M*A*S*H

Frank: I'm talking about Pvt. Chapman. His wound was self-inflicted. A first-year medical student would be able to detect that. Trapper: Then how did you find out? Frank: He told me. Chapman! Hawkeye: When? Trapper: Why? Frank: Not five minutes ago. Because he thought I was a priest. (Hawkeye and Trapper start laughing) Trapper: Slowly, Frank. Frank: I was in Father Mulcahy's tent to register a complaint. Hawkeye: Get a litte dirt on St. Christopher, Frank? Frank: I was leaving the good Father a note when this Chapman came in on his crutches-- Hawkeye: And you tripped him. Trapper: Hold it. So? Frank: So, nothing! He confessed the fact that he shot himself. And now my duty's clear. Hawkeye: You get the rope, Frank, we'll bring the tree. Frank: Doing one's duty is not performing a lynching. Trapper: Frank, look, a lot of kids have made the same mistake. Let him go back and straighten himself out. Frank: Nerts! Hawkeye: Probably get ten years. Frank: Maybe twenty. Hawkeye: Oh, I don't think they'd give you that much, Frank. Frank: ... Me? Hawkeye: For impersonating a priest. Frank: A priest? I never! Trapper: Frank, you can fool some of the papal some of the time. Frank: Its a lie! Hawkeye: And you can count on us not to back you up, Frank. Very serious business this. Trapper: Posing as a priest. Hawkeye: They'll give you the electric pew. Frank: (defeated) One of these days. Boy!

Henry: I've got Command on my tail, and a hospital full of Greeks waiting for a lamb who's sitting on a plane on his way to Iowa to become Radar's little brother!

Hawkeye (writing home): Dear Dad, the wounded keep coming and coming. The latest batch were Greek soldiers. Greece is one of the seventeen UN countries fighting here in Korea. Greeks, Siamese, Ethiopians, Turks, you name 'em, we got 'em. The one common denominator is blood. It's all red, and there's an awful lot of it leaking out around here.

Trapper: Henry's not here. Hawkeye: Are you sure? Sometimes when he's here I get that feeling.

Radar: And you also signed an emergency leave. Henry: Oh. Radar: For one of the men. Henry: Which one of the men? Radar: Uh, Private Charles Lamb. Henry: I don't remember any Private Charles Lamb. Radar: Oh, yes you know him, Sir. Short, curly-haired guy? Henry: Short, curly-haired? Radar: Yes, had to take an emergency leave. Henry: Death in the family? Radar : Almost.