Disclaimer: I would like to state that in no shape or form does M*A*S*H or Hero of the Day belong to me.
Summary: just a reflection about the war could be from any of the main characters but I picked Hawkeye
Notes: Yes I know that the members of Metallica weren't around then and yes I know Metallica might not seem appropriate for some to use in a fic like this but for anyone that has ever listened to any Metallica album you know how much angst, frustration and self hatred can be found in quite a few of their songs.
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I sat there silently just watching and not being able to do anything. I tell you I never felt so helpless in all my years in medicine. Wasn't it my job to make people better? To make sure that they would be able to see the next day? And the day after? They can tell me that it comes with the job but DAMNIT these kids should not be out there. I use the term kids because that's what they are. Kids no older then 18, 19 years old pulled from their homes where it is safe, given a gun and told “Here kid defend us from a bunch of people who could careless about who the hell you are let alone why your there in the first place.”
Mama they try and break me
The window burns to light the way back home
A light that warms no matter where they've gone
They're off to find the hero of the day
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way
Home. They'll all go back but how many can say they're going back alive or just the same as they left? No even as an observer and healer not an actually participant of the war will not go home unaffected. I myself have changed every time I see another wounded shoulder come off an ambulance or helicopter.
Still the window burns
Time so slowly turns
and someone there is sighing
Keepers of the flames
do ya feel your name?
Can't you hear your babies crying?
And what of their families back home? Sitting back waiting holding your breath just waiting to find out if your son/brother/ grandson has made it back home or if his dead. No matter what I've seen, no matter how many casualties I fix up the face of these young kids will be a constant reminder for me that this war is just another pointless excuse for America to show off it's big toy guns.
Mama they try and break me
Still they try and break me
'Scuze me while I tend to how I feel
these things return to me that still seem real
They tell me to calm down, to take it easy. But how can I take it easy knowing that right now countless kids are out there dying while the big brass are sitting comfortably in Washington DC?
Now deservingly this easy chair But the rocking stopped by wheels of despair
Don't want your aid
But the first I've make
For years can't hold or feel
No, I'm not all me
So please excuse me
While I tend to how I feel
Sydney. You remember Sydney Freeman the Psychiatrist? He tells me to stop this ranting because eventually it will drive me insane. Funny I always thought that it was bad to bottle in things. That dad is why I joke around and pull pranks because if I don't I feel that I'll snap and do something I normally wouldn't do. And dad to be honest that scares me. I always thought I was in control of things. But the whole mess with Carlye and this war have taught me different.
But now the dreams and waking screams
That ever last the night
So build the wall, behind the crawl
And hide until it's light
So can you hear your babies cryin' now?
Through it all Dad I am confident that one thing will always stay the same. I love you and respect you as a doctor but most importantly as a dad.
Benjamin Franklin Pierce
Capt. Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce