Original subtitles

File this under "done."

Oh!

I'm gonna go back to the Swamp

and hang tags on my eyelids

that say "Do not open until Christmas."

I'm gonna stay right here

and sleep for three straight days.

Then I'll feel strong enough to get up and pass out.

Next time I operate, I want to be assisted by Dr. Scholl.

My, my! Down on your luck, fellow?

Well, you stay right where you are.

One of the sisters will be by momentarily

with a blanket and some hot soup.

Please don't talk in my sleep.

Or in my wake, for that matter.

You saying you're not tired?

Of course I am. But I treat myself

far better than you Bowery denizens.

My body's a temple.

Yours are a mortuary.

Watch it, Major.

The last time somebody spouted off that much,

he got a harpoon in his starboard.

Sorry to disturb you, sir.

Word just came in, the fighting shifted.

So your meeting of the 38th Parallel Medical Society

that was postponed until next week

has been unpostponed till tomorrow.

Always glad to get together with my colleagues

to discuss the latest advances in medicine.

Don't forget to pack a couple of bottles

of my finest Kentucky sippin' medicine.

Right, sir, and am I then to assume that I will once again

forward all your commander's correspondence

to Chief Surgeon Pierce?

Oh, spare us! Not Pierce. Not that derelict.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

In the immortal words of the Duke of Windsor,

I abdicate my office for the pillow I love.

Since you're so worried about this derelict

being derelict in his duties,

the job is yours, temple body.

Me? What's wrong with Pierce?

Sir, it is a rare moment that I get down on my knees

without holding a pair of dice,

but Major Winchester thinks the chain of command

is for beating enlisted men.

You know what they say, Klinger:

it's loony at the top.

The job is yours, Winchester.

I am officially appointing you topkick pro tem.

Very well, sir. Since you insist

on thrusting the mantle of leadership on my shoulders,

I graciously accept your challenge.

I shan't let you down, sir.

I know you shan't, lad.

'Cause I don't expect nothin' of ya.

I'm sorry, Jost.

There doesn't seem to be anything in here

that applies to your situation.

You just rest, Private.

Captain Pierce, do you have a moment?

Certainly. You don't mind if I check into Bedside Manor?

Captain, Private Van Liter has a serious problem.

Tell Dr. Pierce what you were just telling us.

-Well, you see-- -This is his second Purple Heart,

and he's got two Bronze Stars as his company's point man.

-But-- -But before Jost is discharged

and gets back home,

his mother will be deported, and he won't get to see her.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Servicemen are welcome in this conversation.

Thank you. I come from Holland.

Two years ago, my mother married an American,

and we moved to the United States.

Right after that I joined the marines

because I wanted to serve my new country.

Now his mother's just gotten a divorce,

and because she's not married to an American anymore,

they're deporting her.

Oh, wonderful. She comes to America

and gets run over by the welcome wagon.

Well, so what-- what can we do?

Hawkeye, you don't understand.

He's due to be discharged in three weeks.

All he wants is to leave a week early

so he can see his mother

before she's sent back to Holland.

Did you talk to your C.O. About this?

Yes. He told me to talk to the Red Cross.

-And? -Well, I told them my story,

and they told me to tell it to my C.O.

Yeah, I see. The old one-two.

A right cross from the Red Cross

and Montezuma's revenge from the marines.

Klinger, get me the C.O. Of the 1st Marine Division.

I'm afraid you need a clerk to do that, sir.

Excuse me, Grumpy. I'm afraid you're not afraid enough.

You see, I dwarf you in rank. Aren't you a company clerk?

I, sir, am the personal attaché

of our own commanding officer

Charles Emerson Winchester III.

Or, as we in liege like to call him, King Charles I.

Wait a minute. Yesterday, when the colonel put him in charge,

you wanted to volunteer for a kamikaze school.

Yesterday I was young and foolish.

Today I'm older and busier.

Now, if you'll just excuse me,

I have to get moving on Major Domo's personal requisition list.

Let me see that.

"A dozen tins of rolled anchovies.

"A deluxe set of silk bed linen.

Complete recorded works of Wagner."

That's "Wag-ner." That must be the major's handwriting.

You see I need the phone.

This is at least a day's worth of wheeling and stealing.

Something smells fishy here,

and the anchovies haven't arrived yet.

How come you're suddenly his personal caterer?

Loyalty. As company clerk, it is my sworn duty

to serve him who wears the mantle of command.

Your duty to serve does not include hors d'oeuvres.

Ah, yes, but how can one refuse a leader so kind and benevolent?

-How much is he paying you? -Ooh, a bundle!

Klinger, any luck with the Wagner recordings?

That's "Wag-ner." Can't you read your own writing?

So far I've gotten two Homer and Jethro albums.

But don't worry, I'm trading up.

You could hardly do otherwise.

Excuse me. May I have an audience

with Your Royal Heinie?

Sure, I always have time for the little people.

Let me ask a little question.

What are you doing appropriating government property?

He's our company clerk.

He's not your man Friday or any other day.

Silence, soldier boy!

This camp is being run with the utmost of efficiency.

-Max, have I not seen to the daily reports? -Yes, Sire.

-Max, have I not seen to the monthly inventories? -Yes, Sire.

As you can see, it's 10:00 and all's well.

Therefore, as long as he has the time and I have the money,

why should I not enjoy a few of the basic necessities of life?

Silk linen?

Pierce, you may have been swaddled in burlap,

but a Winchester does not rub elbows with mattress buttons.

Listen, silky, there's a Dutch kid in post-op right now,

who has a hell of a lot more to worry about than chafed elbows,

and I need Klinger to call his C.O.

Well, then you shall have him.

Max, please place the captain's call.

I'm such an old softy.

Oh, thank you. A million thanks, Your Softiness.

Always ready to do a little something for a big nothing.

Max, as soon as you've placed the call,

I'd like to see you in my chambers.

There are boots to be blacked.

Ah, here you are, sir.

Max!

Uh, coming, Your Most Imperial Majorocity.

And remember,

in case you're planning a palace coup,

-I can be bought. -Uh-huh.

This is Colonel Mulholland.

What can I do for you, Dr. Pierce?

I'm calling about your Private Jost Van Liter.

Oh, yes, Doctor. When will I be getting him back?

Well, that's what I want to talk to you about.

His wound is healing nicely,

but I'm afraid I can't say the same for his spirit.

Hold on. This wouldn't happen to be

about his mother, would it?

Well, yeah, now that you mention it.

Oh, now I see he's working on you

with that sob story.

I'm sorry you had to get involved.

I thought I made it clear to him that the Marine Corps

is not about to grant an early discharge to every pantywaist

who wants to go home to see his mommy.

Colonel, this kid is no pantywaist.

He just wants to get out a week early.

I mean, let's face it.

He busted his, uh, his arm for the corps.

In other words, he's done his duty, no more.

Apparently, you doctors get all choked up over a Purple Heart,

but to the marines, it's what we're here for.

It's our job. You get the picture?

Oh, yeah. In black and blue. Look, if memory serves,

we're all supposed to be on the same side in this thing.

Why don't we try to help each other?

Good idea. You send that kid back here soon,

I'll see to it you get an empty bed.

I knew you'd understand.

And then this harebrained colonel,

whose crew cut I could hear,

has the nerve to hang up on me.

Well--

That's when I really told him off.

Helping out a Dutch boy is perfect for you, Hawk.

Holland's full of windmills to tilt at.

Ah, King Charles deigns to sit with his subjects.

Why, we've even named today's lunch after you:

His Majesty on a shingle.

Careful, Hunnicutt.

We wouldn't want to find ourselves

-on bread and water, now would we? -Oh, now that's rye.

Your repast, sir. Complete with rose, linen,

and today's Stars and Stripes.

-Just sign here, sir. -Thank you, Max.

There's your receipt.

The American soldier travels on his stomach,

except for Klinger, who travels on his knees.

What do you do now, taste his food for him?

Please. There are certain things even money can't buy.

If you gentlemen will excuse me,

Isn't that just like a king?

We spend all morning poisoning his food,

and he buries his face in the paper.

I just want to see

what's going on in the civilized world.

"Mob Wars Break Out in Brooklyn."

Well, that's certainly civilized.

I'm trying to read.

Hey, this actually is civilized.

"Article Draws Blood. Readers' Response Saves G.I.

"A recent article in Stars and Stripes on the plight

"of Staff Sergeant Martin Appelsky

"prompted the donation of over--

50 pints of AB-negative blood."

-Hey, maybe that's it! -Do you mind?

That's it. This could change everything.

-What are you talking about? -Klinger, come with me.

Klinger, you will do no such thing.

I am trying to help that marine, and I need Klinger.

Oh, very well. You may have him.

Have him back in an hour, though.

My God, I've been traded!

Thanks for the lovely peasant.

I ask you.

Has not Jost Van Liter

given more than was asked of him?

Did he not voluntarily agree

to defend his chosen country?

And--and--and should not that country

-defend him? -Give 'em hell, Hawkeye.

Is there even one man

in all of Korea

so cruel as--as--as...

One "as." Just one "as." Just put one "as."

...as to begrudge

this courageous marine

a mere week-- mere week...

to visit his beleaguered mother?

-Oh! -Good, okay, okay.

And what of-- What of that...

-woebegotten woman. -Ah!

Of that woe-begotten woman lost between two shores,

a pawn...

in the heartless chess game...

of immigrational bureaucracy?

-That's good.

I say she has suffered enough.

Enough pain and enough anguish.

A divorce. A deportation hearing.

And now the wounding of her sole surviving son.

Shame, shame, shame.

All three "shames." Put all three "shames" in. All three.

Three.

Terrific! You really know how to hit 'em below the heart.

For we will all be better human beings...

by showing this fledgling citizen...

what America really stands for...

truth, justice and the American way.

Wow! You really know your Constitution.

Well, actually, that last part came from the beginning of Superman.

Okay, uh, make two copies. One for us...

and one to the Pulitzer Committee.

Wait a minute. Wait. What is this? What is this?

"By B.F. Pierce, as told to Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger."

-This is my article. -Right. And who did you just tell it to?

-No, that doesn't mean-- -The defense rests.

The defense will rest in peace. Erase that!

Boy, you seem like such a nice guy on paper.

"...truth, justice and the American way." Huh?

Oh, Captain, that is wonderful.

My knowledge of English is short...

-but I like very much the way you write. -It's a gift.

I also write wonderfully exciting prescriptions.

Pharmacists can't put them down.

Do you think the newspaper will print that, sir?

You bet your wooden combat boots they will.

When people see this story, you're gonna be out of Dutch, Dutch.

Two down front.

-Right this way, Mr. First-nighter. -Just get to it, soldier.

Which of these sleeping beauties is Captain Pierce?

Here he is, the one and only... the Lone Writer.

He did it all. He gets all the credit.

-You Captain Pierce? -Probably. I was when I went to sleep.

Well, I better be running along.

I'm sure you don't want any witnesses.

There's a Colonel Mulholland over at Marine H.Q.

who wants to see you immediately.

This complaint says you've been writing

seditious lies about the Marines.

Ah! Aha. News travels fast,

especially when it's in a newspaper.

He probably got the early sedition.

Immediately, as in right now, sir.

Okay, okay, you don't have to say it twice. A word to the puny is sufficient.

-Who goes there? -Let's go, Captain. Let's go!

-What's going on, Hawk? -Don't worry, Beej.

Evidently, my quill has ruffled a few marine feathers.

For shame, Hawkeye. Have you been rotten to the corps?

He's probably worried I'm gonna do a follow-up.

He better not give me any trouble, or I'll become a second-story man.

Should I go with you and bring the salt for his wounds?

No, no. The pleasure is all mine.

What the... What's going on here?

-What are these two behemoths doing? -Anything they want.

Colonel Mulholland has issued an order for this man's arrest.

It's that Van Liter kid. They want to talk to me

about some writing I've been doing for him.

Sort of a sunrise seminar.

Why wasn't I informed of this?

How dare you come lumbering into my camp

and shanghai one of my finest...

one of my officers?

- May I ask who you are, sir? -Yes.

Charles Emerson Winchester, the boss.

Commanding officer pro tem of this unit.

Of course, I am presently sans insignia

to prove that I am your superior officer.

But rest assured, young man, I am your superior.

Sir, as commanding officer,

you are within your rights to order us off the premises.

Can I do that? That is precisely what I am doing.

Off. Off!

However, I think I should warn you, sir,

that Colonel Mulholland will be made aware

of your efforts to obstruct his efforts.

And any further prosecution of this matter is sure to include you.

We'll be leaving now, sir.

Uh, wait. Wait.

Don't forget your traitor.

You showed 'em exactly what you're made of, Your Royal Pudding.

So, uh, eat any good books lately?

Did you really think Stars and Stripes

would publish this kind of garbage

without checking with us first?

Well, since it was true, I--

For your information, Doctor,

the Marine Corps doesn't need this kind of publicity.

-That's why I had the story killed. -You did what?

You heard me. It's finished.

This story will never be published.

How dare you! What are you over here fighting for anyway?

-Freedom of "sup-press"? -Actually, Pierce...

I'm all for freedom of the press,

but this article was slanted.

So, you're welcome to straighten it out.

Write your own article.

Try to refute that vicious pack of facts.

I've got more important things to do.

I'm here to win a war, remember?

I haven't got time to waste with your rabble-rousing.

That isn't rabble-rousing. The Bill of Rights

says I have a right to write. Or am I wrong?

Look, Pierce, I can see you're, uh,

fond of big words and flowery speeches.

Me, I'm a one-syllable man.

So just let me lay it out for you nice and simple.

If they're deporting Van Liter's mother, that's the breaks.

I'm not letting any able body out a minute early.

And you know something else?

There's not thing one you can do about it.

-Now wait a minute, Colonel... -The only person who's getting out is you... now!

Oh, that's right. Better grab both my arms.

I'm liable to go for my pen.

Feel that, Major. Pretty smooth job of requisitioning, huh?

Just put your Chuck Hancock right there, sir.

Klinger, my faithful scavenger,

if these sheets are as silky as your tongue,

I shall indeed sleep like a baby.

Rest assured, sir, I haven't seen sheets like this

since my Uncle Abdul's wedding.

-All the ushers were wearing them. -So now it's silk sheets.

-How fitting for our chief worm.

Very funny, Hunnicutt. I shall keep you in mind for court fool.

I am not gonna let that fathead get away with it.

Easy, Hawk. It's only a set of sheets.

I don't mean that fathead. I'm talking about Mulholland.

-Uh-huh. -He's so smug.

He knows he can block off every military channel.

So change the channel. Take your story to a larger audience.

What do you want me to do? Go north and holler at China?

We know he can censor the military press,

but he can't control civilian reporters,

if you get my train of thought.

Oh, right. The press train at Munsan.

More reporters there than you can shake a byline at.

So, what do you think, Lionel?

I think I can. I think I can.

Klinger, we'll need a jeep

and a travel voucher on the double.

-On the double will cost you twice as much. - Gentlemen.

Gentlemen, aren't you forgetting military protocol?

All such requests must be funneled through me,

your first link in the chain of command.

I want that jeep fast, or you'll be the missing link.

See, was that so hard? Klinger, get 'em a jeep.

Hey, this is a terrific story!

Well, thank you.

Yeah, it'll be great once it's written.

It is written. Look. See, words and everything.

Ah, well, actually I think you've gotten too involved.

A reporter should be more detached, more objective.

-More skillful. -Ah, come on, Murray.

I spent a lot of time on this.

There must be something worth keeping.

Well, this part's not bad about truth, justice and the American way.

Yeah, I thought that part was super.

I'd like to help this kid out.

Can I take a crack at his story?

How 'bout it, Hawk? You won't mind

sharing your credit with a professional, will ya?

No, he can have all the credit.

That's not important to me. I'm in medicine.

You better be. Your writing makes people sick.

So they cabled from the train, and it went over all the wires.

I'm not sure I understand.

There is a train that doesn't move,

but a wire goes to America?

What Captain Pierce is trying to say,

sometimes he has trouble expressing himself,

is that the article was picked up at home

by every paper on the West Coast.

Even made the front page in Portland, Oregon.

So cheer up. You're the toast of the coast, Jost.

Thank you very much for everything you've done for me...

but how will this help?

I mean, I still have the same problem,

just more people now know about it.

Yeah, but when people hear about

somebody in trouble, they do something.

-From Portland, Oregon? -Yeah, yeah.

And from Tacoma, Washington and Sacramento, California.

It's called "public opinion."

People hear about an injustice, and they rally around.

They change it, they straighten it out.

That's truth, justice, and the American way. Right, Beej?

Who am I to argue with a doctor

who can leap tall buildings at a single bound?

You just rest, and don't worry about a thing.

Boy, you can't write, but you sure can talk.

Let's just hope it doesn't turn out to be a work of fiction.

CHARLES: Maxwell, are you hurrying?

I am, sir. Lickety-spit.

Klinger--

Oh, I'm sorry, sir.

A simple "welcome home" would suffice.

What is going on here?

Why have you turned this place into a Lebanese laundry?

Oh, oh, these aren't my pants, sir.

Who's the half-nude dude who's got you

on more pressing duties than your own job?

-CHARLES: Max, slacks. -Aha!

I should have known by the "Luftwaffe Serenade."

CHARLES: You lout! I want to be dressed this instant!

Sit this one out, lout. I'll tend to "Brunhildy."

A little slow here.

Aha! About time, Max.

Now, I want you to get busy

and fumigate this barn of an office.

Get rid of that saddle. The whole place smells like Trigger.

You'll see what this camp could be like

with a man of culture at the helm

instead of our old beloved Colonel Cow Pie.

-Oh! Oh!

Colonel Cowpotter-- Uh, Colonel Potter.

I was joshing. I knew you were here all the time.

How did you know it was me? Recognize my clippety-clop?

No, I was... No, I was just having a little...

I left you in charge to conduct business, not "sym-phonies."

And not to have my company clerk

working overtime in your personal sweatshop.

-Oh, he was just catching up-- - You and your musical Nazis

are officially out of office.

Now git along, big dogie. Git along. And pronto.

Yes, of course, sir. Yes, I will.

If you'll just hand me my trou--

You're lucky I don't hand you your head!

Sir, I-I-I'm out of uniform.

What will people say?

People will say it's the emperor's new clothes!

Vamoose!

♪ I'm back in the saddle again ♪

♪ Back where a friend is a friend ♪

B.J.: Somehow we knew you were back, Colonel,

when we saw Charles doing a 100-yard flash across the compound.

Well, it's good to see at least you boys

have been doing something worthwhile during my absence.

Yeah, but you know, Stars and Stripes

didn't pick up that story about Jost

until it was seen all over the States.

This oughta loosen up a few leathernecks.

Don't look now, Hawk, but I think that's Colonel Mulholland

-and his two trained redwoods. -And he's hot off the presses.

All right, Pierce, what the hell is this?

Uh, let's see... It's black and white and read all over.

That's a newspaper or a suntanned zebra.

-You made this happen. -No, I couldn't have done it by myself.

-My prose is strictly amateur. -He brought in a Jost writer.

I don't give a damn who wrote it.

You clowns are responsible for this.

All right, I'll take full responsibility...

-if you'll take full irresponsibility. -After all, fair's fair.

You think you've won, don't you?

Well, let me tell you something.

Your little Dutch boy is gonna pay for this.

When we get him back, he's in for the longest

three weeks of his life.

Well, isn't that a coincidence?

We doctors were just discussing his prognosis.

Seems he's come down with a 21-day flu.

-Isn't that right, Doctor? -I'll second the opinion.

-You can't do that. -Maybe they can't, but I believe yours truly can.

If you watch the birdie here, you'll get the picture.

I see. I read you loud and clear.

Oh, but don't worry. We'll tell Jost you send

your best wishes for a speedy recovery.

You doctors always cover for each other, don't you?

That's right. And to quote a phrase

that seems to be all the rage,

"There's not thing one you can do about it."

Well, that's just fine too.

I hope he has a nice stay with you bleeding hearts.

But whether he's with us or with you, no matter how you slice it,

he's still not gonna get home in time to kiss his mommy good-bye.

I do not have much money.

I may never have enough to visit my mother in Holland.

You must have faith, Jost.

I just wish there was something we could do

to make you feel better.

Oh, I wish that were possible.

Okay, we've done it! They've done it!

We just got off the phone with Murray Thompson.

Is that the man who wrote the article?

The man who wrote the well-written article.

-Get on with it, Pierce. -Okay, okay, everybody.

All those who are wounded,

whose mothers are facing deportation,

and who never expect to see them again, raise your hands.

Not so fast, Van Liter!

The Dutch Consul General in San Francisco

read your story in the paper

and hired your mother as a secretary.

Now she has diplomatic immunity.

-What does that mean? -It means she can't be deported.

When you're discharged from the Marines,

she'll still be in San Francisco.

-Oh, that's terrific, Jost! -What a blessing!

Oh, that is wonderful. I have all of you to thank for this.

Especially you, Dr. Pierce.

Just think of it as a Dutch treat.

Yes, sirree, Jim, at the end of a long day,

there's nothin' like sitting back with a loose shirt and a stiff belt.

Here's to the AWOL Jost Van Liter.

"Absent With Our Love."

Sir, the dark cloud of tragedy

has once again enveloped the Klinger clan.

Please, Klinger, not another tragedy. It hurts when I laugh.

I just got word my parents are getting divorced,

which means my mother will be deported to Lebanon.

-I must get home before she leaves. -Of course you must.

You've got most of her dresses.

Now, now, just a minute, boys.

Let's give the begrieved the benefit of the doubt.

If he wants to apply for a compassionate discharge,

the least we can do is show him sympathy.

Let's get that form filled out.

-Boy!

You rang, sir?