M*A*S*H

Look out!

Great Caesar's salad, Klinger.

What are you doing up at 3:00 in the a. m.?

Couldn't sleep, sir. The heat, sir.

That's one I can buy.

Must be extra tropical for you,

totin' around that permanent vicuna coat.

Perhaps you'd care to explain

the fallout from the Motorola plant.

I took the P. A. system apart, sir.

What in blazes for? We need that contraption.

I know that full well, my bleary‐eyed boss.

I figured the middle of the night

would be the perfect time to get some off‐the‐job training

for my new mail order course.

In what? Office demolition?

No, sir. Electronics.

Someday this little shoot‐out's going to end.

And when this Johnny comes marching home,

it'll be with a screwdriver in his hand.

‐You gonna fix radios? ‐No, sir. Television.

The wave of the future,

which, thanks to good old Yankee know‐how,

will mean busted sets by the millions.

And Max Klinger will be there to reap

the whirlwind of outrageous repair prices.

Mark this, Marconi.

When reveille blows, this system better be workin'

or you'll be spending the rest of this war on the roof

screaming messages at the top of your furry lungs.

No problem, sir.

Come daybreak, it'll be back together P.A.ing like a kitten.

May I ask what you're doing up at this hour?

Same thing I've been doing for the last three nights, not sleepin'.

This heat's enough to melt the spots off a pinto.

I was headin' to my office to get a sleepin' pill.

Wouldn't it be easier if you just kept 'em by your bed?

Exactly why I don't.

It's too ready a temptation anytime the Z's don't come right away.

‐They're only for emergencies. ‐Is there one now, sir?

Well, look around, lad.

This whole camp is down with a case of the sweltering grumpies.

And if its commander doesn't get a few winks soon,

‐he's not gonna be worth a hill of limas. ‐Mmm.

I don't believe this.

How many times are you gonna read that letter from Peg?

What difference does it make to you?

I was finally almost asleep.

Luckily, you turned the light on again

so I could watch myself wake up.

I'm sorry. I'm not sleepy.

So we have to stay up all night playing "turkey in the oven."

I lie here roasting,

and you keep turning on the light to see if I'm done.

Very funny.

You still don't want to tell me what's in the letter.

‐It's none of your business. ‐Okay. You want to keep me in the dark? Fine.

Do it in the dark. Charles and I would like to get some sleep.

Okay. Okay.

Where's Charles?

State of Massachusetts, debentures, uh‐‐

interest income, 1949.

The Winchester Enterprises.

Mallet repair, Cape Cod Polo Club.

That'd be entertainment‐‐ Ah, medical.

Oh, Major Winchester.

I see you couldn't sleep either.

‐Hot enough for you? ‐Father.

My, my, that's quite an array.

May one ask what you're doing at this late hour?

These are my financial and tax records for the past three years.

Since it is impossible to sleep in this Oriental oven,

I'm utilizing these large tables to, uh, sort it all out.

Oh. Is that what wealthy people do

instead of counting sheep?

Hardly.

My father has just rushed this monetary memorabilia,

because I'm the only person who can decipher it properly

apart from our trusted family accountant.

Why on earth isn't he doing it?

Because, as of last Tuesday,

our C. P. A. is a certified public enemy

having been incarcerated on five counts of fraud,

two counts of embezzlement,

and countless counts concerning accounts for which he cannot...

account.

My word. How awful.

What is awful is that the Internal Revenue Service is suddenly quite curious

about the internal revenue of the Winchesters and the Emersons,

and their vast financial... enterprises.

Well, looks like you've set quite a task for yourself.

‐Mmm. ‐Anything I can do to help?

No, thank you.

I alone must bear the brunt of this numerical nightmare.

Nonsense. The very least I can do is dash off to the kitchen,

and fix us a nice frosty pitcher of lemonade.

‐Oh, great. ‐My, my.

You seem to have a lot of friends in Switzerland.

Yeah.

Good night, sir. I hope the pill works.

I can feel it starting already.

Usually one of these puts my lights out but good.

"Buenas notches."

‐Hawk? ‐Hmm?

You really want to know what's bothering me in that letter?

‐Can it be told in the dark? ‐Yeah, sure.

‐All right, what's the problem, Beej? ‐(sighs)

Peg says the gutters have to be cleaned out.

‐Yeah, and? ‐That's it.

Wait a minute. Let me see if I've got this clear.

You're talking about gutters,

those things that stick out from the end of the roof,

and the rain goes in them,

and they need to be cleaned out, right?

Yeah. Damn it!

Well, I can certainly understand your anguish.

That's grounds for a hardship discharge if I ever heard one.

Please, feel free to wake me again any time.

Like if she runs out of dental floss.

I knew you wouldn't understand.

What the hell do you care about my problems anyway?

‐You gotta be kidding. ‐(vehicle approaches)

You're up half the night blinding me over gutters?

‐And‐‐ ‐(brakes squeal)

Let's go, Beej. I think we got a customer.

(radiator hissing, door closes)

Welcome to our all‐night drive‐in.

Hope whoever you brought in is in better shape

than what you brought him in.

He got hit on night patrol,

and it's taken us four hours to get him here.

Stupid engine kept boiling over.

His gut looks like a jigsaw puzzle,

and I think a couple of pieces are missing.

This damn heat and the delay have got him very dehydrated.

‐Get him inside right away. ‐More fluid. Pump it in as fast as it'll go.

Kellye, we gotta operate right now.

‐Go wake up Major Houlihan and tell her to bring a friend. ‐Right.

Our best shot is to patch him up quick,

‐and get him off to a nice cool hospital. ‐HAWKEYE: Yeah.

‐Anything I can do to help, sirs? ‐Yeah. Get on the phone.

Tell I‐Corps to get a helicopter out here first thing in the morning.

The Colonel's the only one who can authorize that.

‐So? Get him to authorize it. ‐Yes, sir.

And as soon as you do that,

get over to B. J.'s house and clean out his gutters.

Get Joanne. I'll take the other spot. I can't sleep anyway.

‐Oh, isn't this heat terrible? ‐That's just the half of it.

It's given me a prize‐winning case of prickly heat

all over my butt.

I've never itched so much in my life.

The more I sweat, the worse it gets.

Have you put any camphor menthol on it?

With all the cases we've had around here

the past few days, we're out.

I'd kill for just one bottle.

I'll tell the doctors you're on your way.

Oh, Kellye, Kellye, whatever you do,

don't whisper a word about this to either of them.

If those two clowns knew I had a rash on my rear,

I'd never hear the end of it.

‐Yes. ‐So to speak.

Oh, boy, look at him. Just like a baby.

Why me?

Oh, kind and weary chieftain,

I hate to be a pill‐pooper, sir,

but you have to get up, sir.

‐Sir? ‐Wha‐‐ What? Who's there?

Uh, Captain Pierce, he made me do it, sir.

Oh! Good morning.

Uh, it's not exactly morning yet, sir.

‐Uh, you're needed on the phone. ‐The phone?

Hello? Hello?

Oh, this is not going to be a piece of baklava.

It's very easy, sir. You just need to order a chopper for the morning.

Did you put the cat out, Mildred?

I‐Corps? Great. This is MASH 4077.

Hold on for Colonel Potter.

‐Order for the morning. ‐Hello, room service?

Send up a couple of poached eggs, a bowl of prunes‐‐

Sir, a helicopter. Order a helicopter.

No, thanks. I'm not that hungry.

Send us a helicopter.

Send us a helicopter.

First thing in the morning.

First thing in the‐‐

‐Morning. ‐Morning.

You got that? Terrific.

Perfect, sir. I'll take you back to bed now.

Sir?

You did just fine, sir.

Don't forget the porch light, dear.

They said, "Join the army and see the world."

So, here I am in Korea, removing Chinese metal

from an American soldier in a Turkish bath.

‐How are you doing, giggles? ‐How should I be doing?

Ah, you'll have to excuse Andy Grump, ladies.

He can't get his mind out of the gutter.

All I know is if I was home,

I'd be up there right now cleaning out that gutter.