[Boonie and Hyers are dragging the dead Col. Darling off K.C.'s bed]
K.C.: What are you yelling at me for? It's not my fault the colonel had a bum ticker. Well? You're not just going to leave him like that?
Boonie: Why can't we just take him back to his bed?
K.C.: [displaying the handcuffs Col. Darling is wearing] Because he probably has a wife and three children back home. Don't you think we should spare them the humiliation?
Jeff Hyers: Now don't get edgy.
K.C.: Don't get edgy? A full-dead colonel is handcuffed to my bed and you're telling me not to get edgy?
Boonie: A full-dead handcuffed colonel, with sunglasses.
Jeff Hyers: Well, what are we going to do now?
Boonie: I don't know. What do you think?
Jeff Hyers: I don't know! That's why I asked you. What do you think?
Boonie: I don't know!
Boonie: What do you think?
K.C.: What do I think? I think we're never going to win this war!
Dr. Richard: Well, it looks like Corporal Nichols is displaying some kind of rebellion.
Nurse Colleen McMurphy: [to Colonel Darling] It's a massive frontal lobe contusion.
Dr. Richard: What I mean in medical terms, the kid's head did a big splat. I shoveled as much of his brain back into his head as a could, but I guess I must have missed a few pieces.
Colonel Buster Darling: Is this one of the casualties from the attack last night on Firebase Nightingale?
Dr. Richard: No. Firebase Watertower. A few too many Brewskies.
Dr. Gerard Bernard: [about a brain damaged soldier playing with some children] He's quite fine.
Nurse Colleen McMurphy: I wasn't worried.
Dr. Gerard Bernard: Good. Children his age usually have no problem getting along.
Nurse Colleen McMurphy: Corporal Nichols is 20.
Dr. Gerard Bernard: Not any more.
Pvt. Samuel Beckett: [Beckett is preparing the body of a Colonel who died while enjoying K.C.'s 'services'] I found these among his personal effects.
[Handing letters to Boonie and Hyers]
Boonie: [reads from one letter] Colonel Darling, we regret to inform you that your request for combat duty has been denied.
Jeff Hyers: [reads from another letter] Dear Buster, the way we're fighting this war it seems like everyone is sleepwalking. My regrets that something so minor prevented your transfer. Best, Brigadier General Stanley.
Pvt. Samuel Beckett: They don't give medals for sleepwalking. It'll keep you out of the bush, off the battlefield, but no gold, no ribbons. So... why here's one...
[picking up homemade ribbons]
Pvt. Samuel Beckett: For all the paper cuts you got while you were filling out those carbon separated forms, in triplicate. Here's one for all the hours spent behind a desk sending official memorandums through the appropriate channels, and one tiny little ribbon for having died while not serving your country during a "military police action"... which they refuse to call a war.
K.C.: [Beckett offers a ribbon to K.C. and she pins it to the Colonel's uniform] For imaginative and self-sacrificing action while engaged, for never abandoning your post, for the silly stupid, bad, heroic idea that this was some place that you wanted to come.