All language subtitles for MASH.S08E15.Yessir.Thats.Our.Baby.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-AJP69_track3_[eng]

Peg, it's your turn, honey.
I need to sleep some more.

Hawk?

Hawk?

Hawkeye, wake up.

What? What is it?

-You hear that?

That's called a bird, Beej.

And there's really
nothing to worry about

unless your pet worm
hasn't come home yet.

You dimwits!

I do not know whose
ill-mannered infant that is,

but if I go out there
and silence the din,

will that ring down
the curtain,

on this sunrise
vaudeville routine?

Come on, now. Easy.
No, no, no. That's all right.

Aha. Gentlemen--

At the risk of making
an irresponsible accusation,

I may have located
the source of the crying.

All right. That does it.

Somebody call
Selective Service

and tell them this time
they've gone too far.

Oops, oops. Hello.

The plot thickens.
Thank you.

Something tells me

that's not a set
of operating instructions.

"This is my baby.
She is--" What is that?

-"Good baby."
-"Good baby.

"Strong, beautiful.
Father American G.I.

"Gone now. Baby--

TOGETHER:
"American too.

-"Please--"
-"Doctors."

"Doctors, care for her.
I--" What's that?

"I cannot."

"I cannot,
but I love her."

Be careful with her,
Pierce.

-That's not a bag of laundry.
-I know what I'm doing.

She loves me.
Look at that smile.

-Gas.
-Gas, my foot.

How come it wasn't gas
when she smiled at you?

I don't know, Hawk.
Some people inspire love.

Some people inspire gas.

Move it over. Gangway.
The milkman cometh.

-Cometh right here, milkman.
-Here you go.

Ah.

Klinger, this thing
looks ridiculous.

Ridiculous is in the eye
of the beholder, Major.

Give the lad his due.
This bears a striking
resemblance

to the business end
of a Guernsey.

Works like one too.

Precisely. I'm no fool.

Here, Pierce.

Give a little squirt
to the little squirt.

Ah, one of the great whites--
Chaäteau Moo, '51 .

Oh.

That's a good girl.
That's a--

It always amazes me

how a baby can take
an otherwise normal adult

and turn him into
a babbling idiot.

Aha. How's our itty-bitty
little tent-mate?

-Amen.
-I've talked to
everyone at camp--

which, by the way,
is a first for me--

and no one saw
or heard a thing,

a fact confirmed by our
ever-vigilant sentries

and their seeing-eye dogs.

Pierce, as soon
as the little tyke
finishes breakfast

and, uh, any other
necessities,

she ought to have
a physical.

-Excellent idea, Colonel.
-Then I shall take over.

Since when
is she your patient?

Hunnicutt, my expertise,

is not merely limited
to brilliant surgery.

I happen to be
one of the finest
pediatricians extant.

Poop on your extant.
I've got a kid of my own.

I know where
all the parts are.

Poop on both of you.
It's feeders keepers.

I am about to make
a Solomon-like decision.

I'll cut Winchester in half,
ignore you two,

and do it myself.

-Ah.

There, now that's gas.

Fit as the proverbial fiddle.

Yeah.

Got to hand it to her mama.

This child may have
been abandoned,

but she sure
wasn't neglected.

Yeah, and it's no cinch
getting up

in the middle of the night
for the 2:00 bombing.

I ransacked the laundry

and found some stuff
the kid can wear.

Thank heaven
for skinny nurses.

How about that Klinger?
He'll give you the shirt

off somebody else's back.

And I cut up some sheets
and pillowcases for--

you know--
unmentionables.

Very thoughtful, Klinger.
Probably not a moment too soon.

Well, sir,
I understand babies.

It's the gypsy in my soul.

-Let me hold her.
-All right, but
just for a minute.

She doesn't like strangers.

Hey, you do that
very well, Klinger.

-Fair.
-Of course I do, sir.

Desert dwellers are very
affectionate people.

-I come from a long
line of long lines.
-Klinger!

-Uh-oh.
-Shh, shh.
-Shh, shh.

I heard about
what you did, you lowlife.

There's nothing sicker
than a laundry thief.

-It was for a good
cause, Major.
-It better be.

This pervert swiped
my best pajama shirts.

Pull in your horns,
Margaret.

Klinger commandeered
your jammies for the papoose.

Oh, well. For her I can
sleep in my bottoms.

And if you're not warm enough,
call me. I'm the tops.

Forget it, tops.
Give me the baby, Klinger.

Come on, Major.
I just got her myself.

That's an order, Corporal.

Klinger, present baby.

It's enough to drive a man
to Officers' Candidate School.

Oh, my goodness gracious.

There you are, you little--

Oh, my goodness.

Hello there, sweetheart.
I'm your Auntie Margaret.

Why, Auntie Margaret,

I had no idea
you were so maternal.

I can just see you
with a house

full of little teeny
majorettes.

Any word about who she is
or where she's from?

-Nary a clue.
-Captain Hunnicutt
and Major Winchester

are checking
the local villages.

I think they're
whistling up a rope.

Her mother's too cagey,
slipping in and out
with nobody seeing her.

Didn't even leave us
the child's name.

Why don't we keep her till she's
old enough to talk?

Then she can tell us
herself.

You know, we should
name her something.

-That's a good idea.
-She's mysterious,

like the shifting sand.

Let's call her Scheherazade.

Seems a tad exotic.
Let's keep working on it.

In the meantime,
we've got to find a place

for the little lady to bunk.

-She'll stay in my tent.
-No fair, Margaret.

Who put you in charge
of guest accommodations?

Oh, Pierce. Look around.

This place is warm.
It's pleasant. It's a home.

That gutter you're in is
a festival of old sneakers,

dirty laundry,
and yesterday's booze.

That's what makes it perfect.
She can't mess it up.

I understand the stork dropped
off a package while I was gone.

Good morning, Padre.
This little lady seems
to be alone in the world.

Do you think the good sisters
at the orphanage can help out?

I'm sure they can, Colonel.

The first rule of orphanages
and Irish families is

"There's always room
for one more."

MARGARET:
Isn't she lovely?

Oh, yes.
Yes, quite nice.

Nice? She's gorgeous.

Doesn't she deserve at least
a "Wow" or a "Holy smoke"?

Where's the oohs and ahhs?

Is this child
of mixed parents?

All we know is that
there was one of each.
Is that mixed enough?

Her father's an American,
and her mother's Korean.

-I was afraid of that.
-What's the problem?

We want to get her
into an orphanage,
not a country club.

The orphanage will
take her, of course,

but that won't help her much.

The problems
faced by the children

of American soldiers
and Korean women

are very serious.

When the people of the villages
find out about them,

the lives of the children
and mothers become a horror.

They're outcasts.

Little boys
have been emasculated,

and little girls
killed outright.

My God.

Even in the orphanage,

the other Korean children
will be very cruel to her.

And when she grows up,
she'll be ostracized

by every segment
of Korean society.

This child has no future
here, none at all.

She'll end up a virtual
slave--or worse.

There must be somebody
who can help this kid.

I'm afraid not.

Her only hope--
and that's slim at best--

would be sanctuary in one
of the old Catholic missions.

We'll take it.
Slim is better than none.

What do we do?
Where are these places?

There's one not too far off.

Armies, for centuries,

have fought around it,
left it untouched.

The monks will keep her
cloistered, educate her,

and in 15 or 20 years,

working with their other
monasteries abroad,

perhaps they can
get her out of Korea.

With all due respect,
Father,

that doesn't sound
like much of a life.

It isn't.

-But it's the best we can do.
-No it's not.

She's half American.
We'll send her to America

and get her a room
at the Statue of Liberty.

I just hope that Red Cross
lady will appreciate the fact

that I'm wearing my
Sunday-go-to-court-martial
clothes.

The coat and tie are bad enough,
but these shoes are killing me.

How would I look
in Class A's and sneakers?

Stupid. Would you two
just hurry up?

-You're gonna be late.
-And no funny stuff.

The Red Cross ain't exactly
headquarters for rib-tickling.

Yes, Dad. Take good
care of the baby.

Don't try to slip her any
spinach while we're gone.

I don't trust them, Hawk.
Let's take her with us.

-Ah-ah.
-Babies love jeep rides.

Leave her be, you lunatic.
She's just now dozing off.

Don't rile them, Beej.
You know how vicious
they get

when they're
protecting their young.

Another doughnut?

Uh, no, thank you.
Five's my limit.

Look, could we just
get back to the baby?

Fine, gentlemen.

Why not just accept the facts?

There is nothing
the Red Cross can do.

Our areas of responsibility--

BOTH: Are very specific.

B.J.: We know that,
Miss Harper.

You folks do a barrel of
good for G.I.s, refugees--

God knows we appreciate
the blood you send us.

Our patients can't get enough
of it. But why stop there?

Why don't you do something
about the Amerasian babies?

There are more
of them every day.

It's out of our hands.

We have enough trouble

dealing with what we're
responsible for.

And while I agree
that this is serious--

Oh, terrific. A kid's
entire life is at stake,

and you agree it's serious.

Sarcasm isn't going
to help, Captain.

Then maybe we better
leave, Hawk.

All I got left
is sarcasm.

Me too. See you.

Thanks for the use
of the hall.

Look, Captain.

I think what you're trying
to do is admirable--

naive, but admirable--

and I'd like to help,

but there is nothing
the Red Cross can do.

Then who do we talk to?

I recommend your next
step be the army.

Oh, great. The army and I
are just like this.

-This happens to be
a family secret,

-handed down
from father to son.
-Pay attention now.

The "popo" must
be placed dead center.

-"Popo"?
-Yes, the "popo."

Notice the neat folds,

and the snug fit
in the hips and the legs.

Guaranteed not to slip,
slide, or blow off,

during the most violent
desert storm.

-Comes in handy.

There you have it, my dear.

You're the proud wearer
of a Lebanese serape.

That was a wonderful
job, Klinger.

You're gonna make
a marvelous father.

Maybe someday, Major--

after I get out of here,

get back home,
make a few bucks.

It'll be a son-- Not that I
have anything against girls.

-I married one once.

But it'll be a boy--

somebody I can take
to the Mud Hen games,

shoot a rack of 8 ball with,
go bowling.

Then again, I could
get very attached
to a little girl.

And I got a footlocker
full of hand-me-downs.

You must believe me.

There is no way
we can help you.

-Now, the closest
we can come is this.
-What's this?

That's a D.F., C-1 39.
That's a disposition form.

Ah, a form. Now we're
getting someplace.

I don't know. Is this
a good disposition form

or a rotten disposition form?

It covers marriage to,

or adoption of,
indigenous personnel.

With that, you must have
a complete personal history

of all the involved parties.

You have to have a letter
from the chaplain.

The company commander then
recommends for approval

or-- or rejection.

He wouldn't dare.
We'd hide his horse.

Pardon me?

Never mind.
You were saying about the--

Oh. Yeah. Um, if the--

if the company C.O.
approves,

it gets bucked
to Battalion,

then to Division,
then to I-Corps.

Any one of whom could
reject it for any reason.

Roger. But if it--
If it passes I-Corps--

-God gets it.
-Nope, the 8th Army.

-Same thing.
-Who can endorse
for approval,

reject for insufficient
information,

return without
any action at all--

or for further
investigation--

and you start
all over again.

All right, look. Let me see
if I got this straight.

Let's say,
just for the fun of it,

that we want to adopt her.

Our doctor told us

we can't have
children of our own.

We fill out this D.F. form.

We buck it all the way
to MacArthur.

Would that get her
out of Korea?

Not a chance.

Major,
why is this so tough?

All we want, somehow,

is to send a baby
to the States.

How do we do that?

-How about parcel post?
-Very funny.

Look, Captain,
when you first got here,

I explained to you

that this is covered
under Korean civil law.

This is not an army matter.

Not an army matter?
You jackass!

Where do you think
that child came from?

You've got people
in American soldier suits,

running around out there
making babies--

and then making tracks.

Don't you think it's about
time it became an army matter?

Captain, there is a war
going on out there.

We cannot be responsible
for what happens

when a soldier gets lonely.

Why the hell are
you two so steamed up
over some kid anyway?

One of you guys
the, uh, daddy?

Oh, it's a good thing
for you we're doctors

'cause I'm gonna break
every bone in your body.

So what do you think?
Not bad, huh?

She's doing great.

At least
she had a good day.

Klinger,
my compliments to Zale
on making that cradle.

Hey, the handle part
was my idea.

Congratulations, Klinger.
This might mean a Nobel Prize.

You have invented the stick.

If you'd invented it
earlier,

it might have helped us
reason with Major Spector.

Damned if you two 8 balls
don't tarnish my brass.

Hold it down,
Colonel, please.

You go to talk to some
people about a baby,

and you practically
wind up in a fistfight.

Sir, could you rock
a little slower?

You're gonna flip her
right out of there.

Oh. Sorry.

I don't blame them
for getting angry.

-I wish I'd been there.
-Well, I don't.

They got into enough
trouble on their own.

They guy had it coming,
with that "daddy" stuff.

Besides, we didn't hit him
or anything.

-All we did was
intimidate him a little.
-A little?

Threatening to file
the A.G.'s top aide

under D for Deceased

is not your
everyday howdy-do.

Sir, the baby.

I know, I know.

Colonel-- Colonel,

perhaps I might accompany
you on your next visit.

Certainly
I possess the dignity

and the sensitivity necessary
for such occasions.

Mule muffins.

Tomorrow is that
South Korean
government official,

and I'm not trusting anybody's
damn sensitivity but my own.

Hunnicutt,
you're staying home.

Pierce,
I'm going with you.

Aw, Colonel,
you never take me anyplace.

We're already at war
with half of Korea.

I don't want to wind up
fighting the whole country.

Gentlemen, it is
truly not a matter

for my government
to deal with.

This kid has a label
that says "Made in Korea."

Who do we talk to,
Yugoslavia?

I am sorry.

What about the terrible
stories we hear?

Mutilating babies,
killing them?

Sadly, Colonel,
in some cases they are true.

-My God. What kind
of a place is this?
-Easy, Pierce.

We're just visitors
in this country.

It's all right, Colonel.

The captain
asks a valid question.

Then how about
a valid answer?

This is an ancient land,
Captain.

Its culture goes back
many, many centuries.

It has survived many wars.
Our people are of one race.

It is their feeling
that an intrusion

of a mixed-race child
into such an ordered society

represents disorder.

Such a child is hated here.

Yeah, so I've heard.

I do not deny

that they are treated
with terrible cruelty.

Korean law barely
acknowledges their existence

and protects them not at all.

-Swell.
-This may seem harsh
and inflexible,

but such attitudes
are not unique to my country.

Oh, who is it now,
Bolivia?

No, Captain.

Your United States.

Americans are not the only
ones fathering such children,

but they are the only ones
who ignore them.

France, Great Britain,
the Netherlands

acknowledge a responsibility

for these unfortunate
babies of their military.

They will support and help
them, offer them citizenship,

but the United States--

where all men
are created equal--

refuses to do this.

You reject the children
of your own people.

I hate to say I told you so,
but I told you so.

Perhaps you'd like
to reconsider my suggestion,

that we leave the child
at the monastery.

Pierce, you've been
toting this banner
higher than anybody.

-What do you think?
-I don't know, Colonel.

I think we ought to take
another shot at it.

I'd like to go to the U.S.
consulate in Tokyo.

Okay, Pierce. Nothing
much medical going on.

One fly in the ointment,
let's face it.

You're packing
a full load of rude.

Flatterer.

These are consulate people,
the kind of folks

who put skivvies
on lamb chops.

This calls
for sophistication,

for the kind of person
who speaks fluent hoi polloi.

Pierce, take it easy.

I do apologize

for these constant
interruptions.

Well. Well.

You gentlemen appear to have
a most perplexing problem.

We certainly do.

Mr. Prescott, can you
see your way clear

-to help us through some red--

Excuse me.
Prescott here.

No, no, not at all.

Just a minute.
I'll be right in.

I'm terribly sorry.
Busy, busy day.

Why these people
cannot take care of some

of these matters themselves,
I fail to understand.

If he tries to leave
the room one more time,

he's gonna be
a diplomatic corpse.

Now you see, Pierce?

This is precisely the reason
that I am needed here.

Your pugnacious attitude
will accomplish nothing.

Ooh, but it'll make me
feel so good.

You're clearly out
of your element here.

This is a time for civility
and graciousness.

There is no room for rancor.

How about
just one bolo punch?

Look, if you wish
to accomplish our objective,

you will leave this to me.

I'm well-versed in the art

of verbal thrust and parry,
give and take.

Kick and gouge.

Sit there.
Keep your mouth shut.

I will orchestrate
these proceedings
to a successful--

Well, so much for that.

-Delightful of you
to drop in on us again.
-Can you imagine?

Those cretins were
actually going to seat

the deputy chargy d'affaires
next to a sumo wrestler.

-Oh! How gauche!
-Yes.

Yes,
these are trying times.

-Yes, they certainly are.
-They take one's attention

away from the important
issues at hand.

For example, the disposition

of the unfortunate child
we were discussing.

Yes, the child.

The one we want to send
to the States. That child.

Yes.

Well, the answer's no.

No?
Just like that? No?

Pierce, please.
Mr. Prescott,

surely you will agree
that this is a decision

that should not be
made in haste.

There must be
some discussion.

Actually, none whatsoever.

We cannot admit
an unattended juvenile

with no resident
relatives to the States.

-But--
-And no application

for such admission
can be processed
without authority,

from a blood relative

in the child's
country of origin.

-Now, see here--
-Look, Prescott,

this unattended juvenile
you're so blithely dismissing

could conceivably be murdered
in the name of racial purity.

You got space on your
application for that?

Pierce, I'm handling this,
remember?

There is nothing to handle.

The Immigration and
Naturalization Service,

by statute, has strict
quota restrictions.

My hands are tied.

-Now there's an idea.
-Just a moment.

Mr. Prescott, there
are always alternatives.

Not in this case, Major.

Mr. Prescott,

I have friends
of considerable influence--

-Gentlemen--
-Congressmen--

...you are wasting my time.

-...senators--
-Please believe me,

this is departmental
policy.

-...cabinet members--
-There can be no immigration

under the circumstances
you have set forth.

-...captains of industry.
-Good day.

There is nothing good
about it, Mr. Prescott.

We are discussing
a little girl--

a human being who is
facing a life of misery--

an issue infinitely
more important than you

-and your stupid
seating arrangements!
-Charles--

-Shut up, Pierce!

Mr. Prescott is in conference.
Let them eat out.

-How dare you!
-You smarmy
bureaucratic microbe,

you're going to that dinner
breathing through your fly.

Run for your life,
Prescott!

It's a wild bore!

We'd best be off.

I hope we're doing
the right thing, Father.

I'm not too crazy
about a monastery

that you have to visit
in the dead of night.

Major,
it has to be done this way
to preserve their secrecy.

You better get going.
It's a long ride.

So long, honey.
Take good care of yourself.

-I'm gonna miss you.
-We all are.

Bye now, little one.

For somebody who
passed through so fast,

you sure turned
this place upside down.

Thanks.

Okay, Beej.
Let's go--and don't hurry.

Here it is.
The revolving cradle,
just like I told you.

Why can't we just
use the front door
like ordinary people?

The monks want no
contact with anyone.

The child must be left
in complete secrecy,

or she'll not be accepted.

It's a tradition that goes
back many generations.

B.J.:
Okay, let's just do it.

HAWKEYE:
This is the final irony.

I feel like we're
making a bank deposit.

-Well?
-Well--

Well?

Well.

Good-bye, small one.

So long, angel.
Thanks for coming by.

Go in peace, my child.

In nomini Patri et Fili
et Spiritu Sancti.

You brought a little light
to a dark and dismal place,

and you'll never know
what you've meant

to a bunch of tired people
stuck in a very strange time.

Be happy.

Suction, please.

Clamp. Thank you.

Ten more sponges, Doctor.

Thank you.
Retract that, please.

Okay. I got it.

It's funny. All we do here
is fight pain and death,

and suddenly
we had a small life.

Well, I don't care
where she is.

A little piece of her
is gonna go home
with each one of us.

Sponge.