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Full Metal Jacket (1987) Poster

Quotes

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.

Private Joker: Are those... live rounds?

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

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I bet you're the kind of guy that 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.

[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 grabastic 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?

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?

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!

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 belives 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: 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.

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: 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.

[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.

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?

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!

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?

Crazy Earl: These are great days we're living, bros. We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth shooting.

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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".

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Private Joker: The dead know only one thing: it is better to be alive.

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [Hartman gives a speech to the graduating recruits] Today, you people are no longer maggots. Today, you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood. From now on until the day you die, wherever you are, every Marine is your brother. Most of you will go to Vietnam. Some of you will not come back. But always remember this: Marines die. That's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever. And that means YOU live forever.

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[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.

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Today... is Christmas! There will be a magic show at zero-nine-thirty! Chaplain Charlie will tell you about how the free world will conquer Communism with the aid of God and a few Marines! God has a hard-on for Marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls! God was here before the Marine Corps! So you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the Corps! Do you ladies understand?

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! NOW! MOVE IT! Or I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, IF IT SHORT-DICKS EVERY CANNIBAL ON THE CONGO!

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Were you born a fat, slimy, scumbag puke piece o' shit, Private Pyle, or did you have to work on it?

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: The deadliest weapon in the world is a Marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead marines and then you will be in a world of shit because marines are not allowed to die without permission. Do you maggots understand?

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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.

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[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.

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Private Joker: I wanted to see exotic Vietnam... the crown jewel of Southeast Asia. I wanted to meet interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture... and kill them. I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill!

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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.

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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.

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Private Cowboy: Don't shit me, man!

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

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Oh that's right, Private Pyle, don't make any fucking effort to get to the top of the fucking obstacle. If God would have wanted you up there he would have miracled your ass up there by now, wouldn't he?

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Private Joker: [narrating] Graduation is only a few days away, and the recruits of Platoon 3092 are salty. They are ready to eat their own guts and ask for seconds. The drill instructors are proud to see that we are growing beyond their control. The Marine Corps does not want robots. The Marine Corps wants killers. The Marine Corps wants to build indestructible men, men without fear.

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Private Eightball: Personally, I think, uh... they don't really want to be involved in this war. You know, I mean... they sort of took away our freedom and gave it to the, to the gookers, you know. But they don't want it. They'd rather be alive than free, I guess. Poor dumb bastards.

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Private Cowboy: I hate Vietnam. There's not one horse in this whole country. There's not one horse in Vietnam. There's somethin' basically wrong with that.

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Private Cowboy: I think what she's trying to say is that you black boys pack too much meat.

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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.

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

Private Joker: Sir, the private's sixth general order is to receive, obey, and pass on to the sentry who relieves me... all orders - Sir, the private's sixth general order - Sir, the private has been instructed, but he does not know, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You slimy scumbag! Get on your face and give me 25.

Private Joker: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman walks toward Pvt. Pyle; Pyle holds up his 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!

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

Private Cowboy: What do you got?

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Private Eightball: What we have here, little yellow sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama Blacksnake. But it ain't too goddamned beaucoup.

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Private Eightball: Hey, what the mother fuck?

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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.

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Private Eightball: Now you might not believe it, but under fire Animal Mother is one of the... finest human beings in the world. All he needs is somebody to throw hand grenades at him the rest of his life.

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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!

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel faint! Jesus H. Christ! I think you've got a hard-on!

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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!

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Reveille! Reveille! Reveille! Drop your Cocks and grab your socks! Today is Sunday! Divine worship is at 0800. Get your bunks made and get your uniforms on! Police call will commence in two minutes!

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Private Eightball: Oh, sheeit!

[laughs]

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

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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.

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Private Joker: A day without blood is like a day without sunshine.

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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!

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[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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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Private Joker: [narrating] Parris Island, South Carolina. The Marine Corps Training Depot. An eight-week college for the phony tough and the crazy brave.

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Private Joker: Ya know, half of these gook whores are serving officers in the Viet Cong; the other half have got T.B. Be sure you only fuck the ones that cough.

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Private Payback: Joker ain't never been in the shit. He thinks "The Bad Bush" is between old mama-san's legs.

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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!

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[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!

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[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!

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Come on, guys. Assholes and elbows.

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Animal Mother: Fucking son of a bitch! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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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]

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Private Cowboy: We're the Lust Hog Squad. We're life takers and heartbreakers. We shoot 'em full of holes and fill 'em full of lead.

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

Private Eightball: Yeah, Mother.

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit. It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress.

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Pick 'em up and set 'em down Pyle!

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Vietcong Sniper: Shoot... me. Sh-oooot... me...

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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.

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

Private Cowboy: Eightball, let's dance.

Private Eightball: Put a nigger behind the trigger!

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Private Joker: [narrating] Our last night on the island. I draw fire watch.

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Animal Mother: Well, if you ask me, uh, we're shooting the wrong gooks.

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[being interviewed]

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

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[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, hard core.

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

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

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

ARVN pimp: Do you want number one fuckee?

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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!

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Private Joker: You know, half of these gook whores are sworn members of the Vietcong. The other half got TB. Make sure you only fuck the ones who cough.

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Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, your ass looks like about a hundred and fifty pounds of chewed bubblegum!

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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.

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See also

Trivia | Goofs | Crazy Credits | Alternate Versions | Connections | Soundtracks

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