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!
Private Joker: The dead know only one thing: it is better to be alive.
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.
Private Joker: Are those… live rounds?
Private Gomer Pyle: Seven-six-two millimeter. Full. Metal. Jacket.
Private Joker: 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.
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?
Private Cowboy: Don’t shit me, man!
Private Joker: I wouldn’t shit you. You’re my favorite turd!
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 Corp lives forever. And that means YOU live forever.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I’m Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor, from now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and the last word out of your filthy sewers will be “Sir”. Do you maggots understand that?
[recruits answers: Sir. Yes Sir!]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit I can’t hear you. Sound off like you got a pair!
[recruits repeats with a louder tone]
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.
Private Joker: Leonard, if Hartman finds us here, we’ll be in a world of shit.
Private Gomer Pyle: I *am*… in a world… of shit.
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: 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!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [Pyle drops down to his knees]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Now choke yourself.
Private Gomer Pyle: [Pyle wraps his own hands around his throat]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Goddamn it, with MY hand, numb-nuts!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [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!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [choking Pyle] Are you through grinning?
Private Gomer Pyle: 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: 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: What is your major malfunction, numbnuts? Didn’t Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?
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 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 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.
Private Cowboy: You know there’s not a single horse in the entire country of Vietnam? There’s definitely something wrong with that.
Private Cowboy: I think what she’s trying to say is that you black boys pack too much meat.
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?
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!
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”.
Private Joker: A day without blood is like a day without sunshine.
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