All language subtitles for MASH.S08E01.Too.Many.Cooks.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-AJP69_track3_[eng]

HAWKEYE: What do you know?
The foot bone is connected
to the leg bone.

B.J.: No iron
deficiency in this kid.

I'm beginning to think my M.D.
stands for metal detector.

HAWKEYE: Wouldn't you
just love to see

a tennis elbow
or a simple case of warts?

Case of warts? No, thanks.
Six-pack is all I can handle.

Will this drollery
never cease?

Attention, personnel.

Charles has just called
a cease drollery.

Lieutenant, if you're
through laughing,

could you give me
the tape I asked for?

You didn't ask for tape,
sir.

Don't give me any excuses,
just give me the tape.

Begging your pardon,
sir, you didn't
ask her for any tape.

Who asked you?

Greetings. I bet

you miss the peace
and quiet of combat.

What's your name?

Conway, sir.
Private Paul Conway.

Well, Private Paul Conway,
no broken bones,

but your simple torn ligaments
have simply made my day.

This is the kind of injury
that makes me homesick.

Let's go. Come on.

I feel like a civilian doctor.

Margaret, pass me my putter

and see this man is
charged an arm and a leg.

Make sure
it's the good leg.

Doctors, all combat injuries
should be taken seriously.

But I wasn't hurt in combat.

I thought you just
came in off the line.

I did, but what happened was

when we got
the signal to move out,

I fell in a foxhole.

No more jokes, huh, doctors?

He feels bad enough already.

Why, Margaret, this is a side
of you I've never seen.

Not even when
the shower curtain fell.

Why don't you people
just tend to your knittin'?

I'm sorry, Colonel,

but this guy's ankle
has tickled my funny bone.

A body not sublet by bullet,
grenade, or mortar

demands comment
if not a standing ovation.

It's just common decency

not to laugh at another
person's misfortune.

You're not gonna
believe this one.

Two broken collarbones.

Poor guy was in a foxhole
when some clown fell on him.

Margaret, a little
common decency, please.

Radar, thank God it's you.
I've called all over Tokyo.

Klinger, I told you
the last time you called me,

I don't wanna talk to you.

-Good-bye.
-Please.

I'm climbing the walls
trying to do your job and--

-What's that noise?

Hey, there's a big party
going on here, you know.

Tokyo's a wild place.

Livin' it up pretty good, huh?

I would be
if you wouldn't keep

disturbing my festivising.

Reach my wife yet?

I'm working on it, sir.
Really trying.

I don't want you trying.
I want you succeeding!

You hear that, Radar?

I don't know what's wrong
between the colonel
and Mrs. Potter,

but he's driving me crazy.

Did you reach my wife yet?

For three days,
no one answers at her house.
Where else can she be?

Well, she plays canasta
at Willa Norman's on Tuesday,

and bridge at Edna Hazeltine's
on Thursdays,

unless Mr. Hazeltine's
lumbago is acting up,

and then they go
to Muriel Barlow's.

Let the phone ring.
She drinks.

Listen, can I go now?

This call is
disturbing the party.

Muriel Barlow's.
I feel like a census taker.

POTTER:
Is that my wife, Klinger?

Uh, the lines got crossed,
sir. I'm talking to Guam.

Ask them
if they've seen Mildred.

Okay, Radar, I got it.

But can you cut one R
out of your R & R

and come back now, please?

Look,just don't
bug me anymore.

I got too much
wildness going on here

to answer any of your
dumb questions.

Say hi to Colonel Potter
and Hawkeye. Bye.

Bye.

Hey! Knock off the noise
in there, will ya?

There's people on
R & R over here.

Resting and reading.

Okay, Klinger,
you're surrounded.

When are we gonna get
some fresh laundry?

I just tried to fold
my sheet, and it broke.

Please, I'm eating.

Don't try to play
on our sympathy.

What smells so good?

Gentlemen,
let me introduce you

to a long-lost friend-- food.

If that's food, what's it
doing in the mess tent?

Around here, food is what
we play handball with.

Two weeks ago, my fork
went over the hill.

Just taste it. Come on.

Mmm. Mmm! Fantastic.

-What is this?
-Spam Parmesan.

Spam Parmesan? In Italy,

you can get the death
penalty for that.

Taste it. Just taste it.

Oh! Oh!

May I quote you
on that, sir?

If this was a building,
it would be the Taj Mahal.

If it was a woman,
it would be
Mrs. Taj Mahal.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

Are we supposed to believe

that this little bit of heaven
was concocted by our cook?

The cook who made "food"
a four-letter word?

I'm getting that bum reassigned
to the garbage detail.

Don't tell the flies.
They'll leave.

I found us a real cook.

-Hey, Conway, come here.
-B.J.: Conway?

"Look out below" Conway?

The man whose feet
are all thumbs?

He must have stumbled over
this recipe by accident.

He says the secret's
in the sauce.

Gentleman, Chef Paul Conway,

fresh from Café Pierre,
New York.

I'm glad you like it.

Boy, it's fun to cook again.

Oh, this food
is miraculous.

What are you doing
tossing grenades
instead of salads?

I told the personnel
people I was a cook,

and they make me a rifleman.

See? You should have lied.

I'm a plumber.
Look where they put me.

Yeah. So far
it's worked fine.

Hardly any of his patients
ever spring a leak.

And I do my best, honest,

but I am such
a rotten soldier.

Whenever I'm carrying my rifle,
the guys will never get near me.

But put a spatula in his hand,
he's Toscanini.

Yeah, I'm comfortable
in the kitchen.

You might say he's
at home on the range.

Parmesan.

The meat is a mystery,
but it's definitely Parmesan.

Well, now we know
you're good, Conway.

You heard it straight
from the horse's nose.

You see, Major,
Conway here was a chef.

Klinger, please,

do not shatter
this moment.

Charles, are you going
to eat that Spam or marry it?

Sir, if ours were
a truly civilized nation,
you would be king.

Seems to me a clever doctor
could find a way

to hang on to a great
cook like this.

Klinger, he can only stay
until his leg is better,

and then we'll break
the other one.

-Five minutes to coq au vin.
-I can hardly wait.

Nothing in my entire life

has provided me
with the sensual ecstasies

of last night's
powdered eggs Benedict.

Or the rapture of Tuesday's
chipped beef Wellington.

Ah, what to wear,
what to wear.

Be a trendsetter.
Wear the green.

-You're right.

Better get a move on, Charles.

You know how crowded
the mess tent is these days.

Gentlemen, please,

anticipation is in itself
a sensory delight,

a moment to be
savored and relished,

not to be--
not to be rushed into
and wallowed in,

-like swine in a trough.
-Okay, Charles,

but you'll be talking out of
the other side of your snout

-if they run out of food.
-I will be there

when I am appropriately
groomed and dressed.

Let him groom.
The less he eats,

the more there is
for us.

I like you.
You're devious.

Maybe I am
and maybe I'm not.

Table of six for Corporal
Herbert. Thank you.

Come back again, please.
Table 4 is open.

Excuse me. Would you
look at this crowd?

More people than yesterday.

Never fear, the headwaiter
is an old army buddy of mine.

Names, please?

Klinger, when are we
gonna get a table?

-We're starving.
-I'd like to eat dinner
before breakfast.

I'm sorry.
We're booked solid.

Perhaps you might do
a little shopping.

Come back in an hour.
Will that be a party
of two?

You're gonna have a party
of five on your nose
if we don't get some food.

Look, Captain,
this is the opportunity
of a lifetime for me.

That kid is an artist.
All he needs to make it big
is the proper management.

You wouldn't happen
to have somebody in mind?

He cooks. I promote.

We're gonna open our own
place after the war--

Chez Klinger.

Toledo is crying
for another four-star
restaurant.

The other one closed
when all the pinboys quit.

Look, Chez,
just get us a table.

You gotta wait your turn.
No exceptions.

Max, good evening.

Ah, Major Winchester

and Mrs. Winchester
du jour.

-Your table's ready.
-My dear.

Right this way, please.
Wine list. Back. Back.

I think we just saw
a new dance:

the Lebanese fast shuffle.

-Very big in Boston.
-Ah-ah-ah!

What about no exceptions?

Not to mention
booked solid.

Well, the major and I
have an, uh, arrangement.

If one wishes V.I.P. treatment,
there are ways.

Oh, I understand.

-There's a good way. I feel
a table opening up now.
-All right.

-Follow me, please.
-All we had to do
was cross his palm

with his shoulder blade.

There you are, gentlemen:
our fireside table.

-The stove?
-Too bad it's not lit.

After dinner, we could
have warmed our feet
and whittled.

Yeah, your first course
will be along in a moment.

If you need me,
ask for Lefty.

You can always tell
a chic restaurant

by how smartly
everyone's dressed.

And the number of
jeeps parked in front.

Do you think
we can join you?

We've been waiting
a long time.

I've been on shorter fasts.

-Our stove is your stove.
-Fresh rolls.

-Roll, Father?
-Oh, no, no, thank you.

My cassock is getting
a little tight
in the vestibule.

-Mmm. Mmm.
-You said a mouthful, Margaret.

Ah, Colonel Potter.
Care to share our stove?

-Roll, Colonel?
-No, thanks. Just the coffee.

You know, I haven't seen you
eat anything in days.

That's what happens
when you're not hungry.

A good meal might
make you feel better.

Why is everybody poking
their nose into my stomach?

It's just that Private
Conway's preparations

are sinfully delicious.

Why is he still here?
He oughta be recuperating

down in Seoul
like everybody else.

Trouble is, Colonel,
we send him down to Seoul,

-they send him back to combat.
-Well, what's wrong with that?

You've had your fun.
You've stuffed your faces.

But the game's over.

It's not just the food.

In combat,
the man's a menace.

You put him back on the front
line, he'll trip over it.

Colonel, I ask you--

Are these the buns
of a warrior?

Cooking seems to be
Conway's true vocation.

When you're wearing
a green tuxedo,

you dance
where they tell ya.

Oh, but, Colonel,
in this case,

perhaps the army
has made an error.

Private Conway
really doesn't belong

in an infantry company.

Damn it! Nobody said
this was easy.

None of us are
where we wanna be.

See this?
It's from my wife.

I'm breaking my bunions
over here,

and she's nagging me,
via airmail, to come home.

My whole marriage
might be fading
into the sunset,

but I'm still doing my job.

So Conway can just
suck it in and do his.

Now get that man's tail
back on the line pronto!

-Sir, I got her! I got her!
-Mildred?

No, sir, I got
the operator in Hannibal.

That's the closest
I've been so far.

Hello. This is Colonel Potter.

Yes, I'm really in Korea.

I'm over here
making the world safe

for bad phone service.

Well, you people must be
pushing the wrong buttons.

I've been calling
for five days.

She's gotta be home sometime.

Your best isn't good enough.
Do better!

Of course I'm yelling.
Wouldn't you?

My wife is calling me selfish,
inconsiderate, and thoughtless.

Who asked you?

Hello? Hello? Damn it.

Hi.

I'm busy, Pierce.

I need some advice.

See, I have this friend
who has a personal problem,

and I just don't know
how to tell him

if he's willing to talk,
I'd be happy to listen.

Hawkeye, I appreciate
your concern,

but the best thing you can
do for me is leave me alone.

Might help
to open up a little.

No, I gotta think this one
out myself, solo.

Okay, but if you
change your mind,

I'm the first ear on the left.

Boy, you people take the cake.

First you're military
personnel experts.

Now you're all
marriage counselors.

Everybody needs a hobby.

I think
we'd all be better off

if we just did our jobs

and let other people take care

of their own personal
problems, okay?

Okay, fine.
I just thought maybe--

Good of you to drop by,
Pierce.

Now if you'll excuse me,
I've got a patient to check.

I'm not as versatile
as everyone else around here.

I'm just a doctor.

Captain, try viewing this

as an exercise
in common sense.

What the hell are you
doing? What is this?

I can only guess
they're reenacting

the life
of Alexander Graham Bell.

Charles is just getting through
to Don Ameche, Colonel.

What's going on here,
Klinger?

Well, I-I, uh,

think an officer could
explain it better, sir.

Thanks.

You're talking to
the adjutant general's
office, right?

About that Conway kid,
right?

Colonel,
surely you realize--

-Against my direct
orders, right?
-Conway is misplaced--

Say "Right,"
Winchester.

Right.

-The phone.
-Right.

That's telling him,
Charles.

Hello. This is Colonel Potter.

That was Major Winchester.

I know that,
but he's a good doctor.

All right, Captain,
let's can the palaver.

Just get me General Haggerty
right now.

I've never been
so insulted in my life.

God knows I've tried.

You tried the old badger
game too, didn't you?

Keep the old badger
busy in his office

while the rest of the gang
pulls the switcheroo.

Come on, Colonel,
you know me better than that.

Honestly, Colonel,
Pierce didn't know
we were doing this.

Bud, Sherman Potter.

Does your group
have time to waste
playing musical soldiers?

Of course they don't.
Besides,

If anyone's transferring
out of here,

it's gonna be yours truly.

I've had it
with this hellhole.

I'd just as soon chuck
the whole kit and caboodle.

No, I'm not on the sauce.
I'm dead-dog serious.

There. Went right to the top,
the A.G. himself.

Used all my powers
of persuasion. Didn't work.

The Conway thing is now over.
Finished. Finito.

So stick to medicine
and get back to work.

And, Klinger, you get
my wife on the phone,

or you'll be bunking
in the latrine permanently.

-What did he say?
-All I heard was "latrine."

I distinctly heard him say
"Chuck this kit and caboodle."

I don't believe this.

He actually thinks I went
in there just to con him.

What on earth is
the matter with the man?

I don't know. If he
wouldn't tell me before,

he's sure
not gonna tell me now.

Of course
he's not telling you

because you all
pussyfoot around him

as if he were
a vestal virgin.

You must appeal to his sense
of logic and common sense.

You march into his tent.

You demand to know why
he's behaving like an ass.

You're
our resident authority

on behaving like an ass,
Charles.

-You want to talk to him?
-All right, I will.

Are you crazy?

Let him go, Margaret.

Sincerity didn't work.
Maybe pomposity will.

Absolutely not.

Colonel Potter is
a sensible, mature man.

He can work it out,
himself.

Leave him alone
if he doesn't want to talk.

Leave me alone.
I don't wanna talk.

Sir, you have
to talk to me.

-Why?
-Because I'm a woman,

and I can tell you what
it's like for a woman

to be away from
the man she loves.

I've had a lot of experience
in that area.

I know that, Margaret,
and I know you're
trying to help,

but you really oughta
be talking to Mildred.

She tells me
she's all by herself
watching her life go by.

She thought by now we'd be
in some cushy stateside post,

looking at the sunset
in the same hemisphere.

She knew she was
marrying a soldier.

I proposed to her
in combat boots.

Well, she probably
hoped to find them

under the bed
a little more often.

When a woman is lonely for
her man and he's not there,

the reasons don't matter.

You just know you're alone,

and you get angry.

I know I did. I'd write Donald
terrible, hateful letters.

I'd say the most awful things.

And then the next day,
I'd write him again

and tell him how much
I loved him.

And you know something?

Both letters were saying
exactly the same thing--

that I needed him.

Margaret.

All I'm saying
is that it takes

a lot of care
and understanding,

to pull a marriage
through the tough times.

Even one that's lasted
40 years.

I appreciate your help,
Margaret.

I just hope you're right.

Say there, I--

Is that a tuxedo?

Of course. It's after 6:00.

But don't feel bad.
Black tie is optional here.

-Are you trying to be cute?
-Oh, no, sir.

If I was trying to be cute,
I'd wear a backless formal.

-I'm General Haggerty.
-Haggerty. Haggerty.

-You have a reservation?
-Where's Colonel Potter?

Of course, the Potter party.
Table 7. Right this way.

You better be in the USO.

Sherm! Hey!

Bud, you old pack mule.
What a surprise.

I see you've met
Private Enterprise.

Now say hi to a couple
of top cutters:

Captains Hunnicutt and Pierce.

-Boys, this is
General Haggerty.
-Haggerty?

As in Adjutant
General Haggerty?

Adjutant General Haggerty.

-POTTER: That's right.
-It's a long drive from H.Q.

You must be starved

from processing all
those forms and things.

Klinger, uh, can we
transfer some food in here?

Oh, yeah. Let's go
rustle up some grub.

I hope you don't mind
potluck, General.

No, no, no.
Anything is fine.

Well, Bud,
what brings you up here?

A strange call
I got yesterday, Sherm.

All I got in was a hello
and two buts.

Yeah, I guess
I was a little terse.

Well, if that was terse,
I'd hate to see testy.

Sherman, you look
as tired as I feel.

Why don't I finagle us
a little R & R in Tokyo, huh?

Paint the town
red, white, and blue
like in the old days.

No, I'd be crying in my sake.

Come on. It'd be a ball.

We'll take the USO guy
along for laughs.

Forget it. I'm in no mood
for partying.

Uh-huh. Something's
bothering you.

All right, let's get it
out in the open.

Now don't you start, Bud.

Sherm, we go back
to basic training days.

I know you. You're not
like this. Talk to me.

Well, maybe you're right.

You're probably the one guy

with enough mileage
to understand my problem.

Aha, your problem.
Now that's better.

Now we're getting somewhere.

-Voilà.
-Here you go.

Enjoy, General.

Well, thank you, men.
Go ahead, Sherm.

-Yeah, please, go ahead.
-Don't stop talking
on our account.

It'll feel good to let it out.
We'll go over to my place

and open up a jug
of the good stuff.

Yeah, let's do that.

Hey, this is fine chow.

You people eat like this
all the time?

Well, things have
picked up around here

since Conway got here.
Wouldn't you say so, Beej?

Now that you mention it,
Conway has made a difference.

Come on, chow down.

Let's go open
that bottle of scotch.

-Conway.
-Mm-hmm.

Run him out here.
I want to meet him.

Hey, Klinger, an order
of Conway for table 7.

Maybe I'll just
drink it myself.

May I present the Michelangelo
of the mess tent,

Private Paul Conway.

Of Klinger
and Conway--

Paris, Toledo,
and Ouijongbu.

Pleasure to meet you,
sir.

Well, the pleasure is mine,
son. This food is fantastic.

-Thank you, sir.
-Yeah, we like it too.
We're really gonna miss him.

We're supposed to
be missing him already.

Why? Where's he going?

Right back up
on the front line.

What do you mean front lines?

He doesn't work here?
He's not your regular cook?

He's nobody's cook,
General.

The man's a foot soldier,
a rifleman.

Well, that's ridiculous--

A man who cooks like this,
a rifleman.

Yeah, we were surprised too.
But you know the army--

they got a reason
for everything.

Somebody has to do
something about it.

We were thinking
the same thing,

but what can be done?

I'll tell you what.

We'll reassign this man.
Change his M.O.S.

Change his M.O.S.
What a wonderful idea.

Can you really do that?

You bet your buns I can.
Conway,

you are now officially
a U.S. Army cook.

Turn in that gun
and draw some butter.

Sherman, I don't know
about all you doctors.

All that education
and you just don't know
how to get things done.

Yeah, you're absolutely
right, Bud.

Yeah, I guess that's
why he's a general

and we're just a bunch
of silly surgeons.

Okay, son, as soon as Colonel
Potter cuts you loose here,

you'll be down in Seoul
on my personal staff.

-On your-- On what?
-On your personal what?

I'll be the envy
of every general

in the Far East command.

Did you just hear
our soufflé fall?

No, that was
my stomach sobbing.

Well, good luck, Conway.

There'll always be a place mat
out here for you.

It was inevitable, General.
Chez Klinger moves uptown.

-What?
-We're a package, sir.

Where he goes, I go.
Right, buddy?

Partners to the end.

Sir, I'm very grateful,
but with all due respect,

I'd like to go back and cook
for my old unit up on the line.

I never met this man
before in my life.

You'd rather cook for
your buddies in combat

-than for me?
-Yes, I would, sir.

I guess that's
the least he can do

after running over them,
bumping into them,

-and falling on top of them.
-Usually at the same time.

Yeah, that's why
I'd like to make it up
to the old unit, sir.

How 'bout it, Bud?
You always said

the boys on the line
deserve the best.

Yes, I did, didn't I?

Okay, Conway,
I admire your loyalty.

You can go back
to your old unit.

But just one question.
Do you deliver?

I can still taste
Conway's duck a l'orange.

-Made with no duck.
-And no l'orange.

Now no Conway.
I hate pretzels.

Imagine what Conway
would have made
to dip them in.

Hello, troops.
Lovely night, isn't it?

Barkeep, set up a round on me.
I'll have scotch.

Embalming fluid
for the funeral party here.

Hello, Colonel.
Looking for a shoulder
to laugh on?

I'm tickled pink.

Here, Margaret,
read this aloud.

It's from Mildred.
I thought you might
be interested.

"Dear Sherman,
I'm writing you
from Pensacola."

Ah, my favorite drink.

That's in Florida.

No wonder
she didn't hear the phone.

Mildred always goes
to see her cousin Portia

when she needs cheering up.

Strange woman, Portia.

Likes to take her teeth
out at parties.

Sounds like your kind
of humor, Pierce.

You just don't understand
biting satire.

Go ahead, Margaret.

"I met a wonderful
young man yesterday--

"Lyle and Mavis Wilson's boy.

"They're Portia's neighbors.

"He's back from Korea
where he was wounded,

"and he told me
a MASH unit saved his life.

"As I listened to him,
I could imagine you
as his doctor.

"The miles between us
seemed to disappear,

"and for a few minutes,
it was as if you and I
were together.

"It made me realize how
unfair my last letter was.

"It's just that sometimes
I get tired of being alone.

"I get angry
and I blame you.

"And when you're not
here to yell at,
I get even angrier.

I hope you can somehow
understand what I'm saying."

I can. A friend of mine
explained it to me.

"I might let off steam once
in a while, but I adore you.

"I'm very proud of you.

"And I wouldn't trade
my life for anyone's.

Love, Mildred."

What a beautiful letter.
I think I'm gonna cry.

Good. I don't want
to be the only one.

-You oughta marry that woman.
-If you don't, I will.

No, then she'd be
Mildred Pierce.

Colonel, if you do not send
that angel a dozen roses,

and immediately,
you are a cad.

Terrific idea, Winchester.

Klinger, you want to
take care of that for me?

Oh, right away, sir. Let's see,
I call, uh, Radar in Tokyo.

No, I'll just maybe call
Hannibal direct.

I could call Muriel Barlow.
No, she's probably drunk.

Or is she the one
who takes her teeth out?

-Klinger?
-Sir?

Forget it.
I'll grow them myself.
It'll be faster.

All right, that's it.

I'm recommending my stomach
for a Purple Heart.

The only way to serve
these meatballs

is with a Ping-Pong
paddle.

We could end this war
in a minute, you know.

All we have to do is invite
North Korea to lunch.

I oughta put the cook
on bread and water.

Oh, no, he has
to suffer right along
with the rest of us.

Do not despair, epicureans.
Chez Klinger rides again.

Try that.

Mm. Looks edible.

Smells nice.

Very tasty.

What is this?
A mercy meal from Conway?

Not exactly. The sauce is
a recipe he taught me,

but I improvised the rest.

What do you call this?

Goat à la king.