M*A*S*H

Need some tape here.

Come on, step it up. I haven't got all day.

Wanna get that, please?

Yes, Doctor.

Almost finished.

You do nice work.

That's why I get the big money.

You know, I figured it out.

All the work I've done

divided by the time I've been in the army

comes to a nickel an operation.

‐Lap sponge. ‐How you doin', B. J.?

Just about there. It's a nasty head wound.

Yeah, they're getting worse all the time.

Well, that's war, jocko.

Gimme a hand here, will you, Father?

‐Say the word. ‐Go.

More there.

Uh, give me a little Richardson.

No, the big one. No, no‐no‐no‐no.

The‐the‐the little‐‐ the little one.

Hold that door for us, will you, Klinger?

Post‐op's all jammed, sir.

Let's put him against the wall, Father.

We ain't got one free bed.

You'd think we were a motel.

Sorry, Father.

Well, I know all about motels, Corporal.

Each man prays in his own way.

‐Get an I. V. stand, Klinger. ‐Right.

Another boy from the 43rd.

Colonel Coner's outfit. He got hit

in one of the colonel's famous retrieval sweeps.

No more stands, Doc. What now?

Get a hammer. Let's nail this to the wall.

Boy, I wish I had your brains.

‐I wish I had your beauty. ‐There is that.

Our friend Colonel Coner

specializes in trading warm bodies for cold.

He'd send a whole division behind enemy lines

in order to pick up what used to be one human being.

Uh, hold this, will you, Father?

Some awful funny people running this war.

Sometimes I'm sorry I bought tickets for it.

I'll see you in a bit.

Three‐O silk on a Keith needle.

‐Three‐O silk. ‐(clatter)

‐Oh... ‐Need a hand, Frank?

I don't need a hand from anyone.

His own two lefts are enough.

‐Mind if I watch? ‐Makes me no never mind.

‐Oh, Colonel Potter. ‐Here.

There's something that's been bothering me

for some time now, sir.

Very simple, Frank.

A mommy and a daddy love each other very much.

Now, the daddy has a seed...

Put a bridle on it, Pierce.

‐What's on your mind, Burns? ‐Trash.

Sir, I am keenly aware

of the garbage in this camp.

There are tin cans, eggshells,

pus‐y old bandages,

germy tongue depressors by the bushel.

It's dumped the regulation 25 yards from the camp

and poses no threat to hygiene.

But we're wasting our waste, sir.

The locals are stealing it.

They need it to survive, Frank.

Well, they're not entitled to just walk off with it.

Frank's right. You give these people a taste of our garbage,

next they'll want New Jersey.

Now, what I'm suggesting is that we charge them for it.

Make 'em pay for every rind, every drop of swill.

You wanna open some sort of bilious boutique, Frank?

No, but I do have a plan.

This isn't what I'd call table talk, doctors.

See me later, Burns.

It'll be a pleasure, sir.

Maybe for you.

Finished.

Who'd have thought perfection could be so boring?

‐Doctor? ‐Hmm?

‐What are you doing after? ‐Please.

Put a note on the bulletin board like everyone else.

I'll give you a nickel.

Sold. (chuckles) I'm so easy.

Captain Hunnicutt.

I was just walking by and I noticed this gizmo

came disconnected from the thingamabob

and it wasn't dripping into the doohickey right.

You lost me with all the technical terms, Radar,

but I get the picture.

Is he gonna be all right, sir?

He will now.

Whew.

‐Radar? ‐Yes, sir?

You may have just saved his life.

Really? Gee, I didn't mean to.

Well, wh‐who would've thought I could? Gee.

Come on. Help me see if we can get him into post‐op.

Yes, sir.

Do you have a license to troll for surgeons?

Or is that roll with sturgeons?

Right this way, my dear.

You will be gentle.

The army's ruinin' my hands, you know.

Mm‐hmm.

My hands are my best feature.

When I was born,

my father took one look and said to my mother,

"Thanks a lot for the eight‐pound baby nose."

And my mother said, "His hands, Amos.

"Look at his hands. He's a musician."

What do you think my old man did?

Went right out,

stole a violin and stuck it in my crib.

I was one week old. What did I know from violins?

I started suckin' on the bridge.

No kiddin'. I'm not kiddin'.

I believe you.

What's wrong?

What's wrong, what's wrong?

You look happy, that's all.

I never see a happy face in the army

outside the latrine.

Well, I‐I was helpin' Captain Hunnicutt

before with a patient, you know?

Yeah?

And, uh, the guy's I.V. bottle went all snafu‐y.

And so I, uh, fixed it up,

and Captain Hunnicutt says to me, he says to me,

uh, "Radar, you may have saved his life."

You wanna save another life?

Huh?

Don't eat that food.

What's the matter with it?

You ever pull kitchen duty?

No, I've been lucky.

Oh, it's beautiful.

You don't know the conditions.

They paint over the cockroaches.

If you ever saw what they put in the hash,

you'd go screaming into the night.

And later you just might.

Oh, I don't care.

I saved a guy's life.

Is he still in the army?

Of course.

Some saving.

Our garbage is the mainstay of the local economy, sir.

I don't think you realize how much valuable material

is being looted from our trash heaps.

I guess I just don't have your head for garbage, Burns.

The late Colonel Blake said

I was the best rubbish officer we'd ever had.

The man knew talent when he saw it. Smoke?

‐Uh, would you like me to, sir? ‐Never mind.

What do you think, sir? Garbage‐wise.

I'm not gonna make any decision

until Radar gives me a breakdown of the situation.

Radar. You got some poop on the garbage‐‐

Sir, I've been going through the files.

‐I got the poop on our garbage. ‐Shoot.

"The typical sample of this hospital's waste products

"contains expended medical supplies,

"i.e., e. g., tongue depressors..."

Oh, they can take a few hundred of those and make a hooch.

I've heard a Korean landlord will kill for the chance

to subdivide a packing crate.

"A few hundred yards of used and bloody surgical gauze."

Oh, that can be washed out

and used to make summer clothing.

Go on.

"Some stretched‐out nurses' bras."

They can use those for hammocks, right?

You shut up.

Don't be abusive.

I'm sorry, Colonel. It's just my nature.

Enlisted men have feelings, you know.

I keep forgetting that, sir.

You want me to continue, Colonel?

No. I have no interest in hearing a refuse recital.

Burns, what are you leading up to?

Sir, it's un‐American to get nothing for nothing.

Now, I propose we auction our garbage off

to local contractors.

I'd let it go to the highest bidder.

That's ridiculous.

As per Pentagon Directive, uh, N/R/358/9‐A.

The Trashy Substances Act, sir.

Really?

Burns, some men are born to greatness.

Others have garbage thrust upon them.

‐You've got it. ‐I won't let you down, sir.

There's no way you can.

Uh, congratulations, Major.

Hawkeye.

Hawkeye.

What are you laughing? It's not funny.