M*A*S*H

MAN (on P. A.): Attention!

The temperature is now two degrees below zero.

Tonight's forecast is cold

with a good chance of bad weather tomorrow.

Due to enemy shelling, we will observe

blackout conditions effective immediately.

Blackout conditions, please.

Ooh. Sorry.

Sorry, ma'am.

And, uh, thank you.

Ooh.

Oh...

Hawk, it's that time.

Hawkeye?

He's dead. Dead and drafted.

You're on duty.

It's no‐hundred hours. Midnight.

I'll give you ten dollars for ten more minutes.

‐Please? ‐Five for five?

Come on.

Would you take a dollar

to smother me with my pillow?

Come on. They're waiting.

Oh, the price of fame.

Rats!

Who'd you bump into?

Ooh, just what I said. Rats.

If they get any bigger, we can hold a rodeo.

It's colder.

I keep begging the janitor for more heat.

Keep your eye on a kid named Edwards.

I took a junkyard out of his belly.

Edwards, right.

Aren't you gonna have it?

Nah.

One golf ball and I'm up all night.

He's already had ten units.

‐Edwards? ‐Yeah.

That's lotsa blood.

He was lotsa hurt.

You wanna go over there into first class and tuck him in?

Yes, sir.

You know, after this war is over,

you're going to make somebody a fine mother.

Aw, cut it out once.

Hello, Klinger. How goes the crazy business?

You think MacArthur reads his mail?

Probably at night after he takes off his makeup.

I sent him a picture of me in a garter belt.

He sent back one of him smoking a pipe.

I think he got the best of it.

Oh. Uh, Captain Pierce, Private Jenkins.

‐Just got in this morning. ‐Sir.

Well, you brought the good weather with you.

Warmest July in years. Pardon the sock.

Captain here is one of the good guys.

My white hat's out being cleaned and blocked.

That's my midnight snack.

1943. These beans are from World War II.

Right. They're has‐beans.

Can't get rich around here.

First time on night sentry duty.

No problem. If there's anything out there,

it'll freeze before it can make trouble.

Yes, sir.

Hey, listen. Everybody's scared.

Honest?

Are you kiddin'?

Winner of the Purple Chicken with Yellow Belly clusters.

Animal.

It's just me, ma'am.

‐(gasp) ‐(gasp)

Are you crazy?

It's my job! It's midnight! You're on duty!

How long have you been standing there looking at me?

Not long, really. Just a little long. Honest.

Get out of here, you little creep pervert you! Get out!

You're not the first one in this man's army

to drool over me with your hot little non‐com breath!

I didn't! I never breathe around you.

Get out of my underwear!

I'm trying to, sir‐‐

‐Uhh! ‐Ma'am!

‐Ohh! ‐Help!

Ohh!

Frank.

Oh, sure.

Do you know what time it is?

The big hand's on 2,

and the little hand's on 12.

You're 10 minutes late, Captain.

I don't like overtures anyway.

I should have been relieved at midnight.

So put in for overtime.

It really gripes my cookies.

‐Frank. ‐Hmm?

Would you like to see me start a fire

by rubbing your ears together?

Oh. Good evening, Major.

I'm sorry I'm late.

Oh, that's perfectly all right.

I had to bring a note from home.

‐What? ‐Let's go, let's go.

Edwards.

Oh, this is B. J.'s kid.

Ah, he's been quiet,

resting comfortably. No trouble.

85 over 50.

That's pretty low, Frank.

If your pressure was 85 over 50,

you'd be no trouble, either.

Well, maybe he's no trouble now,

but he's already used up ten units of blood.

Saving it to paint the mess tent, Frank?

Take his pressure and pulse every ten minutes.

And have some more units of whole blood ready.

‐Who's this? ‐Abbott.

What are you starin' at?

Just get away from me, all right?

Get away.

One of your nervous Nellies.

What's he got to be nervous about, Frank?

Just 'cause he's a million miles from home

with more tubes in him than a radio?

He's here to do a job like the rest of us.

Stay away from me.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

You can't thrash around like that, pal.

I don't want him touching me.

You don't have any choice. He's a doctor.

So shut your yap.

You can tell he's a doctor

by his bedside manner.

Let's have a calm night, huh? We can both use it.

He's, uh...

Chinese.

You don't have to whisper, Frank.

He knows he's Chinese.

Oh, they're crafty devils.

‐Mm‐hmm. ‐Well, this one's probably

not one of their craftiest. He's got 13 broken bones.

I don't trust them.

I bet he understands every word we say.

Well, I certainly wouldn't trust anybody who understands us.

Would you feel safer if I put a guard on him, Major?

Oh, come on, Frank! This poor bugger couldn't break the four‐hour mile.

I'll be all right.

Well...

Major, Captain,

I'll leave you two to carry on.

Psst.

Psst.

‐Frank! ‐Hmm?

You tore up my note.

I read it, darling.

And I'm dying to keep you warm too.

Well, why did you tear it up?

Well, I tear up all your notes.

You got some real doozies in there.

As well as my feelings.

Oh, sure. And those too.

I've saved everything you've ever written me.

No kidding? Everything?

Every scrap.

Margaret, uh,

do you think that's such a good idea?

‐What? ‐Well, there's a war on.

I know, Frank. I can hear it.

I don't like to say this, but, um...

you could get killed, you know, Margaret.

Somebody makes up the statistics.

I don't wish you any bad luck, but if you should, uh...

and someone got to your things before I did...

‐Frank! ‐Hmm?

You could get killed, too.

Now that's cruel.

‐(nearby explosion) ‐Aah!

‐It's okay. ‐Get off of me! Don't touch me!

Get your arms down.

‐Shh. ‐Aah!

Shh!

Stop! Make 'em stop.

Please!

Make 'em stop. (sobbing)

Just what the war needed, extra innings.

Make it stop.

‐Radar. ‐(explosion)

No, 386!

‐ABBOTT: (wailing) ‐6!

Like a 9 sitting down.

I want you to make a call.

I'm trying to get the shelling stopped.

‐It's outgoing. ‐(explosions)

‐That's our stuff? ‐ABBOTT: (shouting)

Well, we can't let them have all the fun.

‐(explosion) ‐Yeah, uh, 386?

Yeah, listen, this is MASH 4077th.

Can you cut the heavy overhead stuff?

We're a hospital here. We got patients‐‐

What?