“Heal Thyself” (s08e17) opens as Sherm is being diagnosed with the mumps. It’s concluded that he became infected at the orphanage, to which Hawk retorts, “Gee, I just thought those kids were doing great Charles Laughton impressions.” I have great respect for this weird reference to the thick-necked actor, famous for roles like Dr. Moreau in Island of Lost Souls and Captain Bligh in Mutiny on the Bounty. It is possibly the strangest, most arcane joke in all of MASH, it’s completely awkward in the context, and it doesn’t land very well at all. I love it.
Three years or so before the debut of “Cheers,” Shelley Long guests as Nurse Nancy Mendenhall in “Bottle Fatigue.” When a newly teetotal Hawk tries to mansplain her out of drinking wine during their date, Mendenhall calls it off. A born bartender, although the role is disappointingly small. “If I would have known that I was going to receive a temperance lecture,” she says, “I would have made a date with someone more fun. Like a cadaver.”
MASH has its share of sweet, tender, tear-jerking moments, Lord knows. But this episode is pretty much one such moment, stretched out to twenty-five minutes long, completely saturated with ooey-gooey feeling. For a superfan like myself, it’s impossible to make it through the first sixty seconds without tearing up. And it only gets worse.
A baby, abandoned by her Korean mother, shows up at the doorstep of the Swamp and captures the hearts of Hawkeye, BJ, and Charles instantly. Her father is an American G.I., which means that her chances for a decent life in Korea are very slim. As the doctors will unfortunately learn (and as Father Mulcahy tells them right off the bat), neither the Red Cross, nor the Army, nor the Korean government, nor the American government will have anything to do with this child. Everyone suits up in their best dress uniforms and appeals to these organizations one by one on her behalf, only to be shot down. The Korean diplomat’s (Yuki Shimoda) speech is particularly moving, when he explains that the U.S. is the only Western nation that makes no provisions at all for babies fathered by its soldiers.
It’s at last decided that the little baby will go to a monastery, where she will be raised and educated—orphanages are out of the question, due to their awful treatment of mixed-race children. Nobody wants to see her go; they drop her off in secret because they have to. Super duper kudos to the baby actor, who with her single-minded fixation on Alan Alda’s nose saves this scene from being unbearably sad.
What makes this show so lovely, of course, is seeing how great each cast member is with the child. We’ve seen a version of this before in season 2’s “Kim,” where the camp took care of a five-year-old boy. That was adorable enough, but this is next-level sweetness—as Klinger gives the nurses a diaper tutorial, Sherm praises the surgical glove full of milk, and Maj. Houlihan calls herself “your auntie Margaret.” Special mention, too, to the cool cradle fashioned for the baby to sleep in, even if Sherm rocks it a little too hard when he gets heated.
What more is there to say? This has social commentary galore, historical accuracy, genuine love, and a cute cute adorable small baby. It’s a home run. The feature film Three Men and a Baby would come along several years later, evincing slightly less of an emotional response.
We’re all adjusting to the brave new world of the post-Radar era, of course, but the biggest emotional upset is BJ’s, as he drinks himself into an explosive rage, ending up in a puddle of tears. Klinger, too, has it tough, resenting Radar for having left him such a difficult new job. As a team, these two tear the camp and environs apart on their bender of self-pity. I hope I speak for the fandom when I say this is massively entertaining for all.
The series is overdue for another dose of BJ’s angst—this is one of several times when a stormy inner struggle bursts through the captain’s calm façade. It’s the only time he breaks down to this degree, however, writhing in a weepy mess on the floor of Col. Potter’s office with snot running into his mustache. He also smashes the original Swamp still into oblivion, and strikes Hawkeye in the face, giving him a black eye. BJ! Please get a grip! The cause of this bad behavior has been a letter from Peg, saying that Radar arrived in San Francisco safely and spent an enjoyable few hours with her and daughter Erin. Sounds horrifying. Not to razz Beej too much, what’s put him over the edge is that Erin mistook Radar for him, leading him to fear she has forgotten who her daddy is.
I’m happy to say everyone soon calms down, though first Max and BJ break Sherm’s liquor cabinet and make a funny dart board out of Radar’s face at Rosie’s. The level-headedness begins with Father Mulcahy, who sits down with Sherm and tells the tale of an old company clerk who was once just as hapless as Klinger. It was Radar, whipped into shape under Col. Blake’s wing. (Plausible? I’m not sure Henry ever had it in him to teach or discipline someone, nor that O’Reilly wasn’t—as Klinger called him—“a born clerk.” I’ll buy that Father in his wisdom is stretching the truth to make Sherm feel better.) Then, the two miscreants are found, gently counseled, and forgiven. The still even gets rebuilt.
References to Radar are the backbone of this episode, the first to air after his farewell—wrapping up with the forlorn teddy bear left in the Swamp. But it’s important to note that other departed characters get some play here as well. Potter mentions Henry Blake again in his pep talk to Klinger; Trapper is invoked during BJ’s long catharsis of jealousy. (Fittingly enough, no one has any regard for Frank Burns.) In other words, since MASH is again handling a transition, it makes sense to refer back to transitions in its past. When Klinger and BJ are soothed, the audience remembers too how hard it was to see some personnel go home.
Later, though, we learned to embrace others and love them dearly. Even if we stop short of calling them Daddy.
BJ Hunnicutt: BJ thinks long and hard about when to say “I love you” that first time. Probably overthinks it. He’ll want some romantic moment to come along that makes the moment just perfect, but knows that’s hardly likely. Still, he’ll hold off for longer than he probably should just looking for that perfect timing.
Francis Mulcahy: It’s a battle for him even knowing he loves you. So to say it takes some major thoughts about himself and you. Odds are someone else will probably tell you that he loves you before he gets around to making the decision to do so, but he’s happy that the pressure has been taken off of him when you tell him you know.
Hawkeye Pierce: Hawkeye is really a wildcard for this one. He could tell you he loves you the first time you meet, though in that case it may be a bit sarcastic. Or he could wait an excruciatingly long time to finally say it to you out loud for real.
Henry Blake: Henry can’t seem to find any time to tell you. He’ll try, but there’s usually endless interruptions, so he gets creative. He’ll have Radar come and fetch you as if on some official business and when you finally have a moment alone, he’ll finally get to say it.
Margaret Houlihan: It takes Margaret such a long time to say “I love you”. She feels like admitting it is a weakness. And, while she does feel it, she often keeps her feelings close to her chest so as not to come off as soft.
Maxwell Klinger: The moment Klinger realizes you get him like no one else does, that’s the exact moment those three little words fall from his lips the first time. Not a lot of people really understand him so to have that just cements his adoration of you.
Radar O'Reilly: Radar probably says it too fast. It just comes pouring out of his mouth one time when he’s nervously rambling to you and he’d want to take it back immediately, until you stop him and tell him you love him too.
