Ovšem nic nepřekoná seržanta Hartmana.
FMJ
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!
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.
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?
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?
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: Were you born a fat, slimy, scumbag puke piece o' shit, Private Pyle, or did you have to work on it?
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?
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.
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?
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.
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 J. Rottencrotch through her pertty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful. Port, hut!
Recruits: [chanting] This is my rifle. There are many 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.
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: 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: [Joker does his John Wayne impersonation]
Private Joker: Well, pilgrim, only after you eat the peanuts out of my shit.
Animal Mother: You talk the talk. Do you walk the walk?
Door Gunner: Git some! Git some! Git some, yeah, yeah, yeah! Anyone that runs, is a VC. Anyone that 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?
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?
Private Eightball: What we have here, little yellow sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama Blacksnake. But it ain't too goddamned beau coup.
Animal Mother: Well, if you ask me, uh, we're shooting the wrong gooks.
Private Eightball:
Hey, what the mother fuck? 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?
Animal Mother: All fucking niggers must fucking hang.
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.
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 can be a modern art master piece! What's your name fat buddy?
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 Eightball: Believe it or not, but under fire, Animal Mother can be a wonderful human being. All he needs is somebody throwing grenades at him 'til the end of his life.
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.
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 foot locker, 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 DOWN 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!
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: 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!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] I don't want no teenage queen!
Recruits: [singing] I don't want no teenage queen!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] I just want my M-14!
Recruits: [singing] I just want my M-14!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] If I die in the combat zone...
Recruits: [singing] If I die in the combat zone...
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Box me up and ship me home!
Recruits: [singing] Box me up and ship me home!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Pin my medals up on my chest!
Recruits: [singing] Pin my medals up on my chest!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Tell my mom I've Done my best!
Recruits: [singing] Tell my mom I've Done my best!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Out-fucking-standing! I will PT you all until you fucking die! I'll PT you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk!
[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman grabs Pvt. Cowboy by the shirt]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?
Private Cowboy: Sir, no Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little piece of shit! You look like a fucking worm! I bet it was you!
Private Cowboy: Sir, no Sir!
Private Joker: Sir, I said it, Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Joker. I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you, you can come over to my house and fuck my sister!
[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman punches Pvt. Joker in the stomach]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little scumbag! I got your name! I got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you! Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best unfuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!
Private Joker: Sir, Yes sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps?
Private Joker: Sir, to kill, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: So you're a killer?
Private Joker: Sir, yes sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then let me see your war face!
Private Joker: [nervously] Sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You got a war face! AAAAAAAAHH! That's a war face, let me see your war face!
Private Joker: Ahhhh!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit. You didn't convince me. let me see your REAL war face!
Private Joker: [Screaming] AHHHHHHHHHHH!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You don't scare me! Work on it!
Private Joker: Sir, yes sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Mama and Papa were laying in bed!
Recruits: [singing] Mama and Papa were laying in bed!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Mama rolled over this is what she said
Recruits: [singing] Mama rolled over this is what she said
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] 'Oh, give me some...
Recruits: [singing] 'Oh, give me some...
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] 'Oh, give me some...
Recruits: [singing] 'Oh, give me some...
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: P.T.
Recruits: P.T.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Good for you
Recruits: Good for you
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Good for me!
Recruits: Good for me!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Mmm, good!
Recruits: Mmm, good!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Up in the morning to the rising sun!
Recruits: [singing] Up in the morning to the rising sun!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [singing] Gotta run all day... till the running's done!
Recruits: [singing] Gotta run all day... till the running's done!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Ho Chi Minh is a son of a bitch!
Recruits: Ho Chi Minh is a son of a bitch!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year itch!
Recruits: Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year itch!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [chanting] This is my rifle.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [grabbing his crotch] This is my gun.
Marines: This is for fighting.
Marines: [grabbing their crotches] This is for fun.
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