[Wind Whistling]
The way they do things in the army is the stupidest thing I ever saw.
Nothing goin' on. They should let us go home!
- Klinger. - As soon as it got busy, I promise I'd be back like that!
I'd even leave my uniform here for security. Am I right, Major?
- Doesn't that make sense? - Curiously enough, Corporal, yes, it does.
Not only would your empty uniform stand up straighter, it would be better company.
- Oh, is that so? - [Screams] Touche.
Once again I lie mortally wounded, skewered by your rapier wit.
- Oh, don't be so high and mighty, Chuckie. - Ch...
We haven't heard any conversation from you at all!
All we ever get out of you is polysyllabic put-downs.
- [Cheers, Applause] - Ah, polysyllabic put-downs.
Oh, blow it out your bagpipes!
Now, look folks, we're cold and we're bored.
But there's no reason to take it out on each other.
I remember one night in France in W.W. I...
an entire company of tanks just froze shut.!
Couldn't get the drivers out.
Had to slip 'em vittles through the cannons.
Colonel, in the first place, I don't believe a word of it.
Secondly, I hear the frozen tank fable every time the temperature dips below freezing.
And thirdly, don't you have any warm stories?
- Oh, come on! We're freezin' here! - [Jeering]
The point is that it is not necessary to keep sniping at each other...
especially your beloved commanding officer.
Now, let's hear a little warmth from you folks...
or I'm gonna get a little hot under the collar!
Listen, what do you say we go someplace cold and get warm?
Why don't we stay here and have some stimulating conversation?
Okay, but I'm warning you. One or two words and I'm overstimulated.
Oh, I'll take my chances. What's your favorite color?
My favorite color? Off blue. What kind of a question is that?
Oh, just your general safe kind. Bye-bye.
Okay, red, hot pink, puce.
Uh, Hawkeye, could I trouble you to make a fist, please?
A what? A fist? Somebody picking on you, Father?
Oh, no, no. Just make a fist.
- Okay. - That's the ticket.
- Uh-huh. - Uh-huh what?
Just testing a medical principle.
The distance around a clenched fist is the precise length of a human foot.
Here, lift your foot up. I'll show you.
Oh, dear.
- No wonder you walk funny. - Excuse me, Father.
- Uh, Beej, could I talk to you for a minute, please? - Will you excuse me?
- Terrific. - Yeah, sure. What's the problem?
I've been getting some very funny questions tonight...
like, uh, "How big is my foot?" "What's my favorite color?"
Two people asked me if, uh, if I'd ever had a pet.
They're interested in you. You have to realize these people are very bored.
I seem to be the object of some kind of a conspiracy. So, naturally, I thought of you.
- Me? - Come on. I'm not in the mood. What's the joke?
Shh! W... Just... Sit down.
- I, uh, took the liberty of borrowing your birthday. - You what?
- Shh! Will you... - You what?
Hawk, will you look around? See how depressed these people are?
They need something to do. A surprise birthday party is just the thing to cheer them up.
What are you, nuts? It's not even close to my birthday.
Perfect! You're not using it. It's part of the surprise.
- Borrow your own birthday. - Come on. You're gonna love it.
I'm gonna hate it.
A whole day of letting people slap me on the back.
Laughing at their stupid gag gifts and pretending I'm surprised?
And then, when it really is my birthday, nobody'll believe me.
- I'll believe you. - You don't hear too well.
Read my lips. Drop dead.
I can't. I'm in charge of the party.
- Everything okay with the party? - Perfect. He doesn't suspect a thing.
Oh, great! This is gonna be so good. He doesn't know a thing.
Hey, hey. Dr. Borelli is here!
Wonderful! Klinger, go take the doctor's bags to his quarters.
And tell the cook to get a hot meal ready.
Not now! After you get his bags.
Well, come on, Colonel. Don't you want to meet him?
Uh, just waiting for orders, Major.
Dr. Borelli, how nice to see you again.
- Oh, you're Major, uh, Major, uh... - Houlihan.
- Margaret Houlihan. - Oh, of course you are.
- You haven't met our C.O., Colonel Potter. - Colonel.
How do, Doctor. Nice to see you.
You have no idea how welcome a new face is around here.
Fine, fine. But can we go inside before I freeze it off?
You wanna go to the Mess Tent? Might have some hot chocolate left.
We can do better than that.
How about if we amble over to the "O" Club for a few c.c.'s of real antifreeze?
- Wonderful idea. - Oh, the place hasn't changed much.
Sir, I'll put this stuff out to thaw in the V.I.P. Tent...
and then I'll bring everybody right over.
- Here's to long lives and short wars. - Hear! Hear!
And welcome back to the 4077 th.
[All Shivering, Moaning]
Ah, here's "Our Gang" now. Spanky, Alfalfa, Buckwheat, and you already met Spot.
"Spanky" Pierce? What are you, working with a new alias?
Didn't I always know you as Hawkeye?
Hey, Doc. These are the new kids on the block, B. J. Hunnicutt, Charles Winchester.
- How do. - Hello.
Barkeep, I'll have a martini. No, uh, scotch.
- No, uh, scotch and soda. - Scotch and soda?
- Cognac. - I'll have a cognac too... with a beer chaser.
Give me strength.
You got a lot of new people here.
You still got that cuckoo who runs around dressed like Dame May Witty?
- At your service, sir. - This is his tomboy look.
- [Shivers] - What's the matter, you cold?
- Yeah. - Why don't you move here, closer to the stove?
- I'm fine. - Come on. Move over.
The colonel'll move. He won't mind.
Uh, well, you wanna...
Uh, Margaret, would you mind shifting over one?
[All Chattering]
Who's got that scotch and soda? I had scotch and soda.
I've got mine. Whose is this?
Comfy-cosy, Pierce?
- Hey... - I really think you should open your coat.
- I'm cold! - Sure!
You're cold because your coat is not open and the heat can't get to ya!
Now, come on. Open it. There. Isn't that better? Of course it is.
Well, Dr. Borelli, what new medical information have you brought us this time?
Well, Major, I'm here with a new technique for treating peripheral nerve injuries.
- How exciting. - We're doing repairs on severed nerves now.
Oh, this is more than repairs, Pierce.
I'm gonna show you a new graft technique, replacing entire segments.
Nerve grafts sound damned ambitious for a bunch of meatball surgeons.
The question is, will we have time? Around here, it's first come, first saved.
This is kind of a body shop. We send 'em down to Seoul for major tune-ups.
Surely a procedure of such delicacy would require two, three hours.
Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Trust me.
Now, I know you won't always have time to do this...
but when you do, won't it be nice to have the ability to perform the operation properly?
- Of course. - [Muttering Agreements]
Fine! Then we'll go over it step by step at the lecture.
You can give us all the poop in the morning in my office at 0800 hours.
Whoa, Colonel, back it up. Don't let this soldier suit fool you.
I'm just a camouflaged civilian, you know?
Now, for the last couple of weeks I've been on the go.
I'd like to rest up a little tomorrow morning.
- Okay. How about 1600 hours? - No, you better make it 4:00.
[Chuckles] Okay, suit yourself.
Now, I've got some paperwork to finish up. What say we put a cork on it for tonight?
- Good idea. We've all got things to do. - Aha.
- Klinger, don't you, uh, have to... - Mmm. Oh, yeah.
I'll be back. Put the cognac in the refrigerator so it won't spoil.
I will kill him. He is a dead man.
- Good night, all. - You leaving?
No, I think I'll have one for the road I just drove in on. Join me, Pierce.
- No, I gotta go. - Come on. Relax.
Hey, bartender, scotch on the rocks. Same for the captain.
- I'm drinking scotch and soda. - Pierce, what do you want with bubbles?
They kill the taste and give you a hangover.
- I wanted something different. - Come on. Try this.
Go ahead. Go ahead. Better, isn't it?
[All Arguing]
- Hold it. Hold it! Listen! ...everybody talking at once!
Hawkeye only has a birthday once a year. I think we ought to do something special.
- I think the party ought to have a theme! - A theme, yes!
How about Cro-Magnon man?
Perfect for Pierce's Neanderthal mentality.
You know, I think it would be fun if we had a masquerade party.
The brain, Father, shrivels at the thought.
I think that's kind of a good idea.
We could dress up in civilian clothes and come as actual people.
- [Chuckles] - What about something really crazy?
You know, like the world's biggest sandwich? You know, like, 27 feet long.
- What about we do something civilized? - Like what?
Like sipping sherry while musicians play a string trio by Franz Joseph Haydn.
Perhaps someone with a trained voice could read selections...
- from Edna St. Vincent Millay. - This is for Pierce?
Oh, he'd love it, once we got him tied to the chair.
That's the stupidest thing I ever heard.
I don't want to be entertained by somebody with three names, unless it's Gypsy Rose Lee.
This cultural commentary has been brought to you by Max "Swinish" Klinger.
Come on, now. What are we gonna do to really surprise Hawkeye?
Well, if all else fails, we could fire a bazooka up his long johns.
[Laughs] Now you're talking.
I'm telling you. A costume party would really be fun.
Father, I refuse to take part in a senseless bash...
which serves only as a reminder that Pierce was ever born.
If we could only think of the right theme...
I'm sure everybody would be very excited about it.
Wait! Put away your thinking caps.
I got it. Imagine, if you will, the world's biggest salami.
We don't have to imagine it, Klinger. We're looking at it.
- A costume party. - Something exotic. An Arabian Night...
[Chattering Fades]
Oh, I'm sorry. I've interrupted your seance.
- Ah, Pierce. Maybe you can help settle an argument. - Uh, yes, please.
- Uh, who do you think's gonna win this year's World Series? - Yeah, whom?
You're arguing baseball in January?
Well, you hate to put those things off to the last minute.
Why don't you ask Borelli? He's an expert on everything.
Uh-oh, what's the matter? You forget to bring an apple for the teacher?
That guy is driving me nuts. Everybody's got to do everything his way.
He's over there in the Officers Club showing the bartender how to wash the glasses.
Captain Pierce, let me ask you.
- What's the biggest sandwich you ever saw? - Never mind, Klinger.
- That's enough baseball talk for tonight. - Good night, good night.
Gee, what's everybody talking about?
You better get some sleep, Hawk. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day.
A real work of art, huh, Major?
Veritable masterpiece, Klinger, with one minuscule flaw.
- You have wished Hawkeye a happy "birth-hday." - Huh?
Birthday is not generally spelled with a pair of H's.
Don't pick nits, Major. It's that tiny imperfection that makes it special.
- Fix the cake. - It's easy for you to be a critic.
- You didn't spend three hours facing a blank piece of cake. - Fix the cake.
I guarantee. Nobody's gonna notice.
Hello. Oh, how's it coming, doughboy?
Uh, tell me, what's wrong with this, uh, cake, Father "Mulcah-hy".
- Uh, nothing at all. - Aha!
- Especially if you like H's. - Uh-huh.
- You gave him a hint. - Fix the cake.
- No! I'll serve that hunk first. - Fix the cake!
With all due respect, Klinger, get the "H" out of there.
Much better.
Good afternoon. Glad to see you're all here.
Why don't you sit in this chair? You'll get a better view of the charts.
- Thanks. - That's it.
Major, I think you'd better move your chair a bit.
- You might be blocking his view. - Oh, sure.
- Captain, maybe you should sit up front so you could see these better. - Ow!
Yeah, right in the front would be better. That's...
- Oh, my foot. - [Confused Chattering]
No, Colonel, you could pull that chair up because I've reserved this spot for you.
- Put the chair there. - Yes, fine. Now, now we're getting somewhere.
- Okay. - Colonel! Colonel!
There's an emergency call for you. Battalion Aid.
Colonel Potter. Yeah.
I understand.
All right, keep him stable.
Continue with the whole blood. We'll get somebody up there right away.
Okay, people. We've got a problem. A Battalion Aid surgeon's been badly hurt.
- Fighting started again? - No, his jeep hit a land mine.
The Aid man who's with him says he's too shocky to move.
Somebody's got to get up there, pronto.
- I'll go. I'll go. - Fine, Pierce. Better get crackin'.
Oh, no, no. Hawk, uh, why don't we let Charles go instead?
- He's a much better doctor. Just ask him. - No, no. Duty calls.
- Oh, you can go. We don't need you here. - No, I wouldn't think of it.
I'd feel awful if I was back here, snug and safe...
and my pal was up there facing danger, freezing his "klavey" on his wedding anniversary.
- His... His what? - His "klavey."
- No, no, no. After that. - Oh. His wedding anniversary.
- You rat. - Oh! Oh, that was supposed to be our secret.
- It's not his wedding anniversary. - It's not.
- Ha, ha. - Give my love to Peg.
- Pierce, will you get going? - Yeah.
- I'll go along with you. - You don't have to go.
You can use the help and the company.
- I don't need the help or the company. - What if the guy has nerve damage?
- What if he does? - I could show you the new technique.
- He's not gonna have nerve damage. - You'll get a lot out of it.
Perfect. Let 'em eat that cake.
- Klinger, hold that icing! - What now?
We're not doing Hawkeye's birthday. We're doing B. J.'s anniversary.
- You've gotta change the cake. - I've been writing on this cake for five hours!
- I'm getting baker's cramp! - Change the cake, Klinger. And don't botch it up!
Okay, okay. Anniversary. How many H's don't you want?
- Hey, this is great. - Yeah, terrific.
- I'm glad we got a chance to get out this way, work together. - Yeah.
We could have been sitting around the camp for days, probably driven each other nuts.
- Yeah, right. - Take the next right.
The next right? It's not even on the map.
I know, but it's more direct.
I came from the 8063rd this way. Trust me.
I'm staying on the map. Hand me that bag, will you? I'm starved.
You're gonna eat while we're driving?
Just with one hand. I'll skip the corn on the cob.
- You got cheese, huh? - Cheese, yeah. Now what?
Well, cheese is bad for the heart, you know. I've seen studies.
Oh, that explains the mouse in the Swamp the other day.
Grabbed his little chest and just keeled over. Huh, silly us.
We thought it was pressure at the office.
Hey, you want to eat the cheese? Go ahead and eat the cheese. What do I care?
- Thank you. - You'll probably kill yourself the way you're driving anyway.
One hand on the wheel, 50 miles an hour, icy road.
You can't see anything with those squinty little headlights you got.
Listen. If you're gonna eat that stuff, do it right.
- Here, dip it in here. - What's that?
French mustard, you'll love it.
Look, I just want plain cheese, okay?
- Trust me. It's terrific. Come on. Try it. - I don't want...
Thank you.
Well? Huh? Huh? Well?
I can't taste the cheese! All I can taste is the mustard!
But it's darn good, isn't it?
[Brakes Screeching]
Look, let's get things straight.
We'll go in there and we'll fix this guy up.
No more bickering. We're here to do a job, okay?
Okay. Shake.
Corporal Jarvis, sir. I talked to your colonel.
Uh, you want to get our stuff out of the ambulance?
Boy, am I glad you got here. Captain's getting weaker.
- Chest doesn't look so hot. - Belly's bad too.
I'll handle the anesthesia. You do the surgery.
- Good. Get some Pentothal in him. - Right.
I did everything I could to get him ready, sir.
I've kept pressure on his wounds, and he's had two units of whole blood.
Okay. Thank you, Corporal.
- What are you going to handle first? Chest or the belly? - Chest.
- But he's bleeding into the belly, you know. - He's got a collapsed lung.
I gotta get a chest tube in him, so he can tolerate the anesthesia.
Hey, fine, fine. I'm only asking. You don't have to get mad.
- I gotta scrub. - Over there.
All right. Jarvis, start another unit of blood. Then wash your hands and put on some gloves.
- Right. - How am I supposed to keep this thing going here?
I'll get it.
Hey, what are you so touchy about?
I like my anesthetist to keep his finger on the patient's pulse...
and his nose out of my operation.
Whatever you say. Do you always scrub like that?
- Scrub like what? - You know, like that.
No, I used to send my hands out to the laundry, but they always came back with too much starch.
- What's wrong with how I scrub? - You're starting with your palms.
What am I supposed to start with, my feet?
- Doctors... - Start with your fingertips and work your way...
- Borelli, you are insane! - No, I'm not!
Hey, hey. Now, look.
I realize you're doctors, and I'm only a medic.
I don't know if you've met many of us...
but we spend a lot of time dragging guys off the line while people are shooting at us.
We get sort of protective about those guys.
We worry about 'em, and we fight for 'em...
like they were our children, or-or our brothers or something.
And that's guys we don't even know.
Now, Captain Kramer here's my Battalion Aid surgeon.
I've worked under him for eight months, day and night.
He may be just another patient to you, but he's damn special to me.
- Understand that? - Yeah, we understand.
- We'll do the best job we can on him. I promise you. - Yeah, fine.
- You ready, Doctor? - Whenever you are, Doctor.
I need that tray over here, please.
I need somebody to tie that apron on me.
- Did you notice his face? - Yeah, bad laceration.
And the left side of it wasn't moving when I put him under. Probably has nerve damage.
Forget it. Even if he needs a graft...
he's in no condition to stay under the anesthetic an extra two or three hours.
I agree.
But if he does need a graft, I'd like to take a crack at it back at the 4077.
I recommend leaving the wound open. Just pack it.
No, we'll suture it. If the paralysis persists, we can open it again.
Leave it open. He'll be fine. Besides, there's less danger of infection.
Borelli, I have this man's life in my hands! His whole life.
His chest, his bowel, his face, his hair, and his belly button.
And I decide the best way to keep them all tied together. Not you.
Let me make one thing clear to you, Doctor.
No, let me make one thing clear to you, Doctor.
Hey, what the hell kind of doctors are you, anyway?
Do me a favor, will ya?
First save Captain Kramer's life. Then you can kill each other.
Surprise.! [Cheering]
We really fooled you, huh? We really fooled you!
Oh, yeah. You could have knocked me over with a sledgehammer.
Matter of fact, I'd have preferred it.
See? The man is delirious with joy.
Have some punch, Hunnicutt, so we can get this glorious occasion over with.
Charles, you don't know how right you are.
- Whee! - Oh, ho, ho, ho.
- Congratulations. - Thank you very much.
Happy anniversary, B. J.! You old son of a gun! And many, many more!
Oh, thank you, Father. Thank you, all.
And here's to Hawkeye, who couldn't be with us tonight.
- But don't worry. I'll save a little punch for him. - [Cheering]
Hold it. We got customers. In here, guys.
- Wounded? - No, sir. Just cold as hell.
Their truck froze up. They've been walking for hours.
Better get 'em over here where it's warm. Check 'em for frostbite.
Gwen, Kellye, go round up some blankets.
Let's get something warm into these guys.
- [Exhales] - Get your, uh, gloves off.
- Have some hot chocolate. - Thank you.
- You people don't have it too soft here, do you? - Huh?
Is this a special occasion? Or is this one of your everyday candlelit suppers?
You park it right here for a while, Sergeant.
We'll see what we can do to thaw out your opinion of us.
- Hemostat. - Hemostat.
- What's his pressure? - Ninety over 60. He's doing fine.
- [Explosion] - What was that?
- Sponge. Sounds like the war is back in town. - Don't worry about that.
It's a North Korean artillery unit. They're just firing into the hills for practice.
- [Explosion] - That was a lot closer.
- Well, practice makes perfect. - Forget it. Come on. Operate.
- [Shells Incoming] - Hemostat. - Hemostat.
[Explosion]
- I would definitely say that was closer. - So what? Keep going!
Now I know why I never put in for Battalion Aid station.
[Shells Incoming]
Anybody hurt?
Ah! Besides me?
- What's wrong? - My wrist, I can't move it.
We're in trouble. My arm feels like it's broken.
- Well, let me see. Can you... - Ow.
- Can you move the fingers? - Just a little.
- But it's killing me. - Oh, great!
Now what do we do?
Let me see the other one.
Well, you're cold. But I don't think there's any frostbite. You're fine, son.
Here you go. Another slug of this'll warm up your cockles.
Thanks. You people kinda knock yourselves out here, don't you?
- Yeah, kinda. - You probably saved our butts, Captain.
- I don't know how to thank you. - I do.
- When's your birthday? - June 12.
Wrong. It's just been promoted.
Hey, everybody. Guess what? We got a birthday boy here.
Today's Sergeant Herbert's birthday!
[Cheers]
# Happy birthday to you #
# Happy birthday, Sergeant Herbert #
# Happy birthday to you ## [Cheering]
#For he's a jolly good fellow #
#For he's a jolly good fellow ##
- How's his pressure? - Fine. Good pulse too.
Attaboy. Okay, hold the tissue together while I get the needle through.
- Okay. - Good. Now, we'll switch hands.
- Okay. - Now, you take that end and put it over mine.
- What, like this? - No, over. Over.
- Like that. - Uh-huh.
God, I'm used to doing this without thinking. I forgot how to tie a knot.
- Okay. I got it. I got it. Wait a minute. - Good.
Okay, now pull it... Pull it taut while l...
- Uh... - While I pull it down like...
- There! Okay. Okay, we did it. Okay. - Good! Fine.
- Now we just pull it to snug it down good. - Yeah. Yeah.
- Good. Over again. - Yeah.
Pull it down.
Ha, ha! We did it. We made a knot.
- [Chuckles] - Okay. Let's do it again.
At this rate, we'll have him sewn up in time for his retirement dinner.
- No, we got it. Hold that little end. This goes a lot faster now. - Okay, there.
- Put it down in there. Okay. - Uh-huh.
I gotta tell you. You guys turned out to be pretty good.
- Over... - And under.
- And under. Pull it down. - [Both Laughing]
- Are we great? We're great! - Yeah, we're a team.
I should've broken my arm an hour ago.
- An hour ago, I would have broken it for you. - [Chuckles]
You still want to close up that facial laceration?
How sure are you about leaving it open?
Positive. If-lf he does need a nerve graft, that's the best way to go.
- All right. Then that's what we'll do. - Whatever you say, Dr. Right.
- No, whatever you say, Dr. Left. - [Chuckles]
Nice work, Doctor. Looks like a perfect fit.
- Don't put any tension on the graft. - Gotcha.
Damn clever of the Lord to equip each of us with his own set of spare parts.
- Need another suture, Margaret. More tantalum here. - Yes, Doctor.
Fascinating procedure. It looks as though Dr. Kramer will soon be smiling again.
[B. J.] Why shouldn't he smile?
First person in history to have been operated on by a pair of Siamese surgeons.
- You're right. I think we both deserve a hand. - All right.
- [Chuckles] - [Others Laughing]