Voila! Finally, the Jarhead script is here for all you fans of the Jake Gyllenhaal Iraq war movie. This puppy is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of the movie to get the dialogue. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and all that jazz, so if you have any corrections, feel free to
drop me a line. At least you'll have some Jarhead quotes (or even a monologue or two) to annoy your coworkers with in the meantime, right?
And swing on back to Drew's
Script-O-Rama afterwards -- because reading is good for your noodle. Better than Farmville, anyway.
Jarhead Script
A story.
A man fires a rifle
for many years...
and he goes to war.
And afterward,
he turns the rifle in
at the armory...
and he believes
he's finished with the rifle.
But no matter what else
he might do with his hands...
love a woman, build a house...
change his son's diaper...
his hands remember the rifle.
You are no longer black,
or brown, or yellow or red!
You are now green!
You are light green
or dark green!
Do you understand?
Sir, yes, sir!
Swofford!
Sir, yes, sir!
You the maggot whose father
served in Vietnam?
Sir, yes, sir!
Outstanding!
Did he have the balls
to die there?
Sir, no, sir!
Too fucking bad!
He ever talk about it?
Sir, only once, sir!
Good! Then he wasn't lying!
Are you eyeballing me
with those baby blues?
Are you?
Sir, no, sir!
Are you in love
with me, Swofford?
Sir, no, sir!
You don't think I look good
in my uniform, Swofford?
Sir, the drill sergeant
looks fabulous
in his uniform, sir!
So you're gay, then,
and you love me, huh?
Sir, I'm not gay, sir!
Do you have
a girlfriend, Swofford?
Sir, yes, sir!
Guess again, motherfucker!
Jody's banging her right now!
Get on your face
and give me 25...
for every time
she gets fucked this month.
Down on your face!
It was shortly after meeting
Drill Instructor Fitch...
that I realized that joining
the Marine Corps...
might have been
a bad decision.
What in the fuck
is this?
Sir,
it's a recruit's drawing
of a footlocker, sir!
Jesus, Joseph
and doggie-style Mary!
That is a pile
of dog shit.
Sir, the recruit's
never been good
at drawing, sir!
Why the fuck
are you my scribe, then?
Isn't my scribe
supposed to know
how to draw?
Sir, the recruit
doesn't know!
The recruit thought
the scribe was supposed
to write, sir!
Of course the recruit
doesn't know!
The recruit doesn't know
because I haven't told him!
All right,
cum-for-brains...
show me exactly
where your Skivvies
and running shoes go.
Sir, the recruit
can't think...
while the drill instructor
is hitting him
on his head, sir!
You can't think
while I'm giving you
a few love taps?
How the fuck
are you going to
fire your rifle...
when grenades are going off
in your face?
What the fuck
are you even doing here?
Sir, I got lost
on the way to college, sir!
So, now my hands
were dick skinners.
A flashlight was a moonbeam.
A pen was an ink stick.
My mouth was a cum receptacle.
A bed was a rack.
A wall was a bulkhead.
A shirt was a blouse.
A tie was still a tie,
and a belt a belt.
But many other things
would never be the same.
Swofford. What kind of
fucking name is that?
It's English.
My great-grandfather
came over here
in the 19th century.
Whatever.
I'm putting you
in Golf Company.
It's full of retards
and fuck ups.
Maybe you can elevate
the sons of bitches a little.
Or maybe not.
Next.
Jarhead: Noun.
Slang for "Marine."
Origin:
From the resemblance
to a jar...
of the regulation
high-and-tight haircut.
The Marine's head,
by implication, therefore...
also a jar.
An empty vessel.
Hey!
May I help you?
Yeah, I was assigned
to Second Platoon.
Second Platoon?
Yeah.
What's going on, boss?
Nothing much, man.
Welcome to Second Platoon.
Thanks, man.
Hey, boys!
Fresh fucking meat!
What kind of meat?
We don't want you!
Boo, motherfucker!
Get some!
Oh, fuck.
Yeah, we switched out
the hot brand.
Little fuck-fuck trick
we play on the new guys.
Nice.
You want a brand,
you gotta earn it.
Welcome to the Suck.
Still got
that stomach flu, Swofford?
I can't seem to shake it.
That's all right.
Not everyone's cut out
for the Marines.
But for me, there was nowhere
else. That was the truth.
After all,
I was made in a war.
Here's Mr. And Mrs. Swofford
on R&R from Vietnam.
Honolulu Hilton, 1969.
I can't watch...
and neither can you.
And here are some other things
I can't show you.
Visiting my sister.
Making muffins with Mom.
Breakfast conversations
with Dad.
But here are some things
you can see.
Taking a dump.
Thinking about
going to college.
Studying after school
with my girlfriend.
Oh, my God, I love you.
I love you, too.
Giving away
my favorite USMC T-shirt.
I'll write you every day.
Hey!
Swofford?
Swofford?
Yo.
What the fuck? You're sick?
No, I just had
a stomach thing, sir.
Staff Sergeant Sykes.
I'm with Surveillance
and Target Acquisition. STA.
I heard it took six guys
to pull that little branding
trick on you.
Your file says that you ain't
too fucking dumb, either.
So you better get un-sick
most motherfucking
ricky-tick...
because there's a chance
that you could be
a scout sniper.
What the fuck is this?
"The Stranger by Camus."
That's some heavy dope
right there, Marine.
"Mary however..."
"That's when we ran up
to the office..."
Indoc class starts on Monday.
I suggest you have
your ass there.
Is that an order,
Staff Sergeant?
It's a fucking opportunity.
It's a fucking honor.
It's the best fucking job
in the Marine Corps.
Sounds good, Staff Sergeant.
Sounds good,
Staff Sergeant!
Sounds good.
Could I have my...
You know what?
I got a better idea.
You play any instruments?
I played the trumpet
in third grade,
Staff Sergeant.
Played the trumpet
in third grade? Good.
You still play?
A little,
for small holiday concerts
and festivals.
Good. You ain't gotta be
Chuck Mangione.
All I need is a bugler.
Somebody to play Taps,
Reveille, Battle March...
that type of shit,
raise the morale.
Does that interest you?
Oh, yeah.
Good! Parade field, 0600.
All right, thank you,
Staff Sergeant!
My pleasure.
Can I get my book?
There's 60 of you.
I only need eight.
That means 52 of you
will perish. Do the math.
There's no possible way
that all of you can make it.
If you think
you're worth some shit...
Staff Sergeant Sykes!
Private Swofford
reporting for bugle tryout!
Indoc! Atten-hut!
I don't give out
too many special treats...
but this morning,
we have a very special treat.
Private Swofford here
is going to play Reveille
for us.
Okay, Swofford,
play Reveille.
I don't have a bugle,
Staff Sergeant.
You don't have a what?
I don't have a bugle.
Oh, no. No, no.
Damn, damn.
You better play
with your mouth.
What?
I said, play it
with your goddamn mouth.
Fuck.
I love that tone.
Sounds good to me.
My morale is lifted.
You know
any Stevie Wonder?
You know You Are
The Sunshine Of My Life?
Yes, Staff Sergeant.
Good, that's a classic.
Will you shut the fuck up?
There is no bugle program.
You sizzle-dick motherfucker.
Who do you think you are,
some kind of Kenny G
or some shit?
No, Staff Sergeant.
Good.
Now to the rest of you,
do you have what it takes...
to be the meanest,
the cruelest,
the most savage...
unforgiving motherfuckers
in God's cruel kingdom?
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
Will you be able to one day
say, "Yea, though I walk...
"through the valley
of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil...
"because I am
the baddest motherfucker
in the goddamn valley"?
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
We shall fucking see!
You still here?
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
Yes, what?
Yes, I am still here,
Staff Sergeant.
So fucking be it. Fall in!
One mile!
One mile!
Ain't shit!
Ain't shit!
Two miles!
Two miles!
Your mission is to kill me.
My mission
is to kill you first,
and I'm good.
Them paintball bullets,
they hurt?
Oh, shit! Fuck, I can't see!
Back to the grunts, dick face!
In order to
engage your target...
you must see your target,
but your target
must not see you.
Shevitz.
You laugh, you die.
Scratch your nose, you die.
You shift your weight
to take a piss, you will die.
You want to shit,
you better shit
in your pants.
Still kind of cute,
huh, Swoff?
No, sir.
This suit will hide you.
You will become a tree.
A rock.
You are mud, sand, and dust.
Still funny?
No, sir.
In order to fire accurately...
you must be able to judge
distance and wind direction.
How far are those trees?
500 yards.
No.
600.
300.
300. How did you
figure that?
Three football fields.
Three football fields,
that's right.
You take what you know
and then you multiply.
Please don't use
your dicks.
They're too small,
and I can't count that high.
I don't wanna hear,
"400,000 inches."
Now, wind.
You use what you have.
Use a flag,
use a plume of smoke,
a little bit of dust.
Spit on your finger
and hold that bitch up.
These are formulas
that you can use...
but in the end,
you have to trust your gut.
Details, gentlemen.
Details is gonna be
the difference between
you killing your target...
and your target killing you.
We've all been taught that,
"Thou shalt not kill."
But hear this:
Fuck that shit!
Now, consider your target.
If you are lucky,
in that window
will one day emerge...
the figure of the enemy.
The JFK shot.
The pink mist.
Fire, fire, fire.
Hit.
Fire, fire, fire.
The sounds that you
are hearing are live rounds.
You will get
the fear out of you.
Keep moving.
If you pick your head up,
you will get fucked up!
Let's find out
if we have any bitch in you!
You guys crawl
like old people fuck!
Keep moving!
Get the fear out of you.
Keep moving!
Do not bunch up!
Keep moving!
I can't!
Keep your head down!
Come on, man!
Move!
Keep it moving.
Just fucking move!
Come on!
No!
Keep moving! Don't bunch up!
You can do it!
You can fucking do it!
Keep moving! Come on!
I can't!
Keep moving!
Don't bunch up!
I can't! No!
Cease-fire!
Cease-fire!
Corpsman!
Shit!
Shit.
I told you to keep
your fucking head down!
If you listened to me...
you would still be
fucking alive right now!
Stupid fuck!
God help me.
You are now scout snipers.
Now, I know you've heard this
but I'm going to tell it
to you again:
Snipers do not work alone.
You work as a team.
Spotter, shooter.
Spotter, shooter.
Spotter, shooter.
Spotter, shooter.
You may now open your case,
pull out your M40A1 rifles.
Once you've done that,
you will repeat after me.
This is my rifle.
This is my rifle.
There are many like it,
but this one is mine.
There are many like it,
but this one is mine.
Without my rifle,
I am nothing.
Without my rifle,
I am nothing.
Without me,
my rifle is nothing.
Without me,
my rifle is nothing.
The grunt dies for
15,000 poorly placed rounds.
Fucking right.
The sniper dies...
for that one perfect shot.
Hit.
Fire, fire, fire.
I was hooked.
Hit.
Fire, fire, fire.
Hit.
Fire, fire, fire.
Hit.
I wanted the pink mist.
Good evening.
Iraq invaded and took over...
its tiny neighbor,
Kuwait, today.
That set off
worldwide protests
and drew sanctions...
from the United States,
Great Britain
and the Soviet Union.
The government
of dictator Saddam Hussein...
claimed it went in
at the invitation
of revolutionaries...
who had overthrown
the Kuwaiti government.
We have appealed
to all our friends
around the world...
including
the United States...
to come to our aid
and assistance.
We're going to fucking war.
Shoot that motherfucker.
Come on,
start running, motherfucker.
Fuck.
Shoot that motherfucker!
Die!
Run, Charlie!
Now hear this. Now hear this.
All personnel from 2-7...
are to report immediately
to your company area.
Get some, Marines. Get some!
Me, I had a choice...
either join the Marines
or go to jail.
And you know
what the shit of it is?
Yeah, if you'd
gone to jail...
Don't spoil
the joke, asshole.
If I'd have went to jail,
I'd be getting out today.
Would you like some nuts?
No, thanks.
Yes, are they warm nuts?
No, I believe
they're room temperature.
Well, maybe later
you can come
and warm up my nuts.
You know,
I don't really like
the little ones.
Okay, is that all?
Yeah.
Would you like some nuts?
You poor bastard.
I bet your recruiter
promised you a whole
wide world of pussy, huh?
You fucking A.
Cocksucker knew the price
of every whore
from Olangapo to Stockholm.
And here we are,
headed to the desert.
No pussy in 1,000 miles.
Fucked by
the green wienie again.
What would you be doing
if you were a civilian?
Staying up late,
jacking off...
playing Metroid, trying to get
to that ninth level?
You know what happens
when you get there?
Nothing.
You just start
all over again.
How long you think
we'll be there? Two weeks?
Less, man.
We'll be back so fast...
we'll still be
shitting out those nuts.
Good luck, now.
Goodbye, now.
Good luck, now.
Goodbye, now.
Want to keep me company
for two weeks?
Goodbye, now.
You don't know
what you're missing.
Yeah, yeah.
Damn!
Attention on deck!
Take your seats.
Good afternoon, Marines.
Good afternoon, sir!
Jesus, did you just land
in a war zone
or a funeral parlor?
Good afternoon, Marines!
Good afternoon, sir!
I just felt my dick move.
For those of you
who don't know me...
I'm
Lieutenant Colonel Kazinski,
your battalion commander.
We are now a part of
Operation Desert Shield.
Now, just north of us...
Saddam Hussein's got
one million Iraqi soldiers.
And some of those boys
have been fighting...
since you were nine
or ten years old.
They are tough.
They will stop at nothing.
They've used nerve gas
against the Iranians
and the Kurds.
Now, here's a picture.
I know
what you're thinking.
You're thinking,
"Let's kick ass
and take names...
"and end this shit
the day before yesterday."
Yeah!
But the bureaucrats
have a lot of jawboning to do.
So for now, these Iraqis
who have raped and pillaged...
poor little Kuwait
are not yet in our gun sights.
Our current mission
is to protect
the oil fields...
of our good friends
in the Kingdom of Saud...
until further notice.
And gentlemen,
I'm talking a lot of oil.
A lot of oil.
So you will hydrate,
you will train...
you will adjust
to this desert,
and you'll hydrate some more.
And you will be ready.
You will maintain
a constant state
of suspicious alertness...
and one day soon...
Saddam Hussein is gonna regret
pulling this sorry shit.
Ooh-rah!
We're gonna kick
some Iraqi ass!
What did you say?
We're gonna kick
some Iraqi ass, sir!
Oh, hell, son.
What, you gonna win
the Medal of Honor
all by yourself?
What's the rest
of my battalion gonna do?
Kick some Iraqi ass!
You know,
I think it's time
for me to retire.
I can't hear a fucking thing!
Kick some Iraqi ass!
Oh, boys,
I just got a hard-on!
Man, this defensive
position shit sucks, huh?
We need to get out
of this shit hole soon.
I need to shoot something!
You're gonna get
all you want soon enough.
First to fucking fight!
Yeah. For what?
I've been around
these old white fuckers
all my life.
They got their fat hands
in Arab oil.
The motherfuckers drink it
like it's beer.
That's why we're here,
to protect their profits.
You're full of shit.
He's full of shit.
Who do you think gave Saddam
all his fucking weapons?
We did!
Fuck politics, all right?
We're here.
All the rest is bullshit.
Yeah.
Everyone else
is unpacking, man.
I'm taking a break.
What you got?
Photos.
She's hot. Yours?
Yes, man.
You better shoot yourself
in the foot...
and get a ticket home...
because Jodies are
gonna be all over her!
Look at her!
Ain't she an animal!
They won't
leave her alone!
That's nice
for a white chick, man.
Thank you, man.
Nice? Come on.
I'd drink a gallon
of her pee just to see
where it came from.
All right, all right,
all right.
This is hardcore right here.
This is close to porn.
Let me see that one.
Let me see.
She's got
a baby fist down here.
Dream on, brothers, dream on.
I'm storing that
for later, man.
I'm storing it for later.
Hey, y'all horny fucks
wanna see a beautiful woman?
Yeah!
Let's see it.
Let's see it.
Give it up!
Check this out.
Yeah, boy!
Give it up, give it up.
No, no, no.
Oh, no! Please
don't love me!
Now, tell them
how many tortillas she had
before that picture.
Hey, she's pregnant, man.
That's why
she's so beautiful, man.
This is what it's all about
right here, man.
Hey, fuck you guys!
Married guys.
I'm telling you, married guys
lose brain cells
by the billions.
If the Corps wanted you
to have a wife...
they would have
issued you one.
Yeah, they would have
issued you one.
Yeah!
No family photos, Swofford?
Hey, can I see
your pictures?
Yeah, sure, man.
Thanks.
Fergus, right?
Yeah.
She have her own clothes?
Well, ain't this cozy as fuck?
You guys get settled in?
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
Well,
if you're not too busy...
Gas! Gas! Gas!
Right now!
I'm talking about gas!
Let's go! Let's move it!
Come on, guys,
what the fuck are you doing?
Let's go! Get it on!
Right now your dicks
are falling off!
Your skin is bubble wrap!
Let's go! Move it!
You sorry motherfuckers,
I told you, "Don't get lazy."
Didn't I tell you
not to get lazy? Let's go!
Let's go.
What are you doing?
That's your fucking
sleeping bag, you moron!
Let's go!
It's been 30 seconds.
What the fuck are you doing?
Get it on!
You stay ready,
you ain't got to get ready!
You nasty motherfuckers
are so lazy! I told you
to stay on point!
That's 45 seconds!
What you doing?
What you doing?
You better get
your motherfucking ass
in gear!
You gonna be
the first motherfucker
I kick up in the ass.
Get it on!
I'm trying!
They packed mine wrong!
Retarded motherfuckers,
let's go! Put it on!
Let's go! Stop!
Stop it right now!
Luke.
Come over
to the dark side, Luke.
55 seconds. You're all dead.
And since you're all dead...
I guess you wouldn't mind
taking a little run
in these suits.
Let's go!
Swofford,
if you don't pick it up...
I'm gonna shoot you
in your fucking foot!
Move it!
The price of crude oil
has nearly doubled.
President Bush
sends in more troops.
Us, six times a day,
we gather for formation.
Drink it down,
all of it.
And we hydrate.
Now, hold them up.
We patrol the empty desert.
Get down!
And we dehydrate.
We throw hand grenades...
into nowhere.
We navigate
imaginary minefields.
We fire at nothing.
And we hydrate some more.
You will hydrate
till I get full.
There you go.
Hold it down.
Now, hold them up.
And we look north,
towards the border...
and we wait for them.
This is our labor.
We wait.
I got one! A white one!
Master race.
Check her out.
It's beautiful.
Chango's reign of terror
is over! Over!
Come on!
It's over,
you fucking pussy,
Chango.
Chango, come on.
Hey, come on, Chango.
Come on, Chango!
Now you're gonna see a fight, kid!
Come on! Come on!
Come on, whitey!
Come on. Come on.
Come on! Come on!
Pay me my money,
motherfuckers!
All right!
I told you, I told you!
Go, Chango!
Chango! Chango! Chango!
Fucking asshole.
Suggested techniques
for the Marine to use...
in the avoidance
of boredom and loneliness:
Masturbation...
rereading of letters
from unfaithful wives
and girlfriends...
cleaning your rifle...
further masturbation...
rewiring Walkmen...
arguing about religion
and meaning of life...
discussing in detail
every woman the Marine
has ever fucked...
debating differences,
such as Cuban
versus Mexican...
Harleys versus Hondas...
left- versus right-handed
masturbation...
further cleaning of rifle...
studying of Filipino
mail-order bride catalog...
further masturbation...
planning of
Marine's first meal
on return home...
imagining what
the Marine's girlfriend...
and her man Jody
are doing in the hay...
or in the alley...
or in a hotel bed.
Is she up there yet?
What?
Get the fuck off me, man.
Don't worry, she will be.
She'll be right there.
She's gonna look beautiful
up there.
Yeah. Thank you.
I wonder what she's doing
right now.
No way to know.
Now, here are the rules.
When you talk
to these reporters,
you do not get specific.
Tell them that there's
no better shooters
in the world...
than Marine snipers.
Tell them that you're happy
to be here.
You're proud of the mission.
All right?
And you can't wait to mash
the fuck out of these Iraqis.
Anything other than that
comes out of your mouth...
I get fucked up.
And if I get fucked up,
I'm gonna fuck you up.
Take your shirts off.
Show your muscles.
You've been working out.
This is censorship.
This is what?
Censorship.
You're telling us what we can
and can't say to the press.
That's un-American.
Yeah, what about
freedom of speech?
The Constitution?
No, you signed a contract.
You don't have any rights.
You got any complaints,
you complain to
Saddam Insane...
and you see
if he gives a fuck.
Why, that's exactly
what Saddam Hussein does.
You're treating us
the same way.
You are a Marine.
There's no such thing
as speech that is free.
You must pay
for everything that you say.
We're rolling. Sound, speed.
You're a Marine
here in Saudi Arabia.
Are you glad to be here?
Oh, yes, ma'am,
I'm glad to be here.
My uncle and my father
served in Vietnam...
so I'm proud to serve
my country here.
I have supreme confidence
in all my leaders...
you know, from my team leader
to my President.
I'm very proud
to serve my country, yeah.
So, who's waiting
for you back home?
Can I give a message
to my brother?
Sure.
Tim, hey. He's gonna get this?
Uh-huh.
Tim! What's up?
I got your letter, man,
and you are a maniac.
You're crazy.
He'll understand that.
You're a Marine
here in Saudi Arabia.
How do you hope
the Kuwaitis will greet you?
How do you feel
about the Iraqis?
They're the enemy.
Do you have nightmares
about them?
How do you...
I love it out here.
This is what I want.
'Cause I count for something.
Back home...
I'd be working some
nowhere job. Nobody would
even know I was alive.
"We burn the fat
off our souls."
Hemingway, he said that.
Who's waiting
for you back home?
Well, you know,
I have a girlfriend
waiting for me.
Anything you'd like
to say to her?
Yeah, sure. Yeah.
Hi, Kristina.
Here we are.
Are you scared?
Yes, ma'am,
I'm very happy to be here.
I love my country.
I miss my parents.
Hey, Mom, hey, Dad.
They're treating me
all right here.
It was an opportunity for me
to defend America...
the country which
has given freedom to me
and to my family.
And it is an honor
to fight for that freedom.
To defend my country...
and to serve my country...
and to learn skills
to eventually
go into law enforcement.
Are you scared?
Look...
I'm 20 years old...
and I was dumb enough
to sign a contract.
I can hear
their fucking bombs already.
I can hear their bombs.
And I'm fucking scared, yeah.
Don't tell my Staff Sergeant,
though, all right?
So in case
of a chemical attack...
what provisions
do your men have for that?
This is what we call
the NBC suits.
That's nuclear-biological
- chemical protective suits.
We also have a mask.
This is the M17 A1 mask...
which is fitted
with a drinking tube...
so these guys
can drink from
their canteens...
without taking off
their masks.
Oh, really?
Want to try it?
No, thanks, but can I hold it?
Yeah, sure.
It's heavy.
Yeah, it is.
But you know, we need these
in order to protect us.
They fight with all this
in all this heat?
Yes, they do.
They fight with it and...
As a matter of fact,
let me give you
a small demonstration of that.
Kruger, get rid of the ball.
Get rid of the ball.
Kruger! Get rid
of the fucking ball.
Ball.
Fuck.
Give me the ball.
All right, listen up, guys,
today is your lucky day.
These reporters want to see
how your NBC suits work.
All right, so we're gonna
continue this little
football game...
in full chemical gear.
That's right.
Come on, let's go.
It's 112 degrees.
Then I guess
you won't be needing
your parkas, will you?
Let's play!
I'm gonna hurt you, Swoff.
I'm gonna hurt you so bad.
Do you like pain?
Hut!
Swoff!
Where's the fucking ball?
Swofford, what is that?
Swofford, I guess
you call that
using your head, huh?
Using his head.
Hut.
Hut!
Cortez!
Fuck you! Fuck you, bitch!
Who got me? Who got me?
No, no, I want him.
You want
the Mexican leprechaun?
Well, let's take him.
Yeah, I'll take
the fucking midget.
I'm the midget?
Let's go,
you squishy-faced retard.
Don't you ever call me
a squishy-face.
Squishy-face.
Let's go, baby, squishy-face!
Let's go, squishy-face.
Motherfucker!
All right, that's it!
That's halftime!
Put the masks back on.
Bring the water.
We're gonna further
this demonstration.
Men, these M17 Adrinking tubes...
are designed to work
perfectly with your canteen
and your mask.
Take the narrow part
of the tube...
with your fingers
extended and joined...
and place it into
the appropriate receptacle...
on the canteen lid.
The lid on my canteen's
fucked.
Watch your mouth.
I got another one
for you right there.
My hydration tube is busted,
Staff Sergeant.
We're gonna die
of dehydration.
We're not gonna die.
Just cool it.
Staff Sergeant,
my drinking tube fell off...
at the gas chamber
at Pendleton.
It's been four months...
I understand that,
and I want everybody
to understand this!
Fucking piece of shit!
And I want you to play
fucking ball!
Oh, that's a peach, baby! Go!
Kruger of Arabia!
Kruger, field fuck.
Field fuck?
Field fuck!
It's just good
old American...
Shit.
Stop it. Stop it,
you assholes. Stop it!
Put your clothes on!
Come on, bring the camera.
You're gonna put
your clothes on
and quit acting like monkeys.
You stupid motherfuckers.
Put your clothes on, assholes!
Come on.
Let's go check out
the artillery and everything.
Field what?
He said "field fun."
That's one of the exercises
that we run here in the field.
The armory.
Why don't we have
a look at that?
Yeah, let's...
Come back soon, now, you hear?
I don't hear you laughing now.
I can't hear you.
That's better. Sounds jovial.
Platoon! Atten-hut!
Lance Corporal Swofford!
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
On top of the world, huh?
Yes, Staff Sergeant!
Well, I have
more important things to do...
like play with my balls.
But guess what,
you guys are scheduled...
for a little two-day vacation
back in the rear...
so I suggest
you get your shit together.
You can start
by taking all that down.
Fuck!
Yeah, whatever.
Come on, Swoff, pack up.
Your mommy again, Fergie.
What are you listening to?
My mom's Christmas tape.
You're a retard.
Fergus, you and your mom
got fire watch tonight.
2200 to 0200.
Man, that's two
straight weeks.
Why does it have to be me?
'Cause you're so boot.
You are boot.
Oh, yeah.
That's the third
fucking time, man.
What's that?
I just want it to say
"no preference."
Is that so fucking hard?
What difference does it make?
God knows you're
"no preference."
At least they got
the blood type right.
I mean, which would you
rather get? The wrong prayer
or the wrong blood?
One lonely pink letter
from Sacramento.
Kristina. I wonder
what she's up to?
Now, I dare you...
Go jerk off outside.
Oh, my God.
What?
Oh, my God, man, I have a son!
I got a fucking son, man!
I got a little boy!
Let's see.
Look at that cute kid.
You better check
the mailman, bro.
This baby's a gringo, man.
No way. That's definitely
Montezuma Jr.
I don't care, as long as
he's not a Cuban
with a little dick.
Cortez, can I see him?
Here you go, Pinko.
He's beautiful, man.
I'll put my little boy up.
Doesn't look good.
Kristina has a new friend,
man.
She got a new friend?
He's the night manager
at her hotel, and she says
he's a good listener.
Man! This is getting worse.
He's fucked, man.
Oh, I told you. I told you.
She's one of those girls
with a military fetish.
Yeah, and she's getting off
when she tells the Jody...
that her boyfriend's
a jarhead.
Yeah, man, fuck.
All right, fuck off.
I can see it.
I can see it now.
She works in a hotel.
She goes into
a vacant room, right?
Grabs onto the pole and goes,
"Jody! Jody! Six-foot-four!"
Hey, hey, hey.
Go pull the legs off a spider.
Okay, Corporal.
Hey, Swoff. That's right.
Cheer up, man.
We heading back to the rear.
We'll get some AC...
shit in a flush toilet,
you can use the phone.
I'm gonna call her.
You fucking A.
Even if she is fucking
someone else.
Root beer shower!
No more monkey ass!
Root beer shower!
What? Where are you going?
To work.
Where you going?
Hey, look, it's a cock,
but smaller.
Fuck!
Fuck!
Hello?
Kris, it's me.
Hello?
Hello.
Oh, my God, Tony.
How are you? I'm good.
How are you?
Missing you.
I'm all right.
I'm missing you, too.
I saw your mom.
We went to visit your sister.
How is she?
Your mom?
No, Rini.
She's doing better.
She's doing really good.
So this guy...
Did you get the pictures?
Yeah, I got them.
They're great.
Did you see the one
of you and me?
The guy at the hotel...
Who?
How well do you know him,
Kris?
Who, Carl? He's just a friend.
How well do you know him?
Tony, he's just a friend.
Hello?
Yeah, I'm here.
Hello?
Kris?
Tony?
I'm here.
Tony!
Kris?
God.
Kris?
You were making
some pretty weird sounds, man.
Dettman's wife sent him
Deer Hunter.
Let's go watch it.
Put it on!
Shut up, Fowler,
you fucking shit bird!
Shut the fuck up.
You shut up already.
Yeah!
Get your boot off
my fucking chair,
you fucking boot.
Rude motherfucker, Swoff.
What the fuck?
That's my wife.
That's my fucking wife!
Oh, fuck. That's my wife.
That's Clancey.
That's my fucking neighbor.
I lent him my fucking car.
That's my wife.
That's my fucking wife!
You fucking bitch!
No! You slut! No!
Fuck!
You don't need
to see this shit.
Oh, fuck, baby.
You don't need to see this.
Swoff, come on.
Take him outside.
Come on, Dettman. Come on.
Fuck! I wanna go home!
I wanna go home.
Who's fucking around now,
Brian?
Fucking faggot, man!
Let's watch it again!
That's enough! That's enough!
No, no, no! Why?
That's his fucking wife!
No fun!
What are you doing?
I'm waiting for you to leave
so I can watch it again.
Why do you want to
watch it again?
I want to watch it again.
Why?
I want to see
what it's like...
to watch somebody else
fuck your girlfriend.
Come on. Get your shit.
Come on. We're going back.
For most problems...
the Marine is issued
a solution.
If ill, go to sickbay.
If wounded, call corpsman.
If dead,
report to graves registration.
If losing his mind, however...
no standard solution exists.
No...
standard...
solution...
exists.
What's up, buddy?
Merry Christmas.
Yeah.
I hear you got some good shit.
Fly, rumor, on winged feet.
Here...
read this.
What is it?
It's a love letter
for the Major.
I write all of his letters.
"Dear sweet Gloria,
I wish I was up in you now...
"with a finger in your ass.
"Love you, Captain Skinboat."
I studied classics
at Dartmouth.
It's a good school.
$40, five gallons.
Hey, Swoff.
Which way do I mount this?
What does it say?
"Front toward enemy."
Oh, yeah.
Got to be a clue.
Thanks. Sorry.
Fergus, you take
my watch tonight,
I'll pay you back.
Not again. It's Christmas Eve.
I'll send you out
a fucking tree.
Oh, great, a tree.
Merry Christmas.
I'll take you
frame by frame it
To have y'all jumpin'
shall we sing it
O is for Other,
P is for People
scratchin' temple
The last P, well,
that's not that simple
You down with OPP
The first two letters
are the same
The last is something
different
It's the longest,
loveliest, leanest
I call it the leanest
It's another
five letter word
Fucking killers!
Shit!
Shit!
Shit.
Oh, shit!
What the fuck?
Come on! Now!
Let's get some!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
What the fuck is that?
It's time to do it all!
It's time for me to...
Sorry, guys. I'm really sorry.
It was my sausages.
Fucker's fucked now.
So do you have all of that
unauthorized beverage
out of your system?
Whose watch was that,
Swofford?
It was mine.
It was yours.
But since you don't know
how to handle
responsibility...
we are demoting you.
You are now a private.
You think you're the only one
that's bored around here?
And it will begin...
I don't want you
covering my ass.
So guess what's next?
Instructions for the
effective burning of shitters.
The Marine will need
the following:
One metal fence post,
one pair of welder's gloves...
five gallons of diesel fuel,
and one box of matches.
Hold it right there, Marine.
So you are the fucking idiot
who tried to
burn down my camp.
Yes, sir.
Stick that back in there.
It's already full
of diesel fuel, sir.
I don't care
if it's full of Chanel No. 5.
I'm not going to
the other side of this camp
for my morning glory.
Stick that fucker
back in there.
I'm waiting.
I left you a little gift
in there.
Not too hard, not too soft.
Perfect.
Thank you, sir.
Happy holidays, Private.
Done.
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.
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.
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.
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.
You fucking do that again,
and I will shoot you myself.
All right?
Well?
I'm sorry, man.
What was that?
It might be an echo.
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.
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.
Form a line!
Okay.
What do we do now?
Looks like they wanna talk.
Yeah? How you gonna do that?
That's his left hand.
Shoot him!
Easy, easy, easy.
Hold your fire.
Swoff, what are you doing?
Swoff!
Guys, cover him.
Fucking crazy motherfucker.
What's up, man?
What?
What is he doing?
Calm down.
What the fuck is he doing?
Don't fucking touch the rifle!
Back up! Back the fuck up!
No fire.
No fire!
What did he say?
Someone shot their camels.
What?
Someone
shot their camels, man.
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!
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"?
...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 Iraqi people.
And you better not
consider this
a bunch of bullshit.
"The mother of all battles
is upon us.
"The sacrifices
the Iraqi 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.
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 Insane
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.
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.
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!
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 I, 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.
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?
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?
Bet it smells good, man.
She sent it back, man.
Sent it back
like you send back a ring.
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?
Bloodiest battle
of World War II.
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!
Get the brand! Get the brand!
Now! Now! Now!
Get him down!
He's yours.
You earned it, man.
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.
Incoming!
Corpsman!
Get the fuck in here!
Get the fuck in here!
Get the fuck down here!
Incoming!
My combat action...
has commenced.
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!
Do not fucking die!
Do not fucking die!
Do not fucking die!
Do not fucking die!
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!
That was A10s.
Warthogs, baby.
Those things
are fucking tank killers.
That shit's
a fucking monster.
Yeah, no shit, Fowler.
Off they go
into the wide blue yonder
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 Iraqis!
Fowler,
stay in your formation.
Yeah!
Fowler, get...
Are they supposed
to come back?
Get in formation!
Incoming!
Quebec 4 Delta,
this is Echo 5 Charlie.
Request medevac, priority.
Marines down,
in grid 671584.
We'll mark with smoke,
over.
What are they doing?
Supposed to be flying.
Fucking assholes.
You call those Humvees up,
and we keep moving.
They fucking thought
we were Iraqis?
Keep moving.
Come on.
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.
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.
One fucking hell
of a day, huh?
You all right?
Yeah.
What's over there?
Nothing.
Holy shit!
What?
Oil wells.
They lit up the oil wells.
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.
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!
Swoff, get me some water.
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!
Hey, just close your eyes.
Swoff, I need that towel.
All right, there you go.
You want me
to wipe your ass now?
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!
I came here to fight.
I've just got to get out
of this fucking oil.
Let's go, man. Let's go.
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?
Fowler!
What are you digging
over there?
Nothing.
Our orders
are to dig over here.
Mind your own
fucking business.
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?
Oh, Jesus.
Get that out of here.
Fuck, Fowler.
$5 to get your picture taken
with it, guys.
Check out
what I put in his mouth.
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.
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.
It's all right.
You're gonna be all right.
It's all right.
Whoa.
You're covered
in this fucking oil.
The Army
may pull this type of shit,
but the Marines don't.
When we get back,
Fowler will be
passing out shit-paper.
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.
Yes, Staff Sergeant.
Thank you, Staff Sergeant.
What?
Thank you.
Don't thank me,
just don't fucking die.
Let's go.
Fucking A.
Get a kill,
you fucking pussies.
Sykes thinks
you boys are good.
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?
No, sir.
Then fucking show me.
Clear.
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 Corporal...
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.
I was trying...
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.
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.
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!
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!
I never shot my rifle.
You do it now.
Four days.
Four hours.
One minute.
That was my war.
You want some beer?
Look here, I got a beer.
The party's started now.
Semper Fi, Marines!
Semper Fi, 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.
You mind if I sit down
in your bus?
Every war is different.
Ooh-rah.
Every war is the same.
Give me one shot...
Hey, where you going?
Yeah?
Fergus?
Hey, man.
Hey, man, how you doing?
Nice haircut.
Good, thanks.
Come on in.
I got some bad news, man.
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...
love 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.
All my life
it was my dream
All my life
it was my dream
To be a bad motherfuckin'
US Marine
To be a bad motherfuckin'
US Marine