- Here's that four-ten. - Right.
I been pumping pussy since Christ was a corporal.
I can tell you, the best damned poontang I ever paid for was in Da Nang.
The girls were checked out daily.
And we got ourselves laid in a safe, orderly, proficient, military manner.
That is until some suckhead writes home to mama...
...and says he dipped his wick in the Republic of South Vietnam.
Then the shit hits the fan.
A committee of congressmen who, asshole-to-asshole...
...couldn't make a beer fart in a whirlwind...
...start telling your basic ass-in-the-grass Marine, "'No more shore time."'
We respond in true Marine Corps fashion.
We salute, do an about face, double-time back to the boom-boom garbage dump...
...where we get the clap, and the drip, and the crabs...
...and a generally poor attitude towards the female of the species.
War is hell, boy. That's a fact.
I don't like soldier boys.
Say what?
You want to pop that puppy's can, you don't have to grease him so hard, jarhead.
Sounds like you're a man of experience.
What the fuck's that mean, grunt-shit?
It means be advised that I'm mean, nasty and tired.
I eat concertina wire and piss napalm...
...and I can put a round through a flea's ass at two hundred meters.
So go hump somebody else's leg, mutt face, before I push yours in.
You aren't going to be so smart with your balls stuffed in your mouth, jarhead.
Hang onto this, boy.
I think war's just been declared.
Just sit there and bleed for a while before you taste some real pain.
Maybe first I carve me some faggot wings.
Kill him.
Then again, there was this dusky gal in Bangkok...
...a real crossway breezer, I swear.
Thank you for your testimony, Officer Reese.
Sergeant Highway.
Drunk and disorderly...
...fighting in a public establishment...
...urinating on a police vehicle.
It seemed like the thing to do, sir.
Just because there's no war going on...
...it doesn't give you the right to start one every time you get drunk.
I'm taking into account your excellent military record...
...and your commitment to the security of this great nation...
...but this is your last chance.
$100 fine. Next.
Your nightstick file for divorce, Reese?
Who do you think you are, pissing on my squad car?
You think you can break our rules and just walk away?
We're supposed to wet our pants over your goddamned colored ribbons?
Read that file of yours sometime, hero.
Check the dates. It's ancient fucking history.
One night you're going to be puking blood in some alley...
...and you'll see me standing there. Then we'll see.
Keep dreaming, shitball.
You'll pay full price. I don't give any serviceman's discount.
Too bad. Your old lady does.
Just about cleaned you out.
Sure makes you feel good, doesn't it? Helping Uncle Sam battle dirty drawers?
Just pump the neighbor's dog, Jake? Or are you always that slack-eyed and silly?
Looks like you need a lift, Highway.
Suck on one of these, smooth as a prom queen's thighs only not quite so risky.
Havana cured. Got a pal over in Guantanamo in Supply.
We do each other favors.
I've got lots of friends. Of course, I could always use another friend.
- So we can do each other favors? - Yes, sure.
If your pencil wasn't quite so sharp, and your eyesight not so clear around here...
...I could make your military life a lot comfier and more rewarding.
Sergeant, you get that contraband stogie out of my face...
...before I shove it so far up your ass, you'll have to set fire to your nose to light it.
Gunney Highway, Major Devin wants to see you, ASAP.
- At ease. That'll be all, Sergeant Major. - Aye, aye, sir.
Highway, relax.
Stop being so gung-ho.
That's what I am, sir.
What do you got now, about 24?
And then some, sir.
Some men in your position would look forward to retirement.
Take their wives on an around-the-world cruise.
But that's not your way. Is it?
You choose to harangue my staff with a request for transfer to...
...a Fleet Marine Force Unit.
The very unit you got busted out of for insubordination, conduct unbecoming.
That's true, Major. I have had my differences with some limp dicks...
Highway!
I don't know whether to admire you...
...or resent the living hell out of you.
Either way, I guess it doesn't matter. You're out of here, effective immediately.
Where to, sir?
2nd Recon Battalion, 2nd Marine Division. You're going home.
Aye, aye, sir.
Gunney Highway?
Sir?
Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.
Halt!
About face!
We're going to bring up tonight's last victim.
He's a true blood, born in New Jersey.
He's the President of Punk.
The Earl of Funk.
The next king of rock and roll himself. Ladies and gentlemen, Stitch Jones.
Do I bother you while you're playing romance the sheep?
Why not bag the geeks and keep America beautiful?
Put a 10-gallon bag over their 10-gallon heads.
Shall we take care of this?
You look like the Twin Towers turned to cellulite.
I can play country-western. Give me another chance.
Oh yeah?
I know Merle Haggard, Hoss Cartwright, The Beverly Hillbillies.
Give me another chance. I need the money!
- How far? - About two stops.
- Are you the maid? - No.
I want the seat, but it's not worth dying over.
Liz and Dick, Lennon and McCartney, even Ali and Frazier...
...they worked it out. So can we, right?
Stitch Jones is the name. Rocking and rapping is the game.
Pleased to meet you, too.
I banged up my Corvette, but I figure, what the hell...
...gives me a chance to get out and meet the regular people.
People like yourself. People like my fans.
I'm a singer. You heard of me.
Stitch Jones: Earl of Funk, Duke of Cool, Ayatollah of Rock-and-Roll-a.
Shut your face, hippie.
Did you say "'hippie"'?
Haven't been hippies around here for centuries.
You been freeze-dried or doing hard time?
One of those would sure go down nice.
I'd buy one from you, but I don't have my plastic.
Usually I get one of my lackeys to do my business.
You can have one for free if it will shut that hole under your nose.
Thank you, my man.
Jones.
This doesn't mean you can blow in my ear. Tom Highway.
These aren't your magazines.
No. Somebody must've left them there.
The Sexual Politics of Living Alone.
The Big Commitment and You.
Island Erotics:
How To Stay Tan, Tickly and Tantalized in the Cool Waters of Jamaica.
Not bad, man.
Sunday Sex With a Wednesday Lover.
That sounds like a song.
"'I met her on a Wednesday She was the best
"'Come Sunday morning, I needed rest
"'Because she didn't shave, She didn't use Neet
"'She tried to use my face as a bicycle seat"'
Word, am I fresh?
She's got some angry titties. Hostile projectiles.
Put your shit in there, get frostbite.
She isn't so bad.
You want to talk tonight, I'll listen.
Don't try to sell me on making love or making music because I'm an authority.
Born to screw and bred to sing. That's me.
I must cut a few Z's myself.
So keep down the chatter while I get my beauty sleep.
Yes. Groupies are fun but you need your vitamins...
...because those babes'll wear you out.
- Anything else, General? - No. That's fine.
What are all those medals?
I'll never tell. At least, not while the sun is shining.
This babe is whacked.
She doesn't know what's twelve inches long and white.
Nothing.
No offense. Just working on my routine.
I'll tell you what's black and bleeding, if it don't shut up.
Mellow, man. It's gonna be a nice day.
Tell the driver, I'll be right out.
Don't worry. I'll use my plastic. It's my treat for your hospitality.
Thanks, I'll get the tip.
My buddy will take care of that.
He asked me to tell you that there's no sunshine in the men's john.
I'm here, baby. Let's do some distance.
Son of a bitch.
You're going to slurp my lifer's juice out of my own cup?
Yes. I guess I should have gotten shots beforehand.
If your brain was as quick as your mouth, you'd be a twenty-star general by now.
If I was half as ugly as you, Sergeant Major...
...I'd be a poster boy for a prophylactic.
Still a mean and nasty bastard.
Goddamn! It's sure good to see you, Tom, back where you belong.
Take it easy. Everybody will think I'm spoken for.
'Morning, sir.
Sergeant Major?
Coffee, sir?
Negative.
Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Highway, reporting for duty, sir.
That Operation Officer's farthole is sewed so tight, he shits out of his mouth.
Academy?
Big-time football hero.
When am I ever going to get a break?
Never.
- Sergeant Major? - Sir!
Bring in Gunnery Sergeant Highway.
Been in a long time.
I've felt a little heat, sir.
Korea. Dominican in 1965. Three tours of duty in Vietnam.
This old bulldog is carrying so much shrapnel...
...he can't pass through an airport metal detector.
I haven't yet had the privilege of combat.
I recently came over from Supply and Logistics.
An unappreciated field of endeavor, sir.
Quite.
My record of achievement thus far has been exemplary...
...and I fully intend for that to continue.
Sir.
I want this battalion to be the class of the division.
I expect my noncommissioned officers to lead by example.
Public fighting and insubordination to civilian authority...
...are not what I call "'good standards."'
It was a minor altercation, sir.
You make a habit of that, Gunney.
A year ago you hit an officer.
I went to Annapolis with that man.
You try that with me, Sergeant Highway...
...and you'll drag your butt in a sling for a month, understand?
Yes, sir.
I don't know what strings you pulled to get here, but I assure you, I don't like it.
This is the new Marine Corps.
The new breed.
Characters like you are an anachronism.
You should be sealed in a case that reads, "'Break Glass Only in the Event of War."'
I have no tolerance for you old-timers who think you know better. Understand?
I understand a lot of body bags get filled if I don't do my job, sir.
Major!
Division has assigned Gunney Highway to our Reconnaissance Platoon.
Yes, Recon.
Their last sergeant was an old-time combat vet, too.
But he went ROAD on me...
..."'Retired On Active Duty."'
Had a few months to retirement, figured he'd coast.
Allowed the men to lapse into mediocrity.
You're close to mandatory retirement yourself. Aren't you, Highway?
That's right, Major.
I ask for Marines, the division sends me relics.
The men in Recon Platoon are less than highly motivated, to say the least.
I want those men in shape.
I'll make life-takers and heartbreakers out of them, sir.
Dismissed.
Is he always like that, or is he trying to make a good impression?
He even consults the Marine Corps manual before he mounts his old lady...
...just to insure he performs in an orderly, proficient, military manner.
Chow with Helen and me tonight. She can't wait to see you.
Later, we can stomp some brain cells and tell some stories.
- I'd like to, but I'd better get organized. - Sure. I understand.
Excuse me, sir.
I mean, Gunney. Sergeant Major.
Sir, this is Gunnery Sergeant Highway. He's been assigned to Recon Platoon.
Outstanding! Welcome aboard.
I have to hightail it. I'm late for pre-scuba school.
His mama know he's playing Marine?
By the way, he's Lieutenant Ring. Your platoon leader.
Thanks a lot.
You think you were just going to tilt nipple to a bunch of no-rank fuzzbutts?
Want me to intro you to your troops?
- No. I'll take care of it. - Take my pickup.
Thanks. Where is it?
You just tell by the sign. It says, "'Sergeant Major."'
- Is this Recon Platoon? - No speak English.
- You? - No habla.
My name is Gunnery Sergeant Highway.
I've drunk more beer, pissed more blood, banged more quiff, busted more balls...
...than all you numbnuts put together.
Major Powers has put me in charge of this Recon Platoon.
We take care of ourselves!
You couldn't take care of a wet dream.
- God loves you. - I know that.
You men do not impress me!
Recon Platoon kicks butt!
You think you can slip and slide just because your last sergeant was a pussy...
...a short-timer just marking the days.
You're going to start acting like Marines, right now.
Who invited you?
I'm not doing this because I want to take long showers with you assholes.
And I don't want to get my head shot off in some faraway land...
...because you don't habla. Comprende? - Right!
- You? - Yes, Gunney!
"'Girl, you know I think you're fine
"'and you've got that big behind"'
Well, well, well.
I'm here to tell you all that life as you know it has ended.
You should all go to town tonight.
Laugh and make fools of yourselves.
Rub your little peckers against your honey, or stick it in a knothole in a fence...
...but whatever it is, just get rid of it. Because at 0600 tomorrow...
...your ass is mine.
Where's your bunk?
What's going on?
- Let's have it. - What are you talking about?
- The money from my ticket. - No need to use violence.
I'm a Capricorn, a peace lover.
I was just a little down on my luck.
I got some money right here. It's all I got.
And the meal.
- Meal? - Yes. The meal.
- That's really all I've got. Right there. - And the tip.
- No. That's really it! - You owe me.
It's my will against yours, and you will lose.
So 0600 tomorrow.
That's 6:00 in the morning for all you people who don't habla.
Damn! He just tore off my ear!
He's lucky he had a chance to escape before I kicked his ass...
...big leatherneck, jarhead motherfucker!
Something must be done about this Gunney Highway.
Yes! But what are we going to do?
- Wait till the Swede gets out of the brig! - That's it! The Swede!
- Yes! He'll rip his head off and dump in it! - Then he'll eat it!
- Yes! - The Swede! Goodbye, Highway!
Swede! Swede! Swede!
Hey, baby.
I called his wife...
Do you fool around on the first date?
Damn you. Don't you know how to write or call?
I didn't want to cause you any sleepless nights thinking about me.
- I'll get you a beer. - Great. I could use one.
You look great. They don't make them like you anymore, sweetheart.
Hell, sure they do.
But if you want a lot from a woman, you have to give a lot.
No, not this kid.
It seems marriage and the Marine Corps weren't too compatible.
Panther piss. The best years of my life were with a Marine.
If I was a little younger, I'd make you eat your words, and curl your toes.
I'll bet you could.
Aggie always kept a smile on your face.
That was pain.
Tom, she's in town.
I figured as much.
If she wants more alimony, she's in trouble.
I'm so broke, I couldn't leave if it took a quarter to go around the world.
She's cocktailing over at the Palace.
I figured she'd be married to a general by now.
Can I get my old room back?
Hell, yes. You going to see her?
Hell, no. Can I run a tab on this?
Hell, no.
And now, back from an awesomely successful tour...
...the Earl of Funk, the Duke of Cool...
...the Ayatollah of Rock-and-Roll-a, Stitch Jones!
Okay, what will it...
Aggie.
- What do you want? - A beer.
- What are you doing here? - Ordering.
You even remembered the brand.
Bad whiskey, bad sex and bad men, I never forget.
You didn't talk dirty when we were married.
Always. Only you were never there to hear it.
Look, Tom, I'm working.
- You look great. - The lights are low.
I mean it. I'd recognize you coming and going.
Please, save the banter for your bimbos.
It's late. I'm tired. My feet hurt. What are you doing here?
I'm back with Recon.
And you just happened to wander in here? Ain't life grand?
- I didn't come here to fight with you. - You mean old dogs do learn new tricks?
I just came for a beer and you're ragging my ass already.
Aggie, is there a problem here?
No.
I'd like you to meet one of my favorite exes. This is Thomas Highway.
This is Roy Jennings. He owns the Palace.
I've heard about you and your bullshit heroics.
Now, Roy, Tom is just going to leave.
Aggie, I'll take you home after we close...
...as usual.
You sure can pick them.
Look who's talking.
I'm going to play something from NYC. I want all of you to rock the house.
Fuck rock! Get your hair cut!
You're so ugly, you should be at the airport, sniffing luggage!
I guess you think you're funny?
All of you, cross your legs, hold your noses, and fart.
- I bet you could clear out your minds! - Say what?
Don't start no S-H. There won't be no I-T.
We have some pretty ladies here.
Come have a drink with the nation's finest.
Chill out.
Knock it off! Knock it off, goddamn it!
Sit down!
Lay off them, they're not hurting anyone.
- Why don't you stay out of this? - This is none of your business.
Are you some kind of smart mouth?
I'm just trying to sing a song here.
You get off on rousting Marines?
Leave it alone. It doesn't concern you.
I chew on jarheads and spit them out.
You do? Why don't I just bend you over that table and nail you in the keister?
What are you talking about?
That's what your persuasion is. You just said so.
I'll send you home with an "'I-just-pumped-the-neighbor's-cat"'...
...Iook on your face.
What kind of fag talk is that?
You have no right to do this!
He's just fucking with you.
These guys don't mean nothing.
Who'd have the bad sense to fuck with you in your own place?
Welcome to Fantasy Disco.
To hell with both of you.
You're out, Jones. Hit the road.
And you watch it, funny man.
Get your tight little butt out of here.
I never want to see you here again.
I have got a future here, damn it!
- Cocktailing? - No! With Roy!
I expect a hell of a lot better out of an ex-wife of mine.
He's an improvement over you!
I don't believe this shit!
I'd have kicked Jennings' ass, if I wasn't trying to protect you.
So you owe me one. I saved your life.
This doesn't mean we'll be swapping spit in the shower.
Fucking big jarhead sucker.
Drop your cocks and grab your socks.
Off your ass and on your feet. Get up!
Knees in the breeze in five minutes.
It's 5:00 a.m.! You said, 6:00 a.m.
So I can't tell time.
Maybe some commie bastard's coming to pop you a new asshole in the forehead.
Move out! You're Marines now. You improvise. You adapt. You overcome.
Four minutes. Fall out.
We move swift. We move silent. We move deadly.
Only one shake of the whangs.
Any more than that constitutes pleasure, and we're not in that business.
Sleep well, Mr. Jones?
It's a nightmare. Wake me up, Mama, please!
- Gunney, platoon's formed for PT. - Take your post.
The Marines are looking for a few good men.
Unfortunately, you aren't it.
We will blaze a path into battle for others to follow.
Surrender is not in our creed.
Let's hear you say that.
Surrender is not in our creed.
Louder, or next time you leave this base, you'll be collecting pensions.
- Surrender is not in our creed! - Louder!
Surrender is not in our creed!
Strip off those t-shirts.
- What? - What is he talking about?
You'll all wear the same t-shirts, or none at all.
What's your name, Marine?
Lance Corporal Fragetti, Gunney.
You shouldn't litter, Fag-eddy. It's ecologically unsound.
- What's your name? - Aponte.
- Yours? - Profile.
- Yours? - Quinones.
- Yours? - Collins!
All right, Colitis.
Cajones.
Prophylactics. Ajax.
You boys are handsome.
You look like models.
In fact, I want your hair high and tight tomorrow morning.
That's everybody.
When you start looking like Marines, you'll start feeling like Marines.
Then, goddamn it, you'll start acting like Marines.
Right face! Forward march!
When the Swede gets out of the brig, this sucker is dead meat!
- You got that right. - Right.
"'Mama, Mama, can't you see?
"'What the Marine Corps has done to me?
"'I used to drive a Chevrolet
"'Now I'm marching everyday
"'Now I'm marching everyday"'
Cajones, give us a cadence.
Your girlfriend is going to weep when I bite that finger off.
Give me that cadence, now!
I don't remember any.
Think fast, gopher-balls, or you'll run until midnight.
Do it, man! This dude is certifiable.
Do lip, Cajones.
Do lip.
"'Model A Ford and a tankful of gas
"'Handful of pussy and a mouthful of ass
"'Handful of pussy and a mouthful of ass"'
Is this sucker lost?
Is he going to invade South Carolina?
All right, let's smoke this sucker's ass.
'Morning. Missed you and Recon Platoon at PT.
The men and I were getting acquainted.
Excellent.
I want to freelance them for awhile to evaluate them.
There are no special duties in the training schedule. Shall I join you?
You must have important work here.
Actually, I am preparing a paper on tactics and strategy for the War Club Seminar.
It's fascinating stuff.
I don't know if the Major told you...
...I was Commanding Officer of my ROTC detachment in college.
I'll sleep better at night knowing that, sir.
Thank you. What college did you go to?
Heartbreak Ridge.
Heartbreak Ridge? I've never heard of that school.
That looks nice. Real nice.
Slick.
Smells like a Ben Gay factory.
Strip off those t-shirts.
We're all the same!
The same as me?
How can we know that?
Improvise. Overcome. Adapt. Get off those goddamned t-shirts now!
Platoon, right face!
Forward march!
Rethink. You might get away with that with Tyler...
...but this cat? He's nuts. He'll catch you.
Don't worry yourself.
The Few, the Proud, the Chumps.
Big light-bulb head must have a key to the PX. Any better ideas?
Where's Aponte?
Gunney, he's sick.
He looked like proof of life after death. He's getting checked out.
- That right? - Yes, that's right, Gunney.
I want the barracks field dayed and squared away ASAP today.
Gunney, we cleaned them just a little while ago.
Yes, Gunney, it's Saturday.
Let's have a show of hands, how many think the squad bay is ready to go as is?
- Definitely! - There you have it. Democracy in action.
- Right! - We'll run instead.
Attention!
Right face!
Forward march!
Double time!
- Shit! - Out of my way!
What's going on?
This is the AK-47 assault rifle. Your enemy's preferred weapon.
It makes a distinctive sound when fired at you, so remember it.
Move out.
That is bullshit, man. He is dogging us. He's shooting at us, scraping at us.
I know!
Look at the way he's always squinting his eyes...
...trying to talk all tough.
I should slap him myself, just to call his bluff.
Don't do that! He's just a jarhead fool.
"'You're right, but hold me back in case I lose my cool
"'Because we're the Recon Platoon
- "'We're always gung-ho to party - "'Or watch The Late Show
"'Until Highway came along
"'His abuse we don't need But we'll end all of this bullshit
"'when Highway meets the Swede! "'
Highway, I heard you were back.
Webster.
These retards couldn't fight their way out of a shithouse.
Is that where you've been keeping yourself?
The Major and I are building an elite company of fighting men.
The only thing you could build, Webster, is a good case of hemorrhoids.
- What? - You're blowing away all your ammunition.
Mr. I-Hate-Americans is going to make you into Swiss cheese. Slow down your fire.
It's not my fucking fault! The fucking weapon is fucking fucked up!
Nothing is wrong with that rifle. Keep it tight.
Did you wake up this morning with a piss pot on your head?
No, Gunney. I wore this in your honor.
- Is that so? - Yes.
I figured, this is a classic piece of issue, Iwo Jima, Pork Chop Hill, Khe Sahn...
...all that old antique stuff.
A nice tribute to an aging veteran as close to retirement as yourself.
I'm touched.
Yes! Recon way of saying welcome, and inevitably, goodbye.
And the Kevlar helmet you were issued...
...that didn't, by chance, find its way into one of the local pawn shops in town?
No way, Gunney. That's a serious implication.
- We're financially responsible for them. - That's right. You are.
That's why I want to see Kevlar on your head by 1900 hours...
...or you're not going to have a head to wear it on.
Yes, sir, Gunney Highway, Sergeant, sir.
Gunney, my weapon's jammed.
- What the... - Shit!
Major Powers is going to teach you how to discipline your men.
If Powers ever stopped suddenly, your face would go halfway up his ass.
Profile is never going to make it back.
Powers is cold-blooded.
Don't give the prick the satisfaction. You can make it.
Recon!
What did you say, Gunnery Sergeant?
I said, "'Don't give the prick the satisfaction,"' sir.
"'Sensitive dialogue during a communication of the relationship."'
- Follow you home? - Sure. Why not?
Somebody just look outside and see what shirt he's wearing.
It doesn't matter. He'll just complain about something else.
Life was a lot easier before Frankenstein came.
Right!
How am I going to play on American Bandstand?
All of this macho soldiering shit is bad for my hands.
People, fall out.
I said, fall out! Now!
We're not going anywhere.
All this play-war stuff is bullshit.
This is all a question of mind over matter.
We no longer mind because you don't matter.
You've been voted out of office.
Mr. Jones, you fall out on that street, or I'll kick your ass off this planet.
I don't think so, babe. Swede?
Gunney, I'd like you to meet my big friend, Swede Johanson.
Swede, say something charming to the man.
I'm going to rip off your head and shit down your neck.
So you see, Grungy Highway, we don't have any use for you anymore.
"'Hit the road, Jack!
"'And don't you come back No more, no more"'
Stick your chin up.
Higher!
Now get your ass out on that street, ladies. Right this second!
I'll speak to you later, Swede.
Sir, I'll wait outside for the MPs to come.
Negative, Johanson. You're going to become a Marine, right now.
- Fall out. - Yes, sir.
Good morning, men!
I thought I'd lead you through this exercise.
I couldn't find Gunney Highway, though.
I don't know where he went.
Good Lord, what was that?
Sir, that's an AK-47 assault weapon.
The preferred weapon of our enemies.
It makes a very distinctive sound when fired at us, sir.
Yes, it does. Doesn't it?
Good night, Roy.
Hold up, Aggie. I'll follow you home.
No. You go ahead. I've got some pains.
- I got it. - Not tonight, you don't.
"'The sensual communication, meaningful..."'
Panther piss.
Glad to know some things don't change. Still know what a woman loves to hear.
I just happened to be in the neighborhood.
I thought maybe you'd like to sit down and we could talk.
Are you reading those magazines?
- What magazines? - Those magazines.
Somebody must have left them here.
Who?
- Choozoo. - He doesn't know how to read.
Quit being so stubborn. Why don't you sit down so we can talk?
I am not one of your troops that can be bullied.
Was being married to me that bad?
Yes.
Platoon. Attention!
Thank you, Gunney!
What a fine morning for a military exercise.
Men...
...today we will execute an ambush against a numerically superior hostile force...
...by using cover, surprise, interlocking fields of fire...
...and the natural aggressiveness of the United States Marine.
Show me some poontang, I'll show you an aggressive Marine!
We'll provide Major Powers and his elite force...
...an accessible target to sharpen their superior skills.
This will be facilitated by the MILES Gear each team will wear.
When one of our men is shot, these laser-sensitive vests emit a beeping noise.
Excuse me, Lieutenant? Are you hinting that we don't fight back?
Yes, Gunney. The Major likes to use the Recon Platoon as a training tool.
What happens when these men go into combat and they're not prepared?
They just get dead.
Yes. I see what you mean.
Did you discuss this with Major Powers?
- Let's move them out, Gunney. - Are you coming with us, Lieutenant?
No, Gunney. I have a doctor's appointment at 1100.
I hope it's nothing that will keep you out of the next war.
Platoon, right face.
Sling arms.
Forward march.
Are you sure Highway's our man to run the ambush?
He's the best I know at small unit tactics.
I doubt that.
Marines, today we're going to kick some Recon ass.
Attention! About face!
Forward march!
When I first joined the Corps...
...I thought I'd be jumping out of planes, and fighting the enemy.
This is the new, modern, mechanized Marine Corps. We'll jump out of our heads.
The only enemy we're fighting is boredom.
You hear that voice? It's calling me, Hollywood.
Stitch Jones is going be a rock and roll star.
Don't forget us when you make it to the top.
Front row center seat, and all the girls I can't eat for my homeboy.
I love leftovers.
Unsling your rifles. You're making too much noise.
Why? We're not supposed to win. He watches too much prime time.
- What was that? - You're dead, Marine.
You tripped on four booby traps that blew your legs off...
...and we have to send out a search party for your testicles. Where's your backup?
Profile.
What good are you back there? Without any cover fire, I get shot.
While you guys pump the dog, we get everyone in this platoon killed.
Chill out. That's what we're here for.
Say what?
We've ambushed Major Powers three times, and always right here.
We know what we're doing.
Who says we're going to ambush Major Powers right here?
Didn't you hear Lieutenant Ring?
Major Powers wants us to die in a loud, grotesque, military manner.
I don't give a fuck about Major Powers.
My job is to keep you men alive. Let's move on.
Coming to the ambush site over the next hill.
Roger that.
It helps, knowing when and where you're going to be hit, sir.
Easy. Give them a few more yards, then we'll nail the coffin shut.
Chill out. Here they come.
Hit them now!
Now!
Cease fire!
You're in the wrong ambush site!
Cease fire!
They're in the wrong ambush site!
Recon! Recon!
- Sergeant Major! - Yes?
Turn this damn thing off.
Makes a hell of a racket, doesn't it, sir?
This man usurped authority, disregarded procedures...
...and ignored my personal directives all week. Why, Lieutenant?
- Sir, I thought the training... - You think too much and act too little.
You're supposed to be an officer. Look it up in your leader's handbook.
Who gave you permission to deviate from the training schedule?
I needed to evaluate my men, sir.
They're not your men, you son of a bitch. They're the U.S. Marine Corps' men.
The 2nd Division's men. The 8th Marine Regiment's men.
In other words, they're my men. And so are you. Get it?
I'll get my ass shot off if I'm in a hot landing zone with an untrained platoon.
You will follow my program to the letter. No questions asked.
We go into combat tomorrow, you'll plant half those men.
You did it on your own, didn't you?
I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken.
You make it easy.
Sir...
...I gave Gunney permission to freelance his...
...I mean, the men, sir.
Wait outside, Ring.
Aye, aye, sir.
I'm going to run you out of the Corps, Highway.
The funny thing is, you'll do all the work.
Sooner or later, you'll disobey orders...
...circumvent procedures again, or just get drunk.
You can't help it.
You're too old, too stupid and too prideful to change.
I'll enjoy watching you fall.
Get out and send in that idiot, Ring.
He wants to see you, Lieutenant.
- I'm sorry. - No need to be.
Lieutenant?
Recon.
You'll let anybody in here. Won't you?
Have one on the house to ease your pain.
Want to get drunk and howl at the moon...
...get us both busted back to low-ass, no-rank, mud-rolling PFC?
I'm your man.
What are we, Chooz?
We're short-haired bastards with meat cleavers for pricks and kerosene for blood.
Yes. We're all of that. That's for sure.
We're 0-1-1.
Say again?
Major Powers, one dark cloudy morning, said to me, "'Sergeant Major...
"'... you're 0-1-1.
"'No wins. One tie, Korea...
"'... and one loss, Vietnam."'
Maybe we lost the war, but we won the battles.
I'm not going to lose the next one because my men aren't ready.
What are you going to do?
Make them Marines.
Stoney Jackson...
...best goddamned platoon sergeant two short-pricked, piss-ant...
...baby soldier, little fuckers ever went to war with.
- Yes. Heartbreak Ridge. - Heartbreak Ridge.
Your CO called.
Your battalion just went on full alert.
God bless.
- I can't find my tent. - Where's my poncho liner?
Damn it, who's got my web gear?
Profile, that's my canteen.
Aponte better get back here. He'll do time for being AWOL.
People, let's have an equipment check. Weapon?
Let's keep it simple.
You got boots on, you can walk into combat. Let's go.
Where's Aponte?
He's sick. Must've been the chipped beef. I'm sick myself.
- You've eaten worse. - Only when I'm shit-faced.
These DD-13-48 request forms are not filled out properly.