shark, not out for that kind of blood," Hawkeye declared.

"You don't know him like I do," I argued fiercely. "Greg will take his time, but he will get his way in the end. He never liked Ferret Face."

"What happened between the two?" Hawkeye was curious. He turned silly. "MPs stealing his contraband? Stopping a jeep with General Embry?"

"Laxatives in his coffee and then some."

"Wait, wait. Didn't Frank report Greg for insubordination?"

"Greg had his clusters a week after Frank. I wouldn't put it past Frank to kick Greg in the shins."

We debated about Greg and soon forgot the cynical points of the news. Once the hour struck ten, we were too tired to continue. Our tongues lacked the ability to gnaw on the bone any further. There was nothing left to chew. And to be fair, it was more because we were saddened.

Much like his departure from the 4077th, Frank's untimely death should have become a time of celebration. It was not just his ex-wife that was going to rejoice. Hawkeye and I should be drinking and dancing around the living room. The bane of our existence in Korea was off the deep end and gone! Frank was dead!

Even so, the loss felt like a large hole in our hearts. It actually unsettled us. An era had come to an end and we sat in each other's arms, in need of some sort of comfort from each other. Hawkeye and I decided not to call everyone to tell them the news. It was best to keep this to ourselves and let others reach out to us.

Every so often, Hawkeye's lips quivered. He had something on his mind. As I separated from him, his mouth began to smirk. Finally, he laughed loudly. Once he regained control of himself, he was able to talk.

"He can't cheat Saint Peter this time," he pointed out. He let out a snort.

We both laughed together. Hawkeye's right, of course! Frank won't get past those pearly gates. He won't have the money to con someone this time.

February 22, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Margaret called me today. She heard about Frank. She was a mixture of love, hate, passion, sadness and relief all rolled into one. No more will blondes be terrorized by the fear of looking like Margaret Houlihan O'Brien and the model herself was free from the terror. However, her past flame had to be mourned. Margaret was crying.

I could not understand her words. I think it was best that I didn't. Today was a day of comfort. It was not just for her. I needed it too. I was in luck too. TC arrived an hour after I got off the telephone with Margaret. She was going skiing up north and decided to stop in before she headed to the snowy north with her sons.

This is my only day off this week. This was well worth the giggles and drinking. I never regret TC visiting. It has become a joy.

February 26, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Hawkeye is sick. It looks like he has strep throat. Oh, why did he have to help in the pediatric ward? More later.

February 27, 1958
Portland, Maine

I was wrong. Hawkeye has scarlet fever. We're at the hospital in Portland now. Dad is with me. The children are in Larry's care. Jesus, I can't think. Why, why, why?

March 1, 1958
Portland, Maine

I have been in and out of the hospital. Hawkeye is on the mend and will be coming home within the week. No more time to write. They are allowing me and Dad to go to his room.

March 9, 1958
Portland, Maine

Hawkeye is coming home today. I am so glad. Dad's birthday is tomorrow. It will be a good time to celebrate.

March 10, 1958
Crabapple Cove, Maine

It is night now and Hawkeye is sleeping upstairs. All is quiet with the children and our guest is quiet. Yes, we had someone visit us today. It was an utter surprise too! Sherman Potter came for Dad's birthday. But he had other reasons to come by.

We were sipping coffee in the kitchen, just him and me, an hour ago. Everyone had gone to sleep. We both could not follow the. Sherman was too tired from his trip and I was too wound up from the past few weeks. To us, this was just another tough OR session. We were going to find little comfort and it was always with each other.

"I heard Hawkeye needed some rest," he told me. "I figured you needed the help." He seemed justified.

"It is always appreciated," I admitted. "It seemed like an endless day."

"I am sure Hawkeye did not like being ill with a child's illness."

"Oh, I didn't think so. They put him in the ward with the Mickey Mouse characters in it."

Sherman laughed. "I am sure Hawkeye did not appreciate being the oldest child!"

I laughed along with him. He was right. While Hawkeye enjoyed being with other children with scarlet fever, he did not like the jokes Dad and I made. He was stronger than the other children though and I know it made him sad to think of the little ones who passed away. It reminded me of the fragility of life. I looked to the colonel, thinking of Mildred.

"How's Mrs. Potter?" I asked anxiously. "Last I heard, she was under the weather."

"She's with Portia now. She did not want come so far north."

"And you? Are you ok?"

"Don't worry about me, Jeanie," the colonel told me. He patted my hand. "I can handle myself."

This worries me. But that is not for tonight and not a conversation to have with Margaret right now. Tomorrow is a new day. I have to go to work and need to check the beginnings of our clinic (the foundation was laid out and Hawkeye could not be there to christen it). Sherman promised me that he'd help get Shannon to school and keep the other three corralled. Dad is exhausted from helping with Hawkeye and will be taking advantage of the rest he deserves.

Dammit. This ends the second volume of my journaling. I have to admit, I have much more to say and I am finding ease and comfort in my heart. My hand says otherwise though. I will see how much better I am with a third volume.