"His work in his own field is outstanding.
"Also outstanding is his frequent assistance with medical duties...
and his leadership can best be described as outstanding."
Kind words for me, but aren't there an awful lot of"outstandings"?
Army talk. It means you're the top of the heap. The best of the bunch.
U.S.D.A. Prime.
Get this. "As his commanding officer, I have found him to be an outstanding man..."
an outstanding cleric and an outstanding standout."
Pure poetry. It practically rhymes. I'm telling you; you're in.
Now, Klinger, let's not be premature.
Are you kidding? When the promotions board reads this...
it's no more mild-mannered lieutenant.
In a flash, you'll become Captain Mulcahy...
champion of truth, justice and Monday night bingo.
Klinger, you got a mouth as big as the Missouri Gap. Hello, Padre.
That efficiency report was supposed to be confidential.
Sir, you were eavesdropping on my private conversation.
Right now, Corporal, I wouldn't mention the word "private" if I were you.
Aw, what the hell.
Now that our Lebanese Walter Winchell has let the cat out of the bag...
Padre, it looks as though you're finally going to get those captain's bars.
With all due respect, sir, that's what you said every other time this came up.
This time's different. With a lull on...
I've had a chance to call in all my I.O.U.'s.
Colonel, I'd just as soon not get my hopes up.
Padre, I've got more brass in on this than John Philip Sousa's trombone section.
I appreciate your efforts, but, uh, well...
maybe we'd better just wait and see what happens.
- I feel like I just told him his dog died. - [Mulcahy Whoops]
What'll we drink to this time?
How about to inactivity, the mother of inebriation?
- Thanks, Mom. - Hear! Hear! Thank you.
Mm. All right, Charles, your turn.
Perhaps later. I'm still nursing this one.
You nurse that any longer it'll start teething.
It is your turn, Charles. Don't you know anything about drunken etiquette?
Always yield to the lush on the right.
Oh, why not. Rosie, three more.
It will be a momentary respite from this spate of rummy humor.
- [Groans] - ## [Singing In Greek]
- [Speaking Turkish] - Excuse me. Sorry. Beg your pardon.
Greek eat pig. Greek sound like pig.
Why they let Turks in here? To clean latrines?
- L-I wouldn't know, I'm from out of town. - [Laughing]
Hey, I got here just in time for the cretins convention.
- You call this a tip? - No. I call this my change.
Excuse me, please. Oh, watch out, you careless twit.
Looks like the drinks are on him. [Laughs]
- You threw a drink on me? - Not on your life. It was the Grecian gorilla here.
- You will die, Greek pig. - Now, hold... Now, see... It could've been an accident.
- [Shouts In Greek] - [Shouts In Turkish]
- Charles, quick, get out of the combat zone. - Watch it, you bozos.
Try any rough stuff in here, you'll be pulling triggers with your noses.
My dear lady, there will be no "rough stuff."
These gentlemen are Greek. They brought civilization to the entire Mediterranean.
- They brought goat droppings! - [Shouts In Greek]
Of course... Of course... Whoa! There's a great deal to be said for your Ottoman Empire.
- Ottomans enslaved my people. - Only thing they are good for!
Gentlemen! Gent... Wait, Wait. This is not going to solve a thing.
I tell you what. Let's all... Let's all... Let's all dance. [Grunts]
Yep.
Colonel Potter, why you let your people act like a bunch oflooney tunes?
- My place looks like Pearl Harbor. - I apologize, Rosie.
It's amazing how a couple of belts will turn some grown-ups into Dead End Kids.
You're disgraceful. Army officers acting like street thugs.
Don't blame me. It was Slapsie Maxie Winchester and his roundhouse diplomacy.
Yeah. He was busy adding injuries to his insults.
We were hiding under a ringside table.
Thank you both very much. It was hardly my fault.
I proffered an olive branch and was soundly thrashed with it.
- What's this? - Something to kill the pain while I fix your leg.
I am Turk. I not need that.
Turk has no need. Greek no need.
[Scoffs] That'll teach him a lesson, boy.
One order of plaster bandages. I think it's a bum "wrap."
Uh, give it to B. J., Father. Appreciate your helping out.
Righto. Here you are, B. J.
- Oh, thank you, Father. - Don't mention it. I'll go make some more.
It's not hard. [Laughs] Bye, now.
Don't you just hate that "jollier than thou" attitude?
Ever since he heard about making Captain...
he's been bouncing around like he's got helium in his halo.
Would you step on it, Doc? I got to get back to what's left of my saloon.
Whoa, senorita. You've got yourself a couple of cracked ribs there.
We have to keep them off their feet for a week or so.
- We don't want you developing pneumonia. - A week or so?
If I'm gone for one day, my waitresses will steal everything but kitchen sink.
How fortunate. As long as you still have your kitchen sink...
you can continue your tradition of fine wine making.
Funny stuff, bozo. But if I'm over here for a week...
you'll be stomping your own grapes, 'cause there's not gonna be no more Rosie's.
We're talking a national landmark here. The "Drinkin' Memorial."
It's all your fault. If you goons had a shred of decency, you'd do something to help her.
We are tending to her injuries, Major. Do we now send out for spareribs?
This hurts us too, you know, Margaret.
Pain and war and pestilence are one thing, but closing down an innocent saloon...
in the prime of its life is a staggering blow.
All you talk about is your own selfish fun.
What about poor Rosie? That saloon is her livelihood.
- What do you expect us to do? - Go run the place.
[Laughs] Run a saloon?
What an idea. Beats what we're doing now, which is nothing.
- What do you think, Hawk? - Yeah, might be fun.
We already know the bottom of every table and glass in that place.
Right. Besides, if we can't take care of a broken-down joint, who can?
- What do you say, Colonel? - Sounds okay to me. How's it strike you, Rosie?
- Sure. What I got to lose? - All right, then. It's settled.
Unless we get busy, I guess you're all on temporary duty as saloonkeepers.
The word "all" has a... has an unfortunate connotation of, uh...
uh, you can't mean me?
How's the connotation "Set 'em up, Joe" grab you?
Come on, Charles. You'll love it. You can be the bouncer.
Besides, a snappy guy like you will attract a better class of riffraff.
- Water down the drinks? - No wonder the olives have barnacles on them.
You've got to. Keep prices from getting high.
- Has the same effect on the customers. - Now for waitresses.
- I get 30% of tips. - Thirty percent?
My share of what they swiping from me.
- I'm getting it. We water down the drinks and shake down the waitresses. - Nice.
- Last but most important thing. Be good to Muldoon. - Who's Muldoon?
Military police. Also my public relations man.
Oh, yeah. The man in the gray flannel fatigues.
Muldoon tells the army Rosie is strictly legit.
For that I give him free booze. Pour it in a coffee cup.
- He likes to think he's fooling people. - You bribe a military policeman?
What bribe? Free enterprise.
He drinks free; I keep my enterprise.
- Well. - Uh-huh.
What do you mean they can't find it?
Without that file, he doesn't stand a snowball's chance, Herb.
We can't let 'em do this to the padre. His head is so high in the clouds...
he starts his prayers with, "As long as I'm in the neighborhood."
You bet your bazookas I'm worried. That promotion board's already sittin'.
Now you get on that Teletype and keep after those Pentagon pantywaists...
till the cows come home.
Fine, fine. Yeah, you do that, Herbie.
- [Handset Settles In Cradle] - [Sighs]
Man graduated 312th out of 320...
and he says he's gonna do his best.
[Chattering]
Hunnicutt, why didn't you tell me we only had two bottles of scotch left?
Margaret, didn't you pay any attention to Rosie?
As long as the plumbing holds out, we got plenty of scotch.
- Hey, good-looking. What time do you get off? - You G.I. S are all alike.
Just 'cause I work in a bar and have a body that stops traffic...
you think I'm some kind of cheap, one-night stand.
Okay, but just this one night.
- Knock it off. We've got a problem. - What? What?
Pierce, Suni is trying to stiff us for the 30% of the tips.
She now owes us close to a dollar and 26 cents.
Wow, for that kind of money I say we have her killed.
We've gotta be fair to Rosie. Now go and lean on that waitress.
- Me, Noel the Coward? - Go.
- Uh, Suni. - Yeah, Joe?
Uh, there's this matter of 30%. I'm sure it must've been an oversight.
When-When you get a tip, you have to give Rosie a cut, remember?
Rosie. Money.
You give share tips.
Why am I suddenly talking like some guy named Milton who's lost in Barcelona?
The hell with it. Nice babbling with you.
Okay. One dollar and 26 cents.
- She give you an argument? - No. She knew it was either fork over the dough...
or wind up in a cement kimono.
Five, 10, 15, 16. You call this a profit?
Rosie, we're doing our best.
How you people got to be world power beats me.
[Sniffs] This liver smells terrible.
- That's because it's fish. - Then this fish has liver trouble.
- You, Nurse. Take this away. - As you were, Lieutenant.
Madam, this is a hospital, not the Ouijongbu Waldorf.
Good thing, 'cause the food makes me sick.
Now see here, you're getting the finest medical care with Uncle Sam picking up the tab.
Not to mention that we're working double-time to keep your business afloat.
- And you're not very good at it either. - It's not from lack of trying.
So you might start acting a little more grateful and a lot less persnickety.
Sir, telephone. Colonel Hockberg at "l" Corps.
Two hips and a hooray. That's gotta be about Mulcahy.
Madam, I'll leave you to finish your well-balanced, nutritious spread.
And just remember, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Thanks, but I'm catching all I need with this lunch.
[Turkish]
[Greek]
[Turkish]
[Greek]
- Get a corpsman quick! - Corpsman! Corpsman!
If you people run my place like you run your hospital, I'm out of business.
[Knocking]
- [Knocking Continues] - Come in.
- Evening, Padre. - Oh.
Excuse the hour. I saw your light.
That's perfectly all right. I'm just settling down with the Good Book.
You know, I've been hoisting my heinie to get you that promotion.
Yes, and I've been meaning to tell you how grateful I am.
I got half the Pentagon writing you recommendations and the other half reading 'em.
[Laughs] I'm grateful to them too.
Well, between the writing and the reading, somehow they lost your file.
- It just never showed up at the promotions board. - I don't think I follow you.
The captain's list came out, and you weren't on it.
- [Bible Snaps Closed] - Again?
I didn't want you to find out off of some bulletin board. I know how you feel, Padre.
With all due respect, sir, this is the fourth time. Why me?
You can't imagine how many nerds I knew at the chaplain school who are majors.
My own sister's about to become Mother Superior.
I think maybe somebody up there doesn't like me.
- Simmer down. - I hope you understand, sir. This isn't directed at you.
I'm angry with the fools and dolts and dodoes at the Pentagon...
who-who have more points on their heads than the building they work in.
[Huffs] I'm going for a walk.
I have had it with the army and their stupid promotions.
- Father. Excuse me, Father. - What is it, Klinger?
Look, Father, we have a problem in post-op.
You've come to the right man. Francis Mulcahy, your humble lieutenant priest.
It's the Greek and the Turk. They've had another outbreak of fist-and-mouth disease.
Oh, boy. Will those two never learn to behave like adults?
You could quiet things down in there. We Mediterraneans have a lot of respect for holy men.
I'd be happy to. It's one of my many thankless jobs.
Never too busy to raise the spirits of others. After all, I've nothing else to do...
like putting on captain's bars.
Hey. Hey. Sorry to break this up, but visiting hour is over.
- [Turkish] - Let me kill him. It'll only take minute.
I just finished fixing his leg from the last time.
I'm not gonna let you go until the both of you promise to make nice.
Okay. Okay. I no fight no more.
It's about time. The war just called complaining about the noise.
Wait till you hear the bell.
- Now it's worse. Hawkeye's beating up two cripples. - What in the name of...
Hello, Father. Welcome to the United Nations, Middleweight Division.
See here. Have we forgotten that we're all allies?
I am reasonable man. Talk to Greek, offspring of camel and goat.
- Pig. Dog. Donkey. - We don't need a priest. We need a veterinarian.
I think we've had quite enough brawling from you two hooligans. I happen to be Chaplain here.
You are infidel. I will not listen to you.
Leave before you get hurt. This is a fight between "mens."
Is that so? Well, don't let this saintly demeanor fool you.
I happen to be pretty handy with my dukes.
I could flatten the both of you and not even work up a sweat.
So I suggest you remember what it says in the Good Book...
"Love thy neighbor or I'll punch your lights out."
Got that? Huh!
- [Door Slams] - Nothing like a man with a good one-two prayer.
Klinger!
- You rattled the rafters, sir? - What is going on in post-op?
Is that the padre doing all that caterwauling?
Yes, just a little sermon to the Greek and the Turk from the "Book ofThreats."
Damn. I never should've told him that promotion was a lead-pipe cinch.
He could have us on the brink of a holy war.
It's not your fault, compassionate leader. You've done everything...
- but call the Pentagon yourself. - You're absolutely right.
- Get on that phone. Get me the Pentagon. - The "What-a-gone," sir?
The Pentagon. Weird-looking building. Four walls and a spare.
- Monument to Murphy's Law. - Assuming I get through, to whom does the colonel wish to speak?
To whomever's home.
A shot and a beer.
- That oughta wet the old whistle. - Keep the change.
Oh, thank you most kindly. Now I can get that operation for the wife.
Gentlemen, 10 years from now, I shall shut myself in the library...
pour myself a snifter of cognac, think back on the memory of this evening...
and upchuck.
Spoken like a true aristocrat.
- Come on, Charles. You came here to serve your country. - Yo, porky.
- Get me another shot. - Wha...
- Did he call me porky? - I'm not sure. Why don't you waddle over and ask him?
Bumpkin.
Another little thirst-quencher? You must have a hollow leg, chum.
- I got a "Dear John" letter from my girl. - Ah.
She dumped me for some college guy.
You think some college guy is better than me?
Which college?
Rah, rah. She's gotta be crazy.
Have you by any chance read what Freud has to say on the subject of insanity?
- Floyd who? - Not Floyd, Freud.
Sigmund Freud. The father of psychoanalytic thought.
You're pretty smart for a bartender, porky.
The name is Charles Emerson Winchester III.
You can call me "Major."
You know, you talk like a college boy.
- Harvard, '43. - Close enough.
- [Shouts] - My parents made me go. I hated it.
Easy. Charles, when a guy says one more round, he means a drink.
Why don't you wait outside in the alley? He gets off at midnight.
Stinkin' college boy. [Straining]
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. This way, sir.
I graduated summa cum laude. Lettered in crew and polo.
Women dripping off me. Rah, rah, rah.
I'll knock his stupid beanie off.
Thank you, gentlemen. I'll take it from here.
And we thought he was too drunk to reason with.
- Hello, mate. - Hello.
- Where's Rosie? - She's laid up. Bad ribs.
- Bloody shame. - Indeed.
Well, I'm Muldoon.
- How nice for you. - How about my coffee?
One coffee. Do I detect a trace of the United Kingdom in your accent?
- Australia. - Oh.
- What's this? - Coffee.
What's the big idea of putting coffee in my coffee cup?
- What did you expect, petrol? - I expect scotch whiskey in it.
Oh. I feel the perfect fool.
I presume this is one of those quaint Australian customs...
like heaving boomerangs at kangaroos?
Twenty-five cents, please. We also accept quid and bob.
You Yanks, always cracking jokes.
I fail to see the humor in paying one's tab.
- I don't pay, see? - Then you don't drink, see?
Do you know who I am?
Yes. A cheap poltroon is who you are.
- You'll pay for this. - Well, that's more than I can say for you.
Now why don't you just Australian crawl on out of here.
You've made a big mistake, Yank.
Huh. The Aborigines are the civilized ones... porky.
That's him. Lieutenant Frances John Mulcahy.
Klinger, stop standing at attention. You're giving me the willies.
But, sir, that's the Pentagon. I don't want them to hear me slouch.
At ease, for cryin' out loud. Yes, Mulcahy.
If you could just walk that file over to the promotions board...
it'd be a real shot in the arm for the spiritual well-being of this unit.
Well, who in blazes did you send it to?
The chief of chaplains? Then switch me to him. Thank you.
Klinger, you old camel-trader. This is the actual Pentagon.
How the devil did you get through?
Proverbial piece of baklava, sir.
First I told them I was General Imbrie, and they told me they'd do their best.
Then I told 'em I was General Imbrie's girlfriend.
Next voice I heard said, "Hello, Pentagon."
I don't know whether to have you promoted or court-martialed.
Hello. This is Colonel Sherman Potter.
I wanna speak to the chief of chaplains mucho pronto.
Oh, it's you, General. I like a man who answers his own phone.
I'm calling about Lieutenant Frances Mulcahy.
You read the file. Yes, he is outstanding.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
Listen, if you could just have one of your staff walk that file over to...
What? Who'd you send it to?
Well, do you think he'd be in? Sure I'll wait.
Man answers his own phone. Must be a Unitarian.
Attention. May I please have your attention.
I'd like to propose a toast.
To a real hero whose raw courage in the face of hand-to-hand combat...
was an inspiration to us all.
- Welcome back, Rosie. - [All] Welcome back.
A lady who really belongs behind bars.
Madam, I think I speak for my entire unit when I say...
that it was a great day for all of us when you walked out that post-op door.
Good to be back, and you not a bad bunch of Joes.
- Rosie never forget you for what you've done. - Aw, forget it.
By the way, who's paying for these drinks?
Your gratitude is overwhelming.
Now onto new business.
Padre, I know you're familiar with the saying, "Good things come to he who waits."
I beg your pardon, sir?
We didn't bring you here to tie one on just 'cause Rosie's back in the pink.
We have a better reason. Pierce, the floor is yours.
It oughta be. I spend enough time on it.
Father Mulcahy, we live in a world of tradition.
And as everyone knows, the military is full of it.
On this auspicious occasion...
tradition dictates that I pass along to you something of my very own.
Your captain's bars?
Very low mileage. I hardly ever captain in them.
Congratulations. You made it, Captain.
But l-I thought I wasn't on the list.
Well, I just made me a phone call with the help of this real operator here.
It was nothing. The only problem is now I'm engaged to General Imbrie.
All right, troops. Ten-hut!
Thank you all.
I appreciate your support and patience.
This experience has taught me a valuable lesson.
The meek may inherit the earth, but it's the grumpy who get promoted.
- Congratulations. - Congratulations, Father.
When the two sisters' car broke down, I said, "Why don't you go over to the fruit stand?
Don't nuns always travel in 'pears'?"
[Forced Laughter]
Father, the only place you should tell that joke is in confession.
Perhaps the good father is trying to get demoted and excommunicated at the same time.
[Whistle Blows] All right, clear out.
This place is now officially off-limits.
- If it isn't Mr. Coffee Nerves. - I beg your pardon, sonny. I am the commanding officer.
Across the road, Colonel, but not here.
- Oh. - Muldoon, are you nuts?
- I'm shutting you down, ducky. - What for?
Military violation.
It's a dirty lie. I'm military and I've never been violated in here.
- I don't know why I keep coming back. - Come on. We got a deal.
You should've thought of that before you put "Chauncey Uppercrust" behind the bar.
- I get you for this, Chauncey. - You've done quite enough already.
I'll handle this. Excuse me.
I happen to be a newly ordained captain.
Have you ever heard the one about the two nuns and the fruit stand?
[Chattering]