All language subtitles for MASH.S08E21.Goodbye.Cruel.World.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-AJP69_track3_[eng]

Yes, sir. Mildred says it's
the first one on the block.

Made by the DuMont folks.

Comes in a handsome
wood cabinet

with little saloon doors.

B.J.: Peg and I
just love television.

We'd cuddle up and smooch
while we watched.

One night we got
so carried away,

we almost fell
through the store window.

CHARLES: Television is just

a passing fad, a toy.

The only time I ever
switched on a receiver,

I was confronted
with a smiling,

singing seltzer
pill named Speedy.

MARGARET:
Phooey on you.

Imagine being able
to see what Jack Benny
really looks like.

According to Mildred,
he's four inches high

with a ripple in his middle

and a little ghost that
stands right next to him.

Salutations, burners
of the midnight oil.

We've got a customer.

Over here, Klinger.

I'm all dressed up
with no place to sew.

You're about to patch up
Sergeant Michael Yee.

His buddies in pre-op say he's
a bona fide decorated hero.

I read about him
in Stars and Stripes.

He's seen a lot of action.

HAWKEYE:
Look at all those scars.

He's a V.I.P., all right.

A very injured person.

Klinger, what the devil's

in that enormous crate
in your office?

Oh, it caught
the colonel's eye?

It damn near caught
the colonel's toe.

I strongly recommend

you ship that receptacle
out of tripping range.

-Capisce?
-Ah, fret not, hostile honcho.

That crate contains
boundless wonders

from the four corners
of Toledo.

-Klinger, have you seen--

Great balls of fire!

Klinger!

Colonel, thank goodness
you're here.

Could you give me a nail?

You wouldn't like
where I'd put it.

Why does my
company clerk's office

look like
Polly Adler's parlor?

Sir, these are treasures
of my civilian world.

My mom sent me a
few things from my room.

Made you sleep in
the attic, did she?

What, pray tell, is this?

Shanklish cheese, sir.

Sort of a Lebanese Limburger.
Aromatic, isn't it?

Makes the whole office
smell like feet.

Am I to take it the colonel
is displeased with the decor?

Bull's-eye, Corporal.

Now, take these
Arabian... nightmares...

and put 'em where they
belong--in the minefield.

Sir, you would destroy
my family's precious heirlooms?

My father's trophy.

Three times Bowler of the Year,
at the height of the Depression.

My uncle Hakim was married
under this lamp, twice!

And look, with my
Aunt Fatima's rug,

I made a private room.

If you don't take it down,

this is going to be
a private's room.

With all due respect, sir,

I think most people would
find these homey touches

quite refreshing
and beautiful.

Corporal, I could order you

to clear out
the Harem Home Furnishings,

but let's let democracy ring.

Go corral a couple
of your favorite doctors

for a second opinion.

They were so close,
I could hear 'em breathing.

MARGARET: Mmm.

So I threw a grenade
and took off.

Half hour later, I ran
into a platoon of G.I.s

digging in for the night.

I told the second looey he had
two divisions coming at him

and, if he stayed there,
he was gonna be overrun.

-He must have been
very grateful.

He looks me over,
points his weapon at me,

and says, "Who won
the World Series in '50?"

-He thought you were a spy.
-Oh, you're not kidding.

I had to go through the
whole story on how the Yankees

clobbered the Whiz Kids
in four straight.

-How awful.
-I know. I'm a Phillies fan.

I'm not up on baseball myself,

although I am partial
to the Cardinals.

-Oh, Father.

Hey, what's going on here?

This man's supposed to stay
off his funny bone for a week.

Pierce,
I'm glad you're here.

Sergeant Yee's been asking
for you all morning.

Yeah, Doc.
You gotta get me out of here.

-My unit's moving up again.
-What's your hurry?

We just did a major
repair job on your leg.

You don't want to run off
while you're still
under warranty.

Come on, Doc. You gotta
get me back on the line.

The only fighting
you're gonna be doing

is for a window seat
on the plane home.

-Home?
-Yeah, you remember.

Where the buffalo roam?

Where taps are those
little things

Shirley Temple
wears on her shoes.

Home.

Wow, I gotta let that sink in.

Well, let it sink.
You're on your way.

Sir and madam sir.
There's an impromptu meeting

of the entire staff
in my office.

We had a staff meeting
yesterday.

Important new business.
Let's go.

Well! Huh?

What do you think?

You said this was a staff
meeting, not a rummage sale.

You've got everything here
but a statue with a clock
in its stomach.

Klinger--
looking at these treasures,

I now understand why
Toledo is kept in Ohio.

These are treasures!
That's a genuine Persian rug.

You rich people use 'em
in your houses.

Not as walls.

Will you also be laying some
paintings on the floor?

Klinger, you've
outdone yourself.

There's not one thing
here that belongs
on a military base.

-Unless you're with a unit
of fighting grandmothers.

-Of course, the cheese does
have killing capabilities.
-Oh, yeah.

Son, looks like all
the votes are in.

Heirlooms 1, garbage 5.

Oh, I get it. I get it.

I'm over here
fighting for democracy

for everybody but me.

-Aww.
-You have chintz curtains.

-But--
-And you two guys
have a distillery.

And you have a
red velvet pillow.

And you, sir,
have a saddle

-and a painting of a thumb.
-Oh!

None of that stuff
will vault you

into the pages of
Better Homes and Gardens.

Well, this is my room.

Why can't I put up
my own personal tchotchkes?

Because this is also
our reception room.

Folks get their
first impression from
what they see here,

and I don't want 'em thinking
this is a weekend retreat

for Ali Baba
and the missus.

-But, Colonel--
-Thank you, ladies and
gentlemen of the jury.

The defendant is
found guilty

of littering and second-degree
eye-slaughter.

Actually,
this place does look
kind of chic and Arab-y.

Thanks a lot, pals!

Now, look, son, you've
had your little fling.

You've got one hour to crate
up these carny prizes.

Sir, this took me all
night to put 'em up.

How can I take 'em down
in an hour?

Rub this.

- Uh, uh--
- Knock-knock.

You're back? Some late-breaking
bon mots at my expense?

-No.
-We wanted to make sure

you didn't take
this too seriously.

It was all in good fun,
if not in good taste.

Sure, sure.

You're not gonna stew
about this, are you?

Nah. There's
an old Arabic saying:

He who lives in a tent

knows that all things
blow over. Right?

Yeah, yeah. Okay. Okay.

I love your place,
really. Really.

There's another
old Arabic saying:

When the going gets tough,
the nomad gets going.

Sparky? Klinger. Don't ask.

Listen, Spark,
I need some help

filling out a set
of discharge papers.

I'll tell you
who's getting sprung--

the only friend
I got in this camp.

-Now, watch this.
-Yeah.

-Did I hit one?
-No, but we have
a new peephole.

Watch this shot.
I saw it in a rodeo once.

Wait! Wait a minute! Geez!

-All right.
-Uh-huh.

-One, two...
-Uh-huh.

-Three.

What in the hell?
You behemoth!

Look what you've done!

You've broken the bulb
in my reading lamp!

Oh, what a shame. You'll
have to wait till sunup

to find out if
the Little Engine could.

Captain Pierce, Colonel Potter
needs you in post-op.

-What's up?
-It's Sergeant Yee. Hurry!

I thought everybody was asleep,
and then I heard a crash.

He broke his water glass,
and by the time I got to him,

he'd already
slashed his wrists.

Pretty deep too.
Could be tendon damage.

Geez, he pulled out
all my sutures.

He doesn't just need stitching,
he needs reweaving.

Let's get him into O.R.

I don't understand.

Why would a man like that
try to commit suicide?

Sherman...

T. Potter.

Sherman...

T. Potter.

Perfecto!
Could fool his own mother.

Sherman T.--

B.J.:
Hey, Klinger.

Captain, this is
hardly the hour

to come barging
into my private room

though from the impersonal
furnishings,

it could belong to anybody.

Sorry. I'm not gonna
get a wink of sleep

till I get Winchester
a lightbulb.

We're out of lightbulbs.
Good night.

Klinger, why are you
sitting like that?

Oh.

-Lumbago, sir.
-Hmm.

Very unusual in one so young.
Maybe I should take a look.

Oh, it's gone.
I'm fine.

-What are you hiding?
-Oh, come on, sir.

Klinger.
Haven't you learned

you'll never
get away with this?

Ah, but now
I'm company clerk.

I have assembled
everything necessary

for the man who wants to
get away from it all.

Letter from my mother,

obviously distraught at
my father's imminent demise.

Here's one from
the family priest,

swearing that "If Max doesn't
come home immediately

the family will be penniless
and on the dole."

Here's the piece de resistance
from Colonel Potter himself.

"It is with a heavy heart
that I give my official

"okeydokey to
this lad's adios.

"Sincerely, Sherman T. Potter.

P.S. Please forgive
the tear stains
on this parchment."

Klinger, this is nuts.

The colonel's gonna know
he didn't discharge you.

He'll have every M.P.
in Korea on your tail.

-Captain, this isn't
a mashed potato.
-Huh?

Tomorrow I ask the colonel
for a three-day pass.

By the time he realizes
I'm missing,

I'll be a face in the crowd
at a Mud Hens game.

You dummy!
Toledo is the first place
they're gonna look for you.

Sure, for Max Klinger,

but not for Sven Lundgren.

-Sven?
-Shh!

Yumpin' yiminy, not so loud.

It'll never work.

You'd have to bleach
your entire body.

Thanks! That'll clinch it.

You Swedish meatball.

The whole point of this thing
is to get your freedom, right?

You catch on fast,
oh friend of Sven.

Spending your entire life
on the run

living under an assumed
name, with assumed hair,

knowing that at any moment
you could end up in the clink.

Does that sound like freedom?

Hmm. Maybe you're right.

What made me think
one heartsore corporal

could outsmart the entire
United States government?

It's a stupid plan,
but you gotta admit

that is a pretty authentic
"Sherman T. Potter."

Could fool his own mother.

Attaboy.

B.J.? You're not gonna
fink on me.

Hey, I just came
in for a lightbulb.

What a swell guy.

I'm gonna miss him.

Sherman T. Potter.

Bulb: light.
Type: screw.

Wattage: 60. Quantity: one.

You are only ordering one?

That's all I need. I have
no use for lightbulbs.

It's not like
I have my own lamp.

I guess I could always
screw one into the floor.

Klinger, whatever has
become of your frivolous
pet-like demeanor?

Your bulb should be here
tomorrow, Major.

Thank you, Corporal.

And, uh, in all honesty,
I prefer you this way.

"Pet-like demeanor."

Him I won't miss.

-Thanks for the lift, Sergeant.
-My pleasure, doc.

You know, I've never met
a head shrink before.

Am I okay?

I'd never get rich on you.

Well, Max. Last time
I saw your face,

it was under a bonnet.

-Dr. Freedman.
-You seem awfully formal.

What'd you expect?
Pet-like demeanor?

Uh-huh.

I assume Sergeant Yee's
in post-op.

Yeah,they're waiting for you.

-Thanks.
-Sure. Go on.

Abandon me like
everybody else.

Trample my feelings like
they were so many dead roses.

Uh, Klinger,
can you hold that thought?

You Klinger?
You got something
going to I-Corps?

Oh, I wasn't expecting you
till this afternoon.

The lights were with me.

You got a packet
or don't you?
I gotta move.

Yeah. I got a packet.

Are you gonna give it to me,

or are you gonna send
it by carrier pigeon?

Here, go on. The G-1
is waiting for it,

so move it out smartly.

You know, that doctor could
do you a world of good, pal.

You take it from a guy that's
playing with a full deck.

Three-day passes.

Three-day passes.

Most of the attempted
suicides over here

are young kids going to war
for the first time

but Sergeant Yee fought
in Europe in World War II.

Nothing like the combat
record he's got here,

but he was
a competent soldier.

What do you think it is,
Sidney?

I think it's time
I went to the source.

-Hello, Sidney.
-Hello, Margaret.

Father Mulcahy.

Hello there, doctor.
Glad you're here.

Lieutenant, may I talk
with your patient?

You can talk, but he's not
big on answers, doctor.

I'll be over there
if you need me.

-Great.
-Sidney.

Hello, Sergeant.
I'm Sidney Freedman.

-I'm a psychiatrist.
-They tell you I was nuts?

They told me you tried
to kill yourself.

It's not easy to do
in a hospital.

Why did you try?

I wanted to go
back and fight.

-Wouldn't you rather go home?
-Goldbricks go home.

You've been badly wounded.

That hardly makes you
a goldbrick, Michael.

May I call you Michael?

You call me what you want.

Michael, right now what
you need most is rest.

I think I can help you.
Will you let me try?

Do I have to do anything?

All you have to do is relax.

All right?

I want you to look at this.

Keep your eyes on it.

Klinger.

You interrupted, sir?

Klinger,
ever since yesterday,

you've been surly to bed
and surly to rise.

And with good
reason, sir. You--

I'm trying to say
I'm sorry for the way

we all made sport
of your decor.

Talk is cheap, sir.

If the colonel really cares
about my shattered feelings,

perhaps he'd authorize
a three-day pass for me.

Jim-dandy idea.
Glad to do it.

You are?

You betcha. That'll
be just the ticket

to put the twinkle back
in your twenty-twentys.

As a matter of fact,
let's do 'er.

-I'll put my moniker
on one right now.
-Now, sir?

-You mean now?
-No sense dillydallying.

Where do you stow those forms,
under "W" for whoopee?

Well, what do you know?
Here's one on my desk.

Good.

Sherman...

T. Potter.

-Perfecto.
-Compliments of the management.

-Sir, you're too kind.
-And here's a bonus for you.

You had a point about homey
touches making the war

go down a little easier.

So feel free to put up any
one of your gypsy doodads.

Except the cheese.

Thank you, sir.
I'll pick something out later.

Well, suit yourself.
Have a bang-up trip.

Yes, sir.
And thank you again, sir.

Captain! Thank goodness
you're still here.

Rizzo said you'd just
signed out the last jeep.

Yep, I got a free afternoon,

so thought I'd go drown
a couple of worms.

-You gotta let me
have that jeep.
-Why?

You know those
forged discharge papers

-I didn't send to I-Corps?
-Yeah?

They're halfway to I-Corps.
If the G-1 reads them,

I'll be enrolled in
Officers Convict School.

You said you weren't gonna
go through with it, Sven.

-And you believed me?
-Whatever.

I'm not providing you
with a getaway jeep.

I don't want to get away.
I want to stay.

-Then stay.
-Are you kidding?

If I stay, I'll be
arrested for forgery.

Then you are going?

Going? How could you even
suggest a thing like that?

After he put his
arm around me?

Told me to pick out
my very own doodads?

Signed his moniker?
Told me to have a bang-up trip

with those big blue eyes?

Okay. Okay. A man can resist
only so much gibberish.

-Take the jeep.
-Oh, thank you! Thank you!

You're a gentleman
and an officer.

Eight.
More and more alert now.

Nine, 10. Eyes open.

-How do you feel?
-Okay.

I guess I took a little nap.

Do you remember anything?

About what?

-Lieutenant.
-Yes, Doctor?

Well, Michael, I don't think
we need these anymore.

I think we're
about done for now.

I'll be back
to see you later.

Try to get some rest.

Oh, I was hoping to get up
a game of stickball.

It's time for your pill.

You just gave me one
five minutes ago.

What?

You gave me a pill
when the doc came over.

That was two hours ago.

Sidney.

Are you sure taking off those
restraints is a good idea?

I wanted to show him
I trust him.

Yeah, but can we
take the chance?

He's being held together

by 3-0 silk
and wishful thinking.

If he tries to kill himself
again, he's halfway there.

-He's out of danger.
-What are you talking about?

He's twitching
like a nervous wreck.

Listen, let's go in
there for a minute.

It's a matter
of deep-seated guilt.

In all his 10 years
in the service

this is the first time he's
ever fought an Asian enemy.

He's been looking through
a gunsight at people

who could be members
of his own family.

No wonder he felt guilty.

It would be like my declaring
war on Crabapple Cove.

Exactly.
Only in his case it's worse.

He has to kill Chinese
to be a good American.

Then he has to kill himself
to be a good Chinese.

A man without two countries.

Freud would have
flipped over this one.

All I did was give him
a substitute symptom.

I told him under hypnosis
that when he feels the guilt,

instead of punishing himself
with suicide,

he should twitch his hand.

He's not even aware
he's doing it.

Better to twitch your hand
than take a second try at
killing yourself.

Second try? Remember all
those dangerous missions?

He's been trying to kill
himself since he got to Korea.

Hey, soldier!
You can't go in there!

What's going on, Sergeant?

Please excuse my apparent
effrontery, sir,

but I've driven all the way
from the 4077th MASH

on a matter of
great importance.

I see. Very well.
I'll take care
of this, Sergeant.

Thank you, Sergeant.
That'll be all.

All right, Corporal.
What's this all about?

Sir, did you receive
some discharge papers

for one Corporal
Maxwell Q. Klinger?

I certainly did.
I just went through them.

A tragic case.

My heart goes out to that man

and what's left of his family.

I will not rest until that
boy's home where he's needed.

Oh, no, sir,
You can't do that.

Why? Everything's in order.

Because! Because...

the whole thing is
a bogus tissue of lies.

-What?
-I have it on
the best of authority

that those documents
are forged.

That's not possible!
There's a letter here
from a priest.

-Blasphemous!
-It's even got

Sherm Potter's
official okeydokey.

Granted, it's a masterful
forgery, sir.

No doubt this Klinger character
is brilliant but twisted.

Perhaps you're familiar
with his checkered history?

He used to wear dresses.

Oh, that nut.

He once sent me bonbons.

It comes as no
surprise to me, sir.
He'll stop at nothing.

Thank you for your
information, Corporal--

uh, Corporal, um...

O'Reilly, sir. Walter O'Reilly.

Funny. You don't look Irish.

Black Irish, sir.
Remember the Spanish Armada?

I know you. You're Radar.

We've spoken on the phone.

Oh, golly-whiz, yes.
A million times,
Your Colonelness.

Well, you can tell
Sherm Potter

that I'm putting
this Klinger yoyo up

on immediate
disciplinary action.

Oh, that's really swell, sir,

but couldn't you just let
Colonel Potter have him?

I mean, he is so
P .U.'d at Klinger,

he's ready to
convene a firing squad.

Well, I can understand that.

Since he's had to put up
with all of Klinger's bull,

I think it's only fair to let
old Sherm have his hide.

Here you are, Corporal.

Oh, thank you,
Your Coloneldom.

This will put a smile
on the old man's heart.

Sergeant!

The colonel will see you now.

Last call for
the 4077 express.

Pullman service
to Seoul, Tokyo,

and all points civilized.

We're happy to announce
there is no dining car.

I hope I didn't cause you guys
too much trouble.

I think we should be
saying that to you.

Ready, Michael?

You coming with me, doc?

No, but I'll get
over to visit you
as often as I can.

I sure hope so.

Take care of yourself,
Sergeant.

-You did good, doc.

Oh, just meatball psychiatry.

There's still a lot more work to
do.

He almost killed himself,

and we never suspected
a thing.

I think our job may
be a little easier
than yours, Sidney.

At least we can always see
where they're bleeding.

Ah, I see the colonel
is basking in the glow
of my swag lamp.

Ornamental
yet functional.

Brilliantly illuminates
every word on this page.

What words are those, sir?

Same words over and over.

"Sherman T. Potter,
Sherman T. Potter."
Ad infinito.

Any idea who the signatory is?

-Why, uh, you are, sir.
-Me?

Now, why the devil
would I scribble my
John Hancock 47 times?

Ah, you were
sleepwalking, sir.

I didn't want to wake you.
I thought it might be dangerous.

Probably would have been.

Thanks for clearing that
up for me, Corporal.

By the way, you put
too much swoop on the "T."