Full Metal Jacket Quotes

Private Joker: Are those... live rounds?

Private Gomer Pyle: Seven-six-two millimeter. Full metal jacket.

[last lines]

Private Joker: [voice-over] My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Private Cowboy: Don't shit me, man!

Private Joker: I wouldn't shit you. You're my favorite turd!

[first lines]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "Sir". Do you maggots understand that?

Recruits: [In unison in a normal speaking tone] Sir, yes Sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair!

Recruits: [In unison, much louder] SIR, YES SIR!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day, you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grab-asstic pieces of amphibian shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps. Do you maggots understand that?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How tall are you, private?

Private Cowboy: Sir, five-foot-nine, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Five-foot-nine, I didn't know they stacked shit that high!

Private Joker: Leonard, if Hartman comes in here and catches us, we'll both be in a world of shit.

Private Gomer Pyle: I *am*... in a world... of shit.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do you think I'm cute, Private Pyle? Do you think I'm funny?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face.

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

[tries to stop smiling]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I'm trying, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle I'm gonna give you three seconds; exactly three-fucking-seconds to wipe that stupid looking grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you! ONE! TWO! THREE!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I can't help it, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! Get on your knees scumbag!

[Pyle drops down to his knees]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Now choke yourself.

[Pyle wraps his own hands around his throat]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Goddamn it, with MY hand, numb-nuts!

[Pyle reaches for Hartman's hand]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Don't pull my fucking hand over there! I said choke yourself; now lean forward and choke yourself!

[Pyle does so]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you through grinning?

Private Gomer Pyle: [gagging] Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, I can't hear you!

Private Gomer Pyle: [louder] Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, I STILL can't hear you! Sound off like you've got a pair!

Private Gomer Pyle: SIR, YES, SIR!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That's enough! Get on your feet. Private Pyle you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cufflinks or I will definitely fuck you up!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You will give your rifle a girl's name because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary-Jane Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful. Port, hut!

[Recruits grabs their rifles]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Prepare to mount!

[Recruits step back towards their bunks]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Mount!

[Recruits quickly hop onto their bunks]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Port, hut!

[Recruits grabs their rifles and holds them up]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Pray!

Recruits: [chanting] This is my rifle. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: my rifle and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of our enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Order, hut!

[Recruits puts the guns at their sides]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: At ease! Good night, ladies.

Recruits: Good night, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [to the watchman] Hit it, sweetheart.

Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?

Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?

Private Joker: I don't remember, sir.

Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?

Private Joker: "Born to Kill", sir.

Pogue Colonel: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?

Private Joker: No, sir.

Pogue Colonel: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you.

Private Joker: Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.

Private Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.

Pogue Colonel: The what?

Private Joker: The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?

Private Joker: Our side, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Don't you love your country?

Private Joker: Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Then how about getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?

Private Joker: Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel: Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.

Private Joker: Aye-aye, sir.

Animal Mother: You a photographer?

Private Joker: I'm a combat correspondent.

Animal Mother: Well, you seen much combat?

Private Joker: [sarcastic] I've seen a little on TV.

Animal Mother: You're a real comedian.

Private Joker: Well, they call me the Joker.

Animal Mother: Well I got a joke for you. I'm gonna tear you a new asshole.

Private Joker: [doing John Wayne impression] Well, pilgrim, only after you eat the peanuts out of my shit!

Animal Mother: You talk the talk. Do you walk the walk?

Animal Mother: Freedom?

[scoffs]

Animal Mother: You'd better flush out your head, new guy. This isn't about freedom; this is a slaughter. If I'm gonna get my balls blown off for a word, my word is "poontang".

Door Gunner: Git some! Git some! Git some, yeah, yeah, yeah! Anyone who runs, is a VC. Anyone who stands still, is a well-disciplined VC! You guys oughta do a story about me sometime!

Private Joker: Why should we do a story about you?

Door Gunner: 'Cuz I'm so fuckin' good! I done got me 157 dead gooks killed. Plus 50 water buffalo, too! Them's all confirmed!

Private Joker: Any women or children?

Door Gunner: Sometimes!

Private Joker: How can you shoot women or children?

Door Gunner: Easy! Ya just don't lead 'em so much! Ain't war hell?

Chili: You weren't on Operation Hastings, Payback. You weren't even in country.

Private Payback: Oh, eat shit and die, you fucking Spanish American. You fucking *pogue*! I was there man! I was in the shit with the grunts!

[Cowboy is sending Eightball to investigate an area for enemies]

Private Cowboy: Eightball, let's dance.

Private Eightball: Put a nigger behind the trigger!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Pickett!

Pickett: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 0300. Infantry. Toe Jam!

Toe Jam: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 0300. Infantry. Adams!

Adams: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 1800. Engineers. You go out and find mines. Cowboy!

Private Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 0300. Infantry. Taylor!

Taylor: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 0300. Infantry. Joker!

Private Joker: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 4212. Basic Military Journalism. You gotta be shittin' me, Joker. You think you're Mickey Spillane? You think you're some kind of a fuckin' writer?

Private Joker: Sir, I wrote for my high school newspaper, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Jesus H. Christ! You're not a writer. You're a killer!

Private Joker: A killer, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Gomer Pyle. GOMER PYLE!

Private Gomer Pyle: [staring into space] Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You forget your fuckin' name? 0300. Infantry. You made it.

[at the Firing Range, Pvt. Pyle is shooting at the targets, doing an impressive job while Hartman watches]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Outstanding, Private Pyle. I think we finally found something that you do well.

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [as Joker checks and then holds up his rifle for inspection, Hartman takes the rifle and proceeds to inspect it] What's your sixth general order?

Private Joker: Sir! The private's sixth general order is to receive and to obey -- and to pass on to the sentry who relieves me -- all orders from the CO, from the OD, from any and all other officers, and from NCOs of the guard! Sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] What's this weapon's name, Private Joker?

Private Joker: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] Sir! The private's weapon's name is the Bitch, sir!

[Hartman angrily passes back the rifle]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] You slimy piece of shit, that's no way to talk to your rifle! Now get on your face and give me 25!

Private Joker: Twenty-five! Yes, sir!

[while Joker executes the push-ups, Hartman approaches Pyle who holds up his own rifle]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How many counts in that movement you just executed?

Private Gomer Pyle: [hard and firm tone] Sir! Four counts, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's the idea of looking down in the chamber?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir! That is to guarantee that the private is not giving the inspecting officer a loaded weapon, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's your fifth general order?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir! The private's fifth general order is to quit my post only when properly relieved, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's this weapon's name, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir! The private's weapon's name is Charlene, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, you are definitely born again hard! Hell, I may even allow you to serve as a rifleman in my beloved Corps.

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir! Yes, sir!

Private Joker: I wanna slip my tube steak into your sister. What'll you take in trade?

Private Cowboy: What do you got?

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, baby. You got girlfriend Vietnam?

Private Joker: Not just this minute.

Da Nang Hooker: Well, baby, me so horny. Me so HORNY. Me love you long time. You party?

Private Joker: Yeah, we might party. How much?

Da Nang Hooker: Fifteen dollar.

Private Joker: Fifteen dollars for both of us?

Da Nang Hooker: No. Each you fifteen dollar. Me love you long time. Me so HORNY.

Private Joker: Fifteen dollar too beaucoup. Five dollars each.

Da Nang Hooker: Me sucky-sucky. Me love you too much.

Private Joker: Five dollars is all my mom allows me to spend.

Da Nang Hooker: Okay. Ten dollar each.

Private Joker: What do we get for ten dollars?

Da Nang Hooker: Every t'ing you want.

Private Joker: Everything?

Da Nang Hooker: Every t'ing.

Private Joker: [to Rafterman] Well, old buddy, feel like spending some of your hard-earned money?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, do you believe in the Virgin Mary?

Private Joker: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, well, Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly!

Private Joker: Sir, the private said "no, sir," sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Why you little maggot, you make me want to vomit!

[slaps Joker]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You Goddamn communist heathen, you had best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your guts out! Now you DO love the Virgin Mary, don't ya?

Private Joker: Sir, NEGATIVE, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, are you trying to offend me?

Private Joker: Sir, NEGATIVE, sir! Sir, the private believes any answer he gives will be wrong and the Senior Drill Instructor will only beat him harder if he reverses himself, SIR!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Who's your squad leader, scumbag?

Private Joker: Sir, the squad leader is Private Snowball, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Snowball!

Private Snowball: Sir, Private Snowball reporting as ordered, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Snowball, you're fired. Private Joker's promoted to squad leader.

Private Snowball: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Disappear, scumbag!

Private Snowball: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle!

Private Gomer Pyle: Private Pyle reporting as ordered, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, Private Joker is your new squad leader, and you will bunk with him! He'll teach you everything, he'll teach you how to pee!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker is silly and he's ignorant, but he's got guts, and guts is enough in my beloved Corps! Now, you ladies carry on.

Private Joker, Private Gomer Pyle: [together] Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Private Cowboy: Tough break for Hand Job. He was all set to get shipped out on a medical.

Private Joker: What was the matter with him?

Private Cowboy: He was jerkin' off ten times a day.

Private Eightball: No shit. At least ten times a day.

Private Cowboy: Last week he was sent down to Da Nang to see the Navy head shrinker, and the crazy fucker starts jerking off in the waiting room. Instant Section Eight. He was just waiting for his papers to clear division.

T.H.E. Rock: You're going home now.

Crazy Earl: Semper fi.

Donlon: We're mean marines, sir.

Private Eightball: Go easy, bros.

Animal Mother: Better you than me.

Private Joker: Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

Private Cowboy: Hey, start the cameras. This is "Vietnam - the Movie."

Private Eightball: Yeah, Joker can be John Wayne. I'll be a horse.

Donlon: T.H.E. Rock can be a rock.

T.H.E. Rock: I'll be Ann-Margret.

Doc Jay: Animal Mother can be a rabid buffalo.

Crazy Earl: I'll be General Custer.

Private Rafterman: Well, who'll be the Indians?

Animal Mother: Hey, we'll let the gooks play the Indians.

Lt. Lockhart: Charlie has hit every major military target in Vietnam, and hit 'em hard. In Saigon, the United States Embassy has been overrun by suicide squads. Khe Sahn is standing by to be overrun. We also have reports that a division of N.V.A. has occupied all of the city of Hue south of the Perfume River. In strategic terms, Charlie's cut the country in half... the civilian press are about to wet their pants and we've heard even Cronkite's going to say the war is now unwinnable. In other words, it's a huge shit sandwich, and we're all gonna have to take a bite.

Private Joker: Sir... does this mean that Ann-Margret's not coming?

Lt. Lockhart: Joker... I want you to get straight up to Phu Bai. Captain January will need all his people.

Private Joker: Yes, sir.

Lt. Lockhart: And Joker, you will take off that damn button. How's it gonna look if you get killed wearing a peace symbol?

Private Rafterman: Sir? Permission to go with Joker?

Lt. Lockhart: Permission granted.

Private Rafterman: Thank you, sir.

Private Joker: Sir, permission not to take Rafterman with me?

Lt. Lockhart: You still here? Vanish, Joker, most ricky-tick, and take Rafterman with you. You're responsible for him.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Where the hell are you from anyway, private?

Private Cowboy: Sir, Texas, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Holy dog shit! Texas? Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy, and you don't look much like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down. Do you suck dicks?

Private Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you a peter puffer?

Private Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I bet you're the kind of guy who would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: As soon as your bunks are done, I want you two turds to clean the head.

Joker and Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I want that head so sanitary and squared-away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in and take a dump.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you shook up? Are you nervous?

Private Cowboy: Sir, I am, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do I make you nervous?

Private Cowboy: Sir?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: "Sir" what? Were you about to call me an asshole?

[referring to Lee Harvey Oswald and mass murderer Charles Whitman]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do any of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot?... Private Joker.

Private Joker: Sir. In the Marines, Sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: In the Marines. Outstanding. Those individuals showed what one motivated Marine and his rifle can do. And before you ladies leave my Island, you will all be able to do the same thing.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's your excuse?

Private Cowboy: Sir, excuse for what, sir?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I'm asking the fucking questions here, private! Do you understand?

Private Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?

Private Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.

[Marching Song]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I don't know but I been told...

Marines: I don't know but I been told...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Eskimo pussy is mighty cold.

Marines: Eskimo pussy is mighty cold.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: MMM, good...

Marines: MMM, good...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Tastes good...

Marines: Tastes Good...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Feels Good.

Marines: Feels good.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Did your parents have any children that lived?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I bet they regret that. You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name fat body?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Lawrence? Lawrence what... of Arabia?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That name sounds like royalty. Are you royalty?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do you suck dicks?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit. I bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose.

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I don't like the name Lawrence, only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence. From now on you're Gomer Pyle.

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What is this Mickey Mouse shit? What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head? Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights-out? Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon? Why aren't you stomping Private Pyle's guts out?

Private Joker: Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the senior drill instructor that Private Pyle has a full magazine that is locked and loaded, Sir!

[pause]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [slowly and strictly] Now, you listen to me, Private Pyle. And you listen good. I want that weapon, and I want it now. You will place that rifle on the deck at your feet, and step back away from it.

[Private Pyle grins and aims the rifle at Hartman]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [raising his voice] What is your major malfunction, numbnuts? Didn't Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?

[Private Pyle shoots Hartman, killing him]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Holy Jesus! What is that? What the fuck is that? WHAT IS THAT, PRIVATE PYLE?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, a jelly doughnut, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: A jelly doughnut?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How did it get here?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you allowed to eat jelly doughnuts, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: And why not, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Because you are a disgusting fat body, Private Pyle!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then why did you try to sneak a jelly doughnut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, because I was hungry, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Because you were hungry...

[turns and addresses rest of platoon]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon. I have tried to help him. But I have failed. I have failed because YOU have not helped me. YOU people have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle fucks up, I will not punish him! I will punish all of YOU! And the way I see it ladies, you owe me for ONE JELLY DOUGHNUT! NOW GET ON YOUR FACES!

[rest of recruits get in front-leaning-rest position, Hartman turns to Pyle]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Open your mouth!

[shoves jelly doughnut into PYLE's mouth]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: They're payin' for it; YOU eat it! Ready! Exercise!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's your name, scumbag?

Private Snowball: Sir, Private Brown, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! From now on you're Private Snowball. Do you like that name?

Private Snowball: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well there's one thing that you won't like, Private Snowball: they don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall.

Private Snowball: Sir, yes, sir!

[being interviewed]

Animal Mother: What do I think about the U.S. involvement in the war? I think we should win it.

[when Private Pyle is on the obstacle course]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Get your fat ass up there! I'll bet if there was some pussy up there you would get up there, wouldn't you?

Private Pyle: Sir, yes sir!

[after Joker kills the sniper]

Private Rafterman: [laughs] Hey Joker, we ought to put you up for the congressional medal of... ugly! Ha-ha!

Donlon: Hard core man, fucking hard core.

[the recruits have administered a "sock party" beating on Private Pyle]

Private Cowboy: Remember, this was all just a bad dream, fat boy!

[an ARVN pimp and his hooker drive towards the Marines]

ARVN pimp: Do you want number one fuckee?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [after discovering Private Pyle's unlocked footlocker] Jesus H Christ. Private Pyle, why is your footlocker unlocked?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I don't know, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, if there is one thing in this world that I hate, it is an unlocked footlocker! You know that don't you?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: If it wasn't for dickheads like you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this world, would there?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: GET DOWN!

Lt. Lockhart: [reading] ... we have a new directive from M.A.F. on this. In the future, in place of "search and destroy," substitute the phrase "sweep and clear." Got it?

Private Joker: Got it. Very catchy.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [calling out to platoon] Left shoulder, hut!

[Pyle accidentally puts his rifle on his right shoulder, then corrects quickly, but not before Hartman sees it. He walks up on him]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I don't know, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You are dumb, Private Pyle, but do you expect me to believe that you don't know left from right?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then you did that on purpose! You wanna be different!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [slaps Pyle hard on the left hand side of his face] What side was that, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, left side, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [shouts] Are you sure, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [slaps him hard again, this time on right side of his face, knocking his hat off; shouts] What side was that, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle: [nearly in tears] Sir, right side, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Don't fuck with me again, Pyle! Pick up your fuckin' cover!

Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

[Pvt. Joker is doing pull-ups. Hartman counts them off]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: One for the Commandant! One for the Corps! Come on Joker, pull! Pull!

[Pvt. Joker can't complete another pull-up]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I guess the Corps don't get theirs!

[Pvt. Joker moves on. Pvt. Pyle steps up to the bar]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Get up there, fat boy!

[Pvt. Pyle tries with all his might, but cannot do a single pull-up]

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Come on, Pyle! Pull! Pull! You mean to tell me you can't do one single pull up Pyle? You are a worthless piece of shit, Pyle! Get outta my face!

Doc Jay: Cowboy!

Private Cowboy: What?

Doc Jay: We can't leave him out there!

Private Cowboy: We're not leaving. We'll get him when the tank comes up.

Doc Jay: He's hit three fuckin' times, he can't wait that long!

Private Cowboy: I've seen this before, that sniper is just trying to suck us in one at a time.

Private Cowboy: [Eightball is shot a fourth time by the sniper and screams] No!

[Animal Mother opens fire]

Private Cowboy: Goddam it! No! Goddamit cease fire! You can't see the sniper!

Doc Jay: Man, fuck this! Fuck this shit! I'm going in to bring him out.

Private Cowboy: No, you sit the fuck down!

Doc Jay: Cover me!

[Runs out in the open to save Eightball]

Private Cowboy: Goddamit! Fuck!

[the Lusthog Squad opens fire]

Private Eightball: Oh, sheeit!

[laughs]

Private Eightball: This baby-san looks like she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.

Animal Mother: I'm going first.

Private Eightball: Now, back off, white bread! Don't get between a dog and his meat.

Animal Mother: All fucking niggers must fucking hang!

[responds to protests]

Animal Mother: Hey, hey, I won't be long! I'll skip the foreplay.

Private Cowboy: Been getting any?

Private Joker: Only your sister.

Private Cowboy: Well, better my sister than my mom, and my mom ain't bad.

Animal Mother: Hey, Jungle bunny. Thank God for the sickle cell, huh?

Private Eightball: Yeah, Mother.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do any of you people know who Charles Whitman was? None of you dumbasses knows? Private Cowboy?

Private Cowboy: Sir, he was that guy who shot all those people from that tower in Austin, Texas, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That's affirmative. Charles Whitman killed twelve people from a twenty-eight-story observation tower at the University of Texas from distances up to four hundred yards. Anybody know who Lee Harvey Oswald was? Private Snowball?

Private Snowball: Sir, he shot Kennedy, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That's right, and do you know how far away he was?

Private Snowball: Sir, it was pretty far! From that book suppository building, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: All right, knock it off! Two hundred and fifty feet! He was two hundred and fifty feet away and shooting at a moving target. Oswald got off three rounds with an old Italian bolt action rifle in only six seconds and scored two hits, including a head shot! Do any of you people know where these individuals learned to shoot? Private Joker?

Private Joker: Sir, in the Marines, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: In the Marines! Outstanding! Those individuals showed what one motivated marine and his rifle can do! And before you ladies leave my island, you will be able to do the same thing!

Lt. Lockhart: You must have seen blood trails, drag marks?

Private Joker: It was raining, sir.

Lt. Lockhart: Well that's why God passed the law of probability. Re-write it and give it a happy ending. One killed. Make it a sapper. Or an officer. Which?

Private Joker: Whichever you say.

Lt. Lockhart: Grunts like reading about dead officers.

Private Joker: Okay - an officer. How about a general?

Animal Mother: [as the squad discusses on what to do with the wounded sniper] Hey asshole... Cowboy's wasted. You're fresh out of friends. I'm running the squad now, and I say we leave the gook for the motherlovin' rats.

Private Joker: I'm not trying to run the squad. I'm just saying we can't leave her like this.

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps?

Pvt. Joker: Sir! To kill, sir!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: So you're a killer!

Pvt. Joker: Sir! Yes, sir!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Then let me see your War Face...! You got a War Face?

[He roars at Joker]

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: That's a War Face; now, let me see your War Face!

[Joker roars at him]

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: BULLSHIT YOU DIDN'T CONVINCE ME! LET ME SEE YOUR *REAL* WAR FACE!

[Joker roars harder and louder than before]

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: You still didn't convince me; work on it!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!

Recruits: Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Got the blue balls, crabs and the seven-year-itch!

Recruits: Got the blue balls, crabs and the seven-year-itch!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Your ass looks like about a hundred and fifty pounds of chewed bubble gum, Pyle. Do you know that?

Pvt. Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: I don't want no teenage queen.

Recruits: I don't want no teenage queen.

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: I just want my M-14.

Recruits: I just want my M-14.

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: If I die in the combat zone.

Recruits: If I die in the combat zone.

Gny. Sgt. Hartman: Box me up and ship me home.

Recruits: Box me up and ship me home.

Rafterman: You know what really pisses me off about these people?

Pvt. Joker: What?

Rafterman: We're supposed to be helping them and they shit all over us every chance they get. I just can't feature that.

Pvt. Joker: Don't take it too hard, Rafterman. It's just business.

Lt. Lockhart: All right, Ann-Margret and entourage are due here next week. I want someone to be there on the airfield and stick with her for a couple of days. Uh, Rafterman, you take it.

Rafterman: Aye-aye, sir.

Lt. Lockhart: And get me some good low-angle stuff. Don't make it too obvious, but I want to see fur - and early morning dew.

Stork: Hey, Payback. How do you stop five black dudes from raping a white chick?

Payback: Fuck you, Stork.

Stork: Throw'em a basketball.

Pvt. Cowboy: I'm squad leader.

Pvt. Joker: I'll follow you anywhere, scumbag.

Pvt. Cowboy: Don't shit me, man!

Pvt. Joker: I wouldn't shit you. You're my favorite turd!

Private Joker: Is that you John Wayne? Is this me?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimey, little communist, shit twinkle-towed cocksucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody huh? The fairy-fucking godmother said it! I'll fucking stab you! I'll fucking BT you all until you fucking die! I'll fucking BT your asshole for sucking buttermilk. Was it you you scrounging little fuck huh?