I'm not going to the other side of this camp for my morning glory.

Stick that fucker back in there.

[Lincoln]I'm waiting.

[flies buzzing]

I left you a little gift in there.

Not too hard, not too soft.

Perfect.

Thank you, sir.

Happy holidays, Private.

Done.

[clicking]

Done.

Again.

Again.

- Done. //- Done.

- How many is that, Cortez? //- Twenty-six in a row.

What would you say if I told you I was gonna kill you...

for fucking me over like that?

I already told you, it was an accident.

An accident.

Right. Like when this trigger slips.

Of course, your nice little mom and dad are where?

- Cottonwood Falls. Cottonwood Falls. //- They'll be sad.

They won't have their little boy to send fucking cookies to.

I'll say it was an accidental discharge.

I might even spend some time in the brig...

but I'll end this fucking waiting.

And I'll know what it's like to kill a man.

What are you doing?

I'm in the firing position known as the sitting position.

After the prone position, it is the platform most likely...

to enable a Marine to effectively kill his target.

His target being a human, generally an enemy...

but sometimes a friend or friendly.

We call this friendly fire, or friendly fucking...

or getting friendly fucked.

Come on, Swoff, it was your watch.

It was Christmas Eve, and I was just sitting there thinking about home.

That's it. What do you think, Cortez?

You think I'll accidentally kill your homeboy from boot camp?

Sure you'll kill him. Accidents happen.

- You don't see shit, right? //- I don't see shit.

This ain't even my tent.

As a matter of fact, I ain't even here, Swoff.

[breathing heavily]

What are you doing, man?

The M16A2 service rifle is a lightweight...

air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed shoulder weapon.

It fires a 5.56 mm ball projectile...

muzzle velocity 2,800 feet per second.

This is my rifle. Repeat after me.

Repeat after me.

Repeat after me!

- This is my rifle. //- There you go. That's right.

[Fergus crying]Say the fucking words!

- There are many like it. //- There are many like it.

But this one is mine.

Without my rifle, I am nothing. Say it, you fucking idiot!

- No. //- This is my rifle!

There are many like it, but this one is mine!

- Without my rifle, I am nothing. //- This is¡¦

No, come on! Shut the fuck up.

Shut the fuck up.

Shut the fuck up and repeat after me!

Without me, I'm....

This is my rifle. There are many like it!

Without me, my rifle is nothing! Fucking say it! Repeat after me!

Repeat after me! Without my rifle, I am nothing!

- I am nothing! //- I am nothing.

- Shut the fuck up. //- I'm nothing.

Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.

Get up.

Fuck, shoot me, then. Fucking shoot me!

- Shoot me in the fucking face! //- I don't want to.

Do you fucking see how hard it is?

You shoot me in the fucking face, you fucking faggot!

- No, I don't want to. //- Friendly fucking fire!

- Shoot me, you fucking pussy! //- No.

Fuck!

Fuck.

[panting]

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

So you had a round in the chamber? You were locked and loaded?

I messed up, man.

Look at him. He's fucking shaking.

- Fergus, get up here. //- I messed up, man.

Okay.

Look at him.

[grunts]

You fucking do that again, and I will shoot you myself.

All right?

Well?

[voice catching]I'm sorry, man.

[distant explosion sounds]

What was that?

It might be an echo.

[distant explosion sounds]

No, it's not. I hear it, too.

Call it in. See if there are friendlies in the area.

Lima 2 Charlie.

Lima 2 Charlie.

This fucking shit is fucked, man.

Army has satellites, and we have this fucking shit.

Better off sending smoke signals, man.

All right, guys, spread it out.

[whispering]Troy. Troy.

- Who are they, man? //- I don't know.

They got RPGs under their robes, man.

If they've got anthrax in there, we're gonna fucking melt.

[both speaking in Spanish]

[mumbling in Arabic]

Form a line!

Okay.

What do we do now?

[Swoff]Looks like they wanna talk.

Yeah? How you gonna do that?

[speaking in Arabic]

That's his left hand. Shoot him!

Easy, easy, easy. Hold your fire.

[speaking in Arabic]

[Troy]Swoff, what are you doing? Swoff!

Guys, cover him.

[Marine]Fucking crazy motherfucker.

[Swoff speaking in Arabic]

What's up, man?

[man speaking in Arabic]

What?

What is he doing?

[Swoff]Calm down.

What the fuck is he doing?

Don't fucking touch the rifle!

Back up! Back the fuck up!

No fire.

No fire!

[camels grunting]

- What did he say? //- Someone shot their camels.

- What? //- Someone shot their camels, man.

[Troy]Eight men for five camels.

Swoff spoke Arabic.

Sounded like a duck fucking or something, but he spoke Arabic.

Oh, yeah, yeah. But at least we finally saw something.

You guys should see what the.40 does...

to the head of a fucking camel, though.

What does the.40 do to the head of a camel, Fowler?

It turns the head inside out in about three fucking knots.

The head shot's like a motherfucker, too.

It's easy shots, slow....

Boom!

[imitating splattering]

[laughing]

[vehicle honking]

Oh, shit!

Wow! Here they are! My lady love!

Show's starting, boys!

Hey, teach me some of that Arabic. What's "Come suck my dick"?

[talking gibberish]

...ducks fucking....

Drop the zero, get with the hero. I like you.

- Sit down, Fowler. //- That's the one. You saw.

- She'll never forget me, man. //- It's not funny, man.

That bitch wanted me. Did you see that?

- You truly are an asshole. //- Come on, man.

You just haven't got to kill anything yet.

- That's your problem, man. //- Don't fucking touch me.

You'll get to kill something sometime.

Your day will come, man. Your day will come.

Listen up!

I'm about to read to you what Mr. Saddam Hussein...

has just said to the lraqi people.

And you better not consider this a bunch of bullshit.

The mother of all battles is upon us.

The sacrifices the lraqi people will make¡¦

are equal to the importance of the victory.

Kuwait is the branch that must be returned to the tree.

The blood of the infidels will flow like a river.

Jihad is the way of all Arab people."

We are now Operation Desert Storm.

And we're the fucking righteous hammer of God.

And that hammer is coming down. It's real now.

We're going to the border.

[marines]Ooh-rah!

Let's go! Let's move it!

Let's punch in this clock. We got work to do.

Let's go. Let's move.

Come on! Let's go!

Move.

Listen up.

When we cross this berm tomorrow...

we expect as many as 30,000 casualties the first day.

There will be gas. It will be fucking nasty.

These atropine-oxime injectors go along with your PB pill packs.

In the event that you're attacked by nerve agents such as soman...

these agents will produce casualties immediately...

if you do not deploy these countermeasures fucking ricky-tick.

Why in the fuck, if we've already taken a set of PB pills...

and just now been issued the fucking injector?

Shut the fuck up. I'm sick of your shit.

All right, all right, man. Calm down.

Look, they don't want chemically dead fighters on CNN.

Just sign it, Kruger.

- What the fuck is this? //- It's a waiver.

It says these pills aren't proven.

It says you won't sue if you get fucked up.

Okay, yeah, sure, fine.

I'll take the fucking pills, and a year later...

my asshole will turn inside out and start fucking talking to me.

It's all a bitch. These pills ain't worth a shit.

Kruger, you country motherfuck!

In 1987, Saddam lnsane used chemical weapons...

against the Kurds, and he killed thousands like fucking that.

The ones that lived, their kids came out fucked up.

Eight toes to one foot, no anal opening...

retarded, blind.

Such fucked up little motherfuckers...

they should have just killed them all anyway.

You want that, don't take the pills.

You don't want that, sign the fucking waivers...

and take the fucking pills!

All of you, get your pills in your hand.

Get them out. Get them so I can see them.

[distant explosions sounding]

Now take the pill and put it on your tongue.

Swallow the pill.

Now let me see your tongues.

Now, doesn't that feel better? Don't we all feel better?

- Yes, Staff Sergeant! //- Good.

Now, dig your sleeping holes.

Dig your holes with the hands God gave you.

[jet engines roaring]

Fucking zoomies.

They're gonna win the war all by themselves?

They'll be sleeping in their own beds tonight, too.

So what, man? We're scout fucking snipers.

When the shit hits the fan, we lead the fucking way. Ooh-rah!

[marines]Ooh-rah.

Sure, look around. You hear those planes.

This war is gonna move too fast for us.

All right, we can shoot 1,000 yards.

To go that far in Vietnam, that would take a week.

In World War l, a year.

Here, it's gonna take about 10 fucking seconds.

By the time we have our rifles dialed...

the war is going to be a mile down the road.

Wake up!

Jesus!

What the fuck is going on?

Get out of my sleeping hole.

We're about to go in the shit, and you're fucking with their heads.

Get out of my sleeping hole.

[Sykes]Lucky day! Listen up!

We've got our orders. We leave tomorrow, 0900.

Swofford, you got to sign your waiver again.

I can't read your fucking handwriting.

Yes, Staff Sergeant.

Done.

I don't give a fuck, Swofford, I could read it the first time.

Your boy, Troy got turned down for re-enlistment.

What? You're fucking with me.

Hey, watch your mouth. I don't need your fucking attitude.

But that's all he-- That's all he wants, is to be in the Suck.

I know that, but the Suck doesn't want him.

He had a criminal record. He lied about it.

And he lied about it on his application.

So when we get back home, he's out. He's out.

The reason I'm telling you is so you can keep him from fucking up.

You think you can manage that?

Can you manage that?

[helicopter whirring]

- What? //- So you weren't even gonna tell me?

What?

Why don't you just shut the fuck up and mind your own business?

What the fuck is this, man?

[Cortez]Bet it smells good, man.

She sent it back, man.

Sent it back like you send back a ring.

[Cortez]What did she write?

I'll always love you, Kristina.

What's the fucking problem, then?

Nothing stays the same, Swoff.

Not our girlfriends, not our families, not anyone.

Time doesn't stop back in the real world...

'cause we're about to go in the shit. We're Marines.

- Nobody gives a rat's ass. //- No, we're jarheads.

Yeah, what the fuck do you know?

I know you're a fucking jarhead, and that's all I need to know.

Jar-fucking-head.

Hey, jarhead, what's the Marine Corps birthday?

- Marine Corps birthday? //- November 10th, 1775.

- Older than the USA. //- Fucking A.

- Birthplace? //- Tun Tavern, Philadelphia.

That's the city of brotherly love.

A. Tarawa?

[Marines]Bloodiest battle of World War ll.

Dan Daly?

Killed 37 Chinese by hand during the Boxer Rebellion of 1900.

- The greatest weapon on earth? //- The Marine and his rifle!

You wanna win your fucking war?

You tell it to the Marines!

[Marines cheering]

[Swoff]Get the brand! Get the brand! Now! Now! Now!

Get him down!

[screaming]

[Marines cheering]

He's yours.

[Marine laughing]

You earned it, man.

[Swoff]We turned the inside of our tent...

into a circus.

'Cause inside of our circus, we cannot be injured.

Inside of our circus, we cannot be touched.

But we are insane...

to believe this.

[Marine #1]lncoming!

[Marine #2]Corpsman!

[explosion sounds]

[Marines shouting]

Get the fuck in here! Get the fuck in here!

[Marine]Get the fuck down here!

[Marine]lncoming!

[inaudible]

[Swoff]My combat action...

has commenced.

[Marine]Corpsman!

Corpsman!

Are you all right?

What the fuck, man?

I pissed myself.

- Got to find the fucking FO. //- What?

The forward observers, they got us dialed in.

We gotta find the fuck.... Get down!

Fuck! Swofford, you get on the binos.

You get your binos and you find him.

- Troy, get on that radio. //- Radio's dead.

Go to the com truck! Look up! And get some batteries!

- Where is it? //- It's over there!

- Jesus! //- It ain't getting no closer.

Get the fuck going!

Fuck!

Corpsman!

Corpsman!

[Swoff grunting]

Do not fucking die! Do not fucking die!

Do not fucking die!

Do not fucking die!

[Marines screaming]

This fucking hole isn't deep enough!

- What are you talking about? //- We need batteries for the 77.

Fuck! Man, we are fucking dying!

I need a fucking battery for the 77.

Why are you fucking arguing with me?

What are you doing? Those are dead batteries!

Shut up!

- What took you so long? //- Fuck you.

Here are the coordinates, call that fucker in.

I just ran through incoming to get a dead fucking battery.

Welcome to the Suck.

Fuck!

Damn, you was too fucking slow! They're already retreating!

Sykes says we're going after them! We're gonna get some!

[jets roaring]

That was A10s. Warthogs, baby.

Those things are fucking tank killers.

- That shit's a fucking monster. //- Yeah, no shit, Fowler.

¢Ü Off they go into the wide blue yonder ¢Ü¢Ü

Let's go, zoomies!

Let's drop that righteous hand of God!

Fowler, get back in formation.

- They're about to drop those bombs! //- Fowler, stay in position.

They're gonna drop the hand of God all over the lraqis!

- Fowler, stay in your formation. //- Yeah!

Fowler, get....

Are they supposed to come back?

Get in formation!

Incoming!

[Marines shouting]

Quebec 4 Delta, this is Echo 5 Charlie.

Request medevac, priority.

Marines down, in grid 671584.

We'll mark with smoke, over.

[Fowler]What are they doing? Supposed to be flying.

[Troy]Fucking assholes.

You call those Humvees up, and we keep moving.

They fucking thought we were lraqis?

Keep moving.

[distant explosions sounding]

[man chattering]

Come on.

[Sykes]Keep moving.

They could be over this next berm.

Now listen up, let's stay focused. We're heading north. Let's move out.

Keep your eyes open.

[metal clanking]

[inaudible]

- What are you doing? //- They were trying to get away.

Fuck it, man. Come on.

Fergus, here.

Thanks.

Staff Sergeant, I gotta take a shit.

Stay in voice range.

Spaghetti marinara.

[fly buzzing]

One fucking hell of a day, huh?

- You all right? //- Yeah.

What's over there?

Nothing.

[Troy]Holy shit!

- What? //- Oil wells.

They lit up the oil wells.

[distant rumbling]

It's raining oil. It's raining oil, fellas.

You ever see that movie Giant?

You've seen the movie Giant. James Dean, man.

My well came in, Bick.

I'm rich, Bick. Richer than you."

Come on, shut your trap. That shit's poison.

Come on.

The earth is bleeding.

Well, you'd better get used to it, 'cause we're gonna be living in it.

Dig those holes, boys.

[rumbling]

[soil squishing]

Shit.

Shit's stinging my eyes.

My eyes is burning! Shit!

Oh, fuck! Fuck, it's in my eye, I can't see.

Oh, shit, it's burning! It's burning!

[Troy]Swoff, get me some water.

[Kruger]Fuck, it's burning!

Calm down. It's okay. What are you doing?

Don't rub your eyes. Don't rub your eyes.

Shit, it's burning!

[Troy]Hey, just close your eyes. Swoff, I need that towel.

All right, there you go. You want me to wipe your ass now?

- [Kruger]Shit! //- Put them back on.

You're okay, man. Put them back on.

- You'll be fine, perfect. //- Thanks, man.

Hey, listen up!

The wind's changed. We're moving out this shit.

Let's move!

[Kruger]I came here to fight.

I've just got to get out of this fucking oil.

Let's go, man. Let's go.

¢Ý [Break On Through [to the Other Side] playing on radio]

[helicopter whirring]

That's Vietnam music, man. Can't we get our own fucking music?

Hey, Krug...

what's Fowler doing digging way over there?

He ain't digging.

Fowler, what are you doing?

[Swoff]Fowler!

What are you digging over there?

Nothing.

Our orders are to dig over here.

Mind your own fucking business.

[Fergus]Hey, Fowler, H2O?

Hey, Fergie, come here. I gotta show you something.

This is my new best buddy, man.

- Who's under there? //- Just my friend.

Ta-da.

Jesus Christ, Fowler.

Ahab the Arab, huh?

[snickers]

- [Fowler]Oh, Jesus. //- Get that out of here.

[Swoff]Fuck, Fowler.

$5 to get your picture taken with it, guys.

Check out what I put in his mouth.

[laughing]

What's the matter, Swoffy? Swoff doesn't like Ahab.

You don't like Ahab? This is war, man.

This is war. You can't handle it? What are you, a fag?

If you fucking touch me, I will beat your fucking head in.

- I swear to God. //- Hey.

Get it out of here.

The whole goddamn desert is shitting dead ragheads.

Have we done anything?

Have we done anything but walk around in the sand?

I didn't kill him. He's dead.

Move.

[sighs]

Fuck you.

There's tons of crispy critters around here, man.

I'll get as many as I want.

You won't get this one.

Yeah, but I'll get as many as I want, man!

'Cause I don't even fucking want that one!

I don't.

Fowler...

stay sharp.

[horse snorting]

[horse breathing heavily]

It's all right.

You're gonna be all right.

It's all right.

Whoa.

You're covered in this fucking oil.

[sighs]

The Army may pull this type of shit, but the Marines don't.

When we get back, Fowler will be passing out shit-paper.

[sighs]

I could be working with my brother right now.

He's got a dry-wall business in Compton.

Does the inside of office buildings. You know, the metal studs.

I could be his partner.

Said he'd give me that brand new Dodge Ram Charger.

You know, the 318 Magnum? The beast?

All indoor work, too. Lots of AC.

I could sleep with my wife every night. Fuck her, maybe.

Take my kids to school every morning.

And I'd run his crews, too.

Probably increase productivity 40 to 50%.

Make $100,000 a year.

Do you know why I don't?

Because I love this job.

I thank God for every fucking day that He gives me in the Corps.

Ooh-rah.

I mean, who else gets a chance to see shit like this?

You know what I'm saying?

Yes, Staff Sergeant.

Do you?

Listen up. Colonel says he wants my best snipers.

God help me, it's you two.

We've had beaucoup surrenders, whole fucking units...

but the Republican Guard is still out there...

and they are most definitely hardcore.

So you keep your shit together. Go over there.

[both]Yes, Staff Sergeant.

Thank you, Staff Sergeant.

- What? //- Thank you.

Don't thank me, just don't fucking die.

Let's go.

[engine starting]

Fucking A.

[Kruger]Get a kill, you fucking pussies.

[Lt. Col. Kazinski]Sykes thinks you boys are good.

[Troy]Yes, sir.

Well, if it comes from him it's not bullshit.

I got the kind of mission...

scout snipers would pop their grandmother to get.

We got 750 Republican Guards dug in around a control tower...

at airfield Al Jabar.

Grid 703003.

The recon reports two high-ranking officers in the tower.

All my air is tied up farther north till 1800.

So if you could take out those officers...

maybe the cannon fodder will white flag it...

and save me having to take the whole battalion...

hey, diddle diddle, right up the middle.

Aye-aye, sir.

This is not Rambo time.

Before you take a shot, you must get clearance, understood?

- Yes, sir. //- Outstanding.

Some of my officers think that scout snipers are prima donnas.

They think STA stands for Sun Tan Association.

- Are they right? //- [both] No, sir.

Then fucking show me.

Clear.

[Swoff]Oh, shit!

There's no one in the tower, man.

The sun's going down. Shit!

Wait.

Thank you, Jesus.

Romeo, Golf, Charlie. Romeo, Golf, Charlie.

This is Lima 2 Sierra. Over.

Officers in control tower. Over.

That's what they look like, huh?

Range?

900 yards.

Wind is?

Five to seven, west to east.

Romeo, Golf, Charlie. Romeo, Golf, Charlie.

Requesting permission to take the shot. Over.

Set. We have the shot. Over.

Affirmative. Out.

Permission to fire.

Fire.

Fire.

Fire.

What the fuck frequency are you on?

Oh, fuck.

We got air. I'm calling it in.

We have permission to take the shot.

Tough break, you were just gonna shoot one guy.

Watch this, it'll blow your fucking minds.

Bad knees. College football.

Requesting permission to take the shot, sir.

Request denied.

You never know how many chances you're gonna get to do this.

Wait, wait, wait.

Sir, just let us take this one shot right before the air comes in.

Those aren't my orders, Marine. Hitman 45--

No, wait, wait, wait.

- Hitman 45¡¦. //- Wait, wait, wait.

Wait, sir, we won't tell anybody.

We don't need to tell anybody. What difference does it make?

We have a perfect shot. Just let us take it.

Negative.

We have permission from the Colonel, sir.

Hitman 45. Hitman 45. This is Bravo 4...

God damn it, he's dead anyway! Just let us fucking do it!

- You are way out of line, Corporal. //- Troy.

- What difference does it make? //- Give him back the handset.

If it doesn't make a fucking difference...

why the fuck do you have to do it?

Because we have the goddamn shot! That's why we're here!

- Give me the fucking handset! //- Fucking fuck!

Fucking stop!

- Stop it! //- That's my kill!

Fuck! That is my kill! That is my kill!

You fucking desk jockey!

He's a fucking prick.

You don't know what we go through, hell!

It isn't done!

Let go of me. Just fucking let go of me.

[gasping]

I was trying....

[sobbing]I was trying to explain....

Fuck!

Oh, man.

You STA boys are some weird motherfuckers.

Hitman 45. Hitman 45. This is Bravo 4 Lima. Over.

[dispatcher chattering on radio]

Are we ever gonna get to kill anyone?

Fuck if I know.

When are they gonna kick you out?

Two weeks after we get back.

I already have my separation papers.

You got any ideas?

I'll sell some crack. Sling some dope.

Yeah, all you want is in.

All I want is out.

Welcome to the Suck.

Where's our pickup?

Shit.

[jets roaring]

Fucking Scuds, man.

Motherfuck, it's gotten the battalion.

We don't know that. They could be friendly.

You ever hear friendly fire like that?

Fuck.

- Jesus, you hear that? What is that? //- Screaming.

Republican Guards, man, over this berm.

Ready? Are you ready?

Let's fucking get those motherfuckers.

I'll cover you. Go! Go! Go!

[men screaming]

¢Ü¢Ü[Fight The Power playing on radio]

[Marines cheering]

[Sykes]Shit.

You motherfuckers were still out there?

- Sarge? //- You didn't get the memo, did you?

Having a little party. You're a little overdressed.

This shit is over, motherfucker. You didn't die.

Have a cigar.

It won't kill you.

Party on!

Hey, motherfuckers, did you get a fucking kill?

- Did you get a fucking kill, man? //- No.

Oh, shit.

We're fucking.... This fucked up rodeo is over!

We're going home!

Get your jungle camies, boys. I'm burning all these.

We don't need them anymore.

We killed Saddam, man! He's fucking history!

Yeah, he's fucking history!

We never have to come back to this shit hole ever again!

[Marines cheering]

I never shot my rifle.

You do it now.

[gun fires]

[Swoff]Four days.

Four hours.

One minute.

That was my war.

[people cheering]

¢Ý [band playing The Marines' Hymn]

[all clamoring]

[man]You want some beer?

Look here, I got a beer.

[Marines cheering]

The party's started now.

Semper Fi, Marines!

Semper Fi, Marines!

[Marines]Ooh-rah!

You did it.

You did it clean.

You made us proud.

Semper Fi.

Semper fucking Fi.

Welcome home, Marine.

Welcome home.

Welcome home, son.

Welcome home, Staff Sergeant.

¢Ý [Soldier's Things playing]

You mind if I sit down in your bus?

[Swoff]Every war is different.

Ooh-rah.

[Swoff]Every war is the same.

¢Ý [Soldier's Things playing]

Give me one shot....

Hey, where you going?

Yeah?

- Fergus? //- Hey, man.

Hey, man, how you doing? Nice haircut.

- Good, thanks. //- Come on in.

[Fergus]I got some bad news, man.

[bangs]

[Swoff]A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years...

and he goes to war.

And afterwards he comes home...

and he sees that whatever else he might do with his life...

build a house...

Iove a woman...

change his son's diaper...

he will always remain...

a jarhead.

And all the jarheads...

killing and dying...

they will always...

be me.

We are still...

in the desert.

¢Ý [Jesus Walks playing]

[Marine]¢Ü All my life it was my dream ¢Ü

[Marines]¢Ü All my life it was my dream ¢Ü

¢Ü To be a bad motherfuckin' US Marine ¢Ü

¢Ü To be a bad motherfuckin' US Marine ¢Ü¢Ü

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