M*A*S*H (1972–1983): Season 9, Episode 2 - Letters - full transcript

♪♪♪ (theme)

Oh.
(grunts)

(thunder)

I don't wanna say
it's wet out,

but on the way over, I saw
a duck carrying an umbrella.

‐Must've been cold duck.
‐Aw, four days of drizzles
ain't diddly.

One time in W. W. First,
it poured cats and dachshunds
for 37 straight days.

The whole platoon went
skinny‐dippin' in the trenches.

CHARLES:
Colonel, I find no humor

either in abominable weather
or abominable anecdotes.

MARGARET:
Everything stinks.



That dismal gray sky is a
perfect match for my mood
and my breakfast.

Especially the breakfast.

Serving cold cuts in this
weather is a devilish
deed indeed.

♪♪♪ (Klinger singing)

♪ Zip‐a‐dee‐ay, my, oh, my,
what a wonderful day ♪

Ain't this weather aces?
It reminds me of a summer
Sunday in Toledo.

Stick it in your galoshes,
tent nose.

No need for rancid remarks.
This is your wet‐letter day.
Captain Big Boots.

Aha! Mill Valley.
That makes my day.

Got anything for me, Klinger?

Mildred promised to send
me some Cloverine brand salve

for my barking bunions.

Negative, Hoppy... sir.

Wonderful. I have
a dental checkup yesterday.



And the winner
of this week's Truss Award

is none other than
our own Eye of the Hawk.

‐MARGARET: What?
‐Looks like a "Dear John"
letter from the Rockettes.

No, it's from Amy Clark,
a friend of mine

who's a teacher back
in Crabapple Cove.

Finishing elementary school
in your spare time, Pierce?

"You said in your last letter
how boring it can get for
everyone there...

so I thought it might be nice
for my fourth‐graders to write
to all of you."

‐Ha‐ha.
‐Well, this is great. We can
answer the letters.

This might be just the ticket
out of our black‐and‐blue funk.

Okay. Some for everybody.
Here you go. Here you are.

‐Colonel.
‐Mucho beaucoup.

Oh, here's one in crayon.
Must be for Charles.

(chuckles)
Aren't you the wag, though?

I have no need to write letters
to communicate with children.

I have you for that, Pierce.

That is an insult, and you'll
answer for it at recess.

Oh, this is cute.
This little boy thinks
that MASH people

just sit around all day
making potatoes.

And this half‐pint asks
if all army people have tattoos.

You wanna handle that one,
Margaret?

Oh, dear.

Here's a girl who wonders
whether I've saved many lives.

A doctor should answer that one.

No, no, no, no.
My ground rules are no stealing,

selling or swapping of letters.

Everybody answers
the letters you got.

I specialize in saving souls,
not lives.

Come on, Padre. Don't tell me
you forgot about Irving?

Irving? Oh. Oh, yes.

‐Practically saved his life.
‐Irving, yes.

If he'd gone on the way he was
goin', he'd be dead by now.

(thinking)
Dear Stacy, Although
I am not a doctor,

it can be truthfully said
I did indeed save a life.

ROSIE:
I've had it with you, Irving.

This is a respectable place.

And stay out!

‐Hello, Rosie.
‐Oh. Hello, Father.

Why are you giving this cute pup
the bum's rush?

Because Irving is a lush.

Yeah, he does seem a bit woozy,
doesn't he? Uh...

Ooh. His breath is pure
hellfire.

You know, we had a dog like this
back in the seminary.

Rosie, get me a bottle
of whiskey and a bowl.

I'm gonna cure Irving
the same way we cured
that dog at the seminary:

By letting him drink
bowl after bowl till he's sick.

(speaking Korean)

Father, I think your brain's
stuck in first gear. Okay.

‐There you go.
‐Uh‐huh.

(barking)

That dog has no pride.

‐There you are, Irving. Ha.
‐(barking)

Bottoms up.

My, he is a little rummy,
isn't he?

Yeah. Reminds me
of my first husband.

MULCAHY: Yesterday,
Irving drank till he
got sick as a dog.

And if all's gone well,
he should have an intense
aversion to alcohol

as well as one doozy
of a hangover. (chuckles)

All right, Roy.
Let's try him out.

Actually, he's having a little
hair of the man that bit him.

(laughing)

‐(yelps)
‐(cheering)

So Irving was smart enough
to go on the wagon for good,
Stacy.

If people only had
the horse sense dogs do.

Yours in Christ,
Francis J. Mulcahy.

(thunder)

‐Hey, this kid's gonna be
a big‐league pitcher.
‐Oh, yeah?

Just the other day,
he hurled a 48‐hitter.

(chuckles)
That's nothin'.

My kid definitely has
the makings of a U. S. senator.

This letter goes on
for five pages and says
absolutely nothing.

Gentlemen, children
and their pen pals
should be seen, not heard.

The only thing Charles
remembers fondly from
his childhood is his hair.

Come on, Chaz baby.
These are cute. Listen.

"Dear Doctors,
You live a great life.
I am jealous of you."

‐Jea... He what... He...
Jealous?
‐Ha‐ha.

"You guys get to camp out
every night, eat real army
food."

‐Ha!
‐"Boy, you're lucky."

Just give me that.
Get to camp out, eh?

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

"My dear diminutive
correspondent,

"Your misinformation

"is exceeded only by

your atrocious grammar."

Leave it to Charles to be the
world's first poison pen pal.

What's the matter, Hawk?
Can't read the writing?

No, it's all too clear.
Listen to this.

"Doctor, My brother
was a soldier in Korea.

"He got hurt,
but some doctors fixed him up

"so he could go back
and fight some more.

"Then he got killed.

"Now I'll never see Keith again.

"You doctors just make people
better so they can end up dead.

I hate you all.
Signed, Ronnie Hawkins."

What do I say to this kid?

I don't know.

I mean, he's...
He's kind of struck a nerve.

We've all sent boys
back to the line

and then had them end up dead.

What do I say to him?

(thunderclap)

Oh. I'm so homesick.

"Dear Freddy, About your
question about army pay.

"Well, your dad probably
gives you a bigger allowance.

"And that's why I'm always
on the lookout for ways to
supplement my income.

For example"...

What are these hairy rats
doin' here?

These are not rats, sir.
They're chinchillas.

My key to a life
of decadent riches.

Welcome to Klinger's Chinchilla
Villa Breeding Farms.

Breeding farms?
(clicks tongue)

Look, son, you haven't had any
sudden falls lately, have you?

Perhaps a stray anvil
grazed the old noodle?

As these chinches multiply,
so does my bankroll.

And they're very affectionate,
sir, if you get my drift.

You get this drift. If my
brogans meet up with just
one chinchilla chip,

it's the hanging tree
for the whole clan.

Well, what have we here,
the world's smallest zoo?

He calls them "chinchillers."

I call them a gold mine.

Now, if you'll just
let me cover the cage,

Romeo and Juliet are giving
each other that look that
only lovers share.

Uh, Romeo and Mercutio
is more like it.

‐"Mercoosho"? Who's she?
‐He, my dear 15‐watt friend.

Having done extensive work
with laboratory rodents,

I can state categorically
these are two male
"chinchillers."

Looks like you're the critter
who got skinned.

(Potter chuckles)

"Believe me.

"That's the last time I trust
a traveling chinchilla salesman.

"From now on,
I stick to investments I know.

That's why I'm putting all
my money into a training
school for pin boys."

(sighs)

BOY: Dear MASHer,
I just had my tonsils out,

which wasn't so bad because
I got to eat a lot of ice
cream.

Anyway, I became good friends
with the doctors and nurses.

Do you ever make friends
with the patients there?

And there's this, uh...

this great piece of land I've
had my eye on since I was a kid.

And I sent my dad some money.
He put a down payment on it
for me.

I'm sure you'll make
a wonderful farmer, Mike.

Yeah.

‐Yeah, I'll get some
chickens and a goat...
‐Mmm.

‐And maybe a cow or two.
‐(chuckles) Why not?

‐I can hardly wait.
‐(laughs)

WOMAN: Dr. Pierce would like
to talk to you, Major.

‐I'll be right back.
‐I'll be countin' the minutes.

Okay.

‐(whispering)
‐What are the results?

His liver's gone.
There's nothing more we can do.

‐He's not gonna make it.
‐Oh, no.

At least he's not in any pain.

I never thought we'd be grateful
for a severed spinal cord.

Yeah.

I told him there was no movement
because of the medication.

‐B.J.: Good.
‐How much time does he have?

Could be an hour,
could be three.

I'm sorry, Margaret.

Listen, you must be exhausted.
Why don't you get some sleep?

No. I'll stay with him.

Okay. That wasn't
so long now, was it?

Can't live without me, huh?

I'm just a sucker
for a handsome face.

Say, listen.
Let me tell you about my girl.

Yes.

We're gettin' married
as soon as I get home.

We grew up together.

She's the prettiest girl
I've ever seen,

next to you, of course.

(thinking)
Dear Jimmy...

Uh, yes, I do get very close
to the people we treat.

In fact, there are some
patients...

I don't think
I'll ever forget.

And in conclusion, Peter,

I think it's perfectly normal
for you to want to dress like
a grown‐up.

In fact, may I suggest that you
take your father's best suit
down to the tailor shop

and have it altered to fit
your little body to a "T."

(chortles)

My, my. Isn't it fun to pass on
one's wisdom to the younger
generation?

How come you're not using
your pen, Charles?
Run out of venom?

Because, my dear Hunnicutt,
I prefer to record my brilliant
insights

and then delegate the typing to
someone on the same intellectual
level as these fourth‐graders.

One Maxwell Q. Klinger
springs to mind.

Ah, damn it.

I'm not responsible for
the death of this kid's brother.

You got a tough one, Hawk.
Want some help?

No, I'll handle it myself.
You just answer your own letter.

Okay. If you change
your mind...

Damn it.

(thinking)
Dear Louis...

Yes, becoming a doctor usually
requires a lot of training.

But every rule
has an exception.

Sir, welcome
to Death Valley East.

I'm M. Klinger,
chief clerk and bottle washer.

I'm Captain William Bainbridge,
here on temporary assignment.

Of course you are. I personally
requested a replacement
for Major Winchester.

He's at a seminar in Tokyo.

Oh, sirs. Sirs. I got
that pinch hitter you've
been browbeating me for.

‐Hey!
‐This is Captain William
Bainbridge.

‐Call me Bill.
‐You're an overdue Bill.
I'm Hawkeye. This is B. J.

Hey, Bill, are we glad to see
you. Come on. We'll buy you some
lunch.

We were betting H. Q. would lose
our request for you, and you'd
never get here.

‐But they fouled up and
handled everything perfectly.
‐(chuckles)

Says a lot for the power
of positive incompetence.

Yeah. I couldn't believe
I was being sent to a MASH unit.

Do you really get
a lot of cases here?

‐We get cases by the case.
‐Nothing going on now,
but it could get busy tonight.

Well, I make it a policy
to keep regular office hours.

‐(laughing)
‐Regular hours?
Oh, you are a babe in the war.

This isn't like private
practice. We get wounded
round the clock.

Yeah, but it's not as though
they'd die if they don't see me
before morning.

‐Uh...
‐Oh, uh...

‐Are you afraid of
what I'm afraid of?
‐I'm afraid so. Yeah.

Look, this may seem
like a silly question,

but just exactly
what line of work are you in?

Well, same as you.
I'm a lawyer.

B.J. (thinking):
That's right. The army
made a little boo‐boo.

After sending us a lawyer,
we figured the next one would
have to be an Indian chief.

So we just decided a little
on‐the‐job training was
in order.

‐How about if we let Bill
cut this one?
‐Yeah. Go ahead.

‐Wrap the scissor
around your hand.
‐Right there.

Snip that right off.
Don't shake. Hey! Good.

‐Hey. A cut above average.
‐Yeah?

You're great with scissors.
You could be a doctor.
Or a barber.

‐This is so unprofessional.
I really must object.
‐Objection overruled.

Relax, Margaret.
The lawyer's only here
on a trial basis.

Haven't you ever heard of
anybody practicing medicine?

And besides, the case is closed
and the patient rests.

O.R. is now adjourned.

Hey, Hawk, do you remember
Bill Bainbridge, doctor‐at‐law?

So this letter has triggered
a crisis of conscience for you.

A crisis of guilty conscience.

Essentially he's saying
I'm a very large cog
in the war machine.

I'm not sure he's wrong.

Hawkeye, do I need to point out
that you don't take lives, you
save them.

I'm also in weapons repair.

I fix people up so they
can go out and get killed.

Or kill other people.

I can't deny that.
And I can't live with it either.

How can I help you?

Answer this letter for me, okay?

All right, Hawkeye.
I'll help you by not
answering the letter.

‐Huh?
‐Well, you did say no trading.

‐Oh, come on, Father.
This is serious. Come on.
‐I am serious.

This letter has stirred up some
very deep feelings in you,
Hawkeye,

and you're going to have
to deal with those feelings

whether you answer
the letter or not.

It seems to me that the problem
isn't just what you tell him.

It's also what you tell
yourself.

Perhaps you can find an answer
that will satisfy both of you.

‐Can you see that, Hawkeye?
‐Yeah, sure I can. It just
doesn't make it any easier.

Oh. Listen.

You're not the only one who has
sensitive letters to reply to.

"Dear MASH people,

"I'm writing this only because
Teacher's making me.

"Personally, I'd rather be
playing dodgeball,

"'cause this is really boring.

Your friend, Mary Collins."

Thanks, Father. I needed that.

Ahh. Nothing like
toastin' the tootsies.

(thinking)
Dear Danny, Hell, yes‐‐

Uh... Heck, yes.

Sometimes we do get ants
in our pants,

and you'd be surprised what
little things will scare up
interest.

Why, just the other day...

Good morning, Colonel Set Shot.
How goes the round ball?

Shh. I got me a run
of 14 straight free throws...

and I don't wanna break
my concentration.

Do these ears deceive me?
Did you say 14 in a row?

Sure. This is "Hoops" Potter
you're talkin' to.

When it comes to basketball,
I'm the bee's knees.

But, sir, the camp record
is only 31 free throws.

All you need is... some more.

Hey, hey, hey, everybody.
The colonel just made
14 free throws in a row.

‐Fourteen in a row.
Did you hear that?
‐Klinger. Klinger.

What say we keep this shooting
streak on the Q. T.?

I'm just gettin'
a little exercise.

The last thing I need
is a packed house eyeballing
my basketballing.

CROWD:
Twenty‐eight.!

(cheering)

Thank you very much.

Sherman, Sherman, he's our man.
If he can't do it, no one can.

Yeah, Sherman!

‐(cheering)
‐MARGARET: Yeah, Sherman!

MAN:
Throw the thing. Come on.

I feel like a sideshow freak.

MAN:
Come on.

Twenty‐nine!
(cheering)

Come on, Colonel!
You're a B. M. O. C., Colonel.
Big Man on Camp.

You could be the army's
first draft choice.

My goodness. This is
quite exciting, isn't it?

(chuckles) Matter of fact,
it is. Come on, Shermy baby!

I oughta shove this ball
right in your big mouth.

Ah, the temperament
of a gifted athlete.

MARGARET:
Don't make him nervous.

Thirty!

‐He's incredible.
‐The man is steady as a rock.

‐I need a drink.
‐And break training?
Never, sir.

Just relax.
Just relax, sir.

Breathe, breathe.
(inhales)

All right.
Only one more to tie.

There's no pressure.
None at all.

Just put it out of your mind

that you're carrying
the hopes and dreams

of all these desperate people

who have so little
to cheer about.

Get away from me!

HAWKEYE (whispering):
Shh. Be quiet. There he goes.

(whispering)

KLINGER: No pressure, sir.
No pressure. Light as a feather.

Shh. No pressure.

Oh!
(groaning)

‐Oh.
‐Oh, Sherman.

‐I could have sworn
he was gonna do it.
‐So close.

I thought he was gonna...

You're still "Hoops"
in my book, sir,

no matter how many spirits
you've crushed.

POTTER (thinking): So, son,
take a word of advice from
a retired bucketeer.

If you take up a sport,
make it horseshoes,

where you don't have
to be perfect.

Sincerely, Sherman T.,

formerly "Hoops", Potter.

(sighs)

One.

Careful.

Enjoy the walk, Captain Nemo?

I went to see Father Mulcahy.
I was trying to pawn my letter
off on him.

‐Aha.
‐And he said, in essence,
"Physician, heal thyself."

Chalk up an incomplete
pass of the buck.

Well, that's what I get for
tackling the Fighting Irish.

I'm gonna try to sleep
and fail.

(groans)

GIRL:
"Dear Doctor or Nurse,

"Right now it is autumn
in Maine.

"Everything seems
very beautiful.

"I don't know if you
have autumn in Korea,

"so I'm sending you
a leaf from a birch tree.

I hope you like it."

‐Autumn in New England.
‐What's that, Charles?

Hmm? Nothing.
It's more childishness.

(thinking)
Dear... Virginia...

It is with indescribable joy
that I accept your gift.

It is indeed testimony
to the beauty that exists
in all creation,

but perhaps nowhere more than
in a young girl's heart.

Doctors, we have an emergency.

This is Dr. Breuer.
He runs the missionary school.

One of our children slipped
in the mud and hit her head
against a rock.

She's unconscious,
and her right pupil is dilated.

I'm an M. D., but I think
she needs a surgeon.

‐Need any help?
‐No, we're all right.
We can handle it.

We got it.

Ah, you were right, Doctor.
She's got a fracture.

‐Probably subdural hematoma.
‐We'll have to go in
and drain it.

She's ready, Doctors.

‐Sponge.
‐Clamp.

Dear God, I thank you
for providing these skilled
surgeons.

To have them here in this place
at this time is truly a sign of
your providence.

Please bless their work.

HAWKEYE (thinking):
Ronnie, it's not a good idea

to take the love you had
for your brother
and turn it into hate.

Hate makes war,
and war is what killed him.

I understand your feelings.

Sometimes I hate myself
for being here.

But once in a while,
in the midst of this insanity,

a very small event can make
my being here seem almost
bearable.

I'm sorry I don't have
an answer for you, Ronnie...

except to suggest that you
look for good wherever you
can find it.

‐She's doing okay.
‐Yeah. I think she's
gonna be fine.

‐How about you?
‐Well, I'm still here.

‐Rain stopped.
‐Yeah?

(birds chirping)

Well, look at that.
A break in the gloom.

‐I don't believe it.
‐Hey.

‐(chuckles)
‐There must be 500
more letters here

and there are only
400 people in Crabapple Cove.

Sure. They must have
notified the whole state,

and I'm the lug
who's gotta lug them in here.

Yahoo! Hot sausage! Thirty‐two!

(cheering)

♪♪♪ (theme)