Take a break, pull up a chair, and settle in for a random MASH Headcanon:
Missouri was cold this time of year. The church felt even colder. Soft organ music filled the room, with small pockets of people congregating in various pews. All still wore their coats and scarves. All were in black.
The service was set to start at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, giving those people coming in from out of state time to get there. Margaret was early as usual, her punctuality, finely honed in the Army, one of the many guidelines she implemented in her life. Charles came next. He squeezed Margaret’s hand as he slid into the seat beside her.
Then, people they hadn’t seen in years began to trickle in. It seemed the entire unit was invited. They all began to sit in and around one another, filling up one side of the church. There were handkerchiefs passed around, tearful smiles, gentle nods of acknowledgment.
At 4:01, the doors creaked open and three men shuffled in. They sat in the back, doing their best to not disturb the service that had only just begun. One carried a box, the second a brown bag, the third a small wooden container.
They were the last ones to rise to pay their respects. They clapped hands or kissed cheeks with those they passed. Waiting for them at the front were Margaret, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and Charles.
Nobody moved for a few seconds. They all just looked around at one another a little uncertainly. They hadn’t seen each other in some time, and their planned reunion for the following summer had come earlier than they expected…
B.J. and Hawkeye broke them all out of their reverie. They moved quickly to embrace Margaret first, and then everyone else in close succession, tears in their eyes and sad smiles on their faces.
Radar hung back a little, watching the hugs and handshakes. He wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to be there with them. He almost hadn’t come at all, standing outside the church doors too afraid to come in. But seeing Hawkeye and B.J. had bolstered his resolve—he’d take this solemn opportunity to bid farewell to a man he admired and looked up. Radar didn’t get that chance the first time around.
Klinger and Father Mulcahy noticed Radar’s hesitation and pulled him into the group.
They had something they had to do. All of them.
Glasses were taken from the box and a bottle of brandy from the brown bag. All seven remaining members of the 4077 raised their drinks together.
Father Mulcahy whispered a small prayer.
“To Sherman,” the old members of the Swamp said in unison.
“To the Colonel,” Margaret said to herself, wiping at her cheeks.
“Til we meet again,” Klinger added, his eyes raised to the heavens.
“Rest easy,” Radar finished quietly.
Hawkeye and B.J. left hand in hand, promising they’d see everyone at the Potter’s farm that evening. Charles and Margaret were right behind them, with Klinger and Father Mulcahy paying one final respect before heading towards the door. Only Radar remained. He opened the wooden container in his hand, placed something on the light stained wood, and left.
The church was empty and silent. Six white roses lay atop the casket, forming a small but beautiful offering from six grieving friends. Right below was a horseshoe. It was polished and shining, with an engraving at the top.
Thank you for everything. We’ll miss you. Love, Radar
