M*A*S*H

(drumming, gunfire in movie)

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

Tomorrow night's movie will be Flying Leathernecks,

starring John Wayne,

Ward Bond, and Maureen O'Hara.

Be sure to see this with a Marine you love.

I've seen it before,

but that part where she loses the baby,

that always makes me cry.

Well, they weren't married. She had to lose it.

Single people can't have babies.

It's a medical fact in Hollywood.

Tomorrow night?

The Flying Leathernecks with John Wayne?

Tonight isn't over yet.

Don't they ever show anything but war pictures?

I think the army's trying to prove movies are hell.

Après vous. We're home.

You're pretty fast with that plural.

I go on duty in a couple of hours.

I won't spoil you for the big game.

Tomorrow night.

A handshake? That's all you got?

She sounds like a weirdo.

Possibly a fetish.

There's a case in Kraft‐Ebbing.

A woman shook hands with 400 strange men in one night.

Her hand is on display

at the Berlin Academy of medicine and whoopee.

Stop. You're getting me excited.

I haven't had a handshake since I was in high school.

Well, my money's on you, Hawk.

You're the top scorer in the league.

Disgusting!

Why is it, whenever I come in here, it's disgusting?

I think that says it all, Frank.

This is the last straw.

Remind me to order more straws.

You've been reading my letter.

What letter, Frank?

This letter I'm writing to my wife.

I always pull a hair out of my head

and I place it on the paper, and that hair is gone.

Maybe your paper is losing its hair.

Imagine writing a bald letter home.

Why would we read your stupid letter, Frank?

I got my own wife to write.

"My darling, I'm exhausted.

"I've done eleven major operations

in the last two days."

You did read it.

You‐‐ You... guys.

We are not.

Doc, can I see you?

It's about a patient outside.

Oh, I'd like to, Phil,

but right now I'm on drunk duty.

Major Burns is the ranking medical officer here.

And as such, I order you to see the patient.

Please, Hawkeye. It's important.

Well, if it's important, uh‐‐

Oh, you write to your wife, Frank.

Save your hair.

There he is. That's the patient.

Boy, did his draft board go crazy.

Hi.

Would you turn on the headlights?

Step into my office.

He's quiet now,

but he's been crying constantly, Doc.

A couple of days.

How you doin', pal?

‐(screaming) ‐Ahh.

It's probably just a touch of colic.

Does that hurt when I press here?

I don't feel anything.

I think it must just be colic.

I'll see if I can get you some stuff

at the dispensary.

He's gonna be all right.

Doc.

There's something else.

I'm being shipped home.

I don't want to leave them.

‐You're not married? ‐Sort of.

Sort of married is like sort of a virgin.

She wouldn't‐‐ Uh,

I‐I mean, she said we had to be married first,

so we got married.

You gave her your dog tags?

You drank out of the same canteen?

I had the cook marry us.

He used to be an altar boy.

No wonder everything tastes like candles around here.

When are you getting shipped home?

Couple of weeks.

You know what's involved in getting permission

to marry a Korean?

It takes a couple of weeks just to find the guy

who tells you it takes a year.

That's why I came to you, Hawkeye.

You couldn't just go home with a Japanese bathrobe

or a turtle with MacArthur painted on its back?

I'll see what I can do.

‐Thanks. ‐Oh, hey, Phil.

When it comes time, see me about the circumcision,

not the cook.

Uh, sir.

Radar, I can't sign anything now.

I'm sterile.

Oh, Uh, well, I found the forms

for enlisted men marrying LIP's, sir.

‐Great. ‐LIP's?

Oh, that's Army for the natives, sir.

It stands for Local Indigenous Personnel.

Leave it to the army to remind us nobody's human.

Let's see the next one.

Went through the same routine with Corporal Berlinger.

Remember, sir?

Yeah. Berlinger. Right.

Yeah. Look, show us the rest at the table, will you?

Uh, uh, sir?

Uh, the, uh, plane with John Wayne

didn't get here.

Darn it.

What movie are we showing tonight?

What have we got on hand?

Uh, well, I could give you Bonzo Goes to College

or The Thing That Ate the Bronx.

Uh, show them both.

Preferably at the same time.

Yes, sir.

What happened to Berlinger?

Well, he was shacked up

with this very pretty little local.

‐Hmm. ‐They wanted to get married.

Boy, look at the chunk of metal in this kid's belly.

Big enough to be a '38 Buick.

Okay, thanks, pal. So?

So Army Intelligence started their investigation.

‐It's SOP. ‐What happened?

Well, they went into her background.

Suction. Her family, you know.

Unfortunately, the wars made a lot of these girls chippies.

Easy, Henry.

We're out of chippies, Doctor.

I can give you a retractor.

We'll do the jokes, nurse.

‐Yes, Doctor. ‐(chuckling)

Henry, why is it assumed that any girl

who isn't a blue‐eyed, blonde‐haired baton twirler

is automatically a pro?

Forceps.

If you're going to get on your soap box,

we're going to have to crank up the table.

Clamp. How about some retraction here?

Wow, look at that.

This kid's sitting too close to the war.

‐Forceps. ‐You're not gonna believe this.

Berlinger's investigation took a year and a half.

‐Happy ending? ‐He got married.

‐Good. ‐To the WAC who did all the paperwork.

‐Bad. ‐Yeah.

Henry, I can't let Walker down.

I know, I know. Clamp.

We gotta get them married before their kid

is old enough to get drafted.

Sponges.

Nice idea, this.

It's better than the movie.

I think once you've seen something eat the Bronx,

you've seen everything eat the Bronx.

These sandwiches are good.

I'm lucky the cook wasn't marrying anybody tonight.

Is that something I'm supposed to understand?

Not really.

I like eating outside.

In fact, I like doing almost anything outside.

Fair enough. Your tree or mine?

I said almost anything.

In that case, I may just teach you

to play golf one day.

I'm a 3 handicap.

Then you can teach me to play golf.

What else are you good at?

And I don't mind moving your answer indoors.

A couple of things.

But I enjoy things I'm not good at.

You interest me strangely.

Maybe we could be terrible at something together.

Well, I'm a rotten dancer, buit I enjoy it.

Excuse me. I couldn't help noticing you're a wallflower

because you're such a rotten dancer.

Everybody wants to take me to the parking lot,

but nobody wants to dance with me.

I also want to take you to the parking lot,

but first I'll teach you to dance.

Are you any good?

I taugth Sarah Bernhardt how to dance.

She had a wooden leg.