-Joint raided! -No!
That's just our Raymond, our lovable Sgt. Shaw.
All right. Let's go, you men. Come on.
Let's go.
Come on, Sarge. Gertrude buy you beer.
What's the matter with him?
I'm afraid our Saint Raymond, he don't approve.
Maybe he's got a girl back home, or something.
-Him? Our Raymond? Are you kidding? -Come on, you men. Let's go.
Hey, Silvers, how about the robe?
What do you mean, my robe? Get out of here.
Bad here.
How do you know?
Chunjin born two miles from here, Captain.
So far, every place we've been in Korea, this joker was born two miles from it.
What's so bad about it?
Tricky. Swamp all around. Thirty yards up, maybe quicksand.
Nobody said anything about quicksand.
-Can't we go around it? -No, Sergeant.
-What's your personal advice? -All walk in single line, next 200 yards.
Rejected. Not tactical to travel forward in a single line.
Patrol sink.
We go around it.
-No, Sergeant. -Never mind.
Okay, pass the word.
This nation jealously guards its highest award for valor:
the Congressional Medal of Honor.
In the Korean war, with 5,720,000 personnel engaged...
only 77 men were so honored.
One of these 77 men was Staff Sgt. Raymond Shaw.
Raymond Shaw was returned from combat and flown directly to Washington...
to be decorated personally by the President of the United States.
This is why his presence, or the presence of any Medal of Honor winner...
is sufficient to bring generals to their feet, saluting.
Congratulations, son. How do you feel?
Like Capt. Idiot in Astounding Science Comics.
Hold it, General.
Hold it, General, please. Come on, Jack. Get in there quickly.
Mother, what is this? What are you doing here?
Sen. Iselin, how does it feel to be the father of a Medal of Honor winner?
-He is not my father. -The Senator is Raymond's stepfather.
I can only say that, as one...
who has devoted his life to the service of his country...
You did this, Mother. You organized this disgusting three-ring circus.
Darling, you're a Medal of Honor winner. Incidentally, congratulations.
I would have written, but we've been in a frightful mess the last few months.
All right, let him through!
That's enough, now. That's enough, I say. Let him through.
Say "cheese."
All right, that's enough, now. Let the poor boy through.
Please, let him through.
What is the matter, Raymond? We've gone to a lot of trouble to--
Arrange the parade for you and so forth.
-The parade? -Get that out.
You publicity-sick, flag-simple boob--
Just because your parents and the entire country...
-are proud of you-- -Who's kidding who, Mother?
Johnny's up for re-election in November. You've got it all figured out, haven't you?
Johnny Iselin's boy, Medal of Honor winner. That should get you 50,000 votes.
Raymond, I'm your mother. How can you talk to me this way?
I want nothing for myself.
My entire life is devoted to helping you and to helping Johnny.
-My boys, my two little boys. -Mother, stop it.
That is all I have.
On the afternoon of his arrival in Washington...
Raymond Shaw was decorated at the White House...
by the President of the United States.
His citation, attested to by his commanding officer...
Capt. Bennett Marco, and the nine surviving members of his patrol...
read in part: "Displaying valor above and beyond the call of duty...
"did single-handedly save the lives of nine members of his patrol...
"capturing an enemy machine-gun nest, and taking out in the process...
"a full company of enemy infantry.
"He then led his patrol, which had been listed as missing in action for three days...
"back through the enemy lines to safety. "
A gift from the Citizens For Iselin Committee for his last birthday.
It absolutely saved our lives during the campaign.
You see, this opens up into a double bed.
This is the Press Room.
And this is my private office.
Anything to take the pain out of campaigning, eh?
That's what I always say.
-May I take this thing off now, Mother? -Raymond, what is the matter with you?
You look as if your head were going to come to a point in seconds.
Johnny, fix him a drink or something. Sit down, Raymond. Relax.
We'll be home in less than two-and-a-half hours.
I'm not going home with you, Mother. I'm going to New York.
What?
I've got a job on a newspaper.
Research Assistant to Mr. Holborn Gaines.
Holborn Gaines, that Communist?
He's not a Communist, Mother. As a matter of fact, he's a Republican.
But the terrible things he's written about Johnny...
He came to interview me at the White House this morning.
Afterwards, I asked him for a job. He gave it to me.
We discovered that we had a great deal in common.
What could you possibly have in common with that dreadful old man?
Well, for one thing, we discovered that we both loathe and despise you and Johnny.
And that's a beginning.
The war in Korea was over.
Captain, now Major, Bennett Marco had been reassigned...
to Army Intelligence in Washington.
It was, by and large, a pleasant assignment...
except for one thing.
Night after night, the major was plagued by the same reoccurring nightmare.
Stop it. Stop it.
Another modern discovery, which we owe to the hydrangea...
concerns the influence of air-drainage upon plant climate.
Many years ago, when I was traveling about the country...
I noticed magnificent hydrangeas on the hills...
where the air-drainage was perfect...
and very poor specimens, or perhaps none at all, in the valleys.
Formerly, we used to consider sheltered valleys...
more favorable to plants than hilltops...
but the avoidance of late spring and early autumn frosts...
enjoyed by sites with good air-drainage...
where the cold air can drain safely away to lower levels...
gives the hills a decided advantage.
Thus it was the hydrangeas that gave the first pointer...
in another modern discovery of horticultural importance.
From this, it might appear that the hydrangea is a fairly simple plant.
But there are more complications.
The cultivation of hydrangeas was evolved from...
a number of varieties originally found in Japan...
not all of which, of course, have the same characteristics.
Two of them do not share the quality of producing...
blue flowers in mineral-rich soils.
Allow me to introduce our American visitors.
I must ask you to forgive their somewhat lackadaisical manners...
but I have conditioned them, or "brainwashed" them...
which I understand is the new American word...
to believe that they are waiting out a storm...
in the lobby of a small hotel in New Jersey...
where a meeting of the Ladies' Garden Club is in progress.
You will notice that I have told them they may smoke.
I have allowed my people to have a little fun...
in the selection of bizarre tobacco substitutes.
Are you enjoying your cigarette, Ed?
Yes, ma'am.
Yak dung.
"Tastes good, like a cigarette should."
Now then, comrades, may I present the famous Raymond Shaw...
the young man you've flown 8,000 miles to this dreary spot in Manchuria to see.
Raymond, pull your chair over here by me, please.
I am sure you've all heard the old wives' tale...
that no hypnotized subject may be forced...
to do that which is repellent to his moral nature, whatever that may be.
Nonsense, of course.
You note-takers might set down a reminder to consult Brenman's paper:
Experiments in the Hypnotic Production of Anti-Social and Self-Injurious Behavior.
Or Wells' 1941 paper which was titled, I believe:
Experiments in the Hypnotic Production of Crime.
Or, of course, Andrew Salter's remarkable book:
Conditioned Reflex Therapy...
to name only three.
Or if it offends you that only the West is working...
to manufacture more crime and better criminals...
against the modern shortages...
I suggest Krasnogorski's Primary Violence Motivation...
or Serov's The Unilateral Suggestion to Self-Destruction.
My dear Yen, as you grow older, you grow more long-winded.
Can't we get to the point?
Has the man ever killed anyone?
Or has he not?
I apologize, my dear Dimitri.
I keep forgetting that you're a young country and your attention span is limited.
Tell me, Raymond, have you ever killed anyone?
-No, ma'am. -Not even in combat?
In combat?
Yes, ma'am, I think so.
Of course you have, Raymond.
Raymond has been a crack shot since childhood.
Marvelous outlet for his aggressions.
May I have the bayonet, please?
Not with the knife. With the hands.
With the hands?
Here, have him use this.
Raymond, whom do you dislike the least in your group here today?
-The least? -That's right.
I guess Capt. Marco, ma'am.
Notice how he is always drawn to authority?
That won't do, Raymond.
We need the captain to get you your medal.
Whom else?
-I guess Ed Mavole, ma'am. -That's better.
Now then, Raymond, take this scarf...
and strangle Ed Mavole to death.
Yes, ma'am.
Excuse me, Ben.
Pardon me.
Hey, Sarge, cut it out.
Quiet, Ed, please.
Now, you just sit there quietly and cooperate.
Yes, ma'am.
Major, to your knowledge...
have any other ex-members of your patrol had similar dreams?
No, sir, not to my knowledge.
Doesn't it strike any one as curious...
that Mavole was one of the two men lost in the action?
Yet, every night in my dream...
he's the one that Raymond...
I'm sorry, gentlemen.
Now look, Maj. Marco...
since you first brought this recurring dream of yours to our attention...
Raymond Shaw, his life, his background, his habits...
his friends and associates have been under scrupulous examination.
The facts speak for themselves.
His stepfather is a United States senator.
His mother is head of 15 different patriotic organizations.
Raymond himself works as confidential assistant to Holborn Gaines...
the most respected political journalist in America.
It's inconceivable that anything--
As the consulting psychiatrist present...
I'd be interested in hearing your personal feelings about Shaw.
Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest...
most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life.
I see.
And this opinion, Major, was it generally held?
His fellow soldiers, did they feel the same way toward him?
The men loved him, sir.
Why shouldn't they? He saved their lives.
It would seem obvious to me...
that Maj. Marco is suffering a delayed reaction...
to 18 months of continuous combat in Korea.
I strongly recommend that the matter of Raymond Shaw be dropped here and now...
and that Maj. Marco be temporarily reassigned...
to less strenuous and, if I may say so, less sensitive duties.
I think a few months' detached service...
to, perhaps, the Public Relations Corps...
should put the Major right back in the pink.
Mr. Secretary, can you explain the proposed cut in budget?
Since, sir, you've asked a simple-minded question...
I will give you an equally simple-minded answer.
Since no great naval power menaces the free world today...
the Navy's overwhelming preponderance of surface ships seems to be superfluous.
Hence the cut in budget.
Major, my time is important.
How much longer must we go on with this nonsense?
If there are no further questions, I think that about wraps things up.
Mr. Secretary, I have a question, sir.
Who are you, sir?
I am United States Senator John Yerkes Iselin.
And I have a question so serious...
that the safety of our nation may well depend on your answer.
Who?
No evasions, Mr. Secretary, no evasions, if you please, sir.
Evasions? What the hell are you talking about?
What kind of foolishness is this?
I'm new at this job, but I don't think it's good public relations...
to talk that way to a senator, even if he is an idiot.
I am United States Senator John Yerkes Iselin...
and I have here a list of the names of 207 persons...
who are known by the Secretary of Defense...
as being members of the Communist Party...
and who are still, nevertheless, working at shaping the policy...
of the Defense Department!
Senator who?
I demand an answer, Mr. Secretary.
There will be no covering up, sir.
-What? -No covering up.
-You won't get your hands on this list. -How did you get in here in the first place?
-Major, throw that lunatic out of here. -And I deeply regret having to say...
-in front of these ladies and gentlemen... -You claim to be a senator?
...and the radio audience of our great nation that you no longer have my confidence.
You're an idiot, if you ask me. You're out of your mind.
This is no longer a matter for investigation by the Defense Department.
Get out of here!
-I'm afraid you've lost your chance, sir. -Get that man out of this room.
This matter is now the responsibility of the United States Senate.
Get out of this room.
I will not have him in here, do you hear me? Not ever!
If I ever catch you in this room again, I'll throw you out bodily.
What do you want? Get out of here.
-Hold it. -Don't you take my picture anymore.
Clear this room!
Sen. Iselin. I'd like to verify that number, sir.
How many Communists did you say?
I said there are exactly...
I have proof there are...
104 card-carrying Communists in the Defense Department.
How many, sir?
275, and that's absolutely all I have to say on the subject at this time. Come, babe.
Major, how many did he say?
-Excuse me just a moment. -Major, how many did he say?
Very good, Raymond.
Thank you, ma'am.
Capt. Marco?
Yes, ma'am.
-On your feet, Captain, please. -Sorry, ma'am.
Captain...
when you are returned with your patrol to Korea...
and you make your way to Command Headquarters...
what will be the first duty you will undertake?
I will make my report on the patrol, ma'am.
What will you report?
I will recommend urgently...
that Raymond Shaw be posted for the Medal of Honor.
He saved our lives and took out a complete company of Chinese infantry.
A complete company? What the hell is this?
We can spare an imaginary company of infantry for this particular plan...
-Mikhail Mikhailovich. -All right.
If we are out to humiliate our brave Chinese ally...
in the newspapers of the world...
we might as well make it a full battalion.
We don't object, Comrade, I assure you of that.
However, Comrade, we thank you for thinking of the matter in that light.
If we may proceed with the demonstration...
Raymond...
who is that little fellow sitting next to the Captain?
That's Bobby Lembeck...
our mascot, I guess you'd call him.
Doesn't look old enough to be in your army.
I guess he isn't, but there he is, ma'am.
Capt. Marco, will you be good enough to lend Raymond your pistol, please?
Yes, ma'am.
-Thanks, Ben. -Sure, kid.
Shoot Bobby, Raymond.
Through the forehead.
Yes, ma'am.
Wake up, it's all right.
Everything's all right.
That same dream again?
What makes it so awful...
is to keep dreaming a thing like that about Sgt. Shaw.
It's been going on for weeks, now.
I must be going crazy.
You ought to write to Sgt. Shaw.
-I tell you, nothing's wrong with me. -Ask if anyone else is having similar dreams.
-Yeah? -Yes.
Maybe I will.
Maybe I'll do that.
If anybody can help me, he can.
You like him a lot, don't you?
Raymond Shaw is the bravest, kindest, warmest...
most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life.
"Dear Sarge, I had to say this or write this to someone...
"because I think I'm going nuts.
"Since you were my best friend in the army, here goes.
"Sarge, I'm in trouble.
"I'm afraid to go to sleep because I have terrible dreams.
"I dream about all the guys on the patrol where you won the medal...
"and the dream has a lot of Chinese people in it...
"and a lot of big brass from the Russian Army.
"Well, it's pretty rough, you have to take my word for that. "
Raymond Shaw, please.
This is he.
Raymond, why don 't you pass the time by playing a little solitaire?
Raymond.
Yes, sir?
Can you see the red queen?
Yes, sir.
Good.
One week from next Saturday, you will be called for...
at 11:10 a.m. and taken to the Timothy Swardon Sanitarium...
84 East 61st Street.
We want you there for a checkup. Is that clear?
Yes, sir.
You may put the cards away now. Goodbye, Raymond.
Mr. Gaines, it's Mr. Shaw.
He was run down on the street by a hit-and-run driver.
It just came over the AP.
Good heavens.
Find out what hospital he's in, and call them.
See if there's anything we can do to help.
You're welcome. Goodbye.
That was Mr. Gaines, from his newspaper.
He said to tell him to take it easy and not to worry about a thing.
Which, of course, we will not tell him...
on the chance it is some sort of pre-arranged code.
-Comrade Zilkov? -Yes?
Yen Lo. Pavlov lnstitute.
Doctor, an honor and a pleasure.
You may go.
When did you arrive?
I was flown in last night under embassy quota.
Revolting journey.
Raymond, it's nice to see you again.
It's nice to see you again, sir.
We're going through this elaborate procedure...
simply out of precaution, in case there are any visitors.
Although I cannot imagine who will visit Raymond.
-Attractive plant you have here. -Thank you, Doctor.
It's actually a rest home for wealthy alcoholics.
We were able to purchase it three years ago.
Except for this floor and the floor above it, which is sealed off for security purposes...
the rest functions quite normally.
It is one of the few Soviet operations in America...
that actually showed a profit at the end of the last fiscal year.
Profit? Fiscal year?
Beware, my dear Zilkov. The virus of capitalism's highly infectious.
Soon, you'll be lending money out at interest.
You must try, Comrade Zilkov, to cultivate a sense of humor.
There is nothing like a good laugh now and then...
to lighten the burdens of the day.
Tell me, Raymond, do you remember murdering Mavole and Lembeck?
I beg your pardon, sir?
Mavole and Lembeck, the men who were lost on the patrol.
Do you recall what happened to them?
Yes, sir.
It was a very clear action for a night action.
Capt. Marco sent up some low flares...
so it was easy to see what was happening.
Bobby Lembeck got separated to the left.
Mavole went after him.
By the time he reached him, the enemy had a fix on the position.
They were killed instantly by a high mortar shell.
I don't think they ever knew what hit them.
Do you realize, Comrade...
the implications of the weapon that has been placed at your disposal?
You may remove your head bandage, Raymond.
A normally conditioned American...
who has been trained to kill and then to have no memory of having killed.
Without memory of his deed, he cannot possibly feel guilt.
Nor will he, of course, have any reason to fear being caught.
Having been relieved of those uniquely American symptoms: guilt and fear...
he cannot possibly give himself away.
Our Raymond will remain an outwardly normal, productive...
sober and respected member of the community.
And, I should say, if properly used, entirely police-proof.
His brain has not only been washed, as they say, it has been dry-cleaned.
Thank you, Raymond, you may replace your head bandage.
Sealed floors or no, you will, of course, permit him visitors, to avoid suspicion.
Of course.
A team of my specialists is being flown in tonight.
It will take about a week, working between visiting hours...
to check the mechanism out completely.
It has been, after all, two years since the conditioning took place.
And you want to be sure the linkages are still functioning correctly...
before he is turned over to his American operator.
-Now, Comrade, if you will excuse me. -Where are you going?
Since I can do nothing more until my specialists arrive...
I had thought to spend the afternoon at Macy's.
Madame Yen has given me the most appalling list.
I personally guarantee it. He is ready to be turned over to his American operator.
And I, being personally responsible for Soviet Security...
in the entire Eastern Seaboard of the United States...
refuse to turn him over to his operator...
until at least one practical test has been run.
You say the man has been built as an assassin.
Very well, then. Let him assassinate someone.
I'm shocked that a security officer with the responsibility you hold...
would risk a mechanism as valuable as Raymond...
out of sheer nervousness.
You yourself admit the man has not killed for over two years.
I assure you, Doctor, conditions offering minimum risk can be arranged.
All right. If you insist on this foolishness...
have him kill one of your own people here on a sealed floor.
I would gladly.
But our table of organization happens to be under acceptable strength as it is.
Why can't we be reasonable about this?
Why can't he kill some non-productive person on the outside?
Very well, then.
But for his own protection, he must be instructed that if he is ever, at any time...
discovered at the scene of an assignment, this other person...
or persons must also be killed.
All right, Doctor.
Whom do you think he should kill?
With humor, my dear Zilkov, always with a little humor.
If kill we must, for a better New York, why should it not be...
his superior at the newspaper, Mr. Holborn Gaines?
With Mr. Gaines out of the way...
might he not then be given that very influential job himself?
-Who's there? -It's me, Mr. Gaines.
I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.
Don't get any silly ideas about this ridiculous-looking bed jacket.
It was my wife's. It's the warmest thing I have.
Perfect for reading in bed at night.
I didn't know you were married, sir.
She died nearly six years ago.
What the devil are you doing here at 4:00 a.m.?
Anyway, I thought you were in the hospital.
Don't tell me you've come here at this ridiculous hour to talk something over.
You're not going to pour out your heart with the details of a sordid love affair, are you?
No, sir.
As a matter of fact, they told me you'd be asleep.
-Who told you I'd be asleep? -They did.
They? They?
Who's this mysterious "they"?
Raymond? Answer me, my boy.
-Colonel. -Ben.
-May I come in for a minute? -Please do. Of course. Come on in.
May I ask A: Is this an official visit? And B: May I mix you a drink?
A: Yes, it is, and B: You certainly may.
-Scotch all right? -Fine.
My God, where do you get all the books?
I got a guy who picks them out for me, at random.
-Water all right? -Fine.
He's in San Francisco.
Got a little bookstore out there...
and he ships them to me wherever I happen to be stationed.
-You read them all? -Yeah.
They'd also make great insulation against an enemy attack.
But the truth of the matter is that I'm just interested in...
The Principles of Modern Banking...
History of Piracy...
Paintings of Orozco...
Modern French Theater...
The Jurisprudential Factor of Mafia Administration...
Diseases of Horses and novels of Joyce Cary, and...
Ethnic Choices of the Arabs. Things like that.
The army's got a lot of things wrong with it...
but it does take care of its own people, which is why I'm here.
As a public relations officer, you're a disaster.
-I never wanted-- -Apparently, among other things...
you permitted the Secretary to make some unfortunate remarks to that idiot Iselin...
-which started him off on a rampage. -Mickey, listen to me, please.
For six months, I've been driven nearly mad by a recurring dream...
The medical officer in charge--
What the hell does the Medical Corps know about intelligence work, Milt?
I tell you, there's something phony going on.
There's something phony about me, Raymond Shaw...
about the whole Medal of Honor business.
For instance, when the psychiatrist asked me how I personally felt about Raymond...
and how the whole patrol felt about him, did you hear what I said?
Did you really hear what I said?
I said, "Raymond Shaw is the kindest, warmest...
"bravest, most wonderful human being I have ever known."
And even now I feel that way, this minute.
And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, something tells me it's not true.
It's just not true.
It isn't as if Raymond's hard to like.
He's impossible to like!
He's probably one of the most repulsive human beings...
I've known in all of my life.
Ben, what I came to tell you is Public Relations has sent you back to me.
And in your present state there's no possible way I can use you.
As of this moment, I'm placing you on indefinite sick leave.
Go away, Ben. Find yourself a girl. Lie in the sun.
I absolutely refuse.
You don't seem to understand.
What I've just told you is not a suggestion, Major.
It is an order.
Good night, Ben.
-Do you mind if I smoke? -Not at all. Please do.
Maryland's a beautiful state.
-This is Delaware. -I know.
I was one of the original Chinese workmen who laid the track on this stretch.
But, nonetheless, Maryland is a beautiful state.
So is Ohio, for that matter.
I guess so. Columbus is a tremendous football town.
-You in the railroad business? -Not anymore.
However, if you will permit me to point out...
when you ask that question, you should say:
"Are you in the railroad line?"
Where's your home?
I'm in the army. I'm a Major.
I've been in the army most of my life.
We move a good deal.
I was born in New Hampshire.
I went to a girls' camp once on Lake Francis.
That's pretty far north.
What's your name?
Eugenie.
Pardon?
No kidding, I really mean it.
Crazy French pronunciation and all.
-It's pretty. -Thank you.
I guess your friends call you Jennie?
Not yet, they haven't, for which I am deeply grateful.
But you may call me Jennie.
What do your friends call you?
Rosie.
Why?
My full name is Eugenie Rose.
Of the two names, I've always favored Rosie...
because it smells of brown soap and beer.
Eugenie is somehow more fragile.
When I asked you what your name was, you said it was Eugenie.
It's quite possible I was feeling more or less fragile at that instant.
I could never figure out what that phrase meant: "more or less."
Are you Arabic?
No.
My name is Ben. It's really Bennett.
I was named after Arnold Bennett.
-The writer? -No. A lieutenant colonel.
He was my father's commanding officer at the time.
-What's your last name? -Marco.
Maj. Marco.
Are you Arabic?
No.
Let me put it another way. Are you married?
-No. You? -No.
-What's your last name? -Cheney.
I'm production assistant for a man named Justin...
who had two hits last season.
I live on 54th Street...
a few doors from the Modern Museum of Art...
of which I am a Tea-Privileges Member. No cream.
I live at 53 West 54th Street.
Apartment 3B.
Can you remember that?
Eldorado 5-9970.
Can you remember that?
Are you stationed in New York?
Or is stationed the right word?
I'm not exactly stationed in New York. I was stationed in Washington.
But I got sick, and now I'm on leave and I'm going to spend it in New York.
Eldorado 5-9970.
I'm going to look up an old friend of mine who's a newspaper man.
We were in Korea together.
Mr. Shaw, there's a gentleman outside to see you.
-A gentleman? -An Oriental gentleman, sir.
He said he was in the army with you.
There were no Oriental gentlemen in the army with me.
He is very insistent, sir.
All right, show him in.
I am Chunjin, Mr. Shaw, sir.
I was interpreter attached to Charlie Company, 52nd Regiment.
Yes, I remember you.
You were the guide and interpreter to the patrol.
Yes, sir, Mr. Shaw.
What can I do for you?
-I mean to say, what are you doing here? -Your father did not say to you?
-My father? -Yes. Sen. Iselin. I write to--
Sen. Iselin is not my father.
Repeat, he is not my father.
If you learn nothing else on your visit to this country, memorize that fact.
I write to Sen. Iselin.
I tell him how I interpret your outfit.
I tell him I want to come to America. He get me visa.
Now I need job.
-A job? -Yes, sir, Mr. Shaw.
But, my dear fellow, we don't need interpreters here.
We all speak the same language.
I am tailor and mender. I am cook, I drive car.
I am cleaner and scrubber. I fix anything. I take message.
I sleep at house of my cousin.
I ask for job with you...
because you are a great man who saved my life.
I could use a valet, I think.
And I would like having a cook. A good cook, I mean.
Very well, you can live at your cousin's.
I will pay you $60 a week.
You will have every Thursday and every other Sunday off.
Thank you, Mr. Shaw.
I'm leaving for Washington in a few minutes.
I'll be back here by 8:30 p.m. I would like to have dinner waiting.
Yes, sir, Mr. Shaw.
Just like United States Army.
Oh, God, I hope not.
You're going to be marvelous in there this afternoon, hon...
I just know you are.
Yeah.
There's just one thing, babe.
I'd be a lot happier if we could just settle on the number...
of Communists I know there are in the Defense Department.
I mean, the way you keep changing the figures on me all the time...
it makes me look like some kind of a nut, an idiot.
The boys were even starting to kid me about it.
Just yesterday in the cloakroom, they said, "Hey, Johnny"--
You'll look like an even bigger idiot...
if you don't get in there and do exactly what you're told.
Who are they writing about all over this country, and what are they saying?
Are they saying, "Are there any Communists in the Defense Department?"
Of course not. They're saying:
"How many Communists are there in the Defense Department?"
So stop talking like an expert all of a sudden...
and get out there and say what you're supposed to say.
Come on, babe.
I'm sorry, hon.
Would it really make it easier for you if we settled on just one number?
Just one real simple number that will be easy for me to remember.
There are exactly 57 card-carrying members...
of the Communist Party in the Department of Defense at this time.
Point of order, Mr. Speaker.
What was Raymond doing with his hands?
How did the old ladies turn into Russians?
What was Raymond doing with his hands?
How did the old ladies turn into Russians? What was Raymond doing with his hands?
What were you doing there?
What was Raymond doing with his hands?
What were you doing there?
It was original of you to have the police department call so shyly...
and ask for our first date.
They asked me who I'd be willing to...
I know, and thank you.
Thank you very much.
I've got to find Raymond. Maybe he's home by now.
All right, darling. Whatever you want.
But first, I have something to tell you.
You know what I was doing when you so cleverly had the police call?
Don't bother trying to guess, you're too tired.
I'll tell you what I was doing.
After I dropped you off...
I went straight home, and when I got upstairs--
-Apartment 3B. -That's right. Very good.
Before I even took my coat off, I telephoned my fiancé.
I told you I wasn't married, I never said I wasn't engaged.
Well, I called up my fiancé, and he came over as soon as he could...
which was instantly, and I told him I had just met you...
and I gave him his ring back.
I tried to convey my regrets for whatever pain I might be causing him.
Just then, you had the police call to invite me to meet you at the 24th Precinct.
So I grabbed my coat, kissed my fiancé on the cheek...
for the last time in our lives we would ever kiss...
and I ran.
At the police station, they told me you had beaten up a very large Chinese gentleman.
Not Chinese, dear, Korean. At least, I think he was Korean.
A very large Korean gentleman, but that you were a pretty solid type yourself...
according to Washington, with whom they had checked.
So I figured if they'd bother to get a comment on you from George Washington...
you must be somebody very important indeed.
And, I must say, it was rather sweet of the general, with you only a major.
I didn't even know you knew him.
If they were the tiniest bit puzzled about you, they could have asked me.
Yes, indeed, my darling Ben, they could have asked me...
and I would have told them.
-Hi, kid. -What in the hell's going on?
They called me in Washington to tell me you'd broken into my apartment...
and beaten up my houseboy.
Yeah, well, see, Chunjin, when l--
My God, you look terrible. I've never seen you look so awful.
Raymond...
I want to tell you that I've been having this terrible nightmare.
I've been in the army 19 years.
First time I've ever seen one of these.
I've been having this nightmare...
a real swinger of a nightmare, too.
It has to do with all kinds of strange people.
Is it about a Russian general and some Chinese...
and me and the men who were on the patrol?
How did you know that?
Take your hands off me.
Please, Raymond, tell me, how did you know?
I don't really know anything about it.
-But you just started to tell me-- -Do you remember Al Melvin?
-The corporal in the patrol? -Yes, of course.
I had a letter from him a couple of weeks ago.
Needless to say, I was very surprised to hear from him.
You know how much the guys in the outfit hated me.
Well, not as much as I hated them, of course.
But anyway, the funny thing was...
he said in his letter that I was the best friend he had in the army.
I was the best friend he had in the army.
The poor, simple boob.
Anyway, he wanted to tell me about his nightmare.
He said he was going out of his mind.
Tell me what he said about the nightmare.
He keeps dreaming that the patrol is sitting in a hotel lobby...
and there are a lot of Chinese brass and Russian generals, and I don't know...
Anyway, what's nightmarish about that?
The letter? Have you got the letter?
No, I don't. I never keep letters.
That's all he wrote? That was the end of it?
Why? Is it the same thing you've been dreaming?
Do something for me, will you?
Call Eldorado 5-9970.
If a young lady answers, tell her I've gone to Washington. The town, not the general.
I'll be in touch with her as quickly as I can.
You'll do that, won't you? Eldorado 5-9970.
To take some of the mystery out of it, Major, the photographs you're looking at...
are shots of male models, Mexican circus performers...
Czech research chemists, Japanese criminals...
French headwaiters, Turkish wrestlers, pastoral psychiatrists...
and, of course, various officials of the USSR...
the People's Republic of China, and the Soviet Army.
Hold the one on the right, please.
Hold this one, too.
Exactly one hour ago, your friend, Mr. Alan Melvin, in Wainwright, Alaska...
made the same two photographs.
This one here wore sunglasses, smelled like a goat.
His moustache was a little thinner then. He had a loud voice, and it grated.
He's about 5'11", on the heavy side.
Uniformed as a lieutenant general.
His staff wore civilian clothes. They looked a little like F.B.I. men.
His name, incidentally, is Berezovo. He's a member of the Central Committee.
This one wore civilian clothes, but his staff was uniformed...
varying from a full colonel to a first lieutenant.
-They wore political markings. -Lights.
All right, Ben.
I'm going to recommend setting up a joint-intelligence, C.I.A.-F.B.I. unit...
based out of New York.
You'll work with them, representing the army.
-Your assignment's Raymond Shaw. -Very good, Colonel.
It should be a very pleasant assignment, Major...
considering that Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest...
warmest, most wonderful human being you've ever met in your life.
My mother, Ben, is a terrible woman.
A terrible, terrible woman.
Chunjin, we would like some more wine.
Oh, I forgot.
After you called, I gave Chunjin the night off.
Because it was Christmas Eve, I told him. He was very reluctant to go.
That's probably because he's a Buddhist, and he doesn't celebrate Christmas.
I don't think that Chunjin is a Buddhist.
He smiles all the time.
What a shame. I thought he was a Buddhist.
Otherwise I would have sent him a Christmas card.
But I figured...
that if I sent him a card at this time of the year...
then he would have to send me a card on the Buddha's birthday.
-To save face, right? -Right.
And that would have started a whole big magilla.
Exactly. You did exactly the right thing.
Twelve Days of Christmas.
One day of Christmas is loathsome enough.
What were we saying? Oh, yes, my mother.
But you don't want to listen to me talking about--
Of course I do. I'm interested.
It's rather like listening to Orestes gripe about Clytemnestra.