Original subtitles

Did I ever tell you, you lookcute with your shirt off?

-No. -I think I know why.

Now you made me lose count.I gotta start all over again.

-Hup! -Sleep! I wanna sleep!

Hoo-ha.

Will you hold it down? This is very distracting.

-Mail call, sirs. -Hup-ha! Hoo-ha!

Keep away from him.He'll start all over again.

Captain B.J. Hunnicutt.

Something in a plain, brown envelope.

They oughta disguise those things more.

It's the"Surgical Journal," Radar.

Oh, yeah?

I seen one of those once.

I'd rather look at the outsides of people.

Hey, Hawkeye, you got your newspaper from home.

Get away from me with that thing.

That's the "Crabapple Cove Courier."

-You love that. -I used to love it.

Same stupid news, week after week.

Where's this month's journal

from the Institute for Applied Nudism?

Wanna read Major Burns'sissue of "Popular Mechanics?"

Sometimes the ads go pretty far.

Radar, a picture ofa three-way toilet valve

does not go pretty far.

I just deliver 'em. I don't make 'em up.

Look at this:"How to provide agastric reservoir

"in a total resectionof the stomach."

Look, if you can't read without moving your lips,

at least turn the sound off.

-What's eating you? -My back is eating me.

-Still? -I have a hungry back.

You want a massage?

Not unless you put your shirt on.

How about if I x-rayyour back later?

I did already. There's nothing there.

Nothing?No spine, nothing?

The pain goes clear through to my lung.

I thought maybe I had a spot.

Or a Fido or a Rover.

-Oh, you're really cute.-

If I die from this, will you read the joke at my grave?

You know,I'd really dig that.

Criminy! I'd rather read the stupid newspaper.

I can tell you right nowwhat's gonna be in there.

Another article about incredibly average Vernon Parsons.

B.J.:Who's that?

Some dunce I wentthrough med school with.

Every week, he's in the newspaper.

He's being put in charge of this.

-He's being promoted to that.-So what?

He's incredibly average.

The only reason he gets all this stuff

is he's back there with no competition.

He's sitting back there,resting on his fallen arches,

and I'm over here dancing with rats.

You'll live probably.

Listen to this.

"Transposition of theileum in ascending colon."

What an idiot that guy was.

This is by the same guy who advocated

total gastrectomy in '49.

I read that. Fascinating.

Vernon must have his own press agent.

I can't pick up my hometown newspaper

without reading his name.

Damn it! There he is again!

"Dr. Vernon Parsons has been awarded

"a $100,000 grant at Boston Hospital

for a two-year study ofinfectious disease in mice."

They oughta give him the disease

and split the dough with the mice.

Don't they realize how incredibly average this man is?

I'm going to breakfast.

-Worse, huh?

Do you see a knife handlesticking out of my back?

-Look, I hate to give advice.-Good.

You never exercise.

I wrestle periodically with the nurses.

If you'd just do somethingphysical once in a while,

you'd feel better.

You're right. I feel a lot better.

Father, you feeling a bitunder the weather today?

I have been dragging a bit.

Not eating, I see.

Food seems to have lost its allure.

Can I eat yoursausage, Father?

By all means, Radar.

They're really good today.Extra grease.

If you'll pardon the indelicacy, Father,

and with all due respect to your collar,

why don't you stop by the dispensary

and get a good flushing out?

We got here too late for the hard-boiled eggs.

All they have is scrambled socks.

You should've been in the army

before they taught chickensto lay powdered eggs.

World War I,I ate turnips for breakfast

every day for a month.

My tongue smelled likeArthur Murray's footbath.

-You feeling all right, Father?-Why do you ask?

B.J.: You keep pulling at your fingers.

Are they too close to your hands?

Oh, I seem to be a littlearthritic this morning.

Off his feed too.

You gonna finishyour coffee, Father?

No, no. Go right ahead, Radar.

Let me see your eyes, Father.

What do you think, Colonel?How's his sclera?

Slightly icteric.

Let's see underneath your tongue, Father.

That tongue's as yellow asthe streak down my back.

-Don't touch that coffee, Radar. -Why?

Because the "Swiss Family Hepatitis"

is swimming around in there.

Oh, gee!

Ooh, ick!I ate his sausage.

Well, I didn't touch them, Radar.

I know, Father. But it was yours.

I mean, no offense, but, wow.

Ooh, ick!

Let's nip this in the bud.

I don't want to livethrough another outbreak

of camp jaundice.

B.J., give Father Mulcahya blood test.

Hawkeye, examine the staff.

Give 'em a shot of gamma globulin.

Radar, check the latrine area.

See if the water supply's polluted.

I'll talk to the cook.

Let's get busy.

Come on, Father.

It was just laying out there in the open.

I wasn't going through your private papers.

Relax, Frank, I justwanna see your body.

Oh, don't be such a rude Rodney.

Frank, there's hepatitisgoing around.

-Hepatitis? -Yeah.

-Let me see your eyes. -Are they yellow?

How's my liver? Is it tender?

How should I know?It's your liver.

Well, feel it!

-How does that feel? - Tickles.

Frank, try tocontrol yourself.

Well, something's wrong with me.

Yeah? Ever sinceMargaret got engaged?

No! Since I've been getting shortness of breath

and heart palpitations.

Feel my chest.

Not tonight, darling.I have a headache.

I have a lump here under the sternum,

and that's not supposed to be there.

-Is it? -Frank, go like this.

Feels like a marble.

Not like an aggie, more like an immie.

Look, I haven't gottime to feel in yourchest for marbles.

Just let me getsome blood.

I'll give you a shotin the behind,

and I'llget out of here.

-Look, while you're here?-Mm-hmm, mm-hmm?

Will you check my arms?

I think my arms are getting longer.

Take two bananas andcall me in the morning.

-Feel under my armpit. -Not for five bucks.

I've got swollen nodes,

and they're getting bigger and bigger.

You know, I saw thatin a movie once?

-Oh, yeah? -Yeah.

This guy's nodesgot so big, eventually,

they took overMinneapolis.

And you call yourself a doctor.

Frank, will you,for cripes' sake,

drop your driveling,your hypochondria,

and your pants,in that order.

Oh, you're not such hot stuff.

I just read about someone from your hometown.

He got a $100,000 grant from Boston Hospital

for playing with mice.

Don't taunt me, Frank.I'm holding a sharp object.

A hundred thousand smackers.

That's probably 1,000 bucks a mouse.

Ow! Ouch, that hurts!

Take it out! It hurts! Take it out!

I already tookit out, Frank.

Feels like you left a rock in there.

Maybe one slipped down from your head.

FRANK: You broke off a needle in me, didn't ya?

Frank, these few,lovely moments with you

have contributed more to the pain in my back

than my army cot,and that's going some.

If you care anything about human life,

you'll feel my lumps before you go.

Leave 'em under my pillow.

I'll give 'em a squeezebefore I go to sleep.

Come in.

I have to have a lookat your body, Margaret.

Ha-ha, don't you wish.

Lie down in the bed andlet me feel your liver.

That'll be the day. Get out of here.

Margaret, we may be facinga hepatitis epidemic.

I have to examine you.

You're gonnaget a shot, too.

Eh, so are you, kiddo.

Let's start small.Show me your eyes.

Outside.This bulb is too yellow.

You're serious, aren't you?

Believe me, I wouldn'tbe walking around

poking people's livers if I didn't have to.

-All right, show me under your tongue. -No. That's out.

-What? -I will not show you my tongue.

Especially not underneath.

How 'bout if I show you mine first?

I can look at my own tongue.

-It's okay. -Okay? It's gorgeous.

I knew it.

I have to have some blood.Let me have a vein.

Here. Hurry up.

Well, you're certainlybraver about this

than my last patient.

-Who was that? -Frank.

He's afraid his body'sbeing attacked.

He has very little to worry about.

How's your fiance, LieutenantColonel Donald Penobscott,

-of West Point? -Fine.

He's doing very... well.

Well, that certainlysounds extremely...

satisfactory.

-Can I confide in you? -Sure.

I've been getting some very strange letters

-from Donald's mother. -Like what?

Like she's welcoming me into the family.

Well, listen.You're not all that bad.

She's welcoming me,but in a very left-handed way.

Listen to this.

"Dear Margaret, what a pleasure it will be

"to include a Houlihan in our clan.

"I've only known two Houlihans before,

"and they were both charming.

"One was a chauffeur,who we liked very much.

"Although we had to lethim go because he drank.

"And the other wasa young girl who workedfor us as a maid.

"We still send her Christmascards every year...

at the state hospital."

If this woman wants tostart a fan club for you,

tell her to forget it.

She has me sick.

I don't know what she's telling Donald.

What difference does it make?He loves you.

He's not in lovewith the chauffeur.

Ready?

Oh, come on, Margaret.

-You're taking all the fun out of it.-Yes, that's right. I am.

Margaret, this is notmerely a dream come true.

Gamma globulin goes betterin a person's caboose.

Not this person's.

Margaret,you're a nurse.

Oh, all right!

-Let's get it over with.-My sentiments exactly.

Let us not dawdle overa moment like this.

Let us treat it as aprofessional encounter

of the most...Oh, Margaret.

May I pause on this occasionto express a few thoughts?

If you say one word...

Oh, I wouldn't, I wouldn't.Not a word.

But-but if I did, that wordwould be "magnificent."

Would that be bad?

Will you please give me the shot?

Okay, okay.

There.

How dare you come in here on the pretext

of giving me a shot,

and then stand there ogling me

as though I were a sideshow attraction!

Boy, I show youa little appreciation,

and you hit the roof.What do you want from me?

Respect.

Simple respect.

I expect nothing more,and I'll accept nothing less.

Hey, that's pretty good.

You got me with that.

Good.

I mean, you really did.

I bet that would workwith Donald's mother.

What?

Maybe not those words,but that attitude.

Simple respect.

Maybe.

You know, in some ways,you really are magnificent.

And not juston the outside.

Thank you.

-You wanna give me a shot?-Oh, buzz off!

Oh, just asking.

MAN : Attention, all personnel.

Incoming. Incoming.

Welcoming committee to the helipad.

There will be a slight lull in our lull.

I don't know what we're gonna do with this boy over here.

Oh, God.

I sent for Hawkeye. I think we need another opinion.

-How'd this happen? -He's a tank driver.

When a shell gets inside one of those tubs,

it just ricochets around,

chews up everything in its path.

Where do you start?

I'm here.

What's the matter with you?

-You're all bent over. -Who told you?

You're turning into a question mark.

And the question is, how I got this way.

Pretty bad, huh?

Among other things, he has no stomach to speak of.

I know they could dealwith this down in Seoul.

But the trip might kill him.

And if one of us tried it up here, we might kill him.

What do you think we oughta do?

You're the chief surgeon.You tell me.

He'll need a partial gastrectomy,

maybe even a total.

I think B.J. oughta do it.

He's the closest we come to an expert on this.

Expert? I've neverdone this before.

I've only read about it.

Well, that puts you one up on the rest of us.

-Work from the book.-Suppose I make a mistake?

Suppose we send him down to Seoul on the buckboard express?

He'll be off your conscience,

but he won't be anymore alive.

It's a tough choice.

Fine. Take your time. What are you gonna do?

All right.I'll do it.

Look at this,I'm sweating already.

Go scrub. Carmine, prep him.

Pierce, see me in my office later about your back.

Why? Is something wrong with my back?

"In the colon, transected..."

What the hell are you doing?

I wanna see if you got hepatitis

before you put your hands in that guy.

I already gave myself a blood test.

Leave me alone, will ya?

You mind if I give you a shotwhile you're scrubbing up?

I'm trying to read.Will you get outta here?

Look, I gotta jab 15 peoplebefore I go to sleep tonight.

Otherwise, this entire staffwill be flat on its livers.

See me after the operation.

I'll be waiting at the stage door

with a flower in my buttonhole.

The Swamp, 10:00.

-Good luck, Beej. -Uh-huh.

Let's see, "The terminalileum is divided

"five inches proximal to the ileocecal valve."

God.

Let's jump to the end and seehow this operation turns out.

How you feeling, Father?

Oh, fine actually.

Well, weak, really.

I brought you some juice.

Oh, thank you.

Your blood test showed hepatitis.

Probably infectious.

We're gonna have to isolate you for a week or so.

You mean I can't see people?

How will I hear confessionstomorrow night?

Well, maybe they can write their sins down

on pieces of paper andslip them under the door.

Possibly.

And then we can auctionoff the pieces of paper

and make a fortune for the orphanage.

How am I going toadminister the sacraments?

How can I give Holy Communion?

I can't place the Euchariston their tongues. I'll infect them all.

You're gonna have to take a rain check for a while, Father.

What if somebody needslast rites in the O.R.?

People are depending on me.

I really don't feelall that bad, you know.

You wanna kill yourself?

Well, at leastlet's rig up something

so I can hear confessionsthrough a flap in the tent.

-Father, you have to rest a little. -No, no, no, no, no.

Look here.You don't understand!

Their souls are in my charge.

-Father, you're sick. -Well, so are you.

Look at your back.

That's not stopping youfrom doing your work.

All right, I'll work out a light confession schedule for you.

Maybe people can cut down on their sinning

and give you a break.

I'm hearing confessions,and that's it.

All right, just get a little rest.

Nobody's pushingme around.

Good afternoon, Klinger. I'm checking for hepatitis.

-Drop your pants and show me your eyes. -Forget it, sir.

The last time I dropped my pants, they put me in the army.

The next time I drop 'em,it's to stick 'em out theporthole and wave bye-bye.

How are your eyes?

Bloodshot from pounding potatoes.

Come on, Klinger.I want to get home

and slip into somecomfortable traction.

Here.

They look like potato eyes, right?

You are what you mash.

-Show me your tongue. -Gladly.

Let me see the underside.

Wait, I'll stand on my head.

What are you socranky about?

Because I drew K.P. 30 straight days

for punching out Zale.

I should get a medal for that.

We're supposed to fight the enemy, aren't we?

You're fightingZale again?

-What about? -Ah, it's stupid.

He insulted the Toledo Mud Hens.

I take it that's abaseball team and notyesterday's lunch.

The trouble is, I got a short fuse.

My wife, Laverne, keeps writing me,

"When you get angry, count to ten,

"and ask St. Anthony for help."

I go, one, two, three...

Pow!

Once I got to eight.

I never needed any help from St. Anthony.

I'm too hot-blooded.

Let me draw a little of thathot blood from your vein.

I really gotta work on it.

-Yeah, right. -I can't stand myself when I lose my temper.

Hey, hey, hold still,will ya?

Sure, so he insults the Mud Hens.

What does he know?

I should get excited over an ignorant remark

from a stupid idiot like him?

Hold it, will ya?Talk with the other hand.

Sure, I'm not wasting my time on him.

That dumb jerk!

Excuse me.

You want me to stab myself?Just hold still.

-Right. -All right?

He's always making cracks about my lingerie.

He just doesn't have the guts.

I'd like to see himin a panty girdle!

I'm sorry! I didn'tmean to raise my voice.

Can I have a little cooperation?

The pain in my back is beginning to grow roots.

I gotta calm down.

I don't care what he says about me.

But he mentions the Mud Hens again,

he's getting it right in the puss!

Would you watch it?

I'm sorry.Did I hurt ya?

Fortunately, I'm in a permanent duck.

Look, during a physical examination,

I'm supposed to getphysical, not you.

-Now get over there. -Sir.

-Give me that. -Here, take it.

-Sir? -Uh-huh?

-If you find out I got hepatitis... -Yeah.

I'm gonna kiss Zale right on the mouth.

I'm very happy for you.

"The ileocolic segment is turned upward,

"and the end of the ileum anastomosed

"to the end of the esophagus..."

-blues.-Everything under control?

You know whatthis reminds me of?

Assembling those toysI got as a kid.

Fold Flap A into Slot B.

I could never tellmy flap from my slot.

You can't find that kid's Flap A,

don't guess.

I'm all right.

It's amazing how muchyou can tell from a fewdrops of blood though, isn't it?

Yep.

You could tell everythingfrom a guy's blood, can't you?

Everything that's fit to print.

It's really sort of fascinating, isn't it?

I'm all a-tingle myself.

-What are you worried about, Radar? -Oh, nothing, uh...

Well, I mean, it was justthat I was wondering if...

if you could tell ifa guy has any, you know,special problems.

Like, uh, like he's anemicor, uh, he isn't red-bloodedenough or...

What's the matter?

Well, I'll tell ya.

Um, sometimes I go outwith the guys. You know,like to Rosie's Bar?

We really have a good time.We're always, uh, singing...

and laughing and telling whatwe're gonna do after the war.

Then a couple of guys willstart joking with some ofthe business girls.

And before I know it,I start to feel different.

-Different? -I get sleepy.

And you're afraid there's something wrong with you?

No. Is there?

Yeah. You're suffering froma severe case of decency.

I mean, I really wishI could have a good timelike they do, you know?

I mean, just bust out and drink

and tell lies to strange girls

and come back to campthe next morning

without any sleepand throw up all day.

I really wish I could...at least just once.

Look, everybody'sdifferent, Radar.

You're here with a bunchof guys you'll probablynever see again.

You don't have totry to be like them.

You know, most peopleact crazy when they'reout of town.

-Hmm. -But you're different.

You always take a little bitof Iowa with you whereveryou go.

That's nice.Don't try to change that.

Someday you'll meet somebodythat you'd like to introduceto your mom.

And instead of takingadvantage of her...

you'll offer her a gift you'vebeen working on all your life.

Yourself.

And believe me,you won't get sleepy.

-You know what I mean? -Yeah.

Thanks.

I hate to say this at thispoint, but would you dropyour pants?

Now, the first timethey did this operation,

they came up withan ileocolic segmentthat was gangrenous.

This guy doesn't even have that end of his ileum,

so I guess we can forget about that.

Did you do a splenectomy,

or did the shell fragmentdo it for you?

I did some. The North Koreans did the rest.

My God, don't they knowthis poor guy's still got

a few payments left on his house?

I guess his neighbors down at the draft board

didn't mention that in hisletter of reference. Cut.

POTTER:It looks to me like yououghta be just about done.

One more stitch, and I'llbe ready to start closing.

How's he doing?

Stable, Doctor.

I think he's going to make it.

Cut.

There.

I just knitted a soldier.

I was supposed to give you a shot

in the Swamp at 10:00.

What are you doing here?

Hawkeye, Hawkeye, Hawkeye,Hawkeye, Hawkeye, Hawkeye!

I did it! I saved him. He's alive!

Louis Pasteur couldn'thave put it better.

-I'm a life-giver. -Congratulations.

Really, I mean it.Show me your tongue.

My tongue? That's small potatoes.

I'll show you my butt!

Hey! Hey, everybody.

All right, all right, all right.

All right. Give me your attention.

A simple "Ah" wouldbe sufficient.

In celebration of the world'smost difficult surgery

and the world's most wonderful surgeon,

snatching life out of the jaws of death,

we unveil for you now

the Hippocrates of Ouijongbu.

♪ I get no kick from Champagne ♪

♪ Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all ♪

♪ So tell me why should it-- ♪

Dip, Baker, dip!

-Uh-huh.-There's no contaminationof the water supply.

The patient we hadhere three weeks ago

showed up in Seoulwith a severe case

of infectious hepatitis.

Let's hope Father Mulcahycaught it from him,

and this will bethe end of it.

I'm for that.

Okay, now,what's with you?

What's with me?

You've been walking aroundlike Lon Chaney's stand-in.

At first, I thought it was pleurisy.

Then I thought maybe a disc.I don't know what it is.

I hear you've been readingyour hometown newspaper.

You think they're poisoning the ink?

I think maybe you haven'tmade up your mind

how you feel about beingover here feeding the fleas.

As far as I'm concerned,the fleas can eat out

at the Chinese restaurantdown the street.

How do you feel aboutspending the war over here,

even though you're not incredibly average?

I guess I'm angry.

How do you feelabout being angry?

You think I'm mad,and I won't admit it, huh?

I think you're gonnacome out of this war

with a merit badge fortying yourself up in knots.

Here, take a belt of that.

Can I tell you somethingas a friend?

A tough friend?

Tough friends last longer.

When I was an enlisted man,I was short.

Not like I am now.

For a while there,I thought I'd look taller

if I could knocka few of the big guys

flat on their backs.

Then it dawned on me.

I was just fighting myselfand using their ribs

to hurt my hands on.

Fig Newtons and Scotch.

Listen, it's toobig a world to be

in competitionwith everybody else.

The only guy I haveto get better than

is who I am right now.

And in your case,that's tough enough.

They're great if you dunk 'em.

So what do I do about incredibly average Vernon Parsons?

Relax. Let him have hislittle research grant.

Live and let live.

And then just to giveyourself a little present,

send him an anonymous letter.

That's not a bad idea.

I could tell him I saw himcheating on an exam once.

Tell him you're filing a malpractice suit.

I'm beginning to feel better already.

Tell him you're filing a paternity suit.

Doctor, Doctor, I can walk.

-Hey, B.J.! -Quiet. Quiet.

-You know what your trouble is?-Yes, I'm dying.

-That's not your trouble.-Right. My trouble isI'm not dying fast enough.

-You don't get enough exercise.-Uh-huh.

The cure for a hangoveris to get the blood out of your keister

and into your brain.

-Watch this. -What?

Hey, Hawkeye, come on.Don't do that. That's dangerous.

Are you kidding?I'm in perfect control.

Come on.Don't fool around, Hawkeye.

-Ow! My head. -My back!

-My head! -My back!