Muffley: Is there really a chance for that plane to get through?
Turgidson: Mr. President, if I may speak freely, the Russkie talks big, but frankly, we think he's short of know-how. I mean, you just can't expect a bunch of ignorant peons to understand a machine like some of our boys. And that's not meant as an insult, Mr. Ambassador, I mean, you, you take your average Russkie, we all know how much guts he's got. Hell, look, look at all them them Nazis killed off and they still wouldn't quit...if the pilot's good, see, I mean, if he's really..sharp, he can barrel that baby in so low [he spreads his arms like wings and laughs], you oughtta see it sometime, it's a sight. A big plane like a '52. VRROOM! There's jet exhaust, fryin' chickens in the barnyard.
Muffley: Yeah, but has he got a chance?
Turgidson: Has he got a chance? Hell, Ye...ye... [He covers his mouth dumbstruck, suddenly and solemnly grasping the implications of his words]
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