M*A*S*H (MASH) s07e10 Episode Script

[Man On p.
A.
.]
Attention all personnel.
Here is a sampling of world temperatures.
- [Wind Gusting.]
- Miami Beach: A warm 85.
Majorca: A balmy 79.
Santiago, Chile? Not today.
94 degrees.
And closer to home, we can expect a warming trend.
Our midday temperatures reaching puberty levels 13 to 16 degrees.
- I'm not in your way, am I? - No.
I'd like to be.
Oh, swell.
The fire's dying down.
There's a dead log we can throw on the fire.
Look at him.
Charles, why aren't you freezing like the rest of us? Because I have your suffering to keep me warm.
He's cold.
He's gotta be cold.
He's just doing the hot act to spite us.
Actually, gentlemen, I am not altogether unaffected by this arctic blast but I refuse to huddle around a fire like you two cringing pack wolves.
Pack wolves? I've never been so insulted in my life! - [Barking.]
- [Snarling.]
[Man On p.
A.
.]
Attention, supply truck entering compound.
The faster we help unload, the faster we'll get out of the cold and back into our freezing tents.
[Moaning.]
[Charles Whistling.]
- Lovely day, isn't it, Margaret? - [Groans.]
The sun is shining.
The breeze is blowing.
And just listen to those birds dropping off the trees.
- How could it ever get this cold? - Margaret, it's quite simple.
You're only as cold as your mind allows you to be.
It's a philosophical problem.
- Philosophical? - Sure.
My hands are so frozen, I'm gonna have to chisel them out of these gloves.
- [Man.]
Is there a Major Winchester here? - Unfortunately.
- Package for you.
Special delivery.
- Oh? It's from Mom and Dad.
They worry about me so unnecessarily.
You're still their little punishment from heaven, Charles.
[Laughs.]
It's a polar suit! They shouldn't have.
But then again.
- Planning a trip to Mars? - Just what you needed, Mr.
Mind Over Matter.
How could Mumsy and Dad send you one and forget me? Don't stay out too long, children.
Come in before it gets cold.
[Chuckles.]
Polar suit.
[Mock Chuckle.]
It'll look wonderful on you, Charles.
Wear it in good health.
Tonight we poison his food.
Got a film for you here.
It being winter in the army, I'll guess Nanook of the North.
Close.
Sonja Henie skating her guts out in Sun Valley Serenade.
You save the seats.
I'll get the Eskimo pies.
[Man On p.
A.
.]
Attention all personnel.
Incoming wounded.
- All medical teams are instructed to button up their overcoats.
- [B.
J.
.]
The heat's on at last.
Chest wound, type and cross.
Two units of whole blood right now.
Frostbite, left hand.
Put some warm towels on it.
Make sure the temperature's between 100 and 110.
- Need some more warm compresses here.
- [Margaret.]
On their way.
Doc, I can't feel my foot.
Don't worry.
Here comes the spring thaw.
- What about that? Can you feel that? - I don't know.
All right, give it a minute.
- Hey, it hurts.
- Good.
That's your circulation coming back.
- [Moans.]
- It's okay.
You can thank me later.
Morphine, 10 milligrams.
We've gotta keep these boys plenty warm tonight.
You'll have to take some heaters from the tents again.
Sir, the last time I did that they hid my glasses in the meat loaf.
- Then do it when we're in O.
R.
- Oh, good thinking.
They don't give you the big bird for being handsome.
[Charles.]
All right, people.
Attention here, please.
Attention here.
- This is the last of them.
- I'll be the son of Princess Papuli.
- What the hell is that? - It's Charles modeling his new winter home.
How can you wear that big thick suit in front of all these frostbite patients? It's a little bulky, but I think I can manage.
What possible good would it do them now? - Nurse, my harpoon.
- [Mock Chuckle.]
- [Baker.]
Hawkeye? - Yeah.
- What's up? - Very rapid pulse, but difficult to count 'cause it's so weak.
- He's so cold it's not even registering.
- Hypothermia? He must be about 85 degrees.
Probably saved him though.
Cold slowed down his metabolism.
Otherwise, he might have bled to death.
Start warming him here and then get him into O.
R.
I'll take him first thing.
- Right.
- All right, good humor men.
Let's scrub up.
- I hope you melt in that thing.
- [Chuckles.]
So do I.
[Hawkeye.]
I don't believe it.
Will you look at this guy? He's ice cold.
He must have been in the freezer section for hours.
- What's his temp? - It's still not registering.
[B.
J.
.]
Dying in a winter wonderland.
[Charles.]
Nurse, could you snap it up just a bit, please? I'd like to slip out of this abdomen and back into my nice warm suit.
[Hawkeye.]
Sponge.
What I really need is ice tongs.
- Rough goin', son? - Cleaned out his wound but he's so cold he can't even get a rise out of his thermometer.
- Suture.
- Is there anything more I can do? Yeah.
See if kissing this man will get his temperature up.
- Doctor.
- Kiss me and see what you can do for mine.
Pierce, before the major tells me to tell you to shut up, shut up.
Snitch.
Look.
Get a pan of hot water.
Let's try warming the blood as it goes through the tubing.
- Maybe that'll help bring him out of it.
- Yes, Doctor.
- [Knocking.]
- Coming! - [Gasps.]
- Major.
- Oh, Admiral Byrd.
- You look cold.
- You noticed.
- Yes, right away.
Margaret, I've been thinking.
It just isn't fair me wearing this comfortable suit while you're working up a sweat to stay warm.
- I'd like to rectify that.
- Gloves? Fur-lined.
They came with the suit.
You were complaining about your hands.
I'd like to propose a trade.
Your thin gloves for these.
I'd like to prove that I'm just as hearty as the next man.
In this case, you.
Gloves.
Big deal! If you wanna prove how tough you are, give me your jacket.
Margaret, be practical.
Take it or leave it.
- Very well.
- Major! - Hmm? - It was very thoughtful of you.
Thank you.
- Just doing what little I can.
- Ain't it the truth.
[Hawkeye Moaning.]
- I don't believe it's getting colder! - Believe it! The mercury just went under for the third time.
How do you like that little Fahrenheister stealing our stove again? This time I'm hiding his glasses in the latrine! - While he's wearing them.
- [Gasps.]
Why is it so cold in here? Has the stove gone out? - Right out the door.
- What happened to it? Radar moved all the stoves into the post-op.
Where they're short on polar suits.
My hands.
I mean, I can't expose them to this kind of cold.
- Stick 'em under your armpits, Charles, and play us a tune.
- [Chuckling.]
Very funny.
Well, never mind, gentlemen, for I have come prepared.
I have already taken measures that are absolutely useless! Fits you like a glove.
- The mess tent! There's a heater in there! - Let's go with him.
You go first, Charles.
Bring around the sled.
Mush! Get out of my way! - [Screaming.]
- [Both Gasping.]
I think we can do it if we hold our breath.
If you don't make it, can I have your wool socks? [Both Screaming.]
[All Shivering.]
- Baby, it's cold outside! - [All Shouting.]
Close the door! Radar's been busy.
Shall we mingle and break the ice? Well, you all have the right idea here.
But as a doctor, I assure you we'll all be warmer if we press our bodies together.
So let's line up here.
Girl, boy, girl.
The rest of you are on your own.
- Margaret, about the gloves - Oh, yes, I do love them, Charles.
They're so warm.
- Thank you.
- Why aren't you wearing mine? Actually, I don't I don't, uh, need them.
I was concerned because I was making you wear those during the painful breaking-in period.
- Breaking-in period? - Yes, of course.
You see, in a glove such as this there's usually a two-to-three day break-in period during which the glove may be too tight - But these aren't.
- Or too loose.
- No, no, no.
- I haven't the right to ask you to go through that.
- But you have the right.
- I don't want the right.
I want the gloves! Margaret, it could be very dangerous.
I live for thrills.
All right, let's take it from the top.
One, two, three.
[All Singing.]
- Good.
Men only.
- [Men Singing.]
- Nurses! - [Nurses Singing.]
Good.
Ladies who will meet me later in my tent, let's hear it.
[Silence.]
You certainly know how to kill a party.
You don't think this is the proverbial hell freezing over, do you, Father? Oh, no.
I'm sure I'd have been informed if anything that big were on the agenda.
[All Booing.]
Colonel Potter, all the heaters that you ordered are in post-op as per your order, sir.
- [Booing.]
- Don't let it bother you, Radar.
Help yourself to a cup of hot chocolate.
I'd like to, sir, but chocolate makes my face break out.
Who's gonna know? Why me? Why ain't I back in Toledo lounging in some deserted junkyard? Oh, that's good.
Talking to yourself.
You really are a wacko.
[Chuckles.]
Yeah, but try and convince anybody who counts.
Whoo! [Moaning.]
Hey! Hey, enemy attack! Stay back! Stay back! What the hell's going on? - Klinger, are you all right? - Shelling! - [B.
J.
.]
Where's it coming from? - [Explosion.]
- [Klinger.]
Thataway! - Sir, would you mind getting off my foot? - Radar, I'm petrified! You'll have to wait.
- [Explosion.]
- What's out there? - That's our minefield.
Ours? They shouldn't go off like that until we tell 'em too! They'll be popping all night.
I've seen it before.
The frost and the ice contract the ground.
The pressure sets 'em off.
- Stop! - It's okay, Klinger.
It's our minefield.
- Stop the shelling! - They're friendly explosions.
He's really shaken up.
Let's get him inside and give him something.
He can have what I'm having.
- He's wearing his entire closet.
- This'll clear out the moths.
Hold on tight.
He's liable to inhale your arm.
Hey! Hey! You trying to kill me? This from a man who brushes his teeth with raw garlic.
- Feel better now? - What? - You feel better now? - Don't do that.
That's not funny.
- What's not funny? - Quit kiddin' around, you guys.
- Talk to me.
Make some sounds.
- We are making sounds.
- Can't you hear it? - I can't hear it.
What? I can see your mouth moving, but I can't hear any words.
- I can't even hear myself.
- Klinger, deafness will get you out of the army but if this is a scam, I'll nail your sorry hide.
- Inner-ear concussion? - Those mines will find you one way or the other.
What are you saying? You're talking and I can't hear you! - We know! - Take it easy, Klinger.
There's a chance it'll clear up.
- What? What? What! - There's a chance it'll clear itself.
Doctor, could you take a look at Sergeant Davalillo? His temperature's dropping.
I'm on my way.
Keep your eyes on his ears.
Am I saying anything? I can't see myself talk.
- Let me see myself.
- Here.
Stay with him.
- Yeah.
- Hello? Hello? I've never seen a hypothermia case this bad.
Would more blankets or a hot-water bottle help? He's got enough on him now to melt Siberia.
Let's try something more drastic.
Put a tube down in his stomach and lavage him with warm D.
N.
W.
Start some warm-water enemas.
If that doesn't work, we'll send for Gypsy Rose Lee.
Max, it's me, Max Klinger! Oh, Max, how I yearn for the sound of your voice.
- What's the good word? - Heat, which he's lacking.
- No change? - We're in the fourth quarter of a very tight ball game.
I think it's time to go in for the big play.
- Okay.
You call it.
- Immerse him in warm water.
Won't do much for his complexion, but it may just keep him alive.
- Nope.
Too risky.
Could throw him into shock.
- We gotta raise his temperature.
Immersing could kill him.
And what about post-op infection? That water's gonna migrate along those silk sutures.
He'll have seepage into the wounds.
Okay, you got several points.
Let's just give him a little more time.
I'll stay here and watch him for a while.
I was hoping you'd say that.
I've got Sonja Henie warming up in the projector.
I never thanked her for the autographed herring.
They say skating's in the thighs.
You ever notice Sonja Henie's thighs? Not me.
I'm only interested in her mind.
In my younger days, I used to dream about skating away with her down a frozen fjord in Norway.
Yeah, I really fell for her again and again and again.
[Shouting.]
I can't believe it.
Look at me.
I'm deaf! Why the hell couldn't they leave me in Toledo? I wasn't bothering anyone.
Wait a minute.
Boy, you take things for granted, don't you? All the beautiful sounds I'll never hear again.
The sizzle of a Hungarian hot dog.
The kiss of an eight ball.
The wail of police sirens and the cops yelling "Hey, you, camel nose! Up against the wall!" - Can you hear all this? - Mm-hmm.
The sweet "thwack" of a cue stick breaking over some guy's head.
Gone.
It's all gone.
Oh, please, let me hear again! Now, Klinger, this is gonna make you feel better.
Just like a shot in the arm.
What do you mean you're gonna stick that in my ear? You think I can't read lips? - Nurse, a little help here.
- You get away from me with that.
- This is just a little sedative to help you sleep.
- Oh, no, no.
- Oh, yes.
- Now, B.
J.
No, no.
B.
J.
, oh, no! No, no! [Moaning.]
- Okay, easy, easy.
- [Sighs.]
Very nice.
Okay.
There you go.
Good night, sweet prince.
[Slurring.]
Oh, no.
I can't see either.
[Classical.]
[Margaret.]
Oh, my.
Just look how graceful that is.
[Potter Chuckles.]
I'm loving this.
[Charles.]
It's quite an amusing little film, isn't it, Margaret? - You can't have the gloves.
- I thought I'd buy them from you.
- Or lease them if you prefer.
- They're not for sale or lease.
- Forty-five dollars is a fair price.
- Watch the movie! - Fifty-five is my last offer.
- And this is my last "no.
" Shh! [Potter.]
Radar, now watch this.
This one'll be a real doozy.
[Radar.]
Oh.
Boy, how does she do that without throwing up? Father, watching Sonja Henie makes you believe in a supreme being.
You don't create something like that by accident.
Yes.
He must have been paying very close attention to his work that day.
I tell you what.
Why don't you give me those gloves now and I'll have Mom send two pair from home next week, hmm? I don't care if she sends me a full house.
No! - You'll be hearing from my attorney! - Shh! And that's an order! [Potter.]
I haven't seen such precision since Radio City Music Hall.
Boy, those Rockettes.
Ever see the Rockettes, Radar? - Just on the Fourth ofJuly, sir.
- Right.
- Margaret - Are you still at it? Margaret, settle down.
I merely want to apologize for my behavior.
This bitter weather has turned me into an absolute cad.
- You can say that again.
- Can you ever forgive me, Margaret? - Oh, of course.
- Ooh.
Oh, that's warm.
- Get Colonel Potter.
- Now? Right now.
Here's the part I've been waiting for.
The big finale.
This is supposed to be where she does a triple axle and ends up in a split! - [Whispering.]
- Oh, wouldn't you know.
Now I'll never get to see it.
His body temperature's still about 85 degrees.
- His pulse is irregular.
I think - Okay, we immerse him.
- No argument from me.
- I suppose you figured out what we're gonna immerse him in.
Sure.
B.
J.
? Thank you.
Let's see.
Um, sink's too small.
- What about a tent canvas? - Too awkward.
- Colonel, you should have seen the end of the movie.
- Not now, Radar.
It was no Song of Bernadette, but it had some fine moments.
Radar, we've gotta dunk Davalillo in some hot water.
- What have you got big enough to hold him? - All of him? - A sink? - That's already been sunk.
- Bubble off one of the choppers.
- How you gonna get it off? - I'm not.
It's a lousy idea.
- Radar? - You're gonna think it's funny.
- What? What? - Come on, son.
Tell us.
- You promise you won't think it's weird? I promise! I promise! - What about a coffin? - Radar, that's weird.
- But it's a great idea.
- Can you dig one up? - There's one in the Supply room.
- We were shooting craps on it a couple of nights ago.
- Gotta be lined with ponchos.
- Radar, let's get it! - Okay, I'll get it.
- It'll be nice putting a coffin to good use for a change.
- Where is it, Radar? - I don't know.
"Standard snow boot.
Model L-51 G.
" Radar, why weren't these snow boots distributed? - They're not exactly regulation.
- Sixty pair like that? No, some have straps.
There's our box.
Uh, tub.
Yeah.
Father, you mind if I take that end? - 'Cause walking backwards always makes me nauseous.
- By all means, Radar.
[Grunts.]
Holy cow, is this heavy.
Let me get a better grip.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
- What's the matter? - Hey, I know what's in here.
I mean, who's in there.
I mean, I don't know who who but I know what who.
- Radar, get hold of yourself.
- There's a whatchamacallit in there! - No, there isn't.
- Yes, there is! Oh, no, Father! Don't do that! - Look.
- Oh, no! You look! - Radar! - Oh, my gosh, Father.
Put it back on him.
Radar the dear-departed snow boots.
If you can forget what it is, this makes a real nice bathtub.
You bathe in it.
It's like a scene from Esther Williams meets Dracula.
Fifteen more minutes, he's got the world's record for backstroke in a coffin.
His heartbeat is really irregular.
We're losing him.
- Uh-oh.
I've lost it.
Cardiac arrest! - Get him out of here! - Clear that gurney! - Get it off! [Hawkeye.]
Ambu bag.
! [Potter.]
Calcium and two amps ofbicarb.
! [Hawkeye.]
I'll get up on top.
- Ambu bag.
- Get some calcium and bicarb.
[Potter.]
Okay, I'm doing it.
Get any pulse? [Potter.]
Nothing.
Keep it up, Hawk.
Anything? Yeah, fairly regular and strong.
- [Exhales.]
- He's breathing on his own.
Set up some oxygen.
Eight liters per minute.
- You were right about the shock.
- Yeah, but he's a lot warmer.
I think we got it.
Let's get him back to bed and continue as before.
That hot bath turned the trick.
Looks like your suggestion saved his life, Radar.
Oh, yeah.
Of course, those guys helped a little too.
- Anybody wanna buy a used coffin? - Not on your life.
Hey, hey, what's the ruckus? You people are really rude.
Can't a guy get a little sleep? I can hear.
I can hear! Come on.
Say something! - Attaboy! - Hey, that's great! - Congratulations, Klinger.
- Proud of ya, son.
- Saints be praised! - Congratulations, Klinger.
Saints be praised! Proud of ya, son.
Attaboy.
Hey, that's great.
- I heard every word! [Laughing.]
- You're lucky, son.
Oh, I can hear you.
I can hear everything! [Singing.]
I think I liked him better the other way.
I heard that.
I heard that! Too bad, son.
Loss of hearing was a perfect out.
- You can't hear.
You can't be in the army.
- We do have our standards.
- I can't believe my ears.
- Sorry, Klinger.
Maybe next time.
- What was that, sir? - All right, Klinger.
What did you say, sir? It's gone again.
I can't hear now.
- It's too late, stud.
- Ey? Knock it off! It won't work! All right, you don't have to yell.
What do you think I am, deaf? Father, before we drink this blessed soup, would you like to bless it? Oh, yeah.
Well, looks like I'm on.
Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, we thank thee.
In reference to our conversation of yesterday, it's still rather nippy down here.
- There.
How's that? Oh.
Amen.
- [All.]
Amen.
Okay, Father.
You blessed it, you taste it.
Might as well go all the way.
- Well? - Eh.
- Klinger, do the honors, will you? - [All Chattering.]
Here you are, Margaret.
No point in both of us waiting in that line.
- How considerate.
- De nada.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.