M*A*S*H

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

Tonight's movie is a don't‐miss‐‐

a captured Chinese Communist musical:

The Imperialist Running Dog and the Showgirl.

For those of you who don't speak Chinese,

there are subtitles in Korean.

I can't believe that breakfast they served this morning.

‐Now don't start. ‐It was the first time I've ever seen

orange juice labeled "freshly killed."

Look, I had to drink it. Do I have to hear the reviews?

And I'm sure that was the same bacon

that wrote Shakespeare's plays.

Welcome home, Charles.

Pull up a gutter and fall down.

You look like you've come

for our free introductory autopsy.

Leave me alone.

You can't die on us, Charles.

You haven't given us our presents yet.

I brought you no presents.

I'd sooner pet a bubonic rat. (groans)

Come on. Nobody goes to Tokyo without buying presents.

I know. He's got 'em hidden away in his suitcase.

What'd you bring us? What'd you bring us?

Oh, sure‐‐ bring back the empties.

‐Where did those come from? ‐I don't know, Charles.

You were supposed to be at a medical seminar

at Tokyo General.

Probably had to do an emergency operation‐‐

saved some chorus girl from sweating to death.

"Pink Parasol Nightclub and Bathhouse."

A fine hospital,

famous for their underwater appendectomies.

Am I to be spared nothing?

‐Oh, look at this. ‐What? What?

A boutonniere with rice in it.

Come on, Charles. Tell us what happened.

All we know so far is that you were nowhere near a monastery.

Very well, gentlemen. May I speak confidentially?

‐Absolutely. Man‐to‐man‐to‐man. ‐Yeah.

Fine. I would like to tell you

exactly what happened last night in Tokyo‐‐

Yeah?

but I haven't the faintest idea.

I should have known better than to turn for help

to you insensitive dolts.

I'm sorry, Charles. We'll behave.

Don't you remember anything at all?

I attended some sort of party at the hospital

and fell victim to the insidious blandishments

of a rowdy surgical staff.

That's it? That's all you remember?

This morning, when I checked out of the hotel,

the manager sharply advised that I stay away‐‐

in perpetuity.

‐(laughing) ‐We gotta find out what happened.

Look in that other bag.

See if there's anything or anybody still in there.

Oh, look what I found.

Ah. Now we're getting someplace.

‐Give me those. ‐Oh, no.

One picture is worth a thousand dollars.

We can get 'em developed in X‐ray.

Now maybe we can find out what goes in these stockings.

We can drop them on our way to post‐op. Come on, Charles.

Surely you jest.

I heard there were no casualties during my absence.

There weren't, but have we got a disease for you.

Are you mad?

I'm not getting off this cot until the ground stops moving.

‐Come on, Charles. ‐Upsy‐daisy.

Don't say upsy‐‐ (groans)

Ah, Corporal Shaw.

Spending a little time in the Good Book, are you?

Don't be embarrassed, son.

I often do the same thing myself. Let's see.

"Thy thighs are like jewels.

"Thy navel like a round goblet.

"Thy belly like a heap of wheat.

Thy two bre‐‐"

It's called "The Song of Solomon."

Oh, yes. Yes.

Well, Solomon had a lot to sing about.

In your condition, I'd recommend

something a little less inspirational.

Okay. Thanks, Father.

Well, is there anything else I can do for you?

Could I have some water?

Let's see what your card says here.

We're almost there, Charles.

Stagger this way.

Ah, Hawkeye.

We have a request for water here.

No. Sorry, Shaw. You're gonna have to wait.

‐Come on. ‐Corporal Shaw is the proud owner

‐of a case of Korean hemorrhagic fever. ‐No liquid.

His kidneys have shut down‐‐ better known as phase two.

‐He never forgets a phase. ‐(chuckles)

So, this is hemorrhagic fever.

First case I've ever seen.

How are you feeling, young man?

Okay, but I'd sure like something to drink.

Please don't say "drink."

You got it too, doc?

No, my pain, regret‐‐

regrettably, is self‐inflicted.

Not a pretty sight, is it?

Poor devil's the victim of bottle fatigue.

Got it during an entire night of hand‐to‐glass combat.

Don't worry, Shaw. No matter how rotten you feel,

you're in better shape than Major Disaster here.

Take it easy. We'll see you later.

‐He's a very sick young man, isn't he? ‐Yeah.

We got two more cases warming up in the bull pen.

Couple more days, they're gonna be in the same shape he's in.

Would it help to send them down to Seoul?

I don't think so. So far nobody's been able

to find an effective treatment anywhere.

These kids' blood vessels have weakened so much,

the trip alone might kill them.

I see. Well,

since there seems to be nothing to do but wait,

I shall seize the opportunity to get some sleep.

‐Gentlemen. ‐Ah, nap time.

‐We know just the place for it. ‐Oh, no, I'm going‐‐

Attention. Attention, fellow colleagues.

Welcome to the 4077th staff meeting.

It now gives me great pleasure to introduce

our distinguished speaker for the afternoon.

Klinger, can it.

I had 'em right in the palm of my hand, sir.

I know. You were knocking 'em dead. Now shuffle off to Buffalo.

You've been a great audience. Good night, ladies and germs.

All right, everybody. Let's settle down.

‐(groaning) ‐Pierce, Hunnicutt,

nice of you to bring along a cadaver.

You really do look rotten, Major.

‐Uh‐huh. ‐You think he looks bad,

you ought to see Tokyo.

Winchester, if you're through mooing,

I'll get down to brass tacks.

We're smack in the middle of our semi‐annual visit

from everybody's favorite disease‐‐

Korean hemorrhagic fever.

Major Houlihan and I have the latest poop from H. Q.

It still does not appear to be contagious.

The most likely causes seem to be small insects‐‐ chiggers or mites.

I just love the way your nostrils flare when you talk medical.

Doctor, pay attention.

I am, I am. It might be mites.

At least they're positive they're not sure.

About the only thing they do know for sure

is that 10 to 20% of the people who get it are gonna die.

Surgeon General's office calls that figure "significant."

My choice would be "appalling."

And they've sent us a change

in the prescribed treatment of patients in phase three.

Good timing. We've got Shaw in there

warming up for phase three right now.

Just to refresh our memories, Colonel, if I may,

phase three is characterized

by abnormally high urinary output,

‐delirium, sometimes coma‐‐ ‐Thank you, Major.

‐and severe loss of appetite‐‐ ‐Thank you again, Major.

What do they want us to do for Shaw?

Well, as soon as his kidneys get back to work,

the latest word is no intravenous salt solution.

No I. V. saline?

What are we supposed to give them, hot chocolate?

Colonel, these kids are gonna be putting out huge amounts of fluids.

They're gonna be losing sodium by the pound.

I know that, Hunnicutt, along with potassium chloride

and everything but their socks.

Are you getting any of this, Winchester?

Hanging on every sock, sir.

Nonetheless, the directive is very specific.

The procedure using an I. V. solution of 5% salt

is discontinued.

Has to be. These kids can't handle it.

In many cases, fluids just fill up the lungs,

and the boys literally drown internally.

Now all we need is a cure for the cure.

According to H. Q., it's no saline.

Let the disease run its course.

So what do we do? We just stand around like dummies and do nothing?

Surely, Colonel, there is something we can do.

We are physicians, not spectators.

Colonel, does that say no saline at all?

That's right. At all.

I'd put that under the heading of overcompensation.

You know the army, Beej. A ton of prevention for an ounce of cure.

Call it what you want. I think they mean it, Pierce.

"Failure to follow the procedure in this directive

"will be treated as a court‐martial offense

"and can result in automatic loss of rank and pay

and dishonorable discharge." ¿Comprende?

‐Oh. ‐Army's going soft.

They left out the rack and thumbscrews.

Sorry, doctors. They need you in post‐op.

Corporal Shaw has reached phase three.