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Is it OK to Laugh?

If you were of TV-watching age in the early eighties, then you might have been doing what most of America did on Monday night, tune into one of the most popular shows of all time, M*A*S*H.

Each week we were entertained by the antics of a tight-knit group of zany characters who were part of a medical unit during the Korean war. They would perform miraculous medical procedures under daunting circumstances. Sometimes the results were tragic. Occasionally I would be in the midst of a hearty belly-laugh and find myself wondering, “Is this OK? To laugh?”

Recently a group of military veterans, all of whom have intimate knowledge of Mobile Army Surgical Hospitals, assembled to answer that question and many more for the cast and crew of Madison’s Daniel Hand High School’s upcoming stage production of M*A*S*H.

“Humor, sometimes it’s all you had,” answered Lieutenant Commander Don MacMillan, who served as a commanding officer of a field hospital in Iraq. “Laughter was a very human response to the incredible stress we were under.”

Colonel Gerald P. Curran, a doctor who served with the U.S. Army in Iraq, agreed.

“There would be times I would be operating, and a mortar would hit so close to the operating theater that the flaps of the tent would lift up and someone would make a joke,” he said. “We weren’t laughing at killing or death, we were laughing to survive.”

Now that the TV series can been seen in re-runs everywhere, M*A*S*H has introduced new generations to some of the most memorable characters on TV, such as Corporal “Radar” O’Reilly, the quirky army clerk who baffled fellow officers with his uncanny sense of predicting the needs of the unit.

“I definitely had a Radar on my crew,” said MacMillan, laughing. “We were desperate for more space and my Radar actually made a building appear. I’m not sure where he got it or how, but he was literally a lifesaver that day.”

Curran had a similar experience.

“I remember a Col. Blake type character. He always stopped the shenanigans from going too far. And yes, there was a Hotlips,” said Curran, with a smile.

Major Margret Houlihan, a.k.a Hotlips, was a buttoned-up, extremely talented nurse who becomes the object of incessant jibes from the entire camp. When asked about the role of women, there was no joking among these vets.

“Women in the M*A*S*H unit were on 24/7, keeping guys alive, you could put them toe-to-toe with any soldier in terms of bravery and sense of duty,” said Vietnam veteran Raymond Hanley.

This answer inspired a follow-up question from Daniel Hand senior Ali Gross, who is interested in pursuing a career as a military doctor. It can be done, sure it can, was the enthusiastic reaction from all of the veterans.

M*A*S*H units, referred to today as “CSH,” combat support hospitals, are notoriously close to combat, a hazard not only to personnel but also to the structures in which they operated. As a U.S. Navy Seabee during the Vietnam conflict, Hanley was responsible for the constant repairs to the base of operations.

“There were strafing bullets holes everywhere in the buildings and the sandbags on the perimeter,” said Hanley. “A rocket would hit nearby and the generators would go out. We’d have to move fast just to get a single light bulb working for the docs and nurses.”

Hanley, a Daniel Hand grad, class of ‘66, looked out at the crowd of high school teenagers and said: “You know, one day you’re a kid from a nice little New England town and then you find yourself half a world away in Vietnam. It’s a shocker.”

TV shows are at times accused of over-dramatizing, but Korean War veteran George Noewatne of Madison was wounded twice and owes his life to a M*A*S*H unit.

“You have this impression that the helicopters were so big, carrying a lot of wounded soldiers,” said Noewatne. “But they were actually so small the stretchers were strapped to the outside runners of the choppers and that is how you would be carried from the battle field to the M*A*S*H unit. You wanted those docs to fix you up fast, so you could get back to your unit.”

Curran agreed.

“I would ask a wounded solider, do you want to go home?” said Curran “And almost to a person the answer was, no. I need to get back to do my job.”

Noewatne said it felt like “I had left friends behind.”

“You know that’s where your buddies were. It isn’t like you were trying to be a hero, you know,” he said. “It’s just the thing you do.”

And that is where the cast of the high school play and veterans disagreed.

“Totally, 100 percent, they are all heroes,” said Daniel Hand senior Erik Helgeson. “They put their lives on the line.”

Each veteran was given two complimentary tickets to see M*A*S*H, in this case to watch art imitating their lives.

Permission granted to laugh. And, perhaps, cry. But, certainly, we were all left in awe of the veterans who lived to tell the story of what a M*A*S*H unit was really like.

M*A*S*H will be performed at the Daniel Hand High School, 7 p.m. on Thursday, Dec. 3, Friday, Dec. 4, and Saturday, Dec. 5. Tickets can be purchased in advance for $10 at R.J. Julia Booksellers, Act II Thrift Shop, and Daniel Hand High School Main Office, all in Madison. Any remaining tickets will be sold at the door starting at 6 p.m. for $15.

Lisa Nee of Madison is a writer and president of Allen/Nee Productions. She writes an occasional column, Such is Life, for Shore Publishing.