Wintering
Hawkeye writes Trapper letters. The letters are different from the ones he writes to his father. He writes to his father so that he can remember where he comes from. He writes to Trapper so that he doesn’t forget where he’s going. He tells his father about all the things he’s doing, and he expects his father to read between the lines. He tells Trapper about all the things he’s feeling—and he expects Trapper to read between the lines.
Hawkeye writes to his father every week. He only writes to Trapper when he’s sure he’s losing his mind.
Hawkeye’s father writes back, so that the distance between Korea and Maine doesn’t feel insurmountable.
Trapper never actually writes Hawkeye, and so, the distance between the 4077th and Boston seems to stretch across two lifetimes.
Except—
Hawkeye doesn’t really need any letters from Trapper. He doesn’t hunger to know things about Trapper’s life the way he yearns for news from Crabapple Cove. And anyway, all of the things that Trapper sends in place of words are enough.
(Brown paper parcels, tied up with string.)
These are just a few of Hawkeye’s favorite things:
October: There’s last month’s issue of Modern Sunbathing (the one magazine Hawkeye doesn’t have a subscription to) with ink-smudged handwriting scrawled across the cover: “PAGE 21”.
(It’s dog eared, too.)
November: A brand new pair of long johns arrives folded under a hastily scribbled note: “Don’t lose these in a poker game, moron.”
(Hawkeye keeps them for a few weeks but ends up giving them to the kid he just patched up and sent off to Seoul.)
December brings a hideous pair of red and green argyle moccasins wrapped in gold tissue paper. The message reads: “So the new guy doesn’t have to suffer your cold feet the way I did.”
(Hawkeye’s chest aches for a day and a night after that one.)
And then, the next week brings a tin of homemade Christmas cookies. No card. Just a small photo of Kathy and Becky opening up their presents under a brightly lit tree.
Hawkeye smiles and pins the photo up next to his bunk.
BJ doesn’t ask any questions when Hawkeye sits down and writes Trapper a letter the next night.
Thanks for the cookies. Happy New Year. I miss you. Please don’t write.
And in January, a box of cigars and a ridiculous blue ascot arrive.
