One afternoon the following week Major Houlihan wearing her usual green fatigues walked into the office and, not finding Radar, continued into Col. Potterís office.
"Colonel, what has been happening to my supply requisitions? Two days last week I ordered supplies for my nurses and none of it has come in. The supply truck has stopped by almost every day since then."
"Are you sure, Major?" Col. Potter asked, knowing full well what her answer would be. Saying that Margaret Houlihan is a stickler for details is an understatement; however, one of the few other people who paid such attention to details was Radar. Everyday Radar completely filled out countless forms with great precision and had them sent out.
"Of course I am, Colonel! I filled out those forms myself and..."
"Now just hold your horses for one moment. Have you asked Radar when he sent out the forms?"
"I wouldíve but I canít find him anywhere."
"Strange. He hasnít been in with the usual stack of forms for me to sign either." Col. Potter grew increasingly worried and confused.
Margaret followed Potter into Radarís office where he began to sort through papers looking for the recent supply requisitions. What he found disturbed him. Radar hadnít sent in all the requisitions; others were apparently filled out incorrectly. Potter started out into the compound to search for Radar when he ran into Hawkeye and B.J. who were on their way back to the Swamp.
"Have either of you two seen Radar?"
"No, why?" Hawkeye replied.
"Major Houlihan brought to my attention some recent foul ups heís made with the supply requisitions. It isnít like Radar to make such mistakes. He didnít stop by my office this morning for my signature at all either."
"That is odd. When I stopped by his office earlier for some paper, I saw him at his desk looking a little depressed. I asked him what was wrong but he wouldnít tell me. Weíll let you know if we find him."
A few minutes later Hawkeye and B.J. found Radar in the Officersí Club at the bar. Instead of his usual grape Nehi, Radar was nursing a beer so they knew something was definitely wrong. They sat next to him and ordered two martinis.
"A beer? Whatís the special occasion?" Hawkeye inquired.
"Iím trying to forget," Radar half-mumbled. Although it was still his first beer, Radar was bordering on the sobriety line.
"Iím trying to forget Melissa."
"Was Melissa the nurse from the 8055th who you were talking with in post-op last week?"
"Yeah," Radar replied, staring at his beer and taking another gulp. "You see, I...I...I just donít know what it is but I canít stop thinking of her. I mean, I sit down to do my daily paperwork but I canít concentrate. I keep seeing her face and her smile..." A smile crept onto his face but only for a moment. "But sheís gone."
"Radar, why donít you call her?" Hawkeye proposed.
"Or write to her?" B.J. chimed in.
"Or visit her?"
"Oh, I canít do that. I mean, I donít know how she feels at all, or if she would even want to hear from me. I canít do anything like that."
"Okay, if you donít want to speak directly to her, you could at least just write her a letter. Talk about how things are going, then mention how youíve been thinking of her. Maybe ask how she feels."
"I donít know..."
"Címon, what do you have to lose? If you donít at least write to her, you may never know how she feels. And look at how not knowing is driving you crazy."
"Yeah, but I donít even know what to say. Iím not good with this kind of thing."
"Weíll be happy to help."
"Well.... I guess so."
Later that day Radar knocked on the door of the Swamp and found Hawkeye browsing through his latest nudist magazine and sipping a dry martini. Radar had a perplexed look on his face and held his letter to Melissa in his hands.
"Can I talk to you?"
"Sure. Is that your letter to Melissa?"
"Yeah, but Iím still not sure about it. Hereís what I have written so far."
Radar handed the paper to Hawkeye who then read the letter.
"It looks great. It sounds nice, sincere, and honest."
"Itís not too forward, is it?"
"No, Radar, it isnít. Have you decided not to tell her how you feel yet?"
"No, not yet. I just donít want her to get the wrong idea or anything."
"She wonít from this, donít worry."
Radar dropped the letter in the outgoing mail the next day. Every morning the following week Radar rushed to get the mail and anxiously looked through for any response from Melissa. Each day he finished the search with a pained expression on his face, not finding a letter from the 8055th. The following Monday the mail delivery was late. With a lull in the action, several of the nurses and corpsmen were standing around in the compound anxiously awaiting mail call; however, nobody was more anxious than Radar. Finally, the jeep pulled up carrying the bag of mail.
"Whereíve you been?! Itís almost ten hundred hours!"
"Sorry but part of my mail route was being bombed."
"Oh. Sorry, I didnít know that."
After signing for the delivery, Radar grabbed the bag and made his way through the crowd to his office. He emptied the bag onto his desk and quickly sorted through the mail until he got to a letter addressed to him. His mouth dropped open a bit and his hands began to sweat with anticipation and nervousness. After standing still staring at the letter for a few moments, he shook his head, realizing that the letter would have to wait until he had delivered the rest of the mail.