M*A*S*H

‐Yablonski. ‐Ho.

Hutchinson. Hey, Hutch, this is your lucky day.

They finally forwarded this from your old unit.

I'd glad I got it before I go home.

Horner.

Klinger, Maxie. Mulcahy.

Maxie? Maxie. Maxie. It's from Laverne.

Corporal, can I have my letter, please?

Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah.

‐Yeah. Here, Father. ‐Oh.

Oh.

Good morning, Klinger.

Good morning, darling.

‐Come again, snookums? ‐Huh?

Oh. I'm sorry, sir. It's a letter from Laverne.

Laverne, the ex‐missus

who left you high and dry for that butcher boy?

Morty's a sausage maker.

That's below butcher in the Toledo social register.

But everything's changed now, sir.

Listen to what I read so far.

"Dear Maxie, You are much in my mind these days.

"Taking up with Morty was a terrible mistake.

The man's soul is made of animal by‐products."

Guess that makes you feel pretty happy, huh?

Seeing the sausage king put through the old grinder.

It's more than that, sir.

Can't you read between the lines? She wants me back.

Oh, that's music to my eyes!

Hold on, Mr. About‐face.

Is this the same woman

you described as a chippy, a leech, and a vampire?

All lies to save face, sir. You don't get over a goddess.

Well, what else does the little Aphrodite have to say?

Let me see. "Thank goodness for Gus.

He helped me realize the error of my ways."

Oh! Good old Gus. I knew I could count on him.

Who is this Gus cuss?

Gus Nagy, my best friend.

See, a while back, he wrote me

Laverne and Morty were having fights.

So I told him to do his best to keep the fur flyin'.

‐Ah. ‐(Laughing)

"And so, dear Max,

"I wanted to let you know

"before you hear it from anybody else.

I am marrying Gus Nagy."

I can't believe it.

I just lost my best girl and my best friend

in one lousy sentence.

Now, pull yourself together, son. You'll bounce back.

When you get home to Toledo,

you'll find a new girl and a new friend.

Toledo. I'll be the laughingstock there.

It's like Nero Wolfe said, you can't go home again.

I had one shot at true happiness,

and now it's killed me.

I tell you what, Max.

After you're done in O. R., take the next 24 hours off.

That's Doc Potter's RX for a broken heart: time.

‐CHARLES: Damn it. Hold that book steady. ‐Sorry, Doctor.

Charles, just turn to the last page

and find out how the operation comes out.

Leave him alone, Hunnicutt.

If he's reconstructing nerves via library book,

the least you can do is shh!

There must be an ellipsis.

It doesn't say how to prevent scar tissue.

Doctor, you might try

wrapping the nerve endings with tantalum foil.

‐That'll protect them. ‐I beg your pardon?

I said you might try‐‐

I heard what you said.

Since when does a noncommissioned amateur

presume to instruct an officer and a physician

on proper surgical technique? Clamp.

I know the procedure, sir. Back in the States,

I observed Dr. Worsely performing it.

‐Dr. David Worsely? ‐Yes.

Ho ho ho. He was a pioneer in peripheral nerve surgery.

Hunnicutt, the fact that they granted this neophyte sightseeing privileges

does not qualify him as a consultant.

I wasn't a sightseer.

I was a technician on his surgical team for over a year.

Why don't you listen to Hutchinson, Charles?

What you're reading is history. He was there when it was made.

Winchester, close the mouth and open the mind.

Aha. A thought strikes me.

Hutchinson, what would you say to tantalum foil here?

‐Good idea, sir. ‐Oh.

After all, you're the doctor.

Hey, old‐timer, I'm lookin' for Colonel Potter.

Could you speak up, sonny?

My bird and I are a little hard of hearin'.

Sorry, sir. Uh, I thought, uh,

Eh, that's okay, Sarge.

I'm subbin' for my company clerk.

Now what can I do you for?

Sergeant Joe Vickers, sir. Area retention officer.

I've got the names of your enlistees

who are due for discharge.

I wanted to talk to them about re‐upping.

I trust you brought your portable torture kit.

No high pressure from me, sir.

I just wanna point out the big picture.

You know, you remind me of a feller

who once tried to sell me a dead mule.

Said it'd be no problem to feed and it didn't kick.

That's a good one, sir.

Uh, Oh, I have this, uh, memo for you too, sir.

As, uh, C. O., you're obliged to try to get your officers to, uh, extend their tours.

You'd better talk to the commander about that.

I'm just the company clerk.

Oh, Charles. Read any good books lately?

Yeah, Charles. Professor Hutchinson just came in.

Why don't you go over and thank him

for that lesson he taught you today?

Bandy your japes, apes.

But the reason I was chosen to do that operation

is that I can read.

One might even say that I'm the pick of the literate.

Evening, laddies. Say howdy to Sergeant Vickers.

He's our friendly neighborhood retention officer.

Too bad he didn't come to a friendly neighborhood.

No offense. We just don't like war‐to‐war salesmen.

Hey! You're a great bunch of kidders.

Well, I like a good joke myself.

In that case, may I present Major Winchester?

Major Winchester. You must be a career man.

I‐‐ (chortles)

Let me ask you something, Sarge.

Doesn't it bother you to sweet‐talk young kids

into risking their lives all over again?

Hey, I'm just offering a little free advice.

Like how to avoid old age.

Ah. Nothing I like better

than the free exchange of ideas.

That's Sergeant Hutchinson over there.

He's on that short‐timers list of yours.

Oh, yes. Excuse me. Enjoyed shootin' the breeze.

‐Uh, but‐‐ ‐Let the man be, Pierce.

We all got our little tasks in life.

Incidentally, there's a meeting in my office

‐tomorrow at 0900. ‐What about, Colonel?

I don't wanna let the kitty out of the burlap.

What's with you, buddy?

‐But rest assured‐‐ ‐HUTCHINSON: Shut up!

...it'll be short and sour.

‐(chairs bumping) ‐(objects crashing)

‐Cut it out. ‐What are you talking about?

‐What did I say? ‐What's all the hugga‐mugga?

Don't ask me.

I was tellin' him about army opportunities,

and he jumps me.

Don't give me that "opportunities" bull.

I'm a registered nurse,

just like all these women here.

But when they came into the army,

they were made officers automatically.

I should've been, too,

but they made me a lousy private.

The army won't recognize me as a nurse

because I'm a man,

so I spend half my time pushing a stupid broom.

‐He's right, you know. ‐This man's army is very discriminating.

You bet it is. You got a lot of nerve, buddy.

Look, pal, I don't make the rules around here.

If the service isn't your cup of joe, fine.

I'm not here to shanghai anybody.

Why bother? There are plenty of other fish in the barrel.

Look, Captain, there's a lot of get‐ahead guys

that think the army would make a darn swell career.

Not for me, buddy. Forget it.

Hey, give me a chance.

You got character.

I don't make this offer to just anybody.

Sarge, I got a great‐lookin' gal to go home to,

not to mention my wife,

so it just ain't in the cards.

Igor.

Another glass of cheer.

You think you got it rough? Look at that guy.

Boy, he looks terrible. What's his story?

He got a "Dear Maxie" letter.

Says he's got nothin' to go home to.

Oh, yeah?

Well, that's a shame.

Please. Allow me.

Some tune, huh?

The greatest.

For a certain little lady and me, that was our song.

This drink's on me, Maxie.

Please.

Don't call me Maxie.

Only Laverne called me that.

And‐‐

‐And‐‐ ‐That's it, pal.

Get it off your chest.

Tell Joey all about it.

Yeah. You're right, Joey.