M*A*S*H

Letter for you, Voskowitz.

Letter from your wife, sir.

Letter for you, sir.

Hey, what'd Santa bring you, Hawk?

Some medical journals from dear old dad.

I hope they're recent.

From the last batch, Pavlov was just buying his first dog.

‐FRANK: Yippie! ‐Good news from home, Frank?

Your neighborhood still restricted?

My neighborhood is not restricted.

There's a Catholic right across the street.

No, I'm afraid that's it, Major. Just the one letter.

Well then, okay.

Uh, you know what I do to get mail?

I send away for things, like, uh, samples and stuff.

This morning I got a free package of oregano

and a house painters' color chart.

And it isn't even a heavy day.

‐Thank you, Corporal. ‐Uh‐huh.

‐Mail for you, Colonel Blake. ‐(singsong) Momentito.

Uh, Radar,

tell the cook not to handle the food for the next few days.

The flu again?

Yeah.

Every time he goes to town, he gets the flu.

‐Mail, Radar? ‐Yes, sir. Three letters from your wife.

‐Oh. ‐And a postcard from your parents.

They're second honeymooning at Niagara Falls.

I do hope they don't give me a little brother or sister.

Yes, sir.

Oh, and that thing you sent away for.

‐Oh? ‐The Tobasco Film Company of Havana, Cuba.

Oh, good. Just what the doctor ordered.

Anglo Chemicals is at 47 1/2, thanks to napalm.

I bought it at 39, and my United Foundry's up too.

They're coming out with a new automatic rifle.

Betting on destruction to win, place and show?

I've got a family to think of.

I've got to leave them something in case I get killed.

Frank, the only way you're gonna get killed is if you operate on yourself.

RADAR (over P. A.): Attention, all personnel.

Allied incoming casualties. Report to surgery.

Now there's a good stock for you, Frank‐‐

Allied Incoming Casualties.

Oh, go soak your head!

That'll teach you to ad‐lib with the master.

‐Lap sponge. ‐Lap sponge.

‐Pickups. ‐Pickups.

Speaking of which, what are you doing after the operation?

‐Clamp. ‐Clamp.

‐Or during the operation? ‐HOULIHAN: This is not a cocktail lounge, Doctor.

You could have fooled me.

You gonna tie that vessel, Frank?

Roger. Will do.

You might at least try to get an accurate lap sponge count.

Get up on the wrong side of the war this morning, Major?

‐I counted ten, ma'am. ‐There's only nine here.

‐There's none in the patient. ‐Frank's not finished yet.

It's on the floor. Next time try to hit the bucket.

We might have had to go back in on that patient.

‐MCINTYRE: Give me the suture scissors. ‐Suture scissors.

You know better than that! Wipe those off first!

‐I'm sorry, Major. ‐Okay, close him up.

‐Where's that 4‐0 silk suture I asked for? ‐They're on the way, Major.

When you come on duty, you check the supplies, you understand?

There's no excuse for running out of anything!

I have an announcement!

One more stupidity and every nurse goes on report.

And I'd like to make an announcement.

Major Houlihan and I are getting married, right sugar?

‐What? ‐That's outrageous!

‐We are not. ‐Then go ahead and have the baby alone.

‐Is it a boy or a girl? ‐Give us a chance. We just met.

‐Oh! ‐Oh.

What's eating you, Margaret?

At the moment, you are.

I can't help it. Your ears are so delicious.

What's wrong, honey bunch?

Trisha Spalding, that's what's wrong, honey bunch.

Would you like to tell me about your Trisha Spalding?

We were in training together.

She married a doctor I turned down.

And now she has a beautiful home with a swimming pool,

two adorable children, a two‐car garage.

Oh, Frank, it all could have been mine!

‐That could have been me! ‐(whistles)

That house must have run 40,000.

Forty‐five.

I'd have loved him if I'd have known.

‐But no. ‐(mouths words)

I married the Army, and what have I got to show for it?

Rotten living conditions, no social life,

surrounded by insolent doctors

and nurses who don't give me an ounce of respect.

Darling...

it's only the people who know you

that don't give you any respect.

And that's because you hide all your goodness.

I have nothing. Nothing!

Well, am I nothing, Margaret?

You're government issue, Frank.

You came with my mess kit and my khaki girdle.

‐So much for Frank Burns. ‐And after you're home,

I'll only be a smile on your face

your wife won't understand.

Margaret, you're serving your country in the most noble way a woman can.

In the finest tradition of nursing. You have your commission.

The war can't last forever, Frank.

They'll declare peace, and then where will I be?

Well, there'll always be another war.

Margaret, let's go to Tokyo for the weekend.

I don't want a weekend. I want a lifetime.

A weekend can be a lifetime if you use it right.

I'm not going anywhere with you, Frank.

This is the end of the line for us.

From now on, I'm number one. Me, Margaret Houlihan.

And believe me, soldier, I deserve better than you!

‐Colonel Blake in? ‐Yeah, but he's busy right now.

Come to attention. Get to your feet.

Put that cigar out. Get rid of that magazine.

‐Yes, sir. ‐It's ma'am.

Men are sirs. Women are ma'ams.

‐I'm a woman. I'm a ma'am. ‐Yes, sir... ma'am.

Uh, ma'am, sir?

Where is Colonel Bubblehead?

He gave orders not to be disturbed.

‐He already is disturbed. ‐Excuse me.

‐Out of my way, Corporal. ‐Major, he's watching a, uh, training film.

And it's pretty rough in there...

bodies and everything.

Since when do bodies bother me?

Pretty good, huh?

Not much story, but plenty of action.

It can't be.

What?

It is. It's Charlie Abrams' receptionist.

She looks a lot better in balloons than a uniform.

‐HOULIHAN: Colonel! ‐Whoops.

That's the most vulgar, base thing I've ever seen!

Well, Margaret, you can't come in in the middle.

‐It's disgusting! ‐The critics panned it, too,

but we're trying to judge it on its own merits.

Colonel, I'd like to hear your explanation for this.

Ah, Major, we're grown men

‐a long way from home. ‐Oh!

‐Oh, for Pete's sake. ‐Hey!

And truth to tell, the only woman I have to explain anything to

is a 35‐year‐old, slightly pigeon‐toed mouth‐breather

with $2,000 worth of bridge work.

That I still owe $1,500 on.

I'm certain she would find that obscene.

Margaret, there's an even bigger obscenity around here.

It's called the war. Anyone over 18 is admitted.

Colonel, I want a transfer.

No transfers are issued until the camp comes to a full stop.

And watch your step getting off.

And these two are at the top of my list.

Hey, we finished first and second.

They've totally destroyed my authority with the nursing staff.

They have made a mockery of my majority.

What do you know? We're major mockers.

Simmer down, Pierce. That's an order.

An order?

Why don't you stop masquerading as a commanding officer?

You're nothing but a spineless,

mealymouthed, fly‐fishing impostor!

‐He's not an impostor. ‐Right.

He's a genuine spineless, mealymouthed, fly‐fisherman.

Pierce, you're the limit.

That's right. Go ahead, laugh.

Oh, come on, Major.

You know what they say. "A laugh turneth away wrath."

Who says that? I never heard anybody say that.

Colonel, I am requesting that you officially

and formally approve my transfer.

Look, I am glad this has come up.

Now, I want you two guys to straighten up and fly right.

I want you to accord Major Houlihan

the courtesy and respect "accordable"

to someone who has achieved her high rank and sex.

I am not looking for a truce with these two shower‐tent peekers.

You peek into one shower and you're labeled for life.

‐You really wanna leave us? ‐I really have to.

‐Well. Radar‐‐ ‐Here's the transfer papers, sir.

Here you go.

In case you have any second thoughts, we'll keep mum about this.

Right, group?

‐Right. ‐Right.

Whatever was, of course, has been.

But we are a family, Margaret.

RADAR (over P. A.): Attention, all personnel.

Effective immediately, Major Margaret Houlihan is leaving the 4077th.

There will be wine with dinner with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

Well, there are families and there are families.

‐Frank, Margaret's departure is imminent. ‐So?

Well, isn't that un‐zinging the strings of your heart just a little bit?

None of your business, Captain Buttinsky.

Frank, one is a lonely number.

I'll thank you to mind your p's and q's.

That hurt.