Afterword

Several years ago, I stumbled across Ann Fessler's book, 'The Girls Who Went Away', a commentary on the treatment of single mothers in the United States during the mid-to-late twentieth century, featuring a wide selection of interview transcriptions. It wasn't something I was required to read for school or university, but I found it on the floor of my girlfriend's apartment, and sat and read it from cover to cover in a single sitting. It was the single most traumatic thing I ever read. The stories in its pages gave me nightmares. I am not hugely maternal and have no desire to have children, but I spent a couple of days afterwards having dreams about the experiences of these women. It was possibly one of the most disturbing educational experiences of my life.

Due to the stigma and shame heaped upon single mothers at the time, these women were pressured to remain silent for years, their stories only recently surfacing. Nonetheless, the topic of unwed mothers, the 'homes' they were sent to, and the subsequent adoption of their babies against their will has been discussed in other, contemporary works. The BBC television series 'Call the Midwife' covered the British side of the practice in two episodes, one based heavily on real life events reported by Jennifer Worth in her original books, and one purely fictional. While conveying the emotional trauma suffered by birthparents upon separation from their child, what was lacking from these stories was the portrayal of the scale of damaging practices across the system. In the latter in particular, the matron in charge of the home as a gin-swilling, abusive crook, who is easily blackmailed out of her position of authority, enabling the girls to take over and decide their own fate.

Not only does this rebellion seem like an idealised, unrealistic reaction to the situation, one designed to inspire a 'feel-good' reaction from the audience rather than do justice to the issue in hand, but it also dismissed how deeply intertwined this practice was with the values and policies at the time. This was not the work of one or two corrupt individuals failing to meet the needs of the women in their care: it was a nationwide blanket policy that pushed the decision onto women, especially those of the white middle classes (single motherhood was regarded as a practice reserved for the working classes and ethnic minorities), in the belief that it was the best thing for them, and above all that it was the best thing for the child. In some cases the women were vilified, or even abused in some way, but this was often dismissed as a suitable deterrent against what society saw as undesirable sexual behaviour. The other aspect was a more subtle approach: the kindly yet persuasive authority figures who knew just how to pressure and cajole, believing it really was the best thing to do, and that the woman would go on to have more children in a happy, acceptable family environment, the child would go to a paying, respectable, family with wealthy married parents, and the whole business would be forgotten.

With regards to 'M*A*S*H', many fanfiction writers enjoy engaging in the complex historical and sociological issues of the 1950s, and so I decided to do just that. The show itself deals with a great deal of morality and politics in a wartime setting, and so I decided to tell a post-war story set in the civilian world, dealing with this subject, as it has moved me so much.

By telling the story from the points of view of male characters, I had the benefit of framing the narrative in such a way that both we and the characters learn about the practice and polices from an outside perspective, only discovering this secretive world through grace of a personal connection – the mother of Hawkeye's child. As Hawkeye seeks out the truth, we learn as well, through his eyes, the trauma that birthmothers faced. The attitudes and obstacles he encounters along the way are based largely on those described in the first-person accounts in Fessler's book – anger, rejection and disappointment from family members; confusion at the legal processes; helplessness in the face of bureaucracy; and finally the gentle yet persuasive grinding down of resistance by a system that really did feel it was doing this for the best.

Historically, the fathers wound up shouldering far less of the blame than the mothers, as pre-marital sex was regarded as normal for men but a sign of gross moral deviancy for women. Hawkeye's attempts to draw some of the blame onto himself by confessing his sexual past is a commentary on this, but the truth is that at the time nobody would have really cared. Hawkeye, however, feels personally responsible for Emily's fate, and begins to steep guilt upon himself for the consequences of his own personal choices, because realistically nobody else is going to acknowledge the part he played. She takes the punishment while he is largely ignored.

Emily's institutionalisation, incidentally, is an extreme example, but not unheard of. Nearly all the women Fessler interviewed reported an ongoing sense of grief and shame, along with various mental and physical health problems. One girl was indeed held in a psychiatric hospital for over a year until she agreed to sign the adoption papers. Emily's detainment used here as a device to demonstrate far more swiftly the potentially devastating effects this practice had on the lives of birthmothers, as well as the way control was wrestled from them. It effectively silences her (as countless women were silenced throughout and after the process of the adoption until society began to permit them to speak out) and leaves the central characters to piece together her story via her letter and other snippets of information gleaned through their own detective work.

Finally, Emily's breakdown also mirrors Hawkeye's own mental breakdown shortly before leaving Korea. I have tried to tie in the long term effects of war with this story, bringing particular emphasis to Hawkeye's struggle to rehabilitate into society after his time in Korea, and how this significant change has affected both characters. While BJ is desperately striving to pick up the pieces of his domestic life and go back to the man he was before, Hawkeye is still clinging to Korea; still doing anything he can to change the world and damn the consequences. They may have sent him home, they may have declared peace, but Hawkeye will always be a fighter at heart, and he will always have his own personal battles to face.

Footnotes

The Korean Police Action ended on July 27th 1953. The letter Hawkeye receives from Emily would have been posted to Korea shortly before this time, its delivery disrupted by his relocation to the psychiatric hospital during 'Goodbye, Farewell and Amen'. The events depicted here are taking place in late April 1954
The home Emily stayed at is based on the Fairhaven Home in Sacramento, which ceased operation in the fifties and became a retirement home for missionaries, and was then renovated into apartments. The building still stands, and is mentioned in Louise Wagenknecht's book 'White Poplar, Black Locust'.
The Langley Porter Psychiatric Institute is a psychiatric teaching hospital, part of the Psychiatry Department at the University of California, San Francisco. Langley Porter was the first psychiatric institute in California, and opened in 1942.
In the interests of historical accuracy, every effort was made to keep this fictional story faithful to the genuine descriptions and case studies given in Ann Fessler's book, 'The Girls Who Went Away'.
From approximately 1940 to 1970, it is estimated that up to 4 million mothers in the United States had children placed for adoption, with 2 million during the 1960s alone.
Hawkeye's reunion with his child takes place on January 30th 1983, the night of Superbowl XVII.
Images of Fairhaven and Langley Porter can be found at the following web address: /1GyOIJQ