Margaret: Colonel, I want a transfer.
Hawkeye: No transfers are issued until the camp comes to a full stop.
Trapper: And watch your step getting off.
Margaret: And these two are at the top of my list!
Hawkeye: Hey, we finished first and second.
Margaret: They've totally destroyed my authority with the nursing staff; they have made a mockery of my majority!
Hawkeye: What do you know? We're major mockers.
Henry Blake: Simmer down, Pierce. That's an order.
Margaret: [scoffs] An order? Why don't you stop masquerading as a commanding officer? You're nothing but a spineless, mealymouthed, fly-fishing impostor!
Trapper: He's not an impostor.
Hawkeye: Right. He's a *genuine* spineless, mealymouthed fly-fisher.
Margaret: Colonel, I am requesting that you officially and formally approve my transfer.
Henry Blake: Look, I am glad this has come up. Now, I want you two guys to straighten up and fly right. I want you to accord Major Houlihan the courtesy and respect accordable to someone who has achieved her high rank and sex.
Margaret: I am not looking for a truce with these two shower-tent peekers!
Trapper: You peek into one shower and you're labeled for life.
Margaret: [very drunk] Oh. Corporal. I wonder if I can see Colonel Blake?
[She looks around, confused, then jogs away]
Cpl. Walter "Radar" O'Reilly: I wonder if you can, too.
[Margaret drunkenly jogs up to Hawkeye, Trapper, and Henry Blake, stopping directly in front of Henry]
Margaret: [saluting] Major Margon Houlihat reporting for duty, sir.
Henry Blake: Aw boy, drunk as a skunk.
Trapper: She's tanked.
Hawkeye: A fine time to make a drinking debut.
Margaret: Where are the casualties, sir?
Henry Blake: Now, just hold your horses. They're not even here yet.
Margaret: Well, then, let's go get 'em, sir. I'll drive!
[Hawkeye and Trapper laugh]
Henry Blake: Major? Major, dear, you're drunk.
Margaret: Oh, I'm not so think as you drunk I am!
[Hawkeye and Trapper laugh some more]
Henry Blake: Uh, you'd better go to your tent, Major.
Margaret: I can't operate in my tent!
Trapper: [still laughing] You're doing okay so far!
Margaret: Aah, go salute yourself!
Margaret: Colonel, I just wanted you to know that I was preparing my final report before I go, which I haven't done yet.
[she walks up to Henry's liquor cabinet and finds it locked]
Margaret: Uh, how do you get into this thing?
Henry Blake: Is there something you want?
Margaret: I thought a little farewell drink - Major, Colonel.
Henry Blake: Looks like you've already been dipping your bill. You sure you won't reconsider, major?
Margaret: No, I've thought it over, and I definitely would like another drink.
Henry Blake: Okay. Scotch and water okay?
Margaret: That's fine. Oh, you can skip the water.
Henry Blake: Oo-kay.
Margaret: [mimicking Henry] Oo-kay.
Henry Blake: [pouring drinks] You know, Major, you're making a mistake. This outfit may be a bit of a booby hatch, but, uh, we do awful good work together.
Margaret: Yeah, I can't fight you there.
Henry Blake: Cheers.
[they toast and drink]
Margaret: I need army discipline. I need a sense of order. Can't you understand that, Colonel?
Henry Blake: Why don't you call me Henry, for Pete's sake?
Margaret: That's really swell of you, Pete.
Henry Blake: [sitting down] Excuse me.
Margaret: Do you know that you look just like my father before he died?
Henry Blake: Oh, uh, a lot of people have said that.
Margaret: [pouring another drink] It's funny how you only get to know people after they're gone. I feel real close to you right now.
Henry Blake: Yeah, sure. Uh, that, uh, scotch you just poured is rye.
Margaret: That's okay. The champagne I just had was gin.
Margaret: Here's to Captains Pierce and McIntyre. To their all-night binges. To their secret nurse ceremonies. To their planting of microphones in sleeping bags. To their childish switching of names on latrines. All of which goes into my special report to General Mitchell, which culminates in a detailed account of your Thanksgiving "Come As Your Favorite Nude Pilgrim" party.
[Margaret, Hawkeye, and Trapper all drink. She makes a face]
Margaret: This stuff isn't champagne. Champagne tickles my nose.
Hawkeye: This stuff eats it away.
Margaret: [in a huff] Where's Colonel Bubblehead?
Cpl. Walter "Radar" O'Reilly: Uh, he gave orders not to be disturbed.
Margaret: He already *is* disturbed!
[Henry Blake, Hawkeye and Trapper are watching a nudie flick in Henry's office]
Henry Blake: Pretty good, huh?
Trapper: Not much story, but plenty of action.
Hawkeye: [leaning toward the screen] It can't be!
Henry Blake: What?
Hawkeye: It is! It's Charlie Abrams's receptionist!
[He cackles gleefully]
Hawkeye: She looks a lot better in balloons than a uniform.
Margaret: [entering the office, immediately shocked] Colonel!
Henry Blake: Whoops!
Margaret: That's the most vulgar, base thing I've ever seen!
Hawkeye: Well, Margaret, you can't come in in the middle.
Margaret: It's disgusting!
Hawkeye: The critics panned it, too, but we're trying to judge it on its own merits.
Margaret: I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but Frank Burns is a lipless wonder.
Margaret: [while Trapper and Hawkeye are holding her under the shower to sober her up] What are you doing?
Hawkeye: New surgical procedure. You have to scrub up from head to toe in your clothes.
Margaret: That's ridiculous! I like it!
Maj. Frank Burns: Margret, you've been drinking.
Margaret: Correction, I *am* drinking.
Maj. Frank Burns: Margret! That's liquor!
Margaret: Right, Rev. Davidson.
Margaret: What's that?
Hawkeye: Shot of B1. Get you back on your feet.
Margaret: And I didn't get you anything.
Maj. Frank Burns: Scalpel.
Henry Blake: Gonna do some cutting, Frank?
Maj. Frank Burns: Well, I figured I would go after the appendix while I'm in the area.
Henry Blake: That's not the appendix, Frank. That's my pinky. And I'm rather fond of it.
Margaret: They've totally destroyed my authority with the nursing staff; they've made a mockery of my majority!
Hawkeye: What do you know, we're "major" mockers.
Margaret: [to Henry] Oh, an order? Why don't you stop masquerading as a commanding officer? You're nothing but a spineless, mealymouthed, fly-fishing imposter!
Trapper: He's not an imposter.
Trapper: Right! He's a *genuine* spineless mealymouthed fly-fisherman.