All language subtitles for MASH (1972) - S06E11 - The Grim Reaper (1080p AMZN WEB-DL x265 ImE)_track4_[eng]

♪♪ [theme]

All right, gentlemen,

without interrupting
your knitting,

let me get right with it.

Now, here's what we can expect
in the way of casualties

in the next 24 hours.

I think that you'll find
that these figures

reflect my customary
pinpoint accuracy.

Hawk, can you go just
a little faster?

You want it fast
or you want it round?

The push begins at 0900.

Now, we're in for bloody
hand-to-hand combat.

Hill 403 is a maze of trenches,
foxholes, and craters.

Why don't you go
after Hill 404?

It's got a nice view of 405.

And it's closer to
the cemetery on 406.

Can we continue, Colonel?

Yes. Of course.
Button it, boys.

Colonel Bloodworth
isn't here

for fancy patter
from the Weisenheimer twins.

And I, for one,
would like to know

how many casualties
are coming in.

What's so choice
about Hill 403, Colonel?

The enemy owns it.

So contact a good realtor
and make him an offer.

Calculating a division of men
supported in depth

by artillery,
mortar fire, and tanks

against seasoned troops,
also backed by artillery,

we figure a grand total
of 280 to 290 casualties

passing through this unit
in the next 24 hours

if the weather holds.

-What if it rains?
-Then add another 20.

There are 20 guys who better
pray like hell it doesn't rain.

I figure all 300
better pray like hell
this guy is wrong.

"This guy" is never wrong.
It's all here!

The days, the battles,
the numbers,

all pinpointed
and on target.

-Dead on.
-War is a science.

Casualties can be predicted
with mathematical precision.

Really? How many times
do 30,000 bullets

multiplied by 400
artillery shells

go into 280 bodies?

I don't appreciate
your sarcasm, Pierce.

I don't appreciate
your insensitivity.

Those figures you
reel so trippingly
off the tongue

are made of flesh
and blood.

But please, don't pass up
Hill 403 on my account,

not if you've gone
to all that trouble.

POTTER: Silencio,Pierce.

Look, I don't have
to listen to this

every time I show up.

PIERCE:
Then stop showing up.

Maybe we'll stop
getting casualties.

Sounds like you almost
believe that.

Take out the "almost,"

and you're right again,

with pinpoint accuracy.

You came on a little
strong in there.

Would've been worse if I
had my knitting needles.

Relax, will you? Those eagles
on his shoulders have claws.

Those aren't eagles.
They're vultures.

I sense a certain
hostility in you.

Hostility? I got nothing
against the guy.

Take away his ledgers,

his numbers,
his pinpoint accuracy,

I think he's kind of cute.

Chow?

Not chow-- masterpieces
of the culinary arts.

Right, chow.

Would either of you happen
have a quarter?

All this for a quarter?

I have to pry off
the cover.

Of course-- cover charge.

Pierce, would you mind
opening the pheasant?

Would I mind?
My taste buds are setting
a table on my tongue.

My salivary glands
are having a flash flood.

What's that stuff?

Haven't you ever seen
truffles before?

Nobody knows
the truffles I've seen.

[laughing]

Here you are, gentlemen.

Oh, goody!

Mmm.

Mmm, mmm!

Chopped liver.

That is pâté de foie gras.

I happen to know
Patty de Foie Gras,

and this definitely isn't him.

That was great.

-What else we got?
-We?

-Aren't we having dinner?
-We even dressed for it.

Gentlemen, your dinner
awaits you in the mess tent.

One lousy piece of liverwurst
and that's it?

That's ample reward
for opening a can.

You're not going to share
this with your bunkies?

My bunkies have palates
that are obviously

more attuned to Spam
on a shingle.

You mean you're gonna
make us just sit here
and watch you eat?

No, that would be sadistic.

I will go elsewhere.

Bon appétit,
gentlemen.

How do you like
this guy?

I'd like him rotating
on a spit.

I hope your caviar
turns to fish eggs.

I hope you can't
get a table.

Bless your hearts.

I hope he saves
some for us.

[knocking]

-Who is it?
-Major Winchester.

-Oh, just a second.
-Mm-hmm.

-Uh, Major, have you dined?
-No, not yet.

-Good.
-What, what?

Prepare yourself
for the finest meal

you've had in Korea,
perhaps in your life.

Oh, that looks scrumptious!

Tonight's menu begins
with Beluga caviar,

followed by truffles.

Nobody knows
the truffles I've seen.

-What?
-I might have guessed.

Uh, moving on quickly
to the pâté,

followed
by the smoked oyster,

and a true epicurean
delight,

-Devonshire pheasant.
-Oh!

All accompanied,
very discreetly

-by a Montrachet 1947.
-Oh!

-And I was on my way to hash!
-[laughing]

Hash? This is not hash,
Margaret.

[chuckles]

I'll help you set,
Margaret.

There we are.

Thank you, ma'am.

To civilization in Korea.

This is it.

My favorite toast is a poem.

Oh, Margaret, do speak it.

[chuckles]
Well, here it goes.

Look out teeth, look out gums,

look out liver, here she comes.

[forced laughter]

Civilization in Korea.

Mmm!

And now, the caviar--

Oh...

...which, my dear major,
must never, never,

never be touched
by a metal utensil.

-Oh, really?
-Hmm-mm. Only wood.

Of course,
in such a primitive place,

one must learn to adapt.

Voilà!

How clever.

Now, open wide

and say "ahh."

Ahh...

Mmm... delicious!

Yes, isn't it?

Oh, the last time
I had caviar

was with General Hardcastle
in West Berlin, and we...

[laughing]

-Never mind.
-[both laughing]

There we are.

Oh, no, no, no,
Margaret.

Follow me.

There are certain things

that still call for
the barbaric approach.

-Don't you agree?
-Oh, completely.

[chuckles]

You can't do that
with army hash.

Certainly not. It doesn't
fall apart this easy.

-Well?
-I don't know.

Is this the way that a pheasant
is supposed to taste?

-It tastes funny.
-Oh, Margaret, I assure you,

this is the way a pheasant
is supposed to taste.

It is, after all, a game bird.

Well, I'm game, too.

[both laugh]

Oh, mmm. Mmm.

MAN [on P.A.]:
Attention, all personnel.

Choppers and litter jeeps
headed this way.

All medical teams
report for triage.

-How untimely.
-Yeah, I know.

Well, shall we, uh,
meet later for some
petit fours?

Oh, certainly not!
But you can stop
by for dessert.

[both laugh]

More Hill 403.

Bloodworth's parade
of casualties.

The sun's shining.
Maybe he'll fall
short of his quota.

What a shame.
It'll ruin his day.

-Let me have a leg splint.
-How does it look, Doc?

You're gonna be waltzing
with Mathilda in no time.

-Honest?
-You're so healthy,

you're gonna have
to twiddle your toes

while we fix guys who
are really in trouble.

Just gonna immobilize this
till we get to you later.

What's that "1"
on your helmet?

Oh, a bunch of us have them.

When we got off the boat
at Inchon this morning,

a sergeant came up and chalked

a "1," "2," or "3"
on our helmets.

"1's" got sent to the front.

Ah, the lucky "1's."

Where'd the "2's" and "3's" go?

Someplace safe, I guess.

You just got off the boat
a few hours ago?

-Yeah.
-This is some cruise.

You're liable to take
the same boat back.

At least it this time
it will be headed
in the right direction.

-Where you from?
-Toledo, Ohio.

No kidding?

You can expect a visit from
a hairy guy wearing a dress.

Its not Mathilda, is it?

I don't know.
I never waltzed with him.

Pilot, huh?

Hence the wings, Pierce.

I'm sure Bloodworth
didn't figure on any pilots.

Well, then this man's
obviously an imposter.

Get him and his wounds
out of here.

Business is boom-booming.

Who knew this war
was gonna catch on?

Give the people
what they want,

they don't mind going
a few thousand miles
out of their way.

[Charles groaning]

That's just your opinion,
Charles.

You look terrible.

The air in here is foul.

[belches]

It was the pheasant
that was foul.

Who ever heard of
eating a canned bird?

Major, can you keep it down?

I hope I can.

We're probably
getting botulism.

Major, I assure you,
we are not ill.

Then why are you whiter
than your mask?

I tell you,
that bird was rotten.

-Major--
-We ate a rotten bird!

Major, can we terminate
this nauseating discussion

and get back
to this man's bowel?

After all,

this man's bowel... is...

Colonel, we need help here.

-Where's Winchester?
-On the floor.

He can't operate from there.
His arms aren't long enough.

Sweet Nefertiti!
What's the matter with him?

-Tummy ache, advanced.
-What from?

Probably from something
we didn't eat.

-How are you, Major?
-He'll live.

-He may not want to.
-Move him out.

-Hold on, sir.
-Oh, he's heavy.

Yeah, this place could
use a full-time bouncer.

Who can take over?

I'll take it, Colonel.
Kellye, close for me.

I'll need some fresh gloves.

[hiccup]

You look a little green
around the gills yourself.

Just keep your eyes off my
gills and on your patient.

-Clamp.
-Clamp.

[hiccup]

Lap sponge.

Sponge. [hiccup]

[hiccup] Retractor.

[hiccup] Metzenbaum.

All right.
Knock it-- [hiccup]-- off.

[groans]

What was the final
score in there?

203, not counting
Winchester.

We beat Bloodworth
by 77 "healthies."

Looks like Mr. Right
was wrong this time.

Maybe his slide rule is stuck.

What do you say
to some schnapps?

-I'm in.
-Not me.

I'm gonna go find Bloodworth

and toast him with a nice,
tall glass of gloat.

You're only askin'
for trouble, son.

Nah, I'm just gonna
cheer him up.

He's probably crying
in his ledger.

Well, look who's here.

Colonel Bo Peep,
counting his sheep.

What do you want,
Pierce?

Let me have a beer, okay?

Ah, there is no joy
in Bloodville tonight.

-Ask me why?
-Look, Pierce...

I thought you'd never ask.

In the battle for Hill 403,
77 soldiers refused to get hit,

just to pinpoint
your accuracy.

-You don't say.
-Oh, but I do say.

You were off by 77,
scorekeeper.

-I was, huh?
-Don't let it get
you down, Colonel.

If the war doesn't
work out for you,

you can go back to the states
and predict traffic fatalities.

Or if you live long enough,
there's always the apocalypse.

Attention,
all surgical teams.

More wounded coming in
via ground vehicles.

Proceed to O.R.

Okay, hot shot,
there you go.

And don't be surprised
if there are 77 more.

What did you do,
shoot them yourself?

That's it, Captain.

I've taken all I'm going
to take off you.

-I haven't even begun.
-Let go of me, Captain.

You make me sick.

The way you reduce human life
to cold equations--

God, I hate that.

And I hate your rotten ledger--
your diary of death.

But what I hate most, you...

you grim reaper,

is that you actually love
your job!

-I said let go of me!
-I'll let go of you!

This is a serious charge.
Bloodworth says you hit him.

That's ridiculous.
You didn't hit him, did you?

Who, me?

I might have grabbed him,
pushed him, shoved him,

but the wall hit him.

Pierce,
if you were my son,

we'd be on the way
to the woodshed.

Colonel, I 've already put
myself over my own knee.

-You don't have to do it.
-What did you think you
were you doing?

You rave against violence
and insensitivity,

then to prove your point,
you attack a man.

Guilty as charged.

Refer all my patients
to Leavenworth.

Bloodworth isn't kidding.
Neither am I.

You deserve a court-martial.

This is the U.S. Army.

You don't push
ranking officers around.

-Look, Colonel--
-Not another word.

-Dismissed, Captain.
-Uh-huh.

Hawkeye...

I'll talk to Bloodworth.

Maybe I can convince him how
desperately we need surgeons--

even stupid ones.

Thanks, Dad.

-Danker?
-Mathilda?

-Hey, Toledo!
-Where else?

Don't move.
Let me take it all in.

When were you there last?

-Two weeks ago.
-Only two weeks ago!

When was the last time you had
a Packo Hungarian hot dog?

Three days before I left.

I knew it. I could
smell it on your breath.

You had mustard, chili,
and hot peppers.

Ha-ha! Amazing.

Not to this nose.

Where do you live?

Locust and Ontario.

Michigan and Gallina.

-And you made it out alive?
-Sure.

I took my basic training
at LaGrange Pool Hall.

In all the time I was there,

not once did I see anybody
use a cue stick on a ball.

How long you been here?

As long as it takes
a tough street kid

to learn to wear a dress.

Hey, tell me
about the Trianon!
Is it still jumping?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, girls
still get in for a buck--

50 cents if they look human.

The Trianon! Every night,
I dream I'm jitterbugging

with Agnes Gomes.

♪ Da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da

Then at intermission,
we'd steal away to the veranda

and watch the kids
bust windshields.

You know I never got caught?

I got to go, kid.

I'm breaking my heart.

Wait. I've got
something for you.

A matchbook from the Trianon.

Matches made in heaven.

I'll keep them forever.

Thank you.

Thank you.

[sobbing]

Colonel, got a minute?

Only a minute. Shoot.

I'd like to talk about Pierce.

Colonel,
save it for the trial.

Look, I want you to drop
the charges.

You what?

I'd like you to drop
the charges.

I'm dropping nothing.

-Now, if you'll excuse me...
-Wait, Colonel.

Pierce is the best surgeon
I've got.

What good's it gonna do
to lock him up somewhere

-where he's no use to anyone?
-Listen, Potter.

If you'd discipline your men
instead of coddling them,

that hothead
would have known better

than to attack
a superior officer.

Bloodworth, there's
nothing you can teach me

about discipline
or running a MASH.

Now, I want--

I'd like that man cleared
of the charges.

Then get him a good lawyer.
I'll see you in 24 hours.

[engine starts]

Pierce shouldn't have
pushed you.

He should have decked you!

How could I do such
a dumb thing?

I give up. How?

You know what gets to me
is I let him get to me.

I actually pushed him.
He just may have a case.

I'd say open and shut.

You know you'd make
a hell of a witness
for the prosecution?

You're gonna make
a better one.

Isn't there some legal thing
about justifiable pushing?

Sir? Lieutenant Johnson
asked me

to give his
flight jacket to you

-for saving his life.
-It's no big thing.

Collar's all wet.

Sorry, sir,
I ran out of hankies.

I didn't want to come in here
and cry in front of you.

-It's unmanly.
-Want to talk
about it, soldier?

It's my problem.
I can handle it.

-He saw danker.
-Danker...

[sobbing]
♪ We're strong for Toledo

♪ That's where
the Buckeyes all grow... ♪

♪ We'll all stick
together... ♪

[mumbling and sobbing]

Menopause?

Toledo heartburn.

-Whose flight jacket?
-Gift from a secret admirer.

-You have an admirer?
-Lieutenant Johnson.

The chopper pilot
I operated on?

I operated on him.
You were under him.

Just a moment. I was
the physician of record.

You merely assisted,
ergo any remuneration
is mine.

What Socrates is trying to say
is he wants the jacket.

I don't need a translator.
I want the jacket.

Why don't you split the fee
and give him the zipper?

I'll give him a sleeve
with my fist in it.

Very well. We'll let
Colonel Potter decide.

I don't care if he goes
to MacArthur, he's not
getting this jacket.

Will you shut up
about this stupid jacket?

You interrupted
a Zane Grey gunfight

because of a schoolyard spat
over a jacket?

That jacket is
rightfully mine!

Major, get your mind
off collecting fees.

This is the army,
not Park Avenue.

This is Hell's Kitchen!

See those boots?

Picture them kicking you
across the compound.

-May I?
-Sure!

You know my hours--
11 p.m. to Reveille.

Well, perjury must have
its day in court.

-Approach the bench.
-Colonel,

I don't want anything
so inconsequential as a jacket

to come between
Charles and me.

Winchester, it's yours.

Hunnicutt, I misjudged you.

You're a bigger man than
I give you credit for being.

-Model it for us,
will you, Charles?
-Of course.

Explain to me, why am I here?

It's too small.

I don't know.
I kind of like it.

[laughing]

You knew this all the time.
You tried it on out there.

It's only big enough
for a little pipsqueak.

You mean like me?

Exactly-- Not exactly.

Colonel?
You got yourself a jacket.

MAN [on P.A.]:
Attention, all personnel.

Ambulance in the compound.
We've got wounded.

Case dismissed.

Thanks for dropping by,
Winchester.

I'm going to love this.

Get this guy into pre-op.
Three units of whole blood.

This guy's out of the war.
Sorry, son.

-Have severe thoracic
trauma back there.
-Add a patella.

This guy's got a belly wound,

but I don't think
there's any penetration.

More fresh dressings up there.

This guy's got
a skull fracture.

Get him to pre-op, stat.

-Bloodworth.
-You'd better take care of him.

I think he'd rather
have it that way.

What happened, Colonel?

Hill 403 fell on me.

-How bad is it?
-Not so bad.

There are plenty of guys
ahead of you.

This is one time it's good
to be at the end of the line.

This guy can wait.

Must be gratifying
to you, Pierce.

The Grim Reaper
on his own list?

Come on. Let's get this skull
fracture into pre-op.

-Just relax, Colonel.
-Who is that?

You are in the capable
hands of Major Charles
Emerson Winchester.

-Your humble surgeon.
-Anyone but Pierce.

Don't worry.
I wouldn't trade this private

for all the colonels
in Korea.

Don't you worry,
Colonel,

I'll have you up
and prosecuting
in no time at all.

Charles, I'd stab you
in the heart if you had one.

There it is.

Ribs with a side of shrapnel.

Aren't you the lucky
one, Colonel?

You're about to be spared

the pain of Pierce's
rapier wit.

That does it, Charles.

It's hypodermics at 20 paces.

If I had a rubber glove,
I'd slap you with it.

You'll be my second.

Cut the dueling
and do the cutting.

Get on with it.

Sponges, suction.
Give me some retraction.

-I have to expose it.
-You need some help?

No, it's under control.

I thought that shrapnel was
just lying next to the artery,

but Old Faithful tells me
it penetrated.

All right, Colonel,
I'm all yours.

Continue I.V.s and take his
temperature every two hours,

and if he starts to bleed
again, holler.

I'll come running.

You better get some sleep,
Hawkeye.

You've been here
all night.

That's funny, it just
seems like dusk to dawn.

-Pierce, I want to see you.
-Are you in pain?

Never mind.
I want to talk to you.

Oh, fine, what do you
wanna talk about?

Books? How about
Death Takes A Holiday?

Don't you ever stop
with the wisecracks?

Only long enough
to make a joke.

Oh, boy, you're a pistol.

I want to talk to you,
you make a joke.

The nurse asks you
about your work,
you make a joke.

You take shrapnel
out of a kid's chest,
you make a joke.

-Hopefully not the same joke.
-There you go again.

But what do you expect?

I spent the last 48 hours
digging pieces of Hill 403

out of kids whose
biggest worry a week ago

was how to cover a hickey.

Joking about it
is the only way

of opening my mouth
without screaming.

Hmm. I know.

I spent the last 48 hours
watching you.

Wasn't pretty, was it?

No, it wasn't.

That hill back there,
where I got clobbered...

all that screaming...

I'm used to screaming,
but not from me.

On the ambulance bus,
kid died next to me.

Heard the rattle.

I thought I was next.

I'll never forget.

None of us will.

Pierce, a push in a barroom,

it just doesn't stack up
against all that.

I, uh, can't see myself going
ahead with the court-martial.

Well, I 'm too tired
to argue with you.

You need to get
your rest, too.

Out of the way, Pierce.
Let's see if we can
settle this out of court.

-How are you, Colonel?
-Better.

Good, because I want you
to know that, if you proceed

with this court-martial,
you're in for a hell of a fight.

Colonel, before
you roll up your --

Zip it, son.
I'll handle this.

Colonel, I've been
soldiering for 30 years.
That's long enough

-to know that a good surgeon,
-The charges are dropped.

no matter how dimwitted
or impulsive

is worth his weight in gold.

Colonel, they're dropped.

-What's dropped?
-The charges against Pierce.

-They are?
-Yes.

Oh, well, that's different.

Thanks, Colonel.
I knew you'd see it my way.

There, cowboy.

Now you know what
a little tact can do.

Uh-huh.

-Mm.
-Mm.

Klinger,
this is incredible.

Did I tell you?

Packo's Hungarian hot dogs
are the pride of Toledo.

I could kiss that Danker.

First the matchbook,
and then this.

-Keep them coming.
-Try those chili peppers.

They'll put hair
on your tongue.

What is that tantalizing odor?

That ain't chopped liver.

Looks like you've got enough
to feed an army there.

Here you are, sir.

-Hawk, pass the relish?
-Mm-hmm.

Charles, would you
open that for us?

-Oh, sure.
-Thank you.

-Mmm.
-Mmm.

Just looks delicious.

Gentlemen, we're
forgetting our guest--

Here you go.

Charles, how does
that look to you?

-Wonderful.
-What do you want on it?

-Touch of mustard.
-Touch of mustard.

-All right?
-Mmm.

-Mm-hmm.
-Hmm?

-Mm-hmm.
-Chocked with chili.

What's this?

B.J.: Ample reward
for opening a jar.

Charles, your
sophisticated palate

is no match for
this pedestrian swill.

Besides,
it's Hungarian.

[all chuckle]

Charles, Charles,
Charles, Charles.

-It's all yours.
-Thank you.

Not so fast.
Save some for Margaret.

Oh, this is for Margaret.

[laughing]

♪♪ [theme]