M*A*S*H

MULCAHY (narrating): Sunday. Dear Sis.

Received your letter.

It's a shame Sister Lombardi

was transferred to St. Cecilia.

I know the basketball team will miss her hook shot.

As I write this, no one has shown up

for my 10:00 ecumenical service,

but I'm not disappointed yet.

‐It's only 11:30. ‐(vehicle approaching)

I guess my sermon is not exactly

what you'd call a hot ticket.

I realize, Sis, that you'll get this letter around Ash Wednesday,

but here it's the week before Christmas.

It's a time of anticipation and hope.

MAN (on P. A.): Choppers! All hands report to the pen!

Unfortunately, it's also the time when both sides

get in as much destruction as they can

before the Christmas truce.

When you're faced with such overwhelming physical misery,

it just doesn't seem enough to offer spiritual comfort.

I keep wanting to do more, but more is never enough.

Has this man had morphine?

Yes, Colonel. I gave him a quarter grain.

Perky son of a gun, isn't he?

Would you give us a hand here, Father?

Why, certainly, Colonel.

Calm down, son. Everything's gonna be‐‐

I'd like to help you there, Father,

but I'm sterile, you know.

They're not putting me to sleep.

What exactly concerns you about going to sleep?

Waking up.

Can we get on with this, Father?

My arches are killin' me.

Son, you're going to be fine.

You just have to have a little faith.

Are you Catholic? Jewish?

I'm not anything. I'm just scared.

You're going to have to believe,

whether you believe or not.

Fortunately, you've fallen into the hands

of the best medical unit in Korea.

I swear it.

Just have a little faith in these doctors.

Just a little. Try, okay?

Well, okay.

There. I don't think he'll be giving you any more trouble.

Probably not. While you were locked in his arms,

I gave him another quarter grain.

You did?

Couldn't have done it without you, Father.

Yes. Thank goodness for me.

I have absolutely no strength left.

My white corpuscles are tattletale gray.

There are mushrooms growing on the back of my tongue.

Gentlemen, I hate to impose on you.

I know what a terribly long time you've spent in O. R.

Long time?

I've been breathing through that mask for so long,

there's a pound of lint in my nose.

You don't say.

What's the scam, Father?

St. Theresa's orphanage.

I'd like to run into Seoul

and buy them some toys for Christmas.

How do you do it, Father? Fourteen hours in O. R.,

and you're bright as a nickel in the well water.

Well, I haven't really done anything yet.

I mean, of consequence. How about it?

Anybody got any used money

to trade in for a fresh, warm glow?

‐Take 20, Father. ‐Huh.

Here. Whatever you can find in there is yours.

Oh, sure, be nicer than thou. Here, Father.

Take my shirt and my pants.

That certainly is generous, boys.

Here's 14 bucks, Father.

Catch me later, and I'll sweeten that.

‐Bless you. Major? ‐Father.

Those children know nothing but hardship, Father.

I will not raise their hopes

only to dash them again the day after Christmas.

It is a useless gesture.

Charles, I'll see your useless and raise their hopes.

Put me down for another 10, Father.

‐How about it, Major? ‐Sorry, Father.

I guess I left my heart in my other pants.

Your brains are in your pants.

Your heart fell out with your hair.

I have the perfect Christmas gift for you, Pierce:

crutches for your lame wit.

Ha ha!

"Ha ha"?

You scale the heights, Pierce.

Allow me to take my leave

before you decimate me with a "Says you"

or, God forbid, an "Oh, yeah?"

Gentlemen.

I don't know much about psychology,

but that man's butter has slipped off his noodles.

Oh, excuse me, sirs.

F‐Father, could you come quick? It's Edna.

She's never been pregnant before,

and I think she could be in a lot of trouble.

Do you have a blessing you could give over the telephone?

It sure would mean a lot to my mom.

Well, certainly. Is Edna your sister?

Uh, no, Father, she's our cow.

It's an all‐purpose blessing.

‐How dare you‐‐ ‐Aah!

...put yourself ahead of me!

I have been waiting hours for my phone call to Boston,

and I just picked up this phone,

and I found myself speaking to your mother!

Geez, you didn't yell at her, did ya?

She's got high blood pressure!

I did not raise my voice to your lovely mother.

You better didn't.

Hi. Mom? Yeah, I got Father Mulcahy right here.

Huh? He's, uh...

you know, he's Catholic.

Wh... I don't know. He's okay, Mom.

Wait a minute. Uh, Father,

you think you could do it in Methodist?

I'm a piano player, Radar. I'll transpose.

Hello, Mrs. O'Reilly.

Yes.

Well, thank you. Some of mine are Methodists.

She don't mean no harm.

Heavenly Father, grant us... Hmm?

Oh! Oh, yes, certainly, if you like.

She's holding the phone out so that the cow can hear it.

‐She's doing what? ‐Our cow is in labor.

You held up a phone call from my sister

so that he could bless a cow?

Well, cows are people too, you know.

And I'm arguing with him.

Heavenly Father,

grant us through Your divine intercession

the guidance which we so urgently need in this...

Hmm?

‐She is? ‐Wh‐What's the matter?

She's giving birth.

Oh! Oh, gee, the vet isn't even there yet!

Mom? Yeah?

Oh, it's comin' out backwards!

Like everything else around here.

Wait a minute, Mom! I got a doctor right here!

‐Don't you dare! ‐Come on. I don't want my mom to go through this alone.

‐You're a doctor. You gotta! ‐Give me the phone, please.

Thank you.

Hello, Ms. O'Reilly.

Yes. Yes, I am a doctor, but I'm Presbyterian.

Will that be all right?

Wonderful. All right. Please describe the situation.

Thanks anyway, Father. I know you did the best you could.

Well, actually, I had a wonderful finish.

Uh‐huh. All right. Now listen carefully, Mrs. O'Reilly.

You're gonna have to put your hand inside the cow and turn the calf around.

Oh! Ew! Ick!

Oooh!

Oh, Father!

Oooh! Oh, boy! Oh! Ick!

I'm almost desperate to be useful, Sis.

No one comes for confession.

I have no one to grant absolution to,

no one to give comfort to,

no one who even wants to bend my ear for 10 minutes.

At times like this, I head straight for the bar

at the Officers' Club.

Thanks for the suds, Father. I can really use it.

Not at all, Klinger.

You look a little down in the dumps.

Yeah. Well, I don't wanna bore you, Father.

Oh, not at all. Not at all. Bore away.

Well, it's Christmas,

and I'm thinking of Toledo.

Mm‐hmm.

And I'm dreaming about this Christmas tree,

‐10 feet high. ‐Ah!

Strung with an endless chain of Paco's Hungarian hot dogs.

‐Mm‐hmm. ‐And up on top,

dressed like an angel, is my ex‐wife Laverne.

Uh‐huh. That sounds nice, Klinger.

‐Except for one thing. ‐Hmm?

I hate Laverne.

That's what depresses me, Father.

I'm sitting here, thinking about

what a wonderful Christmas it would be

‐if only I was with Laverne. ‐Mm‐hmm.

‐If only I didn't hate Laverne. ‐Mm‐hmm.

If only she didn't ask for it, the way she walked out on me.

That's quite a string of "if only"s.

You know, in the Book of Job‐‐

Father, can I have another one of these?

I'll be right back.

He thinks he's got problems.

Care to talk about it, Major?

You sure you wanna hear?

I'm an entire ear.