We were nourished and sustained by the feeling that we were doing something of value.<br > Just as the original M*A*S*H people had first been put there to keep the Army machine<br >going and then found themselves caught up in the saving of lives， we had been assembled to<br >keep the television machinery humming along and later found out that if we tried hard<br >enough and cared enough we could do more than just fill time--we could explore compas-<br >sion and we could rage against death and pain. In the beginning， not everyone knew what our<br >show could become. We came in to tell jokes and stayed to touch the edges of art.<br > The crucial ingredients， I think， were the caring and the trying.<br > From my first week at the studio， when Gene Reynolds and I wheedled and cajoled the<br >executives to keep to a shooting schedule that included a day s rehearsal for every show， we<br >knew we were trying for quality. Rehearsal is expensive， but it gives the actors and the writ-<br >ers a chance to find things that are new， instead of throwing together a bunch of gags that<br >have worked before. Originality is unexplored territory. You get there by carrying a canoe--<br >you can t take a taxi.<br > But no matter how you wheedle， time and money are still limited. And caring is accom-<br >plished mainly by getting less sleep.<br > We threw ourselves into M*A*S*H and we let it soak up our nights and days.<br > I remember going with Larry Gelbart to a Chinese restaurant one night after a twelve- or<br >fifteen-hour day to talk about story ideas; and then， after climbing wearily into our cars， still<br >unable to let go， we stopped at every red light on Wilshire Boulevard and called ideas to each<br >other through our open car windows.<br > Larry frequently stayed up all night in order to have a finished script for us on rehearsal<br >day， and sometimes so did I. We were infected somehow by the characters we had created and<br >were living their lives. I remember many mornings standing in the shower with my face<br >turned to the spray trying to unglue my eyelids. And you never forget that special ache at<br >night when you lie down and can hear your bones moaning to one another. But these years<br >still are the best time we ve ever spent--and I don t think any of us feels we ll ever know<br >anything like it again. The working conditions may have been rough--the lack of air every<br >time we d shoot a scene in The Swamp， the icy drafts that blew through the holes in the roof<br >of Stage 9， even the occasional infestation of fleas in the bed ticking--but we learned to keep<br >pushing on， and that will keep us going all our lives.<br > When we look back on this， I think we ll be grateful for having learned how far caring can<br >take you. And for having had the luck to be among this many people who cared this much.<br >We ll be glad we had this unique concept that is M*A*S*H， and ~ve~ll ~e glad we had one<br >another.<br ><br >