Multiple Characters quotes

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 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.

Door Gunner: Anyone who runs is a V.C.! Anyone who stands still... is a well-disciplined V.C.!

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, you got girlfriend Vietnam? .... Me so horny. Me love you long time.

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

Private Eightball: [being interviewed] 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.

Private Eightball: Believe it or not, but under fire, Animal Mother can be a wonderful human being. All he needs is somebody throwing hand grenades at him for the rest of his life.

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

Private Cowboy: [after the recruits have administered a "blanket party" on Private Pyle] Remember, its just a bad dream, fat boy.

Marines: 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 my enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.

Door Gunner: Get some! Get some! Get some, get some! Yeah, YEAH! C'mon, C'mon! Get some! [whilst shooting wildly at civilians]

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] Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
Recruits: [louder] Sir, yes, sir!

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 you won't like, Private Snowball! They don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall!

Private Stork: Hey, Payback, how do you stop three black dudes from raping a white chick?
Private Payback: **** you, Stork.
Private Stork: Throw them a basketball!

Private Joker: [whispering] Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Who said that? Who the **** said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit twinkle-toed **** down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy ****ing godmother said it! Out-****ing-standing! I will P.T. you all until you ****ing die! I'll P.T. you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk!.
[Gunnery Sergeant Hartman grabs Private Cowboy by the shirt.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Was it you, you scroungy little ****, huh?!
Private Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little piece of shit! You look like a ****ing worm! I'll 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 ****ing comedian? Private Joker? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and **** my sister.
[Gunnery Sergeant Hartman punches Private Joker in the stomach. He sags to his knees.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little scumbag! I've got your name! I've 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 un**** 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: Let me see your war face!
Private Joker: Sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You got a war face? Aaaaaaaagh! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face!
Private Joker: Aaaaaaaagh!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! You didn't convince me! Let me see your real war face!
Private Joker: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You don't scare me! Work on it!
Private Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What's your excuse?
Private Cowboy: Sir, excuse for what, sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I'm asking the ****ing 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!
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?!
Private Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
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! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?
Private Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your momma's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you've been cheated! Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?
Private Cowboy: Sir, Texas, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Holy dogshit! 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'll bet you're the kind of guy that would **** 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: Did your parents have any children that lived?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name, fatbody?
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'll 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 fagots and sailors are called Lawrence! From now on you're Gomer Pyle!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
[Pyle smiles strangely.]
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.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, any ****ing time, sweetheart!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I'm trying, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds--exactly three ****ing seconds--to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-**** you! One! Two! Three!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I can't help it, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!
[Pvt. Pyle drops to his knees. Sgt. Hartman holds out his hand.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Now choke yourself!
[Pvt. Pyle puts his own hands around his neck.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Goddamn it, with my hand, numb nuts!!
[Pvt. Pyle reaches towards Sgt. Hartman's hand. Hartman jerks it away.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Don't pull my ****ing hand over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!
[Pvt. Pyle leans forward onto Sgt. Hartman's hand. Hartman chokes Pyle.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you through grinning?
Private Gomer Pyle: [barely able to speak] Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! I can't hear you!
Private Gomer Pyle: [gasping] Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! I still can't hear you! Sound off like you've got a pair!
Private Gomer Pyle: [gagging] 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 cuff links... or I will definitely **** you up!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: As soon as you finish your bunks, I want you two turds to clean the head.
Joker and Cowboy: [in unison] Sir, aye-aye, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I want that head so sanitary and squared away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in there and take a dump!
Joker and Cowboy: [in unison] Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, do you believe in the Virgin Mary?
Private Joker: Sir, no, sir!
[Hartman throws down the garbage can he's holding with a loud bang.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 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!
[Hartman slaps Joker, hard, across the cheek.]
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 you?!
Private Joker: Sir, negative, sir!!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, are you trying to offend me?!
Private Joker: Sir, negative, sir!!! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong! And the Senior Drill Instructor will beat him harder if he reverses himself, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Whose your Squad Leader, scumbag?
Private Joker: Sir, the private's 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 is promoted to Squad Leader.
Private Snowball: Sir, aye-aye, Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Disappear, scumbag!
Private Snowball: Sir, aye-aye, Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle!
Private Gomer Pyle: Private Pyle reporting as ordered, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle, from now on Private Joker is your new squad leader, and you will bunk with him! He'll teach you everything. He'll teach you how to pee.
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker is silly and he's ignorant, but he's got guts, and guts is enough. Now, you ladies carry on!
Joker, Cowboy and Pyle: [in unison] Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 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!
[Private Pyle steps down from the footlocker. Hartman flips open the lid with a bang.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well now... let's just see if there's anything missing!
Sergeant Hartman begins rummaging through the box, then freezes. He slowly picks up a jelly doughnut and holds it in disgust with his fingertips.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Holy Jesus! What is that? What the **** 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 hide 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?
[Sergeant Hartman starts to walk down the line of recruits, with the jelly doughnut still at hand.]
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 have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle ****s 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!
[The other recruits get in front-leaning-rest position.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [to Pyle] Open your mouth!
[He shoves the jelly doughnut into Pyle's mouth.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: They're paying for it, you eat it!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [referring to Lee Harvey Oswald and mass murderer Charles Whitman] Do any of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot?
[Private Joker raises his hand.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: 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!

[Hartman is calling off assignments to the newly christened Marines]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Joker!
Private Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Forty-two-twelve, Basic Military Journalism. You gotta be shitting me, Joker! You think you're Mickey Spillane? Do you think you're some kind of ****ing 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!
[Pyle doesn't answer.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Gomer Pyle!
Private Gomer Pyle: [now completely with-drawn, barely able to answer Hartman] Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You forget your ****ing name? O-three-hundred, Infantry. You made it.

Private Joker: Are those... live rounds?
Private Gomer Pyle: Seven-six-two millimeter, full metal jacket.
[Pyle smiles grotesquely.]
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!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What is this Mickey Mouse shit? What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head? [to Joker] 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 and has locked and loaded, sir!
[Hartman and Pyle look at each other.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Now you listen to me, Private Pyle, and you listen good. I want that weapon, and I want it now! You will place that rifle on the deck at your feet and step back away from it.
[With a twisted smile on his face, Pyle points the rifle at Hartman.]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What is your major malfunction, numbnuts?!! Didn't Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?!!
[Pyle shoots Hartman once in the chest, killing him. The body falls to the floor in slow motion; Joker and Pyle stare at it for a moment before Pyle targets Joker.]
Private Joker: [trembling] Easy, Leonard. Go easy, man.
[Pyle sits down heavily on one of the toilets, puts the barrel in his mouth,
Private Joker: No!!!
[Pyle pulls the trigger and blood and brains splatter the wall behind him as he slumps backward, dead.]

Private Cowboy: Don't shit me, man!
Private Joker: I wouldn't shit you. You're my favorite turd!

Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Sergeant Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Sergeant Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Sergeant 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?
Sergeant Joker: No, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is it supposed to mean?
Sergeant Joker: I don't know, sir
Pogue Colonel: You don't know very much, do you?
Sergeant 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.
Sergeant Joker: Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.
Sergeant Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Pogue Colonel: The what?
Sergeant Joker: The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?
Sergeant Joker: Our side, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Sergeant 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?
Sergeant 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.
Sergeant Joker: Aye-aye, sir.

Animal Mother: You a photographer?
Sergeant Joker: I'm a combat correspondent.
Animal Mother: Well you seen much combat?
Sergeant Joker: I've seen a little on TV.
Animal Mother: You're a real comedian.
Sergeant Joker: Well they call me the Joker.
Animal Mother: Well I got a joke for you. I'm gonna tear you a new asshole.
Sergeant Joker: Well pilgrim, only after you eat the peanuts out of my shit.
Animal Mother: You talk the talk. Do you walk the walk?

Sergeant Joker: How can you shoot women and children?
Door Gunner: Easy... you don't lead 'em so much. [laughs] Ain't war hell?

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

Sergeant Cowboy: (after Hand Job is killed) Tough break for Hand Job. He was all set to get shipped out on a medical.
Sergeant Joker: What was the matter with him?
Sergeant Cowboy: He was jerkin' off ten times a day.
Sergeant Eightball: No shit. At least ten times a day.
Sergeant Cowboy: Last week he was sent down to Da Nang to see the Navy head shrinker, and the crazy ****er starts jerking off in the waiting room. Instant Section Eight. He was just waiting for his papers to clear division.

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.

Sergeant Joker: Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
Sergeant 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.

Door Gunner: You should do a story about me sometime.
Sergeant Joker: Why should we do a story about you?
Door Gunner: Because I'm so ****ing good!

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