MASH - Sixth Season (M*A*S*H)

So it'll be an even horse trade. The 8063 will send over their chest cutter and a nurse...

to observe our methods while you two sniff around their ballpark for a week.

Pierce, are you listening to me?

I'm all ears, Colonel. You're all eyes, Captain.

That's 'cause you're all there, Lieutenant. Down, Rover, and listen up.

Now, the C. O. of the 8063 is a guy I served with in Europe.

His name's Wheatley, and he's a stickler for regulations, especially hair length.

‐ We used to call him "Old Whitewalls." ‐ I'll pin my hair under my hat.

‐ Better cut those sideburns. ‐ I know these temporary switcheroos...

are a royal pain in the saddle blanket.

Why don't we just stay home tonight? You slip into something comfortable. I'll jump in after.

I'd love to, Pierce, but in the long run, this program will be a big help to all the MASHs.

It's just that with new people coming in, you never know what to expect.

‐ Well, do you know who they're sending? ‐ I don't know about the nurse,

but the surgeon is a guy named Dupree.

‐He's supposed to be a whiz with the knife. ‐Yeah, but can he mambo like me?

All right. Just soak in as much information as you can while you're there.

We'll be fine. Oh, we'll be fine.

There's a jeep waiting outside. I thought we were going by Pullman car.

Pierce, good luck, and watch out for Colonel Wheatley.

Bigelow, good luck, and watch out for Captain Pierce.

A little to the left, dear. If I move it to the left,

it will not be pointing toward Boston.

What difference does it make? Nobody's going to Boston anyway.

Just knowing where it is is a great comfort to me.

I'd like to go to Boston and visit all those historic sites.

You know: Concord, Bunker Hill, the Red Sox.

Oh! Sometimes you say the most amusing things,

even if you don't realize it.

Why, Charles, we are in a jovial mood today, aren't we?

Our jovial mood is directly due to the fact that your partner in perversion...

left this camp exactly 57 minutes ago.

That gives me 167 hours and three minutes...

without the displeasure of Pierce's company.

The very prospect of it makes me ecstatic with anticipation.

Yeehaw!

‐ Gesundheit. ‐ End of the line, little lady.

You bet it is, partner. Howdy there, cowboy.

Howdy. The name's Dupree, Roy Dupree, from the 8063.

See? It sort of rhymes. We've been expecting you.

Hunnicutt's my name. Call me B. J. This is Corporal O'Reilly, our company clerk.

‐ Yeah. You can call me Radar. Sorry. I don't rhyme. ‐

Oh. Well, tie me to a anthill and smear my ears with jam.

Where are my manners? J. B., Radar, I want y'all to meet the prettiest little filly...

to ever suture a belly wound: Captain Lo‐rain Anderson.

Sometimes it's pronounced Lorraine.

Sometimes mine's pronounced "B. J."

How you do there, big fella? I do very well, thank you.

Charles Emerson Winchester at your service. How do you do?

I'm Captain Anderson. Lorraine. Yes, I heard.

No. Permit me.

Where should I bring the captain's bags, sir? Put 'em in the Swamp, Radar.

‐ Roy'll bunk with us. How 'bout some coffee? ‐ Thank you kindly, J. J.

Oh, where would I find Margaret Houlihan? Do you know the major?

She and I go back longer than either of us care to admit.

Looking at you, that still can't be very far. Well... thank you.

You'll find Major Houlihan in the lab. It's over there.

Surprise! Ow! You idiot!

Lorraine! I can't believe it!

It's been so long! Fort Benning. What are you doing here?

Three years! Three years. Let me look at you. Let me look.

Oh, my gosh. Look how thin you are! Bad food and hard work.

I thought you were in Hawaii. I guess they figured I'd had enough of paradise.

I've been with the 8063rd for a month. Oh, my God!

This is so terrific! Ah. Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

What? What? It's closed up.

What? The earlobe.

Let me see. Let me see. You remember when we got our ears pierced?

Two 15‐year‐old army brats piercing their ears.

Melted down my father's medals to make earrings.

‐ Was he furious! ‐ Can you blame him? His best days in the army...

dangling from our earlobes?

‐ So, how've you been? You happy? ‐ Ohh.

‐ You're married? ‐ Yeah.

‐ Well, how is it? ‐ Not so good.

‐ Ohh. Well, tell me about it. ‐ Donald is gorgeous, brilliant, and he's gonna be a general.

We could have so much together, but he's in Tokyo.

And it's very hard to squeeze a marriage through a tiny little telephone wire.

‐ Hey, this war isn't gonna last forever. ‐ It already has.

Ah. Listen. The terrible twins are together again.

Now, here's the plan. Uh‐oh.

We re‐pierce our ears‐‐ I knew it.

And go find your colonel and melt down all his medals!

Ooh‐whoo! Well, strap my face to the side...

of a pig and roll me in the mud.

If this ain't the dandiest "de‐core."

We call it junkyard provincial. We had the Bowery Boys in to decorate.

I'm gonna fit in here real fine.

Well, I see Hoot Gibson has taken up residence.

Charles, you're just in time for a drink to celebrate the arrival of our new Swamp rat.

Hip‐hip. Hey there, Chuckwagon. We never did meet proper‐like.

Roy Dupree from the 8063. See? Yes, I know. It rhymes. I‐‐

Dupree, I heard. Let me be brutally candid.

I find your sense of humor mawkish and your personality boorish, to say the least.

I appreciate your opinion, good buddy, but it don't change my mind. I still like ya.

Good Lord. He means it.

Gentlemen, how 'bout a toast? That's a good idea.

Uh, here's to the three of us. We're gonna have more fun than a mosquito in a blood bank!

The cruelties of war continue to amaze me.

Why don't you boys put some whiskey in this punch?

You were a fire‐eater before you were a doctor.

Shoot. Down home, my mama'd sprinkle this stuff on her ironing board.

Here. Have mine. Where did you get your medical degree, Dupree?

‐ Yes, I know. It rhymes. ‐ University of Arkansas, '44.

Soueee, pig!

Gee, I'll bet you were top bumpkin in your class.

I love the way this boy tugs at my leg.

Lot of bulldog in you. I bet you went to Yale.

Harvard! Harvard.

Here. Try this on your ironing board.

Why don't you ask me to do something hard? Where'd you boys get this iced tea, anyway?

Right over there in the still of the night.

Well, Lord, would you look at that!

Now, that reminds me of home.

Your design's all right, but your engineering's all wrong.

Looky here, B.G. You got your coil wound too tight here.

No wonder this stuff's got the kick of a 90‐year‐old chorus girl.

Careful, Roy. That coil might... break. Oh. I'm sorry, B. G.

"J." Let me fix it for ya, J. G.

Boors of a feather should bunk together, I always say.

Attention, all personnel. Choppers arriving. Incoming wounded.

All medical teams to O. R. Hot damn! It rains here too, don't it?

Come on, boys. Let's go to work. Roy, do us a favor.

Don't try to straighten out any colons.

This old boy's all right. Get him to post‐op. More suction here.

I can't see. Need any help?

Let me. I got a free hand here.

The price is right. I'll take it. Partial hepatectomy.

Caught enough shrapnel to make chopped liver.

That ain't where all the blood's comin' from. No.

There's an arterial bleeder under the liver, but I can't get both hands in to tie it off.

You got any 3.0 silk?

You just watch this, Colonel. This is no time to practice up on slipknots, Captain.

I'm gonna lasso that sucker and tie him off neater than a runaway calf at brandin' time.

Retractor. I gotta get under there.

That's it. Suction. Clamp, clamp. Ride 'em, cowboy, cowboy.

I cannot wait for his last roundup.

Gotta hand it to you, Dupree. You know your beeswax. You're just what the doctor ordered.

You see, Captain? Severe kidney damage. But we found...

if we can save the lower pole, he should have fairly normal function.

You do marvelous work. Yeah. I just love playing doctor.

While you're playing, Hunnicutt, do explain to her that the ureter is the key.

If that is not salvageable, you can write off the entire kidney.

He seems very sure of himself. Oh, yes.

‐ I like that. ‐ Captain Anderson, I'm about to save this boy's leg...

with a very delicate arterial transplant.

‐ Care to be fascinated? ‐ I'd love to. Excuse me.

Scalpel. It's time to give up the theater. They're starting to walk out on me.

No, no, no, my dear. You‐You come closer.

Good. All right. Hold the clamp exactly like that.

And now, in the center ring, Major Charles Emerson Winchester and his performing ego.

Very skillful, Doctor. And you're very observant, Captain.

‐ What are you doing after the operation? ‐ What did you have in mind?

Well, I thought we'd avoid the Mess Tent and have dinner together.

I'm sure I can scrape up potluck from my larder‐‐ if, of course,

you don't mind having red wine with the squab.

‐ You're unbelievable. ‐ That's right.

Hey, you two. No hand‐holding in the abdominal cavity.

Yes, and can we please keep the conversation on a professional level?

‐ That'd be a first. ‐ Come on. We always talk professional.

"Clamp." "Sponge." "Shower cap." "Rubber duck."

I just love the way y'all josh around. Damn.

This is more fun than skinny‐dippin' in a creek with the Pittman sisters.

Captain Dupree, there are ladies present.

And accounted for? Not since last year.

Oh?

Excuse me, but this is an operating room and not the back of a school bus.

Come on. We were just making conversation, Margaret.

It's "Major," Captain. You're distracting the doctor.

Not at all. The doctor's doing very well, Margaret.

Captain Anderson, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you after this session.

‐ Come off it, Major. We were just‐‐ ‐ After the session.

Ooh‐whee! I do love women with spunk!

What was all that about? That's what I was gonna ask you.

Are you telling me I did something wrong in there? Surgery is not a sexual sandbox.

What are you saying? That's the way it always is in there.

Flirting is just a way of killing time. Listen, Lorraine.

I'm head nurse, and I'm here to see that nothing gets killed, including time.

All right, Major.

Just a minute, Lorraine.

You've changed a little, you know?

Hey, spitfire, you sure kicked up a lot of dust in there.

Oh, yeah? Yeah. But I do love a woman with spunk.

Why don't you go sit on a steer's horn?

Well, maybe not that much spunk.

So, we're sitting at Gilhooly's having our 10th nightcap...

and holding off two persistent interns.

Well, suddenly Margaret realizes we have a microbiology exam in three hours.

We knew we were in big trouble, but we raced home and made up crib notes...

and stuffed them in our bra.

I'm sorry, Father. That's all right.