Original subtitles

Four cartons of gauze.

♪ Santa Gauze is coming to town ♪

48 boxes of cotton balls.

♪ Deck the halls with balls of cotton ♪

♪ Fa, la, la, la, la la, la, la, la ♪

The day before Christmas,

we're receiving the gift of the magpies.

-Ohh! -Come, come, Doctors. No fighting.

After all, there's a truce on.

Why do you think I'm so happy?

The only surgery I'll be doing is on a turkey.

Yes, I'll be coming to the mess tent

for a prayer and a wing.

What's everybody so happy about?

Don't you know it's Christmas?

CHARLES: Well, if it isn't Santa's jolly little oaf.

After a few days of dragging Christmas packages around,

let's see you be jolly, Roger.

Now, if you want this junk, listen up.

Hunnicutt, B. J.

Whoa! Airmail. Surly delivery.

Houlihan, Margaret.

What do you got? You got anything?

It must be cookies! It even feels fattening!

Oh-ho-ho-ho!

What-What-What-What-What?

Peg's mom's second-finest creation:

-Her incredible, world-famous fudge. -Oh.

She treats me with great confection.

You got to put that someplace safe, like my mouth.

Here's a piece of resistance for Major Winchester.

It's the third one this week marked "perishable."

What is this? A ton of pound cake?

Klinger, you remind me of Tiny Tim,

except that it's your brain that's lame.

Excuse me, troops.

I hate to hex your Xmas, but I bring bad yule tidings.

The supply convoy's been hit by marauders.

Our turkey dinner's been trimmed.

-B.J.: Come on. -Stealing turkeys, that stinks.

Don't those guys know there's a war on that's off?

Afraid the best we can look forward to

is roast leg of Spam.

-Aw! -I gave that up for the war.

Please, please. Now, while we're all busy

feeling sorry for ourselves,

let me give you a little food for thought.

The ones who'll really miss out

will be our young guests from the foster home.

Sure. They'll come to the party expecting turkey

and end up with our standard bill of unfair.

Isn't it ironic? They're the refugees,

yet we get the care packages.

They can have my cookies.

Very sweet, Margaret.

They can have my niece's sugar-cured ham.

I don't need any more air in my spare tire.

I must have something back in my footlocker.

Better chip in than chipped beef, huh?

Uh, you...

Ah, fudge.

Yeah, they can have this.

I'll just eat my heart out.

Beej, you get the Noble Prize.

We got the makings of a great buffet,

just like the smorgasbord down at the Kiwanis back home.

Klinger, I'm appointing you chairman

of the food procurement committee.

You get out and canvass all the tents.

Tell 'em to give till it hurts.

-This Christmas schlepping is killing me.

You put your goodies in that sack,

I'll put my goodies in this sack.

Don't look at me. I gave at the office. Talk to them.

Okay, okay. Let's see what I got here.

A quart of Old Grand-Dad from my grand old dad.

Some fruitcake from my nutty aunt Sarah.

I'll take the cake. You keep your Christmas spirits.

I'll drink to that.

And now, from the man who has everything--

I know, because I personally delivered it.

Always ready to do my part.

There you are, my swarthy Samaritan.

What's this?

These, Corporal, are smoked and succulent oysters.

Not a whole lot to suck on.

Klinger, remember the old adage.

It's not the size of the gift. It's the cost.

HAWKEYE: You must be kidding.

You got three great big packages this week,

and all you're comin' up with

are a few oysters, Rockefeller?

They were all clothing.

All chintz, I'm sure.

Since when do they mark clothing "perishable"?

Gentlemen, my business is just that: mine.

I demand that you terminate this swinish inquisition.

-We'll terminate you if you don't come up with-- -Please! Please!

I'm sure Major Winchester

must have a very good reason for what he's doing.

-Yeah. -He's a cheap, selfish skunk-- sir.

Sergeant Rizzo, I need to sign out that jeep. S-- Sergeant Rizzo.

It's the timing. The timing is off.

-Well, I'm sure you could fix it in your sleep. -Well, well.

If it isn't the spirit of Christmas hisself.

-Good news travels fast. -The word is the rich get richer

and the poor get oysters.

-Sergeant, about the jeep-- -No problem. No problem, Major.

-I'm sure you have your DR-3. -DR-who?

-The authorization form. It means you got permission. -I know what it means.

In triplicate, signed by the president of your fan club

and our company clerk.

-Sergeant, surely we can overlook the-- -Oh, no, no. Mm-mmm, Major.

No. Just because I don't read too good

doesn't mean that I don't do things by the book.

Sergeant, perhaps I can appeal to your more masculine instincts.

-Come again? -I need the jeep for an assignation.

You gonna kill somebody?

A tryst, a rendezvous.

-Date. -Ohh.

Oh-ho-ho. I get it.

A word to the wives is efficient, huh?

Precisely. I'm sure that a man of the world such as yourself...

Enough said. Enough said. You cheap rascal.

-You're saving your yummies for some babe.

-You are a crumb, but I respect you for it. -Good.

Just, uh... Just let me know if she's got a friend.

Will do, sport. Maybe we can double sometime.

Hey, yeah!

POTTER: Klinger, do you have a needle and thread handy?

Uh, should be here somewhere, sir. What's up?

What's down is the problem.

The suit I can stuff with pillows,

but I'd have to have a head the size of MacArthur's

to hold up this Kris Kringle cap.

-Be right with you, sir.

Every time I sniff this room,

I feel like I've died and gone to the A&P.

Oh, thank you, son.

Now, would you be Santa's helper and thread this for me?

-Mm-hmm. -Seems like they're

making these holes smaller every year.

What are elves for, sir?

Christmas carols! I love 'em.

We gotta do some of that at the party tomorrow.

Way ahead of you, sir. That's why I've been writing down the words.

I'm gonna make copies for everybody. It's amazing

how many of the old holiday songs I remember by heart.

"Three French horns, two turtlenecks,

and a partridge in a pair of trees."

You're right. It is amazing.

-Uh-- -May I help you, sir?

Uh, Uh, no, no. Uh, I'm just a friend from the 4077th.

Oh, yes. The children in my care

are invited to your camp tomorrow.

-Yes. -Is there a problem?

No, no. I'd-- I brought these for the children.

You are very kind, Major--

Winchester III.

And I am Choi Sung Ho.

Oh.

"Wallingford and Chadwick, Confectioners."

Yes, these are very special.

They're hand-poured by the finest chocolatiers in Boston.

We are very grateful. Oh, please come in.

Allow the children to show their appreciation.

No, no. You don't understand.

I cannot.

I'm sorry. See, on Christmas Eve,

it's a tradition in my family

to leave this particular gift at places like this.

But part of the custom also holds

that for it to be a true act of charity,

the gift must remain anonymous.

Ahh. That is a lovely thought.

You have practiced this for many years?

Oh, my. Yes.

Some of my earliest recollections of childhood

are associated with it.

I still remember being

with my mother, father, and sister Honoria,

and watching, fascinated,

as Mr. Wallingford hand-wrapped each morsel,

and then later,

wiping a peephole in the auto's frosted window

and watching my father quickly leave the packages.

I mean, we can't have the little urchins

begging in the street, now can we?

Remember.

Not a word.

Not a word.

Well, I hope you know you're ruining it for the rest of us.

-What? -Santa will never show up while you're awake. Silly guy.

Don't you know you're supposed to be asleep,

with visions of sugarplums dancing in your head?

You call yourself a WASP.

I been doin' this ever since I was a kid.

Something magic about Christmas. You never outgrow the memories.

My family always used to put up a nativity scene.

One year, I got this great set of electric trains.

I laid the track all around the village,

put the three wise men in the caboose.

I was the conductor. "Next stop: Bethlehem."

When I was a kid, my father would lift me on his shoulders

to put the Christmas angel on top.

Course, he lost that job by the time I was 11.

This would've been Erin's first year on my shoulders.

That's okay, Beej. We'll get 'em next year.

-Hey. Here they come. -Now we can start the party.

-WOMAN: Merry Christmas, kids!

-Merry Christmas! -Merry Christmas!

MULCAHY: Welcome, Mr. Choi.

Merry Christmas to you and to your children.

Thank you, Father.

We are most grateful for your invitation.

It is we who are in your debt.

After all, what's Christmas without children?

Hey, come on, kids! It's party time!

Wait'll you see what Santa brought you. Come on.

Come on.

What's the matter?

Please forgive them. No matter what I tell them,

they're still afraid of uniforms.

Yeah. I know what you mean. Uniforms scare me too.

I'll get rid of this!

I even get nervous around movie ushers.

You don't believe me? Ask anybody.

I've been trying to get out of this outfit

ever since I got into this outfit.

The only trouble is once you get out of the green,

you start turning blue.

All right, children. Let's all have some fun!

Come on! Come on!

Give me a kid

and let me get into the mess tent.

-Give me a small one.

KLINGER: I'll take that one.

Come on, Hawk. Let's go

before they run out of powdered eggnog.

All right! All right! Don't rush me!

I barely had time to put on my face.

MARGARET: Doctors!

Why, Margaret, you're a sight for four eyes.

Come on. We've got trouble.

Somebody's been hit by a sniper.

That lousy snipers' union.

They don't even get Christmas off.

HAWKEYE: What is it? What happened?

I found him by the side of the road.

I don't even know how long he was there.

Sorry to ruin your holiday, folks.

Forget ours. His is shot to hell.

Let's get him into pre-op.

-Can I help? -Yeah.

Hey, folks, what do you say we keep the noise down?

There's a party going on in the next tent.

See these?

They're Kellye's Munchable Macadamias.

Mmm. Try some. Mmm.

Go ahead. They're Hawaiian peanuts. Mmm.

-Try it. Try it. -Are they good?

Oh, and of course,

we have a second course, which is--

Rizzo, what is this?

Come on, Klinger. You gotta be pullin' my leg.

No. I'm holdin' my stomach.

You tellin' me you hadn't ever seen

hog jowls and pigs' feet?

This is the best of the bayou.

Maybe you don't appreciate a little heaven on the hoof,

but I know these kids will.

Here you go.

Must be from North Korea.

Ahh, here's something.

A tiny tin of oysters donated by Charles Ebenezer Winchester.

He understands less about Christmas than you do.

Hold it.

You ever eat the eraser off of a pencil?

They're blech! Can you say "blech"?

Blech!

Very good. All together now.

Blech!

How's his pulse?

Thready. Not good.

I'll get the plasma.

Forget it, Margaret. That won't do any good.

No hope. Bullet must have destroyed his brain stem.

- Oh, God. -What?

"To the best husband and daddy in the world. Come home soon.

We love you. Scott, Jeannie and Lynn."

Margaret, set up two units of plasma.

What for? It's a waste of time.

Doctor, if there's no point--

If we can delay it long enough,

his kids won't have to think of Christmas

as the day their daddy died.

What do you say we bring this baby in for a landing? Refuel!

Here you go! Cookies baked in the good old U.S. of A.

These are really delicious.

Delicious? Oh, say it again.

-It'll be another year before I hear that word. -Are they good?

Sorry, Major. We're running a little low on these.

Why don't you belly up to the oyster bar?

Hey, Romeo.

Well, if it isn't the popular mechanic.

Hey, how'd your little romantic assassination go?

Oh, the date?

-Ohh. -Oh, yeah.

Where did you get that?

The arm? It's mine. I swear it.

No, no. The chocolate bar, you chicken-fried snake!

-I bought it this morning. -From whom?

A guy came in from Seoul. He got it on the black market.

-Black market? -Yeah.

You want some? I'll get you some.

Free. Free. All you want. Just let me live.

Give me that.

Hello, my little friend.

Hello, Joe.

Ooh, good! You speak English. Tell me,

did you get any nice presents for Christmas?

A dolly or train or candy bar?

Oh, yes. Number-one good B.J. fudge candy.

Oh. Anything else?

Rubber oyster things. Blech!

Did you get any other candy,

something like this, perhaps, here or at Mr. Choi's?

No.

What about your little friends?

Nope.

I see.

Here you are, little one.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to mingle now.

He lettered in basketball at Central High.

"Denny and Lynn 4-ever.

"Funland Arcade.

Gouldsboro, PA. August '47."

On the back, there's a four-leaf clover.

Not valid outside the U.S.A.

His respirations are getting very shallow.

His rate is down to six per minute.

Set up the twist drill, Margaret.

Some burr holes may ease the intercranial pressure.

Hang on, Flannigan. Hang on.

I was hoping somebody forgot to turn off the lights.

Looks like I was wrong.

A driver found him beside the road, Colonel.

That's all we know for sure.

We figure the three of us can handle it.

No point pooping everybody's party.

How bad is he?

-He's doin' okay. -No chance.

Little conflict in diagnosis here.

You wouldn't lie to Santa, would you, son?

A family's Christmas wreath should be green, not black.

He dies on Christmas, they have to live with it.

I get the picture,

but you're talkin' hours, pretty long odds.

He's in good hands, Colonel.

We got our best people working on it.

If you three don't take the cake.

Should anyone ask, I'll tell 'em

you're workin' on a special Christmas present

for some kids back home.

There you are, you mendacious lowlife!

I don't understand.

Don't play the innocent with me.

How dare you steal candy from babies?

Please, Major.

May we step outside?

You took the words right out of my mouth. Go ahead.

Go on.

Deny it. Deny it, if you can.

You took the Christmas candy I gave you,

and you sold it on the black market.

-Have you no shame? -May I explain?

No! What you may do is retrieve that candy immediately

and have it in the children's stockings by morning.

Otherwise, they're gonna find you

hanging by the chimney without care!

Major, I cannot. The money is gone.

You parasite!

♪ Jingle bells, jingle all the way ♪

Please. Your generous gift

and insistence that it remain anonymous

-touched me deeply. -Huh.

The candy would've brought great joy

to the children for a few moments,

but on the black market,

it was worth enough rice and cabbage

to feed them for a month.

Rice and cabbage?

I know. I have failed

to carry out your family tradition,

and I am very sorry.

On the contrary.

It is I who should be sorry.

It is sadly inappropriate

to give dessert to a child who's had no meal.

Shall we share some, as you say, Christmas cheer?

No.

Thank you. Please go ahead.

-Okay. Ready?

Ho ho ho!

-Merry Christmas! -Santa Claus!

-Merry Christmas! -I told you Santa Claus would get here!

He was just making his list and checking it twice.

There's one for you and you.

Remember? I told you he lives way up at the North Pole.

Father, get your prayer kit

and high tail it over to pre-op. Mum's the word.

Of course, Colonel.

Excuse me. Coming through. Excuse me.

Well, well, well.

Have you been a good little boy?

Same.

My Lord, does it never stop?

You're just in time, Father.

It's that bad?

He's comin' up. The burr holes helped.

-What's his blood pressure? -90 over 60.

Attaboy, Flannigan. I knew you could do it.

-Time? -9:48.

Still a long way to go, Beej.

He'll make it. Come on, Irish. Stay with me.

He's stopped breathing.

Come on, damn you. Fight!

Beej, how much fight can he have left in him?

-Excuse me, B.J. -No.

-I beg your pardon? -You can't have him yet.

But I have to administer the--

He's still mine! You're not gonna pull a shroud over him!

-Beej, easy. -B.J.

I'm not pulling the shroud over him, B.J.

I'm going to administer the last rites.

Sorry, Father. It's been a long night.

Let the man do his job.

I said no! Not now.

Listen to me, B.J.

I try to stay out of the way

because what you people do here is so important,

but understand, at a time like this,

what I have to do is just as important.

And no one, not you nor anyone else,

is going to stand between me

and the performance of my sacred office.

I'm sorry, Father.

Ah, Major Winchester, the party of one.

Dinner is served.

What is this?

Well, let me see. For your appetizer,

the last of the macadamias,

followed by a mixed grill

of Lebanese salami, sugar-cured ham,

pigs' feet, and hog jowls.

We have seconds on those.

Sorry, sir. No smoked oysters.

I just smoked the last one.

-But I, -Ah, and for dessert...

Frisco fudge and nutty fruitcake.

All laced with hemlock, I'm sure.

Sorry, sir. No hemlock.

But I can get you some ketchup.

And what, pray tell, is the catch of the day?

Oh, just one catch, Major.

Uh-huh.

The source of this Christmas dinner

must remain anonymous.

It's an old family tradition.

Thank you, Max.

Merry Christmas, Charles.

I'm still getting a pulse, but it's awfully thready.

-What time is it? -11:25.

Come on, kid. We're almost there.

No pulse.

Come on.

I'm not getting anything.

Come on.

Nothing.

Adrenaline. 1 to 10,000.

No.

It's over. Let him-- Let him rest.

Never fails to astonish me.

You're alive, you're dead.

No drums. No flashing lights.

No fanfare. You're just dead.

I'll get the death certificate.

Look. He made it.

Time of death: 12:05, December 26.

Falsify a record.

Christmas should be thought of

as a day of birth.

That'll be a first for me.

War is full of firsts.

And lasts.

♪ Long lay the world

♪ In sin and error pining

Ho-ho-hold it right there.

Well, well, well.

Santa happens to know

you've been very good boys and girls today,

and because of that,

we've got a special present for ya.

Elf?

Fudge.

All the way from Mill Valley, California.

Last four pieces.

♪ Sleep in heavenly

-Merry Christmas. -♪ Peace ♪

Merry Christmas.

♪ Sleep

♪ In heavenly peace