All language subtitles for MASH (1972) - S04E09 - Quo Vadis, Captain Chandler (1080p AMZN WEB-DL x265 ImE)_track3_[eng]

MAN :
Attention, all personnel.

Incoming wounded
in the compound.

First surgical team,
report to the bus.

First surgical team.

KLINGER:
Let's go! Let's go!

Gangway.
Hot stuff comin' through!

Dennis, give us a hand.

And keep track
of the blankets.

-Margaret.
-Yes.

Prep him, and hang another
unit of plasma.

-Yes, doctor.
-Same here, Major.

I want chest X-rays
on this one.

These two in
pre-op right away.

Kellye, gimme a hand.

Who lost
a rabbit's foot?

Looks like they all did.

Why don't you
finish triage?

-I'm gonna go scrub up.
-Right.

Think you'd better start with
that one there first, okay?

-Okay.
-All right, you can walk.

Come here.
Watch it. Watch it.

Stand up easy.

-Klinger!
-Sir?

Get him into X-ray.
Watch your head.

Tell Major Burns
he's invited to surgery.

Captain, what's-what's
your name, please?

Sir?

All right.

Well, come on. Snap it up!

-Sorry, sir.
-I haven't got all day.

Doing a little
moonlighting, Frank?

He's got another
malpractice on the side.

-Big load come in?
-Three waiting, Father.

I'll get into some gear.

Don't stand next
to Frank, Father.

He'll cut right
through your beads.

You're as funny
as a crutch.

-Sir?
-How many times have
I told you to knock?

Sir, look at this.

-Picking an easy one, Frank?
-Ha ha.

That the captain
who was on the bus?

-Yeah.
-Terrific.

You really made
my day, Radar.

Better look sharp, Father.

We got a friend
of yours in surgery.

Huh?

Well, what'd he mean
by that, Radar?

Father, we got a guy
that says he's Jesus Christ.

Some people just don't belong in
combat.

I'm trying to love it,
Frank. Honest, I am.

Well, what about
the fellow's dog tags?

He didn't have any.

I asked him what
his name was,

and he said...
"I'm Jesus Christ."

Just like that.
Not even Captain Christ.

My word.

You know what really irks me
about this war, Beej?

No idea.

The lack of
genuine spontaneity.

Every day it's the
same old grind.

You wake up,
brush your teeth,

walk the dog,
operate on the Lord.

Oh, that's downright
blasphemous!

That's from a man who polishes
his socks for inspection.

Pay him no mind, Major.

He envies you
your sanity.

True, Frank.
Next to your lisp,

that's what I envy
most about you.

Boy, you really are
a sicko, mental.

Just 'cause I spend
most of my waking hours

fixing up small wounds
so they can go back

and get bigger
and better wounds,

you think I'm mental?

Ausgespielt?
Bughouse? Tetched?

Milky in the filbert?

Of course I am.

Wouldn't you be,

Lieutenant Nightingale?

It goes against
my training to say

"Take two aspirin and go
get yourself killed."

What would Hippocrates say?
What would Socrates say?

And what would you say
if I asked you

if you wanted to go
into the linen closet

for several minutes
of heavy breathing?

Are you gonna knock it off?

That's what I'm trying
to find out, Frank.

Disgusting!

Oh, Lord.

Sorry, I wasn't
talking to you.

-Lieutenant.
-Doctor.

-She's crazy about me.
-She hides it well.

-We don't want
anybody to know.
-Good work.

What is it you find
so fascinating

about ladies
in olive drab?

Mother was frightened
by a recruiting poster.

What are you up to,
you swarthy minx?

-Bedpan duty.
-Good training.

After the war, you can
open your own pay toilet.

Keep it up, doc.

With my luck,
you'll get my Section 8.

Good morning, sir.

How you doin'?

Fine. How are you?

-Uh, fine.
-Oh, we're fine.

We're doctors.

Uh, apparently, you, uh,
you lost your dog tags,

so, uh, we have to get
some information

from you for our records.

You know the army,
the old green machine.

Yeah, we need your, uh,
rank, your serial number,

-your, uh, unit.
-Your name.

Yeah, that'd be
a good place to start.

-My name.
-Mm-hmm.

My name is Jesus Christ.

Oh, that's funny.

We have a savior
by that name.

A little witticism
that was just
condemned to purgatory.

Uh, no foolin'.
We need a name.

Of course.

Jesus Christ.

J-E-S-U...

-We've got that.
-Uh, yeah, yeah.

That much we know, yeah.

Um...

your head wound is
very superficial.

It's-it's-it's hardly
more than a scratch.

Now, if you wanna have
a go at bugging out

of the army, that's fine.

I just think you should use
a fresher approach.

What can I do
to convince you?

A miracle would
definitely be a step
in the right direction.

Maybe a few steps--
say, upon the water.

Doctors.

Padre.

You two oughtta
get acquainted.

Better acquainted, he means.

Uh, Father Mulcahy,
Jesus Christ.

-Hello, my son.
-Hello, Father.

Well...

here we are.

Just what do you intend
doing about it,

Colonel Potter?
It's an outrage.

Something has to be done

about this person
calling himself Christ!

Why?

Why?

Did you say "Why?"

It wasn't him.
It must've been me.

Oh, come off it, Major.
Who's this fella hurting?

He should be court-martialed
for cowardice!

-And blasphemy!
-And blasphemy!

-And cowardice.
-And cowardice.

The effrontery of the man!

A mere captain
claiming to be...Him.

But I don't see
how that pertains.

If a man says he's Christ,

he might just become
a better Christian.

I mean, if I had a horse

who was convinced
he was Man O' War...

I don't know that I'd
want to set him straight,

if you get my drift.

Colonel,

we're speaking
of our Savior.

-We want to be sure--
-That certain parties--

Don't help that yellow-backed
hoodwink the U.S. Army,

in which I, for one,
so proudly serve!

We so.

You're referring to...

-Pierce and Hunnicutt.
-Is who he's referring to.

Oh, you've hated them

since they stuck a turtle
in your shorts.

Well, this has nothing
to do with that.

What is it you think
they're planning to do?

-Oh--
-Well, who knows?

All these bleeding-heart
liberals are the same!

Let a man claim
to be an underdog,

and they will do
anything they can for him.

You regard Jesus Christ
as an underdog?

Well, he didn't exactly
run roughshod over the Greeks.

-Romans.
-Or them, either.

I'm telling you,
those two hotshots

will do anything they can
to give the red, white,
and blue a black eye.

Horse hockey.
Pardon my French.

As long as I'm
in charge around here,

which will be another 17
months, two weeks, six days,

there will be no shenanigans.

I do not approve
of carrying tales.

Evidence is one thing.
Innuendo is another!

If evidence is what
you want, Colonel,

evidence
is what you'll get.

Are you with me, Major?

-Right up to the hilt.
-Sir.

Creeps.

Well, I'm sure glad
you could make it

on such short notice, sir.

We certainly are.

You call this short?

I've been outside the camp
for over an hour

waiting for
the cloak of darkness.

Gee. Just like The Shadow.

You're some guy,
Colonel Flagg.

Yes, I am.

It's not necessary
for me to tell you

we appreciate
your contacting us.

But we're not in
the gratitude business.

It's the duty
of every real American

to be on the lookout
for goldbricks,

pinkos,
and fellow travelers.

Of course, without the likes
of Americans like you,

the jobs of Americans
like me would be

a lot more difficult.
But don't get me wrong.

Americans like me
like difficult jobs.

So don't get the idea

you're doing the C.I.A.
any favors.

We don't really need
Americans like you.

We don't need anybody.

You said it!

What do you make
of this mystery man

who claims to be
Christ, Colonel?

Just your typical Joe
trying to get out of
doing his duty?

I bet commie.

I say his parents
weren't even born

in this country.

Korea?

No, I meant our country.

You know... America.

Hmm. Well, you can put a lid
on this guessing game.

As it happens,
I know who our friend

with the messiah complex
really is.

Oh, I knew you'd get
to the bottom of this.

All it takes is
the right man with a shovel

who knows where to dig.

I couldn't ask
for a better man.

Or a bigger shovel.

Uh, sir.

Here's orange juice.

Thank you.

I brought you two.

Thank you.

I'll be grateful
to you, Colonel,

if you can clear
this matter up.

Without taking hostages,
if possible.

Colonel Flagg's over here

to keep us all safe
from democracy.

Can it, Pierce.

Still a cutie pie,
ain't ya?

Well, some guys have got it.

Colonel, I've got your man's
complete dossier right here.

His name's Chandler,
Arnold T.

He's a bombardier with
the 428th Bomber Squadron.

His plane was shot down
four days ago,

at which time he received
his alleged wounds.

I told you they were
alleged wounds.

That's why I gave him
all that alleged plasma.

You're lucky I got
a sense of humor.

Well, what sort
of military record

does this Chandler have?

It's inconsequential.

How many missions
did he fly?

57.

Sounds consequential
to me.

Sounds like fatigue,
Colonel.

His psychological
tests don't show

any susceptibility
to battle psychosis.

Maybe his psychological tests

didn't have to fly
57 missions.

Chandler's turned chicken.

It's my job to cut him
off at the pass.

You're gonna cut
a chicken off at the pass?

I've got to nip this
rotten apple in the bud.

This sort of
action's contagious.

One man decides
he's not gonna fight,
it catches on.

Next thing, you know what
you got on your hands?

Peace?

Now, I either want Chandler's
highly trained thumb

up there, pushing the button,

or I want to get him
for dereliction of duty.

Why don't we just
remove his thumb

and send that over
to the 428th?

Colonel.

Colonel?

When can I have him?

Give me a medical
decision now.

The last C.O. they had here
couldn't make a decision

without a month's warning.

I'm not fond
of personal abuse, Colonel.

I was in this man's army
when the only thumb

you cared about was the one
you had in your mouth.

Chandler will be able
to return to action...

couple of days.

Good.

But it takes more
than four sound legs

to make a stallion run.

Takes a sound heart
and a sound mind.

It also takes a rider
who's not afraid to go
to the whip.

Wait a second. Just a minute.

None of us, least of all
this khaki Godzilla,

qualifies as an expert
on emotional stability.

I suggest we have
Captain Chandler

examined by
a top psychiatrist,

somebody who knows his way
around the old attic.

-Got anyone in mind?
-Sidney Freedman.

-Major Sidney Freedman.
-Good man?

Sidney could've talked
Oedipus into leaving home.

-Get him.
-Got him.
-Good.

Freedman.
Is that E-I or I-E?

Two E's,
as in "freedom."

That's what
got you confused.

-Major Freedman.
-Yeah?

Colonel Flagg.
We played poker once.

Oh, sure.
With Intelligence, right?

I have nothing to do
with Intelligence.

Better. You won't
get worry lines.

Freedman.

How'd you like
to do yourself a favor?

Who deserves one more?

Then back me all the way
on this Chandler caper.

He's trying to
pull a fast one.
I won't have it.

From what I hear,
the man needs help.

My kind of help.

You just let one
of those creeps

get away with a phony
messiah complex,

and before you can say
John the Baptist,

we'll be hip deep
in sackcloth and ashes.

We're not gonna
let that happen, are we?

We're not?

Well, we'll see.
Then we'll know.

Point of order,
Dr. Freedman,

Sidney Theodore,
we won't see.

As it happens,
I know who you are.

Is that right?

Am I who I think I am?

I've been doing
a little digging,

Dr. Freedman with two Es.

Your association
with certain groups

on the Attorney General's list
of subversive organizations.

Young Americans
for a Lasting Peace.

New York Alliance
for Young Democrats.

Doctors' Progressive
Conference.

You're forgetting
the Boy Scouts

and the psychiatrists'
bowling league.

Hold it.

What do you want?

I got work to do, sir.

Well, let's see
how fast you can do it!

Watch this.

Boy Scouts.
That's funny, Freedman.

Almost as funny
as the fact that

you never signed
your loyalty oath.

You know you can get busted
right out of the service

for that, don't you,
Comrade Freedman?

Oh, is that what I am?

Why didn't you sign it?

Just between
the two of us,

and whatever mic
I might be talking into,

do you really believe
if I were a communist,

I'd hesitate for a second
to sign a loyalty oath?

I'd like to go on talking
to you, Flagg,

but with
your schizophrenia,

I'd have to charge you
double time.

Now if you'll excuse me,

I've already kept Jesus
waiting five minutes.

♪ The more I see you

♪ The more I want you

♪ La-dee-dee-dah-dah
la-dee-- ♪

-FLAGG: You!
-What!

This is the army,
soldier!

I get that feeling too.

-Hey!
-What?

The next time I see you,
Tinker Bell,

you better be in uniform
and as G.I.

as General MacArthur.
You hear me?

Loud and clear, Mary.

♪ With every sigh
I'm more mad about you ♪

Radar tells us Flagg's
giving you a hard time.

He's got a few bugs
in his filter.

What else is new?

Well, the Canadians
just took Hill 807.

The Marines landed on Inchon.

But the big news is my son's
got his first tooth.

Another proud father.

-Nice.
-Nice.

He's not gonna be an analyst.

He's gonna look
people in the eye.

Uh, 130 over 70.

Where's my patient?

Come to see your savior?

Mine? No. Yours?

Who knows?

You tell us.

-Where is he?
-Over there.

You don't recognize
him from his picture?

So what you're saying
is that Judas

only did what
he had to do.

Being Judas, he could
do nothing else.

Ah! But if that is so--

Come, come! You boys
promised to mingle,

and here you are off in
the corner, talking shop.

Hello, Sidney.

Father.

Captain Chandler,
Major Freedman.

I'm glad to meet you.

We haven't yet.
My name's Jesus Christ.

Sidney,
we won't wait up.

Jesus Christ.

Yes.

Your presence poses

some interesting
questions.

For instance,

how long have you known
your true identity?

What do you mean?

Until about five days ago,
you were Arnold Chandler.

Now, Arnold Chandler
was born in Idaho,

was raised
on the family sheep ranch,

went to college
in Colorado,

enlisted in the army,
went to O.C.S.,

trained as a bombardier,
went on over 50 missions,

and earned most of the medals
and commendations

that are available.

I'm not Captain Chandler.

You're not from Idaho?

You're not in the army?

Of course not.

You're not a bombardier?

I'm Christ the Lord.

But you died.

I arose.

That was a long time ago.

Where have you been
since then?

I live on in all men.

What are you doing here
in an army hospital?

I'm Christ.

Where should I be?

Should you be
in the nose of a B-29?

B-29?

That's where you've been

a good part
of the past two years...

up in a B-29,
dropping bombs.

Bombs.

On people?

On the enemy.

I have no enemies.
I love all men.

Even the North Koreans?

They're my children.

Why would I hurt my children?

I'm sorry. I'm-I'm not
this Captain Chandler

you're looking for,
but I hope you can find him.

I hope you can help him.

Tell me, is it true that
God answers all prayers?

Yes.

Sometimes the answer is no.

Frank, do you have
to do that?

-Do what?
-Crack your knuckles.

All the Burns men
crack their knuckles.

Oh! Sorry.
I didn't realize

I was treading on
sacred tradition.

Oh, you two sass boxes
think you're so smart!

Well, you just wait
and see what happens

to your friend Chandler
when the spit hits the Spam.

Gospel according
to Frank.

Frank, scrape the rust off
your imagination.

What if the captain is
really who he says he is?

No chance. I tested him.

Said a little prayer
to him before.

No big deal.
Just a little test.

Just in case.

Just to be
on the safe side.

And my prayer
wasn't answered.

Stick that in your hair and rub
it.

Frank, just because you didn't
get any chocolate pudding

at lunch doesn't
prove anything.

How did you know I prayed
for chocolate pudding?

You always pray
for chocolate pudding.

You know, if you're
not careful, Frank,

you're gonna replace
Pontius Pilate

in the hearts
of your fellow men.

You'll be famous.
Your name will be spread

all over
the newest Testament.

Of course, no one'll ever
call their kid Frank again.

True. How many two-year-old
Pontius Pilates do you meet?

Oh...

I'm washing my hands
of the two of you.

Get it? Washing my hands?

Well, Dr. Freedman,
what's the diagnosis?

He's Christ.

If you look closely,

you may notice
I'm not laughing.

Okay, he's not Christ.

But he's also not Chandler.

Psychoanalytical
double-talk.

The man's a victim.

He's bucking for
a ticket stateside!

All we gotta do is stuff
the guts back in him.

Frank builds the cross,
and he's the nail salesman.

You're a victim,
too, Flagg.

But you're such
an unbelievable example

of walking fertilizer,
it's hard for me to care.

Colonel, some men lose
an arm or a hand or a leg.

Chandler lost himself.

He's not playing a game.

He spent two years
dropping bombs on people

who never did
anything to him,

until finally
something inside

this kid from Idaho
said, "Enough.

"You're Christ.
You're not a killer.

"The next bomb you drop,
you drop on yourself."

What do you suggest, doctor?

I think that with a lot
of the right kind of help,

we may be able
to turn him back

into Arnold Chandler.

We'll never be
able to turn him back

into a fighting tool.

And it's
my professional advice

that we don't try.

I gave you a chance
to play ball.

Now I'm blowin' the whistle
on you, Freedman.

Blow away.

Colonel Potter, this man,
this American,

never signed
his officer's loyalty oath.

And I intend
to see that he's thrown
out of the service.

Very smart, Sidney!

Terrific!

I wish I'd thought
of that.

Where do we go
to not sign?

You crafty devil.

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

You are very smart,
Freedman.

I told you.

You're only saying
Chandler flipped out

so I will have you busted
and you can return

to your safe, cozy
civilian practice.

He's on to you, Sid.

But you're not
smart, Freedman.

You're dumb.
Very dumb!

But you've met
your match in me.

Now, Chandler may
get out as a psycho.

He's small potatoes.

The army could
teach my mother how
to drop bombs

Your mother?

"Whistler's Bombardier."

But you, Major,
are here to stay.

Right here, shrink,

where we can make sure
you remain loyal

to the country that's gonna
hound your every step.

Keep up the good work.

Thanks, fellas.

A little loco weed

must've gotten mixed in
with his feed.

He always carry on
like that?

I think he's been sniffing
his invisible ink.

He's what Freud
used to call "spooky."

On the other hand,

if Flagg wasn't mean,
rotten, and crazy,

he wouldn't have
any personality at all.

MAN : Attention.

Attention, all personnel.

The evacuation bus is now
boarding outside post-op.

It leaves in five minutes.

Sir, uh, my name
is Radar O'Reilly.

Remember,
I brought you juice?

I remember.

Um, sir, are you
really who--

I mean...
are you really Him?

Yes.

Oh.

Well, I know you're busy
and everything,

but I was wondering,

could you bless this
for me, please?

The bag?

No. What's inside.

I know he's not real,
but we're very close.

Bless you.

And bless you, Radar.

Um, I'm Walter.

Bless you, Walter.

Thank you, sir.

Bless all of you.

Kansas.

Very good.

Uh, S. That's S.

No kidding.
Uh, Saratoga.

No, you did that
already.

Uh, Saint Croix.
You owe me an X.

Oh, X... X...

Ha ha!

-Ha ha.
-You ready? You ready?

-Yeah, whenever.
-Xicotencatl.

-Xicot-- What's that?
-It's Mexico.

It's in the book.
Look it up.

Ah, I believe ya.
I believe you.

All right, L. L for you.

Uh, la-la-la-la.
Los Angeles.

-There's no such place.
-What?

Listen, I've been
to Los Angeles,

and there's
no such place.

Los Angeles is a city.
You owe me an S.

All-- Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Sir, can you get Dr. Freedman

back here, the psychiatrist?

On what grounds?

I'm Moses, right?

Freedman's in
Tokyo, Klinger.

You take the first
left in the road,

and then when you come to it,
you part the Sea of Japan.

Oh, ye of little faith.

That's Matthew.

Maybe I'm him, then.

I'll be anyone to get out.

Moses, Matthew,
Doc, Grumpy, Sneezy,

Bashful, Dopey, Happy!