M*A*S*H

No, they're not.

Cloudy.

Clamp. Clamp.

Clamp. Sorry, Doctor.

You seem preoccupied, Donovan. Is anything wrong?

No, nothing. Thank you.

If it's me, I can always move to another war. Clamp.

Will you pipe down, Pierce? We're working over here.

What do you think we're doing over here, playing hearts?

Oh, you're always looking for a fight.

Well, I've certainly come to the right place. Suture.

I don't mind singing in the O. R.

I'm liable to bust out myself any minute.

Oh, go right ahead, Colonel. It'll do your old heart‐‐

middle‐aged heart good, sir. (laughing)

You certainly have a winning way, Junior.

Colonel, I wonder if you could help me with a problem.

Well, I hope so.

I haven't received a letter

from my fiancé in four days.

You want me to write you one?

Not much I can do, Major.

Maybe Penobscott's busy.

Yeah, learning to write.

I'll ignore

that jealousy‐inspired wisecrack.

Has anybody been getting mail?

Suture. I've been getting some fan mail

from North Korea.

They want me to play Panmunjom after the war.

Peace Talks are playing there now.

It's a tough act to follow.

Oh, I got mail.

I got a wonderful letter from my old Sunday school teacher.

Tell us about it, and I'll step on your foot.

I'm worried about Donald. He works so hard.

Maybe he strained himself thinking.

Don't you wish. He has a mind like a steel trap.

That could be dangerous. If he gets an idea,

he'll snap his neck and swallow his face.

I feel like Rip Van Winkle.

How long have we been in there?

Seven and a half hours.

If I weren't certain of being knighted, I'd resign.

‐I wasn't much help to you, doctor. ‐You were fine.

I'm afraid I've got too many things on my mind.

We all do. I can't decide on who to ask to the movies tonight.

‐I'll bet it isn't me. ‐Don't be so sure.

Well, how about you?

You're asking me, after him?

Well, he turned me down. I'm on the rebound now.

‐This is your big chance. ‐I don't play second fiddle.

Forget the fiddle. What do you play?

Solitaire.

Come on. What do you say?

Dinner in the mess tent, the room that floats in fat,

followed by a rotten motion picture.

It's a perfect evening.

‐I'm busy. ‐Going to the auto show?

Post‐op.

I'm helping B.J. follow up on some cases.

You're doing time with Hunnicutt?

Who sentenced you to that?

I volunteered.

You're turning down the chance to be seen

with the Porfirio Rubirosa of Ouijongbu.

What a tongue twister.

Oh, you've heard about me.

Maybe next time, Captain.

I'll have my florist send an armful of pussy willows

‐to your tent. ‐Won't help.

How about a box of dehydrated chocolates?

Poor girl's gone bonkers.

‐Who, Donovan? ‐Yeah.

She turned down the chance to hold hands with me

‐in the flicks tonight. ‐Ah.

Some day she'll look back and wanna pound her head on a rock.

Is she actually helping you out in post‐op?

Is that so crazy?

You two got the mutual irresistibles for each other?

Ha! Come on.

Tell me, who's the most devoted family man

‐in the world? ‐Mickey Rooney.

Who gets an A in fidelity?

RCA Victor.

‐No, you, both times. ‐Huh.

So how come she turns down a date with Dr. Jekyll

to go work in the lab with Mr. Hyde?

She's helping me with some cases.

I could use a little of that kind of help myself.

Hawk...

her husband's back in the States,

and, uh, their marriage is in trouble.

Gee, I can't understand why.

They're only 12,000 miles apart.

She's really upset about it,

and work's good therapy.

Are you sure there's nothing

going on between you two kids?

Honest.

A little hanky panky after Taps?

Scout's honor.

‐Before? ‐No!

‐During? ‐I'm happily married.

Oh, yeah?

I thought that that was a contradiction in terms.

Colonel, how'd you like a delicious cup of coffee?

‐I'd love it. ‐Me, too. This stuff stinks.

Oh.

I just don't understand why Donald hasn't written.

Maybe there's another woman.

‐Fat chance. ‐Another man?

Donald is so devoted, it's scary.

I can certainly tell when someone loves me.

When you kiss him, he clicks his heels.

I can feel his loving arms all the way from Tokyo.

Not bad for a stocky guy.

Maybe he's involved in some of that spy stuff,

like parachuting into North Korea.

‐That's possible. ‐Is he qualified?

‐He's made 126 jumps. ‐Once from a plane.

Mail call, Colonel. You got a letter from Mrs. Colonel.

Bless the dear girl.

Captain Hunnicutt, you got three from your wife.

‐Three. ‐You got three?

‐Gotta write 'em to get 'em. ‐Oh, I don't know.

Melville wrote Moby Dick, and he never wrote back.

Probably on a cruise.

Major Houlihan,

a letter from your lieutenant colonel.

Oh, wonderful! Wait a minute!

This letter has been opened. Look.

Sometimes they come like that.

And sometimes they're opened

by creepy company clerks

who like to peek at intimate personal passages.

Come on, Margaret. That's uncalled for.

‐It's not fair. ‐Yeah,

and it wasn't even very intimate, either.

Nosy jerk.

Come on, Margaret. Smell your letter and read it.

Oh, this is terrible!

‐What is it? ‐Did peace break out?

It's Donald. He's in Tokyo Army Hospital!

What's wrong with him?

He doesn't say, brave darling.

Could be just a checkup.

Maybe he's having a neck installed.

Or getting his upper lip starched.

You're just jealous because Donald is full‐lipped.

I'm getting excited.

Eat your pudding.

How you doing, Donovan?

Okay.

Obviously. Anything I can do?

No.

Bad news from home?

It's a letter from my old man.

A "Dear Jane."

He started out with, uh...

"Dear Carrie...

I just don't know how to tell you this."

But he found a way.

Yeah, he did.

Listen, uh, why don't you skip post‐op tonight?

No, I'll be there.

You don't have to. I can handle it.

So can I.

Okay.

‐B.J.? ‐Yeah?

Thank you.

Sure.

You know, when you're hurting,

sometimes it helps to talk about it.

My wife bottles things up, keeps everything inside.

So I get in her way in the kitchen.

I keep nudging her

till she gets sore enough to swing at me.

Then out it comes.

The anger, tears, the problem.

Everything.

You must be a good husband.

Yeah, but we miss a lot of dinners.

Would you like to talk about it?

N‐no, thanks.

Just like Peggy. Stubborn.

I'll meet you in the kitchen.

You can cork me two good ones.

To be honest, I'd like to talk.

But not here.

Someplace where we wouldn't be interrupted.

How about Guam?

How about my tent?

Oh, that wouldn't do.

Why not?

Well, it wouldn't look right.

People might get the wrong idea.

You wanna talk in your tent, we'll talk in your tent.

After I'm finished here, I'll stop by.

Thanks, B. J.