N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Hellstrom: [in German] I must say, I grow weary of these monkeyshines. [clicking sound] Did you hear that? That was the sound of my Walther. Pointed right at your testicles.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Why do you have your Walther pointed at my testicles?
Hellstrom: Because you've just given yourself away, Captain. You're no more German than that scotch.
Hicox: Well, Major...
Bridget von Hammersmark: Major...
Hellstrom: Shut up, slut! You were saying?
Hicox: I was saying that that makes two of us. I've had a gun pointed at your balls since you sat down.
Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz: That makes three of us. And at this range, I'm a real Frederick Zoller.
Hellstrom: Looks like we have a bit of a sticky situation here.
Hicox: What's going to happen, Major... you're going to stand up and walk out that door with us.
Hellstrom: No, no, no, no, no, no. I don't think so. I'm afraid, you and I, we both know, Captain, no matter what happens to anybody else in this room the two of us aren't going anywhere. Too bad about Sergeant Wilhelm and his famous friends. If any of you expect to live, you'll have to shoot them too. Looks like little Max will grow up an orphan. How sad.
Hicox: [In English] Well, if this is it, old boy, I hope you don't mind if I go out speaking the King's.
Hellstrom: [In English] By all means, Captain.
Hicox: There's a special ring in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch. Seeing as how I may be rapping on the door momentarily... [drinks his scotch] I must say, damn good stuff, Sir. Now, about this pickle we find ourselves in. It would appear there's only one thing left for you to do.
Hellstrom: And what would that be?
Hicox: Stiglitz...
Stiglitz: Say "Auf Wiedersehen" to your Nazi balls!

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