M*A*S*H

MAN (on P. A.): Attention, all personnel.

Through the roaring traffic'’s boom

and the silence of your lonely room

night and day, you are the ones.

Evac bus in the compound.

Don'’t get up, men.

Welcome to Pierce'’s Palpation Parlor.

Open sunup to sunup.

Everything from lacerations to lesions.

Foreign lesions a dollar extra. Get him inside.

Pardon me, soldier. The shock troops are here.

Well, this is a shock.

When did this line start using stewardesses?

Scotty here was pretty scared.

I promised I'’d hold his hand all the way to the operating room.

Well, we can'’t let a promise like that be broken, can we? Litter!

What have you got there, B. J.? Oh. Hello.

‐Whatever'’s wrong with you, I get dibs on fixing it. ‐I'’m taking him first.

‐Litter! ‐I'’m Hawkeye Pierce.

What'’s a nice girl like you doing in a war like this?

Reporting it. I'’m Aggie O'’Shea.

The Aggie O'’Shea?

I always pictured her as a grizzled, war‐weary veteran.

She'’s about as far as you can get from grizzly.

‐But I wouldn'’t mind seeing her bare. ‐Typical Pierce.

Look at her body and ignore her accomplishments.

I, for one, am thrilled to have a genuine celebrity around here.

I, for two, will be pleased to introduce her

to all the thrilling sights,

sounds and sensations to be found in this camp.

‐And then we'’ll leave the Swamp. ‐(scoffs)

‐Beauty and the boast. ‐(mock chuckle)

Colonel, don'’t you just love her wonderful sketches?

Of course, the colonel'’s style is very different.

Hers is, uh, stark and graphic, you know?

His has more of the quality of "Draw this dog and win five free lessons."

Tread softly, art critic,

or I'’ll be putting you on the canvas.

So I ended up with this unit,

sort of getting the footslogger'’s view of the war.

‐It must be awful. ‐Not to mention deadly.

Yes, but it'’s kind of wonderful too.

It'’s the people. You get so close.

To these guys, I'’m a cross between a mascot and a den mother.

‐I have an opening in my den, Mother. ‐Pierce!

So when they got hit on patrol tonight,

I decided to stick with '’em the whole way.

Battalion Aid to here, down to Seoul,

and then Tokyo, where I'’ll file my story.

You know, you'’re a real hero to a lot of us out here.

Come on. All I do is sketch a bit and then write what I see.

‐You people are the heroes. ‐Oh, that'’s me, all right.

A combination of Douglas, Fairbanks and Junior.

All rolled into one quivering mass.

‐(laughing) ‐Anyway, Scotty and this gang are very special

‐and I'’d like to find a way to say thanks. ‐Well‐‐

‐Pierce! ‐What?

I mean it. I'’m very grateful to all of you,

and I'’d like to send you something from Tokyo.

Anything you like. What'’ll it be?

Well, okay, but you'’ll be up all night

sticking postage stamps on my geisha girl.

Try again.

A good bottle of scotch?

Twelve‐year‐old bottle of scotch for Hawkeye.

‐Margaret? ‐Oh, no, it'’s not necessary.

Hey, you don'’t get very much up here,

and I'’ve got connections.

‐What? ‐Some nice bath soap?

Perfumed soap for Margaret. Dr. Winchester?

Tokyo has nothing that I want sent to me.

What I want is to be sent to Tokyo.

I'’ll work on that. What about you, B. J.?

Come on. If you could have anything that

your heart desired. what would it be?

A peanut butter sandwich.

Really? I mean, you must want more than that.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Well, good night, all. I need some sleep.

‐There'’s an extra bunk in my tent. ‐Thanks.

There'’s also an extra bunk in my tent

if you'’re not choosy about roommates.

And if you are, uh, Charles and B.J. can go someplace else.

On that note, Hunnicutt, let us say good night.

I hope you don'’t mind.

Charles and I would like to be alone.

You devil. You probably bribed them to leave.

You think you can have your way with me. Well, you can.

‐Unless, of course, you'’d prefer my way. ‐You'’re crazy.

Thank you. I thought you'’d never notice.

So, now that you'’ve seen our world‐famous Mess Tent,

what can I show you next?

Margaret'’s tent. I think I'’d better get some sleep.

That noise you just heard was my crest falling.

Oh.

But, no matter. I hereby appoint myself

as your personal man Tuesday.

I always thought it was Friday.

I don'’t think I can wait that long.

‐Try. ‐Listen, listen.

If there'’s anything you need, want or desire‐‐

especially desire‐‐ you have but to ask.

Really? Oh, there is something that I'’m kind of curious about.

What? What? If I don'’t know the answer, I'’ll make one up.

Is B. J. always so quiet?

B.J. who?

‐Am I gonna be okay, Doc? ‐Hey, are you kidding?

When I was under the hood, I put in a racing cam and dual carbs.

‐Some hotter plugs might help. ‐Hi.

‐Good morning. ‐Still with us, huh, Aggie?

Whither thou goest, Jackson. Do you mind a backseat driver?

Not at all. See anything you like?

Got a number of late models here,

all driven by a little old general from Pasadena.

‐Looks like you do pretty good body work. ‐Open 24 hours.

‐Free towing. Call us anytime. ‐I will.

I'’m sure you'’re listed in the Yalu Pages. You started it.

I should know better. Word games with a writer. That'’s like‐‐

‐Needling a nurse? ‐I surrender already.

Oh! Hi!

Imagine my surprise at finding you here.

I was just out taking a casual, postoperative spin.

Wanna go for a ride?

My father sent me this. It'’s a pop‐cycle.

No, thank you. I'’m sticking close to watch a doctor at work.

That'’s what I had in mind: sticking close, playing doctor.

I know, I know. How you doing, Scotty?

Hi, Aggie. Boy, am I glad to see you.

This is B. J., the doctor that put you back together

‐and this is Hawkeye, who, uh, seems to be falling apart. ‐Hello.

How you feeling, pal? You look a lot better

than the last time I saw you.

Okay, I guess. My chest feels kind of funny.

Your chest? That'’s a little far north. You were hit in the belly.

Well, it doesn'’t exactly hurt. It just feels kind of heavy.

‐Heavy, huh? ‐Probably normal postoperative discomfort.

‐Nothing for you to worry about. ‐Okay.

If it keeps bothering you, you give us a holler. See you later.

Hey, Colonel! Sherman Potter‐‐ Excuse me.

Sherman Potter, this is the Aggie O'’Shea

journalist, artist and heartbreaker.

Aggie, this is the boss.

Pleasure to meet you, Colonel. You have quite a bunch here.

How do, ma'’am. I'’m sorry I turned in

before I had a chance to meet you last night.

The boys were right.

You sure are a sight for sore eyes.

‐I'’m flattered. ‐You do fine work.

It'’s about time someone represented

the workingman'’s point of view hereabouts.

Thank you. That'’s quite unusual coming from a regular army officer.

‐He'’s not your regular regular army. ‐No, he'’s more of a 39 short.

This place is turning into an artists'’ colony.

‐We'’ve got Aggie and Grandpa Moses here. ‐Oh, really, Colonel?

Yeah, well, I do kind of paint myself.

I'’ll say. We gotta hose him down every other day.

‐I'’d love to see your work. ‐It'’s no big deal.

Nothing you'’ll see hanging in the "Louver."

‐Do I look like a critic? ‐Come on, Colonel.

‐You can'’t give a fellow artist the brush. ‐Okay, it'’s a deal.

I'’ll give you a glimpse, but you'’ve gotta promise not to chortle.

‐Scout'’s honor, not a giggle. ‐All right, let'’s go.

Oh, sure. The old "Let me show you my etchings" ploy.

‐(chuckles) ‐See you, B. J.

Oh, don'’t forget. You promised me an interview later.

All right. Okay. All right. What are you up to?

‐Uh, Watkins, the heminephrectomy. ‐I'’m not talking kidney.

‐I'’m talking lady. ‐So, talk.

Well, she'’s paying all this attention to you.

She won'’t even give me a tumble.

You'’re frothing at the mouth.

You betcha I'’m frothing. Now, what are you doing?

‐Nothing. ‐Oh, I get it. I get it.

She'’s trying to get to me through you. Well, it'’s working.

Sophie, my horse. I'’ve still gotta finish off her hind leg here.

Colonel Potter, these are really very good.

Well, thanks, it'’s nice to hear that.

Most folks around here don'’t know their Picasso from a hole in the ground.

Who'’s this cute little guy?

Used to be my clerk. He'’s gone home now. Fine lad.

‐And the discus thrower? ‐Bull thrower more likely.

Lebanese loony. We don'’t know who wears the pants in his family.

Oh, this is wonderful.

Well, that'’s my own thumb.

You know, I bet every artist in history

has had this idea.

You'’re the only one I know who ever did it.

Oh. This man I recognize.

Kissed my hand when we met.

Tall, very stiff upper lip.

No lip stiffer, no brow higher, no blood bluer.

But he'’s a fine surgeon.

Why does he look so angry?

Does he? I hadn'’t noticed.

Colonel, I am very impressed.

‐These are absolutely wonderful. ‐Oh, thanks.

‐I'’m no Norman Rockwell. ‐No need. We already have one.

Have you ever done a picture of B. J.?

I'’ve been thinking about doing him,

but I'’m not too good on teeth.