M*A*S*H (1972–1983): Season 4, Episode 9 - Quo Vadis, Captain Chandler - full transcript

[Man On P.A.]
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.
Keep track of the blankets.

- Margaret, prep him,
and hang another unit of plasma.
- Yes, Doctor.

- Same here, Major. I want chest X rays.
- 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 and scrub up.

- Right.
- Think you'd better start
with that one there first. Okay?

- Okay.
- All right, you can walk.
Watch it. 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...
what's your name, please?

[Airplanes Passing Overhead]

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?
Teched? 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 to go into the linen
closet for heavy breathing?

- Are you gonna knock it off?
- That's what I'm trying
to find out, Frank.

Disgusting!

[Sighs] 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 Eight.

- Good morning, sir.
- [Chuckles]

- How you doin'?
- Fine. How are you?

- Oh, fine.
- Oh, uh, we're doctors.

Apparently 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 rank,
your serial number, your, uh, unit...

- Your name.
- Yeah. That'd be a good place to start.

- My name.
- [B.J.] Mm-hmm.

My name is Jesus Christ.

Oh, that's funny.
We have a savior by that name.

Ah. A little witticism that
was just condemned to purgatory.

[Chuckles]
Uh, no foolin'. We need a name.

Of course.
Jesus Christ.

J-E-S-U...

- We've got that.
- Uh, that much we know. Yeah.

Uh...

Your head wound is very
superficial. It's... It's
hardly more than a scratch.

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 ought
to 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?

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 seventeen
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.

- 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.

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.

[Cart Rattling]

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.

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?

- Fifty-seven.
- 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?

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-l" or "l-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.

Part 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 E's.

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've 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
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 mike
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... #

- You!
- What!

- This is the army, soldier!
- I get that feeling too.

- Hey!
- What?

The next time I see you, Tinker Bell,
you'd 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.

[Chuckles]
Another proud father.

[Laughs]

- 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.

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 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.

- [Knuckles Cracking]
- Frank, do you have to do that?

- Do what?
- Crack your knuckles.

All the Burns's 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!

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?

[Laughs]

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 onto you, Sid.
- You're not smart, Freedman.
You're dumb.

Very dumb! But you've
met your match in me.

- [Laughs]
- Now, Chandler may
get out as a psycho.

He's small potatoes.
The army can 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.

- [Gasps]
- Keep up the good work.

- Thanks, fellas.
- A little locoweed 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.
- [Laughs]

[Man On P.A.]
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, that's "S."
- No kidding.

- Uh, Saratoga.
- No, you did that already.

Uh, Saint Croix.
You owe me an "X."

Uh, "X"..."X"...

- Ha! Is that it? You ready?
- Whatever.

- Xicotencatl.
- Xicot... What's that?

- It's Mexico.
It's in the book. Look it up.
- Ah, I believe ya.

- All right, "L."
- 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."

[Laughs]

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 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!