All language subtitles for MASH.S03E07.Check-Up.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-AJP69_track3_[eng]

Testing. One, two, three,

four, five, six, seven, eight.

Testing.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H...

♪ I got a gal
in Kalamazoo ♪

Give me that.

All right, attention.

Attention, please.

May I have the attention
of each and every
personnel, please?

This is your commanding
officer Colonel Blake.

I thought it was Major Bowes.

Now, uh,

it's required that, uh,

everyone be given
a routine medical checkup.

This is according to
a new army regulation

which is, uh, your,
uh, RP78/80778J,

uh, blah, blah, blah.

Now, accordingly,
enlisted men will fall

into the mess tent to
receive their physicals.

Officers will
examine themselves

and vice versa in private.

Uh, is there anything else

that I should tell 'em,
Radar?

Okay, tonight's movie
is a double feature:

Godzilla
and the Bobby-Soxer

plus Ma and Pa Kettle
Have a Baby.

Ohh.

♪ Zoo zoo
zoo-zee-zoo ♪

Aah, aah, ah--

Don't swallow
the doctor.

You're a typical
soldier, soldier.

Fine for the army,
but not fit to be drafted.

Trapper,
take a look at this.

Rotatory scoliosis.

Hmm, haven't seen
many of those.

Nothing to worry about.
You were born that way.

Your vertebrae are trying
to pass each other on a hill.

What's a pretty girl like you
doing in a war like this?

Klinger, are you a Catholic?

Your heart's playing
"The Bells of St. Mary's."

Two degrees of temperature?

He's not a well woman.

I'm not the
complaining type.

Since when?

Step over there,
sir and/or madam.

-Hi, Frank.
-Hello, Frank.

That's your business.

Customers waiting.

Why do I always get stuck

with "turn your head
and cough"?

You have
the gift, Frank.

You have a perfect
head for hernias.

You daffy-doodles
always have an answer.

Send 'em in.

Step behind the screen
and drop your pants.

Step behind the screen
and raise your skirt.

MARGARET: All right, girls.
Attention, please.

Now, I will give you
the preliminary exam,

and then the doctors
will go to work on you.

Bear in mind
that you are the cream

of American military
womanhood,

serving your Uncle Sam
and entitled to dignity.

No smart remarks,

no insinuations,
sex or smut-wise.

You are women,
desirable women.

Most of you.

But army regulations
forbid any doctor

to assist you from
undressing into disrobement.

Further, they can
do nothing, nothing,

when you are alone with them

but give you
a good going-over.

Now, when I call your
name, please scream.

New girl in town?

I'm giving Hot Lips
her physical.

Does Frank know?

I was thinking of
tying him in a chair

and making him watch.

He's scheduled
to do my physical.

Fat chance.

I'll do you.
I'm used to autopsies.

Nobody's examining me.

This place is medically
medieval.

The lab equipment
went up San Juan Hill

with Teddy Roosevelt.

Most of you guys
wouldn't know a disease

unless it was social

and there's not a clean
finger in the whole camp.

What? You get a package
of hostility from home today?

That's how I feel.
To hell with it.

You certainly woke up
from your nap cranky.

Have a gargle?

Our kidneys, sir.

They were fun while
they were alive,

and so were we.

It's got to be the worst.

Can't be.
It's real gin.

Oh, terrible.

Does this mean my taste
buds have been raped?

Am I condemned to drinking
Vitalis on the rocks

for the rest of my life?

Wicked.

Let's make a pact
about drinking.

-All right.
-Let's never stop.

I'm off to Hot Lips country.

If I'm not back in two days,
alert intensive care.

Hi. Doctor's here,
darling.

Oh, yes, the physical.

Physical to you,

the house call
of a lifetime to me,

you blonde palomino hussy.

Where do you want to start?

Aah!

Ah.

-Ah.
-Ah.

-Ah.
-Ah.

Attaboy.

Never had your
tonsils out, huh?

Should I, sir?

Eh, just a thought.

They're big enough
to be a baby's backside.

Glands okay.

Thank you, sir.

All right,

stand with your
little feet together.

Close your eyes.

Extend your arm
and touch the old nose.

Your nose, Radar. Your nose.

A few deep breaths,
Margaret.

Breathe hard.
Pretend I'm Frank.

I know how to breathe hard,
Doctor.

If I locate your heart,
do I get a finder's fee?

Hmm.

You're very fit, Major.

I guess that's 'cause
you throw so many.

Could stand to lose
about ten pounds, though.

What?

Stop grazing
between meals.

Right in through there.

That should be posted
as a slide area.

You're also getting
a little flanky.

You're crazy.

Walking away from people,
you look like you're wearing

two strange bulldogs in a bag.

Are you quite
finished, Doctor?

Roll up your sleeve
from the neck down.

We'll do it my way.

Pressure pooper.

Strip to the waist.

Bare naked, sir?

Radar, I'm not casting
for the Ziegfeld Follies.

Yes, sir.

Radar, there is a you
under there, isn't there?

I'm getting to me, sir.

Somebody naked
scare you once?

My folks never took
their clothes off, sir.

They said that the skin
was the devil's slipcover.

For Pete's sake.

-What's that?
-That's my new tattoo.

It's an anchor.

Well, I mean, you're
not in the Navy.

I tried to get a red cross,
but it was a buck fifty.

This was only 50 cents.

Radar, getting one of
those is very unsanitary.

Oh, I washed my
hands first, sir.

Right. Right.

Let's audition your pump.

Can you make it
go up and down?

No, not yet.

But I hum when I do it.

All right, McIntyre,
time for your checkup.

Into your birthday suit.

Take a walk, Frank.

This is the army.

Then take a hike.

Are you refusing
to take your physical

from a superior officer?

No, I'm refusing
to take my physical

from an inferior doctor.

What's all
the adrenaline for?

McIntyre's refused
to take his clothes
off for me.

Well, not everybody is
Major Houlihan, Frank.

Which is a relief to us all.

Out, Frank.

Excuse me, sirs.

Remember that rotarian
sillyosis thing

that guy had
on his back before?

-Yeah, yeah.
-I got it.

Just had an X-ray
taken, sir.

Get out!

I just came in.

There is no room in
this tent for perverts.

Shall we all leave
alphabetically?

The ink is still wet
where you touched it up.

I swear I got it.

I can't wear
anything backless.

Out, Klinger! Out!

"Out, Klinger. Out."

All right, McIntyre,
do I check you up,

or check you
into the stockade?

Hold it, mouth.

Look, Trap,

I'd rather be strung up
by my Achilles tendon

than agree with
Major Disaster here.

Oh, fudge.

Refusing a checkup
doesn't make sense.

It's basic.

There something you
wanna get off your chest

or arms or legs?

Okay.

Okay.

I got a problem
in my belly,

but I don't want it
diagnosed here

because I don't wanna be
treated in this pigpen.

Pain?

Yeah, when I'm empty.

Feels better when I eat.

Wake you up at night?

Yeah.

First I thought it was
alcoholic gastritis.

You know, we've
been hitting the sauce
pretty good lately.

But the symptomology
is wrong.

I got heartburn

that would light up
the city of Toledo.

I've been taking
this stuff here lately.

Antacid.
Does that help?

A little, but not enough.

I think I got
a duodenal ulcer.

What's the smile for?

Trap,
it's not just an ulcer.

If you've got one,
that's your ticket home.

You've got a
million-dollar hole

-in your belly.
-Hey.

Hey. Hey-hey!

You see that crater?

That's the money,
McIntyre.

Congratulations.
You've just given birth

to a bouncing
1.2 centimeter ulcer.

You are going back
to the world, my friend.

Before you know it,
you'll be home
sleeping on the couch

because you started
talking in your sleep.

You know, I feel so
terrible, I feel great.

You big, strong,
dumb, silent types

can't handle the tension.

All cool on the outside,
but inside

there's an acid factory
in your belly.

Hey, we gotta have
a snort on this.

A little something to, uh,
irrigate the inwards.

-Hear, hear.
-Scotch or bourbon?

-Right.
-No, by me.

Good boy. Radar.

Radar, bring us
some milk, will you?

Who died?

Yes, sir.

You better call home

and let your wife
know you're coming.

Right, you don't wanna
walk in on anything.

Some of those 4-Fs
run pretty big.

Ah, I can't tell you how
much it'll mean to me

to get back
and see my two girls.

Daddy's home.

Boy, I bet they've grown.

Probably shaving now.

Is everybody all right?

I'm going home, Radar.

He's got an ulcer.

Wow! You lucky pup...

-sir.
-Join us, Radar.

Go get a sterile bottle
and a clean nipple.

Oh, okay.

Henry, we gotta throw
the kid a farewell bash.

Absotively.

A monster,
embarrassing blowout.

You can come as your
favorite lamp shade.

Here's to Auld Lang Syne.

Skoal.

A votre santé.

Keeps the doctor away.

-Who's there?

FRANK: Just a little
bit of heaven.

Come in, Frank.

Hi, sweets.

You realize what McIntyre's
leaving means, don't you?

No, Frank.
What does it mean?

He'll be gone
and he'll be here.

They won't be them anymore.

-They'll only be him.
-Right.

From now on, Margaret,
instead of two against two,

it's us against him,
two against one.

Fine.

Of course, uh...

I prefer one against one.

Oh, please, Frank.

Well, why so
irritable, princess?

I'm not irritable,
Frank.

I'm just... fat.

You have a fat,
fat princess.

That just means there's
more of you to love.

So then you agree
I'm fat?

No, Margaret.
Not "fat" fat.

You're sort of halfway
between fat and thin

leaning a little bit
to the not fat

but rather the thin
side of fat.

In other words, fat.

No, you're actually thin,

for a person that
weighs as much as you do.

I'll tell you how
thin I am-- not very.

Margaret, you're what
I like to think of as...

full-bodied.

Is that what you like
to think of, Frank?

All the time.

You're all nice and round
and mushy and soft.

Unlike a certain
person back home

on whom I used
to cut myself.

Hey, Frank. What do you
have to do this afternoon?

Well, I'm garbage officer.

-The garbage can wait.
-The garbage can wait.

Do you realize,
you lucky bugger,

in a few days you're gonna
be eating unpowdered food?

Wearing clothes
made for humans?

Sleeping on clean sheets?

I don't think I can sleep
on clean sheets anymore.

Why don't you take
home a set of dirties?

The Garden of Allah.

And to think that
I could call this home.

Fungus grows on you.

After you go, I'm having
the place done over

in deep-pile germs.

And I won't be here.

I'll make you a doggy bag
of bacteria for the plane.

Here, take this.
I've read it eight times.

Sirs, you're looking
at a dying man.

I got 20 minutes
to live tops.

My blood pressure
is 200 over 310.

Stuffing cigars up
your armpits again?

When it gets
to 400, sell.

For now, exit laughing.

Sir, you're getting
out on an ulcer.

How did you do it?
What did you think about?

-How did you get it?
-I'm fertile, that's all.

And he just didn't
take any precautions.

Bye, Klinger.

"Bye, Klinger."
Every five minutes,

"Bye, Klinger."

Well...

it's all yours, Hawk.

Gonna move out?

Be a good chance to
get away from Frank.

No, I'll stay. I wouldn't
want a room without a Bible.

Thanks, Trap.

What?

You made it bearable.

I was lucky.

You were honest and open...

and let me lean on you.

No charge.

And if I'm ever
back this way...

I'll keep a light burning
for you in a bedpan.

Uh, yes, sir.
I'm writing it down.

Well, not really
shorthand, sir.

Sort of a long shorthand.

Yes, sir.

Hey, the troops are really
doing it tonight, huh?

Hey.

Where's Radar?
Anybody seen Radar?

Afraid somebody
will step on him?

I got something
for you, sir.

Save the present
for the party, Radar.

Oh, no, it's
a message from H.Q.

They, uh, got your X-ray
and your medical file

and they approved
your ulcer.

Oh, that's damn
nice of them.

Uh, yeah.

Well, uh, you report
to Tokyo General

for three weeks
of therapy, antacid,

planned diets,
tranquilizers,

the works.

Is this some kind
of an army screw-up?

I'm going home.

No.

They said they don't send
you home with an ulcer.

After you're cured
at Tokyo General,

they ship you off
to another unit.

I could wind up in
a place worse than this?

There's no place
worse than this.

Well, they give you
the choice of staying

where you are
and being cured.

This place
gave me the ulcer.

It gave me the runs.

Look, Radar, don't say
anything about this

to anybody, okay?
I'll take care of it.

Oh, sure.

Listen, I'm sorry you're
not going home, Trap.

-But I'm glad you're back.
-Thanks, Radar.

I'm driving down to Seoul
tomorrow night,

if that's of any
interest to you.

I don't go out with
married men, Colonel.

Well, neither do I.

Henry's at 6,000 feet
and holding.

You could do an
appendectomy on him

without an anaesthetic.

-Hey.
-Hey.

Here's the graduating
class.

Pierce, we're
losing our boy.

Well, we knew
he'd leave us one day.

One of the best darn cutters
in the whole shootin' match.

Both of you. Won't be
the same without you.

He's leaving.

You, either.

Uh, Margaret,
I should warn you.

Alcohol is quite
fattening.

It's all right, Frank.

I plan to throw up later.

Could you do me
a favor when you get
stateside, sir?

I need a black
evening bra.

No man should
be without one.

I'll pay for it.

I got my mad money
here someplace, sir.

Hold on to it, Klinger.

-Beat it.
-Yes, sir.

There you are, you.

You "aminal."

The major's
a little snoggered.

How can you tell?

Well, McIntyre.
I guess this is it.

I, uh, just wanted
you to know

I've always admired you.

-Always liked you.
-Thanks, Frank.

But I'm glad
you're going.

Quiet, Frank, or I'll
tie you to Emily Post.

-Frank.
-Hmm?

We're having a little
entertainment later.

Oh, good.

I understand you play
"America, the Beautiful"

on the spoons.

Oh, well.

It's nothing, really.

I'm sure.

If you come to my tent,
I'll keep my flaps up.

I've been waiting
a long time to tell
you something,

Captain Trapper
John-Intyre.

Really, Margaret?

I always watch you.
You wouldn't know that.

And every time you look
when I'm looking,

I watch something else
so that you can't see

that I've been looking
when you're watching.

I see.

Especially when you
play football

in your bathing trunks.

And now you're leaving.

And I'm stuck
with needle-nose.

Hold it down, everybody.

Let me have
your attention.

-Henry.
-Yo.

As you all know,

this is Trapper John's
last party with us.

While we're all saddened
that he's leaving,

we're gladdened
that he's going home

to the land of the
all-night generator.

Good friend,
good companion.

He's taken a lot of the
rottenness out of the war

for all of us.

We'll miss his stupid laugh.

We'll miss his two good hands.

HENRY: Honey, marriage has
nothing to do with sex.

Now a few presents for
the bar mitzvah boy.

From the nurses...

-Hey!
-Ha ha ha ha ha!

From the nurses, a pair
of all-weather pajamas,

-tops only.
-Hey.

You'll get the bottoms
a week after you're home.

Oh, you know what I mean?

From the enlisted men,

a matched pair
of cockroaches

bronzed and suitable
for use as cuff links.

You just killed
my cuff links.

And from the hospital staff,

a record album for
those quiet evenings

after the day's surgery
has been botched.

Sonja Henie Sings
Figure Eights For You.

Speech!

-Speech!
-Speech!

Speech!

Thanks.

Thanks, really. I, uh...

I appreciate it.

But as someone once said,

no good deed ever
goes unpunished.

I'm staying.

-Hmm?
-What?

That's right, no joke.

The army, in its
infinite insanity,

says I can't go home.

They've given me,
uh, several options,

the least objectionable
of which is staying here

with-- with you idiots

in this upholstered
men's room.

And as for you, Margaret,

I'll see you tomorrow night.

Trap, you're kidding.

I can kid better than that.

I'm buying.

Milk for everybody.

Awful. That's awful.

Time for your medication.

Yeah.

Three more weeks,
that's all.

You'll be up and playing
the violin again.

Swell, and I'm a ballerina.

What's that?

Tranquilizers.

They make you
relax completely.

They don't work.

They do so. Try it.

You first.