This is Eldon Reed. E-4, Signal Corps. 26. He got sent out to the 4077 enough times for repairs/setting stuff up that Blake just decided to keep him, so he winds up their signal corps attachment (radar is pulling 3x his weight, he should NOT be doing all that radio/phone stuff alone. But ofc the show said historical accuracy be damned.)

He was drafted. IBEW in Virginia before the war + closeted, so between his union ties and being gay mid-lavender scare he's trying very hard to not be clocked as a potential 'security risk.'

Paranoid as all hell because of that. Takes him a while to get used to how chill the 4077 is. When he meets Hawkeye and Trapper he decides they might be spies and damage control shenanigans ensuenas they try to correct that image. That would be his episode if he were a canon character & I miiiight write it out as a fic.

He's friends with Radar first. Decent terms with Henry, hates Franks guts but doesn't rock the boat like Hawkeye and Trapper do. Once they convince him they're not suspiciously nice they wind up with this dynamic:

with Reed as the panicked one, ofc.

here's a shitty quality comic I drew of his introduction since I have no idea if I'll get around to writing the fic I have in my head or not

Here's my ATTEMPT at making him in starfield

He isn't particularly religious but he was raised to be so he hangs around Mulcahy because he at least seems familiar.

Klinger... Takes a while for him to adjust to (he's spent all this time repressing himself and here's a seemingly cishet guy getting away with crossdressing publicly) but they wind up friends eventually

Margaret and him get along later on but they don't have much reason to cross paths. She appreciates that he leaves the nurses alone... So long as she never realizes WHY he leaves the nurses alone

He joins too late to know Jones.

He winds up good friends with Col. Potter eventually. BJ as well, though not as close.

I like ginger so I want him and ginger to be friends but I can't decide how that would actually happen. This is all still wip

Personality wise he's very dry. More because he's constantly on alert about his own tells and kinda shuts everything down because of that. He makes a lot of jokes but they're very blunt and he makes absolutely no effort to make sure other people can tell he's joking so it takes a minute for people to realize he isn't just stuffy. 'married to his work' but it's rly just. the time. Before/after the Army he's not nearly so guarded, though he is still naturally reserved. He's very passionate about his union but also very aware how quickly being loud about that could get him labeled as a communist sympathizer so once he's drafted he sort of puts himself on autopilot until he can get out. He relaxes a bit after a few months at the 4077.

Klinger looked unsure and, worse than that, concerned.  "I’m not sure. But you better come and see. I don't think she'll listen to anyone else."

Hawkeye tried to ignore the sinking of his own stomach as he wordlessly grabbed his robe and followed Klinger.

It was still daylight out. Those who were in surgery moved sluggishly in and out of the mess tent while the rest moved twice as fast to make up the difference.

Too many questions blurred through his mind for him to take any real notice. 

Liz was fine last time he left her. Tired, certainly. She said she was going to grab something to eat and head to bed.

He checked his watch. What could have happened in two hours?

Klinger slowed as they approached her tent, glancing between him and the door.

"She's in there."

Hawkeye nodded, steeling himself for the worse as he entered.

Nothing appeared out of place. The space was just as organized as ever with just enough of personal items for it not to be strictly military. A bottle of wine sat open on the entry table. A record was skipping. And Liz, fully upright on the cot, wasn’t doing a thing about it. 

"How long has she been sitting there?" Hawkeye asked, quietly. 

"I don't know," Klinger admitted. “She wasn’t answering when I knocked. I saw this and figured…”

Hawkeye nodded, trying not to let his worry show, although he was certain he was failing. He knew that look in her eyes. He'd seen it in more than one soldier as they drifted some place far away and weren't inclined to come back.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Klinger asked.

"I don't know," Hawkeye said. "Better tell the colonel."

"Should I call Sidney?"

He paused, something hard twisted inside him, but nodded all the same.

"That might not be a bad idea."

Klinger understood, taking off towards the command center with new found speed. 

Hawkeye felt a sudden surge of love for the man before turning his attention back to the woman in front of him. 

"What's up Doc?" he asked, keeping his voice light. 

She didn’t respond.

He stepped closer, noting the fallen glass of wine at her feet. He tried not to think how long it had been sitting there, the red sinking into the floor. 

"Doc?"

Again, nothing. 

As carefully as he could, he sat down on the cot beside her. There wasn’t even a slight nod to his presence. 

"Liz?"

She flinched. A sharp intake of breath cut through the air. Her head spun towards him, her expression a daze as if looking at him through a clouded window.  

"Hawkeye? Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"It's okay,” he said, not knowing what else to do. He wanted to hold her, to cup her face and kiss her forehead and assure himself she was back. But that would just be for him.

Instead he nodded his head to the door.  “We heard the record skipping, just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"What?” She turned to the record player as if just noticing herself. “Sorry, must have fallen asleep. I've never done it sitting up before, but there's a first time for everything.” 

She stood, taking a step forward before he could warn her. Glass crunched beneath her boot. She looked down and for a brief second, Hawkeye caught a look he rarely ever saw; fear. 

“What a mess,” she lamented, a slight shake entering her voice. “It was a really nice vintage too. Real grapes.”

Hawkeye could only stare as she shut the record player off. 

She stood so still. Her hands dropped heavy at her sides. The sounds of life outside the tent were muffled and distant leaving an eerie quiet between them. He never could stand the quiet. 

Any caution he had slipped away as he stood, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. 

"Liz..."

She looked up at him, her eyes somehow both clear and glassy with the threat of tears. 

"Do you know where you are?”

She nodded.

"Alright, tell me."

"Korea. M*A*S*H 4077th. It's March 12th, 1952... I don't know how long I was sitting there."

“It’s alright,” he promised. “We can both sit here a little while longer. I’ll pour you a drink. Real grapes. Promise.”