M*A*S*H

MAN (on P. A.): Chicken noodle soup.

It's an instant soup,

but don't bad‐mouth that.

A work of sorcerers, that radio.

Here we are on the other side of the world,

and we can listen to Arthur Godfrey.

Placing us among that elite group of surgeons

privileged to operate by ukulele.

Our radio station back home once held a contest

to guess how many freckles he has.

The decision of the dermatologist is final.

Comin' through! Comin' through!

Who ordered a casualty?

Right here, camel breath.

With all due respect, sir,

better to breathe like a camel

‐than look like one. ‐(mock chuckle)

How are ya? How are ya? How are ya?

Oh, suck it up your snout.

This is a tough audience for you, Klinger.

You're right. I gotta get out of these lounges

and start playing the big rooms.

Let's take a look in there. Give me the rib spreader.

Rib spreader.

‐(all exclaiming) ‐What is it? Again? Come on with the lights!

‐POTTER: Get some lanterns in here! ‐Ow! Margaret

you've caught my finger in the spreader!

‐Jeez! ‐I'm sorry, Doctor! I can't see!

I thought that damn generator was supposed to be fixed.

Klinger, where are you?

Hiding from you, sir.

Triple‐time out to that contraption and see what's going on.

If it's kaput, crank up the auxiliary.

I'll fix it. It knows the sting of my boot.

How's the digit, Pierce?

Throbbing along nicely, thank you.

I said I was sorry, Dr. Martyr.

This doesn't surprise me

with you running the maintenance section, Zale.

Probably the first time you've seen the inside of one of these.

Don't get too close, Klinger.

You'll catch your nose in the driveshaft.

You wouldn't know where to find the driveshaft.

You keep crowdin' me, I'll know where to find it!

I'll start the backup generator.

Why don't you do that?

Good ol' Zale.

The army's first career chimp.

Oh, no, no, no!

Great! Terrific! Just dandy!

Hey, Bonzo, the auxiliary generator is missing!

What? You think somebody stole it?

No. It made electricity

and walked out under its own power.

Shine it right in the gory stuff, son.

Carolina cow pies! What are they doin'?

Stringin' Christmas lights out there?

Damn! I'll be glad when Radar gets back.

Will you center that light?

I've lost a clamp in there.

What's the matter, Hunnicutt?

Don't you like playing "blind surgeon's bluff"?

‐HAWKEYE: Retractor. ‐Retractor.

Aah! Margaret,

you're gonna have to hold that back for me.

It hurts that badly?

No. I always keep both eyes in the same socket.

I'm really sorry.

It's not your fault. We should've used

the rib spreader with the night light on it.

‐ Suction here. ‐ Suction's out, Colonel.

Oh, yeah. Well, pack in some sponges.

Come on, Klinger! I'm a romantic,

but soft lights and surgery just don't mix.

Okay. I think she's ready.

Turn it on!

Okay. I'll turn it on.

Yeah, yeah. This baby's just like my wife.

You know, you give her a little extra attention once in a while

‐and she purrs like a kitten. ‐(engine sputters, stops)

‐(grumbles) ‐Your wife's a lemon, Zale.

‐(sparking) ‐I don't like the sound of that sizzle. Turn it off!

You turn it off!

Here's how I see it, Zale.

On the way over to tell Colonel Potter,

maybe we'll get lucky and step on a land mine.

Hey, listen. If I'm not back to my unit by oh‐noon‐hundred,

I'm gonna be AWOL without leave.

My heart bleeds, but I've gotta bump ya.

General Imbrie needs that seat to carry his likeness.

‐His what? ‐A five‐foot cardboard cutout he made of himself.

It's his Christmas present to his troops.

It's not even near Christmas.

When you're a general, you can have Christmas any time you want.

The bigger they are, the weirder they are.

Well, it's not fair.

Nobody should be allowed to take up two seats,

no matter how many of 'em he is.

First time I ever seen anybody in a hurry to get to Korea.

Relax. There's another flight in six hours.

Six hour‐‐

‐Hey, Mac? ‐The name's Olsen.

I'm sorry.

Hey, Olsen?

How'd you like to make a little green stuff, huh?

How much?

I got four bucks that ain't doin' nothin'.

Get me that seat, and they're all yours.

Scram.

Two now. Two when you deliver.

Get lost.

Boy, some guys just can't be bought.

Hello.

I wasn't staring at you, honest.

I was just‐‐ I was lookin' at the garbage can.

‐That's a good one. Oh, boy. ‐(laughs)

‐Where are you headed? ‐Me? Korea. The war.

I'm company clerk at the 4077th MASH. I run things.

‐You work in a MASH? ‐Mm‐hmm.

I volunteered for a MASH, but it never came through.

I spent my whole tour at Tokyo General.

I'm Patty Haven.

Oh, you are?

Oh, I'm Walter O'Radar‐‐ I mean, I'm Walter O'Reilly.

But you can call me Radar or Corporal.

‐So you're a nurse? ‐Yeah. Right.

I love nurses‐‐ respect‐wise, I mean.

The nurses back at the 4077th are really tops.

I mean, they put in more hours than the doctors.

They never complain or nothin'

although Major Houlihan would kill 'em if they did.

‐I bought 'em perfume. ‐Oh!

Yeah. It's French.

It's made by a little Japanese guy on the Ginza.

Good stuff. Smells good.

That's very thoughtful of you.

So which where are you headed to?

Home.

Oh.

Lancaster, Missouri.

Lancaster?

Wow. That's only about 100 miles from where I'm from‐‐

Ottumwa, Iowa.

You're from Ottumwa?

Yeah.

Gee, isn't that amazing?

Boy, I sure am glad that general screwed me over.

Give him a quarter gram of morphine.

‐Hello. ‐Who are you?

Young Dr. Pierce, better known as The Shadow...

specializing in surgery and lurking in the dark.

‐How long am I gonna hurt like this? ‐Two or three days...

and then the pain'll subside.

Think of it as a typical weekend in Cleveland. You can make it.

Ow!

Just what I need: 10% off on my fingers.

Pierce and anybody else who might be out there.

Hi, Colonel. When are we gonna get back to the 20th century?

We're not talkin' chipped beef here.

Generators are mighty scarce.

It'd be easier to find a buffalo in Times Square.

Colonel, can you grope your way down here for a minute?

‐That you, Hunnicutt? ‐Mm‐hmm.

Keep talkin'. I'll find ya.

Ah, Padre. We sure could use

some of your enlightenment around here.

I'd say a special prayer,

but we've never come up with a patron saint of electricity.

Got a distended abdomen here. I need some gastric suction.

You're right. You wanna evac him over to the 8063rd?

I don't think he'd enjoy the ride.

Well, when the chips are down,

you go back to the basics.

We'll whomp up a good old‐fashioned,

hand‐operated Wangensteen suction.

Wangensteen? Those things went out with rumble seats.

I've never even heard of that.

It's a thingamabob dreamed up in the '30s

by a Dr. Owen Wangensteen.

I'll go over to the lab and get what we need.

Forget the lab. We gotta go Wangensteen one bigger.

What we need's in the kitchen.

Anything but the food. That kid's sick enough already.

I know it's 6:00 in the morning, Lieutenant,

but I've got to talk to General MacArthur.

Just tell him Max Klinger's on the phone.

Yeah. He knows me. I've been sending him love letters for a year.

Hello? Hello!

See if he gets my vote for dictator.

You get one, Klinger?

Sir, I have gone through this whole book.

I even tried to reach a North Korean unit.

If there's an extra generator in Asia,

nobody's talking about it.

Pigeon pellets! Get on the track and go it again.

And while you're at it, make arrangements with the 8063rd

to babysit our more serious patients.

Then find out where we can store our blood

and perishable drugs. Got it?

I got it, sir. Right after breakfast.