Voila! Finally, the Tigerland
script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Colin Farrell movie. This script is a transcript that was painstakingly
transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Tigerland. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally
tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to
drop me a line. You won't
hurt my feelings. Honest.
PAXTON: My father said the Army
makes all men one.
But you never know which one.
He didn 't know Roland Bozz.
SGT. THOMAS:
Get up!
Get the fuck up!
Come on.
Get your fucking low-life asses
out of bed!
(SHOUTS INDISTINCT)
SGT. LANDERS: You got minutes or
you'll do pushups until I pass out.
Let's go. Let's go.
Get up! Let's go!
Get your socks on and get outside,
you fucking pussies!
SOLDIER: Hurry up!
-Move!
-Ain't got all day.
SERGEANT: Move your ass, soldier.
INFANTRY:
Richard Nixon, drop the bomb
SQUAD LEADER:
I don 't wanna go to Nam
INFANTRY:
I don 't wanna go to Nam
SERGEANT MP: Next time won't be
no weekend in the stockade.
It'll be a full-scale
motherfucking court-martial.
Maybe a few years hard time in
Leavenworth. How's that fly, dipshit?
Discounting reception, basic training
corrective custody. . .
. . .been in the Army more than three
months. Most of it in the stockade.
SERGEANT: Get on that fucking deuce!
Get up on that deuce, boy!
You don't need no special
invitation, son!
Do as I ask! Hoist that
GI ass on that deuce!
Let's go. Get it done!
Get it done!
Private Bozz, Roland.
No middle initial.
You're going to infantry.
I bet my left nut
they bag and tag you in a week.
Any man tries that hard to get out
will never see home again.
I don't like the rehearsal,
so I'll skip the show.
Fuck you. Get on that deuce.
Let's go!
Bozz.
I got a buddy in Charlie Company
says he knows a fellow by that name.
Says he's the biggest fuckup
in the Army.
Clowning around and always acting
like fucking bozo.
WILSON: Article recycled through
basic, all kinds of goldbrick shit.
Sounds to me like that fellow's
no more than a goddamn coward.
Afraid of Tigerland, huh?
WILSON:
Should be scared.
They hump your ass until it falls off.
-I heard a guy from Bravo died there.
-No, man, that's a rumor.
You afraid of big old Tigerland,
Private Fuckup?
Read this and tell me what happens.
I gotta get away from this guy.
(CHEERING)
SOLDIER:
Go for it, Bozz!
SOLDIER:
Private Bozz!
What the fuck?
Stop the goddamn truck!
(BOZZ GRUNTS)
DRIVER: Goddamn it!
What the fuck is your problem?
You stupid motherfucker!
You're nothing but a--
Get back in that truck,
you little fuck!
The rest of you motherfuckers,
sit your asses down!
CAPT. SAUNDERS:
Good morning, gentlemen.
My name is Captain Saunders.
Commanding officer, Alpha Company.
Third advance infantry
training brigade.
Welcome to the infantry, gentlemen.
No matter where you did your basic,
either Fort Polk or elsewhere. . .
. . .rest assured that we train the
proudest, the toughest. . .
. . .the best-equipped soldiers.
This base is the largest supplier
of combat troops overseas.
So don't let any man here
start having any little. . .
. . .pasty fucking daydreams
about being anyplace else.
I shit you not, gentlemen.
You are headed for
a two-way firing range.
You will be sent to the war.
You will be here for an
eight-week training cycle.
After that, you will remain here
for a week more.
We will ship you to an outpost
miles from here. . .
. . .that is known throughout the Army
as the second worst place on earth.
Tigerland.
It is the stateside province
of Vietnam. . .
. . .and it is as close to the war
as we can make it.
Now, gentlemen,
it behooves you to learn. . .
. . .what little we can teach you here.
For if you do, then maybe. . .
. . .just maybe. . .
. . .you will return one day to play
stink-finger with Sally back home.
Let's get squared away.
Those of you not on detail
will have a pass for the weekend.
Training begins Monday at .
From that time on, every
son of a bitch humps his own load.
(GRUNTS)
-Sucky-sucky, baby?
-Oh, no, thank you.
There you go.
-You got a high sex drive.
-You're right.
Which line says that?
I'm no expert but it says
you're gonna have sex real soon.
-What about me?
-Sex for Sheri as well.
There you go.
-Did you read it?
PAXTON: No, I didn't.
Me, neither. I keep it around
to piss everybody off.
Jim Paxton.
Let's not become friends. You could
die and I'd miss you too much.
Excuse me?
-It's a joke, forget it. Roland Bozz.
-Okay.
This here is Sheri and Claudia
or Claudia and Sheri.
Ladies, Jim Paxton.
-Good to make your acquaintance.
-Nice to meet you.
Charmed, I'm sure.
-Let me buy you ladies a drink.
SHERl: Mm, right on.
Four, please.
-You girls from here?
-Born and bred. You?
-Upstate New York.
-New York.
Wow.
How about you, Bozz?
Where are you from?
Texas, Jim. It's in the
Southwestern part of the U.S.
Oh, yeah? Well, I'll double-check
that on the map. Thanks.
They came down hard on you in company.
-I'm surprised they let you off base.
-They didn't.
-I'm confined to company air.
-Oh, you're AWOL?
Shh, man, the children.
To peace on earth
and a cure for cancer.
-Cheers.
-Amen.
Don't take it all so seriously, Jim.
Lighten up.
Man, all I said was, "To peace on
earth and a cure for cancer. "
-Who said it's a joke?
-You're doing a routine.
A funny soldier with
two girls in a bar--
Man, I'm not doing any routine.
If you're gonna be an asshole
about it, fuck you.
Now, Jim, that's not the answer.
Oh, really, smart-ass?
Then what is?
The answer is, I got a hotel room.
We're gonna take these ladies
and fuck till the war is over.
Okay.
(GASPING)
CLAUDIA:
Hello. This is fun.
Oh, really, really fun.
-It's not bad for a couple grunts.
-Not bad for a couple grunts?
Who are you?
Sergeant Rock, Easy Company?
Who are you playing?
Absurd man in an absurd world?
You're playing a fool
fighting the system.
-There's a difference, Paxton.
-Really, what?
I'm a failed fool.
Yeah, you've got a rep. I heard
you're the biggest fool around.
Oh, well, thank you.
But that's it.
I'm still here when I should be out.
-And I'm gonna get out.
-Not me.
I enlisted.
-Is this some war shit again?
SHERl: Yes.
-I got the munchies.
CLAUDIA: Me too.
I wish I hadn't heard you say that.
I was starting to like you.
You know, I thought a lot
about it, Bozz.
I don't like the war.
Maybe I'm even against it.
But I'm not against my country.
Is there room service here?
Where's the phone?
That's some fancy
political thinking, professor.
Let me give you some advice.
Figure out a way to go.
-Get out, singing while you go.
SHERl: Guys, help us.
CLAUDIA: We're hungry, you know?
SHERl: Me too, man.
You know, that's not all, man.
It's not just political.
I want to go.
I want to see what it's like.
I want the experience.
I'm taking notes on everything.
(BOZZ LAUGHS)
Shut up. I'm taking notes
on everything. One day--
One day I'll write something
like James Jones or Hemingway.
What will you write?
That war is hell, men are brave,
that kind of old crap?
So you've popped my fucking balloon.
Jesus Christ, Bozz.
CLAUDIA:
-- -hour place on Bourbon Street.
BOZZ:
Give me the lighter.
The girls are gone.
Yes, they are.
Okay.
BOZZ:
Hey, how you doing?
Keep your head down.
Fucking AWOL, piece of shit
son of a bitch.
That bag of shit of yours in the dirt.
Private Bozz is showing the
proper way to dig a hole under fire.
Under fire, you will fall
to the earth and lie flat.
Under fire, you will ask God
to remove your button. . .
. . .to get closer to the ground.
Under fire you will dig a hole
with your teeth if you have to.
Open your mouth.
(BOZZ GRUNTS)
Now, shitbird.
Do it! Eat dirt!
I don't hear you. "Yes, sergeant. "
-I'm still not hearing you.
-You wear a dress, sergeant?
-What did you say, you piece of crap?
-Go kiss my ass, sergeant!
You little finger-fucking cocksucker.
I will make you push Fort Polk
into the sea!
Sir, I already have a man in mind.
Thank you.
Eat dirt. Do it!
Do it! Eat dirt!
-Eat it!
SAUNDERS: Sergeant, that's enough.
Get these men moving.
Move it! You heard the man.
Let's move it! Get going!
(WHISTLE BLOWS)
Miter, you're the new platoon guide,
the nd Platoon.
Get Bozz in line.
If it don't happen. . .
. . .even Jesus won't be able
to save you, understand?
-Yes, sergeant.
-Have these men fall in and fall out.
Platoon, fall in.
Fall out to your weapons.
Bozz, Bozz, Bozz, Bozz,
Bozz, Bozz, Bozz!
What is wrong with you, private?
Move your ass, son.
Let's go.
Move it!
-Bozz.
-Let's go!
SGT. THOMAS:
Get that bag of shit in the dirt.
(CHATTERING)
SOLDIER:
That's mine.
SOLDIER: Ba-doo, ba-doo
SOLDIER: On my mind
-Ba-doo, ba-doo
-I'm still trying to find
I want to take her home to my mama
Platoon, listen up.
Platoon, we got a heavy day tomorrow.
Everybody hit the racks.
Lights out.
SOLDIER: Lights out.
SOLDIER: You like being in control?
SOLDIER: I ain't took no shower.
I gotta take one.
(LAUGHING)
WILSON:
God, shut up.
SOLDIER: I don't fuck with you when
you're talking, so don't fuck with me.
Sergeant Thomas.
Private Cantwell reporting
to the weapon shed as ordered.
Sergeant Thomas?
(SGT. THOMAS YELLS)
(SGT. THOMAS PUNCHING CANTWELL)
Glad you waited up for me, Dad.
I think everybody did, Bozz.
This the scene where the troublemaker
gets beaten by his buddies?
Somebody got beaten.
Cantwell.
Jesus!
-What happened?
-I think it was Sergeant Thomas.
Damn it.
Anybody report it?
Why? It's not gonna put
his face back together.
He was trying
to fuck around like you.
I'm sorry this happened to you.
There ain't gonna be
no more clowning from you.
You hear?
Go wash up and hit the rack.
Shut your cake-hole, Miter.
You're giving Cantwell a headache.
I'm telling you, and that's like
getting an order from the sergeant.
Don't make me put you on report.
Give it a rest.
It's been a hard day for all of us.
Don't you give me a hard time, Paxton.
You're okay.
You'll be a good soldier,
but this individual--
He wants to be a bumblefuck.
He wants to laugh at everything we do.
MITER:
He'll hurt this platoon.
What are you, years old?
Just because you wear sergeant stripes
don't mean you ain't gonna die.
Where you going that we ain't, Bozz?
You best start to soldiering, boy,
or you're coming home in a bag.
Fuck.
Just wanted you to know,
I've taken a great dislike to you.
-Is there anything else, Wilson?
-No.
I don't reckon there is.
I'm gonna tell you something.
This is the last time you'll hear it.
You can't kill a dink with a ricochet.
Oh, this is all about killing people?
Well, shit.
So you can shoot when you want to.
When I want to.
Idea of killing dinks excite you?
Cease fire. Cease fire.
Get your targets, scumbags.
SERGEANT:
All clear.
SGT. THOMAS: You can't hit your
targets, there'll be hell to pay.
Shit, I do believe that's
Cantwell's target there, boys.
-Not a single bullet hole in it.
CANTWELL: Shut your face, Wilson.
Sgt. Thomas'll chew my ass for chow.
WILSON: You ain't gonna be making
any phone calls home.
You gonna be busy. All asses and
elbows, picking up ciggie butts.
You're a one-man campaign
to make the world uglier.
-I ain't afraid of you, Bozz.
-Yes, you are, Wilson.
-You're just too stupid to realize it.
-Okay then, Sunday school.
You're such a goddamn saint,
give Cantwell your target.
-I'll give him yours.
-You take that and I'll--
Jesus H. Christ, what's
the purpose of this clusterfuck?
-Wilson switched targets with Cantwell.
-That's true.
-That's bullshit.
-Lie down.
-Permission to--
-Now, shitbird!
Yes, sergeant.
You know why this man's on the ground?
Because he's dead!
He's dead.
And you can't bury him.
Do you know why?
-Why, sarge?
SGT. THOMAS: Because you're dead too!
You're all dead. . .
. . .because you don't know how
to fire weapons on semiautomatic.
Or how to hit Charlie
with short bursts. . .
. . .so your goddamn barrels
don't overheat.
And because this shitbag
can't hit his fucking target.
Any questions?
SOLDIERS: No, sergeant.
-I got a question.
If I'm dead, how come
I can ask you a question?
I know exactly what you're doing,
you pissant fairy.
I want you. . .
. . .and your two girlfriends here. . .
. . .to report to the mess sergeant
after chow tonight.
Get up, Lazarus.
You're resurrected.
(KICKS WILSON)
Get up.
Cantwell.
You're getting a lot less funny, Bozz.
There's some big old
moon shining down.
Reminds you what this
world is all about.
-What, peeling potatoes?
-It's good you talk so slow, Cantwell.
Paxton there is taking notes.
Maybe he'll put you in a book.
Another one of his hokey characters:
the bumpkin saint.
I don't rightly know
what you're talking about.
I don't read much.
Never got past sixth grade.
Got married. Got a wife back home.
Poor little girl.
She has seizures.
These spells, you know?
Four children gotta go
without a mama now and again.
Jesus, Cantwell, when did you get
married? When you were ?
Hell, no.
I was .
We had two together.
She had two previous.
I'm but she's a might older.
She's .
I got a little boy who's
and a little girl who's .
What the fuck are you doing here, man?
Don't it strike you how
it's the same moon shining?
And it's shining down on us here. . .
. . .and shining down on
that little girl who's my wife.
It's the same moon. . .
. . .that'll be shining
when we go to war.
Same moon that's shining down on
those boys getting shot.
Don't it strike you what it means?
How each of us is a bit of everything.
And everything is shit.
I know that back home. . .
. . .preacher be talking about
right and wrong.
About the Lord and God and Jesus.
But you know. . .
. . .if the Lord or God or Jesus. . .
. . .be standing here right now. . .
. . .he'd say, "Cantwell. . .
. . .you forget about
all these promises.
You forget about what all anybody say.
And you forget about all them
big Sunday fancy ideas.
Even what we tell you.
You look up there.
Did you ever see such a moon?"
Goddamn it, Cantwell.
Shit.
Shit.
Fuck, I don't even know you, man.
You sitting there
telling your fucking story.
Make me want to fucking cry.
What's that about?
I mean, fuck you, Cantwell.
The world is fucking made of pain.
You shouldn't even be in this army.
You're just too stupid
to get yourself out.
I told them my predicament.
They said, "Wait till you go
to war, then complain. "
And you bought that?
The man said it.
I know Army regulations
the way prisoners know the law.
You're a hardship discharge, man.
Okay. Look, I'll get you
out of the Army.
What are you saying?
You don't care about him.
Jim, shut the fuck up.
I know what I'm doing here.
Just peel some
fucking potatoes or something.
DRILL SERGEANT: One, two, three.
PLATOON: Two.
-One, two, three.
-Three.
-One, two, three.
-Four.
-One, two, three.
-Five.
Who put you up to this, son?
Nobody, sir.
-I know my rights.
-No, you don't.
Your case won't be reviewed until
after you're overseas. Dismissed.
No, sir.
I don't believe that's correct.
And I believe if you don't allow me
to see a J.A.G. officer, sir. . .
. . .then under the uniform code
of military justice. . .
. . .I can file a complaint
with the inspector general.
And nobody can keep me.
Jesus Christ!
When did "My country, right or wrong"
turn into "Fuck this"?
It's Private Bozz, sir.
I can smell him from here.
No, sir, it wasn't Bozz.
I read it. In a book.
You read it? ln a book?
Yes, sir.
How far did you get in school?
Almost sixth grade, sir.
I guess they study law early
where you come from.
SGT. THOMAS:
Sir, if I may speak frankly.
You underestimate the harm
someone like Bozz can do.
He's bad for the Army, sir.
CAPT. SAUNDERS: Everything's bad
for the Army these days. Even war.
Now drive your knee through his face.
Shove his brain through his ear. Good!
WILSON:
Thank you, sir.
What's your solution?
Shit-can him out of the Army?
Of course not. That's what he wants.
-Exactly.
-Court-martial him.
I guarantee he'll snap shit then.
Sergeant, you know we won't
court-martial him.
It'll cost beaucoup dollars. . .
. . .and battalion will ask why I can't
keep one asshole trainee in line.
Five weeks from now,
he'll be in the war.
And he'll soldier then, by God.
Good or bad. Sure as shit.
Maybe not. Got Cantwell out.
Two other guys from his squad.
Every son of a bitch J.A.G. shrink
bleeding heart pissed down on us.
That's Bozz, sir.
X-ray vision for loopholes in the ARs.
Sergeant, we are losing a war.
The whole goddamn Army
is falling apart.
You want me to fiddle-fuck around
with one smart-ass barracks lawyer?
I think he's something more, sir.
-Is that all, sergeant?
-Yes, sir.
What the hell you doing, soldier?!
Goddamn it, Bozz!
You're supposed to strangle him,
not become his fuck buddy!
Yes, sergeant.
Pussy-fucking-coward.
What the fuck you looking at,
you bunch of no-nut sad sacks?
Get your little pussies back to work!
You try that again,
you're gonna be pissing blood, Bozz.
Now get those little pussies
back to work. . .
. . .you bunch of sad sack,
no-nut fuckups!
PAXTON:
Hey, Bozz, you did well by Cantwell.
He's two-stepping from the poorhouse
with a crazy wife. I envy him.
You saved his life.
Shit, sometimes when we talk,
my stomach hurts.
I don't care what you say.
You should feel good.
Good shit, pussy-fucking-coward.
I won't be proud until Wilson's out.
Know what would settle your ass?
A blanket party.
Put a blanket over you,
hit you with a rock.
Shut up, Wilson.
I'll stop this damn truck.
-Both of you can walk back--
-You bastard. . .
. . .you think you so damn smart.
I hear Northern boys
are the first to go in Vietnam.
Yeah, but at least
we can find it on a map.
Real fucking funny, Pax.
Ain't nobody gonna die.
Keep that talk to yourself.
Ain't nobody gonna die? Shit, Miter,
you're one damn dumb cracker.
When you go home, they'll call you
"Mr. No-Legs Motherfucker. "
-That any better?
-You watch yourself, mister.
I still got these stripes.
Acting sarge.
You're chicken without
that stripe down your back.
-I ain't seen a dink that can take me.
-Jesus, Wilson, you a dumb-fuck.
Them motherfuckers
killed the Chinese ass. . .
. . .and the French ass.
They gonna kick ours.
-Who are you? "Ask Mr. Negro Wizard"?
-My brother was there in ' .
Don't make you no hero.
You know what your problem is, Wilson?
You need to listen for the pop.
What's "the pop," Johnson?
The sound you'll make when your head
exits your ass for the first time.
Damn, Johnson,
I know you a damn coward.
Now I believe you a damn communist.
Maybe a damn faggot alongside
being a goddamn nigger.
-Oh, hell no!
BOZZ: Ain't this some shit.
-Want a piece of me, chump?
SOLDIER: Get him!
SOLDIER: Get him!
JOHNSON: Get off of me.
Get off, motherfucker!
MITER:
Come on!
That's enough.
(ENGINE RUMBLES)
(YELLING)
Which one of you motherfuckers
killed my truck?
SOLDIER: Get off me, man!
SOLDIER: Get off!
All right, now, you truckload of shit.
Fess up, or the whole
damn drag-ass squad. . .
. . .does the airborne shuffle
six miles back to base.
Goddamn it, shit for brains!
Who did it?
I did it, sergeant.
Good. Come down here, boy.
And bring your shit!
Rest of you, sit your asses down.
Nobody saves anybody,
you stupid son of a bitch.
What the fuck are you doing, man?
It's not doing me any favors.
Charlie this is Charlie .
Miter has properly demonstrated. . .
. . .the use of the TA- field radio.
Except for this,
which is not in the manual.
If you ever catch Charlie. . .
. . .you might want info on where
the rest of his buddies is.
Only Charlie is a close-lipped
bastard who won't tell you fuck all.
That's why you tie his gook hands,
take down his gook pants. . .
. . .and grab his gook balls.
Here, Miter, hold these.
You pinch these clips on each
of his slant-eyed nuts. . .
. . .and you juice up the radio. . .
. . .that'll send enough shock so
he'll tell you anything you want.
Hell, he'll tell you
the minor league baseball scores.
-You read me?
-Yes, sergeant.
He'll tell you how his mother wipes
her ass if you give him this juice.
Not only that, you'll be able
to find him real easy next time.
Because he'll light up
the fucking night.
No one said you could leave.
-Why?
-Why what?
Why would I do that
to another human being?
JOHNSON:
Brother's right.
What the fuck's wrong with you?
That's one of your men.
Get him back here, boy.
-Bozz!
-Go get him, boy.
Jesus, Bozz.
Don't do this to me.
Get back here,
you worthless sack of shit!
Bozz!
You can't control your own men,
it is your ass.
Drop trou.
-What?
-Drop trou!
Double-time, come on! Skivvies too.
Well, what do you know?
You do have a pair of balls after all.
-Wilson, crank this thing.
-Yes, sergeant.
We'll now demonstrate
the proper way. . .
. . .to give information
when connected to the TA- .
See if you can tell me
why you can't control your men.
See if you light up tonight.
HICKS: Light him up.
PAXTON: Shut the fuck up, Hicks.
Contact.
(MITER YELLS)
Never even touched you, son.
That's it. Class dismissed.
Go on to your next class.
Go on.
Go on!
HICKS: Wilson, looks like we're having
roasted nuts tonight, huh?
WILSON: I didn't know you
was so goddamn funny.
I can't wait to catch me a VC,
spark his balls off.
I'll start with you tonight, Miter.
Got this, Pax?
The crazed, sadistic soldier. . .
. . .who flips out and kills people.
I think I saw you look at
Miter's balls earlier.
Funny there, Bozz. Funny, yeah.
You're a disgrace to the uniform,
fucking piece of shit!
SOLDIER:
Hey! Hey, what the fuck?
(SOLDIERS SHOUTING)
SOLDIER:
Break it up, man!
Get the fuck up! Civilian bullshit!
What the hell is going on? Miter!
You better do some fast explaining
or your men in a world of hurt.
There was an argument. . .
-. . .and one of the men--
---Slipped on the soap in the shower.
Wrestling. It got out of hand.
It happens when people live together,
fuck together.
Sorry, soldier, you must've
slipped on some soap yourself.
What's wrong with you?
Look like you ate some frozen shit
for breakfast.
Nothing's wrong, sergeant.
It better stay that way,
you read me? All of you.
-Goddamn it, do you hear me?
-Yes, sergeant!
You got guard duty. Four listening
posts at the edge of the perimeter.
Dig yourself a hole and
forget about chow.
Out here, you're challenged on guard
duty. And you do it by the book.
But in Nam, if you hear something
in the bushes. . .
. . .I mean anything, you open fire.
You fire into those bushes until
you kill whatever made that sound.
When the sun comes up,
I don't give a fuck. . .
. . .whether it's man, woman, child
or little Johnny next door.
Kill it or you're not coming home.
Like the My Lai massacre, sergeant?
(SOLDIERS GROAN)
Paxton. . .
. . .why don't you join
your asshole buddy?
Missing a meal would be good for
your wisecracking ass also.
Now let's fall back in for chow!
Goddamn it, do it now!
You want to march six miles tonight?
SERGEANT:
Fucking weapons at ease!
BOZZ: Feel like I'm digging
my own fucking grave here.
PAXTON:
When I was a kid. . .
. . .I used to think I could
dig my way to China.
You watched too many cartoons, Jim.
Maybe if we dig long and hard enough,
we'll tunnel our way out of this dump.
Why don't you?
My arm's too tired.
No, really. Why don't you get
yourself out of the Army?
I'm not that brave.
In that case, I'll just have to
bury you myself!
(LAUGHING)
(GUNFIRE)
Move it out! Come on, move it out!
Stay the fuck down!
Stay the fuck where you are!
Move! You got to move it!
Stay the fuck down!
They're firing in our path!
-Move it!
SGT. THOMAS: Cease fire.
SGT. LANDERS: Miter!
What's wrong with you?
When your men are told to move out,
they move out!
When I give orders,
you're supposed to jump.
-Do you read me?
-Yes, sergeant!
The M- s fired directly across
our path! They'd have cut us in two!
Who told you to open your fucking
mouth? Miter's platoon guide!
You gotta flank that M- !
ls that clear?
Yes, sir.
If you want these
dumb-ass bitches dead. . .
. . .you wouldn't take them
in the belly of a pig. . .
. . .with a to split their skull!
You flank the objective!
-You read me?
-Yes, sergeant!
-Get these fucking men out the hole!
-Move it out!
Stay down! Stay down!
Stay down!
What did you say, maggot-brained
son of a bitch?!
I said, stay down.
Get these men out the hole now!
-Platoon guide, do it! Move it!
-Come on, goddamn it!
Stay down.
Are you stupid enough
to fuck with me, boy?
Tomorrow at base
it's you, me and the captain.
If your insubordinate ass ain't
in stockade by midday chow. . .
. . .I'll kill you myself!
You won't kill me, sergeant.
I don't know what you'll do to me,
but you won't kill me.
-Goddamn you, Bozz!
SGT. THOMAS: Out of the trench!
SGT. LANDERS:
Don't turn your back on me!
Get your ass with the other men now!
I understand your position. I ain't
trying to fuck things up for you.
You got your army to run and people
to kill. I'm not part of it.
Nobody quits the Army.
I'm not quitting. . .
. . .I'm just not playing.
What's your first name, sergeant?
Ezra.
Ezra.
Can I offer you a smoke?
SGT. THOMAS:
What the fuck is wrong with you?!
-That doesn't fucking do it!
-No, sergeant!
That doesn't fucking do it!
Give me a fucking answer!
Fuck!
Now you listen to me, son.
I been to where you're going.
Over there, you go from
living to dead awful quick.
What I'm trying to teach you may
save your worthless life, maybe.
I tell you what. If you snap shit
and soldier like I know you can. . .
-. . .I'll forget about this.
-Can't.
Shit, even if I wanted to,
I'm not there anymore.
What kind of bullshit
statement is this?
Ezra, no.
It's just me.
Okay, Bozz, all right.
I'm gonna let you go.
But now it's you
and the CO, I'm out of it.
Soldier, this army's gonna come down
on your ass hard. Both feet.
You know that, don't you?
They'll push through your papers
and send you where the dying's sweet.
Is this a trick?
Trying to make me a hero
or something?
Nope.
Well, good, Ezra.
Now you get your ass up and
join these men right now.
You're a big fucking baby!
Get out of my sight.
SGT. THOMAS: Miter!
SOLDIER: What's he doing?
-Sergeant Landers!
SGT. LANDERS: What is it now?
Miter!
Miter!
-That's enough, sergeant.
-You got some fucking nerve, shitbag!
Come on!
Time to go home, soldier!
I said, that's enough!
Let's go.
Goddamn it, you men will
learn to soldier.
The next dick tries a stunt like that
gets my size- Deltas. . .
. . .so far up their ass
they'll choke on the heel!
-Do you understand!
-Yes, sergeant!
You! Paxton!
-How much school have you had?
-Two years of college.
You're the next platoon guide.
Arrest him.
They didn't teach us
how to do that in college.
Are you some kind of fucking idiot?
You inbred retard.
You don't know how to do a thing,
do you?
Tell the man he's under arrest. . .
. . .he's confined to barracks,
he won't leave the area.
You get a card table
and set it up at the door!
Why, sergeant?
So a guard can sit there, you
backed-up, sperm-brained college boy.
You're fired as platoon guide,
dumb-ass dipshit!
-You think that's funny?!
-No!
Goddamn it!
Goddamn it! Give me you
think it's fucking funny!
-Wilson!
-Yes, sergeant.
Get a card table.
You're on guard.
Guard, sergeant?
You heard me!
You want these s up your ass?
No, sergeant!
Bozz.
You're new platoon guide.
You put that piece of shit
under arrest.
You tell these men to get their
haircuts. Every swinging dick.
Congratulations, sweetheart.
Sorry about that, Jim.
Oh, man.
BOZZ:
Jealous?
Miter.
How you doing, man?
Okay, guys!
I ain't taking any of this
shit seriously.
Just do what you have to do
so we can live together.
If any of you are gonna run off
and hide, let me know.
You can't do this.
You ain't got the rights.
Bleeding-heart son of a bitch.
It ain't your army. Hear me?
Sit the fuck down at your
dumb card table, punk.
JOHNSON:
Hey, fellas. Hey!
Look, all I know is that no one's
talked to me like that. . .
. . .since I got in this goddamned
green mean machine.
SOLDIER: Damn right.
SOLDIER: I attest to that.
So yeah, Bozz.
See what happens, baby.
What else they gonna do, send us
to Viet-fucking-Nam?
Too late for that.
SOLDIER:
Say, Bozz? Can I get a weekend pass?
Put your panties away,
your mama's panties.
BOZZ: They're your mama's panties.
You ain't been laid in three years.
SOLDIER:
Get me off this base, I'll show you!
Miter, baby, you gotta lay still.
Gotta lay still, man.
Take a deep breath.
Take this shit off.
You gotta relax.
-Shit, you gonna run again?
-Yeah.
I hear people in New Orleans
help me get to Mexico.
It ain't that easy.
Army's got men, their whole job's
to look for you.
I don't care.
They'll catch you, bring you here
and put you in prison.
You best move, don't make me
have to thump you.
Want to go to military prison?
You're not that crazy.
Shut the fuck up!
Calm the fuck down, you'll wake
up Wilson. You don't want that.
Shit. What you gonna do now?
I'll bust my hand.
I'll bust my hand.
-Shit, man, that won't work.
-Watch!
I said, that won't work!
Bust my hand, they'll have to
let me out. Right?
-It ain't gonna work.
-Come on, Bozz!
Break my goddamn hand
so I can go home!
You know what I am, Bozz?
I'm a butcher.
Yeah, we all butchers.
No, I'm a real butcher.
-You haven't killed anyone yet.
-Goddamn it, I mean a real butcher!
Back home. I cut meat.
I do it damn fine too.
Did it in high school,
did it after high school.
I could cut you a piece of meat
so clean. . .
. . .it'll have you praying
to beefsteak.
I'm a good butcher, Bozz.
It's all I ever wanted to be.
You laughing at me?
No, Miter. I ain't laughing at you.
My wife, she laughed at me.
My daddy too.
I didn't make no money.
Just a store boy,
that's what my daddy said.
"Hey, store boy. Hey, boy! "
Called me boy. Imagine that? Shit
kicker, calling me boy all the time.
I ain't a boy, goddamn it!
Telling me how he's
a big fancy war hero!
And my wife, that little--
My wife.
She's pretty.
Prettiest girl in Lake Charles High.
Prettiest girl
in the state of Louisiana.
She was mad at me because
I was working all the time.
Giving her the money. . .
. . .for junior college.
I knowed then, like. . .
. . .Iike I knowed later on. . .
. . .she was seeing a fucking
college boy on the side!
Goddamn it! My daddy said it.
He said, "See? See what a dumb-ass
bastard you are?
Blinded by the beaver store, boy.
You ought to have a little ring
in your nose. "
So you thought you'd join the Army
and kill yourself like a real man.
Bozz, I know you can get people out.
Maybe.
Even in this wild-ass nonsense,
some rules fly by.
Please, Bozz. Please get me
out of here. Please?
Well, look here.
Goddamn.
That captain sure didn't want
to let me go at first.
But I did like you said.
Told him the Army wants me
to see a psychiatrist.
-And that was it, huh?
-I wanted to thank you personally.
Doctor sent me on leave.
He'll contact the Red Cross,
get me out-processed. . .
. . .so I don't have to come back.
Good, Miter. Glad to hear
you're nuts, man.
-Best of luck, Miter.
-Thanks, Paxton.
-Miter.
-Take care, Johnson.
Thanks again, Bozz.
-So long.
BOZZ: Go be a butcher, Miter!
-Try not to get shot, hear?
-Don't let your meat loaf, man.
(PAXTON CHUCKLES)
Yeah, fuck you.
-Private Bozz, reporting as ordered.
-At ease.
So you're the new platoon
guide for nd Platoon?
Yes, sir.
The fucking world is full
of fucking surprises.
It wasn't your plan to wear
sergeant's stripes. . .
. . .a week away from
Tigerland in a war.
I don't know, sir. The idea
crossed my mind now and again.
I just didn't think it would
all be so pitiful sad.
Been looking over your .
You're a Texas boy.
Couple run-ins with the law.
A year in state college.
Dropout, worked construction.
-Get drafted?
-Yes, sir.
-Why didn't you stay in school?
-Maybe I needed some trouble, sir.
Well, you got it.
You also got responsibility.
You got a platoon to run.
The company's like the bad end of a
shit storm. Your platoon's the worst.
-Thank you, sir.
-That's not a compliment, smart-ass.
I don't want any more calls
from battalion. . .
. . .asking me why this troopie needs
a hardship discharge. . .
. . .and that troopie needs
some kind of a mental wet nurse.
-You understand me?
-Yes, sir.
Wipe that fucking grin off your face.
A week from now you'll ship out
to Tigerland.
That'll crawl in your skull
and look out your eyes.
So let's start fresh.
-Give your people a weekend pass.
-Already done it, sir.
You are a goddamn piece of work, Bozz.
I believe you could soldier as well
as any man in this army.
I even think you want to,
but you won't.
I'm just trying to keep myself alive.
We're fighting a war, private. Nobody
knows how he's gonna come back.
That's not the kind of alive
I'm talking about, sir.
BOZZ:
Here's bucks.
(GIRL SPEAKS)
Happy Halloween!
Cough it up, Brian.
Next time, Pax.
-Catch you later, buddy.
-All right.
Who's that girl you're
talking to, Bozz?
-Trying to score some weed.
-Know what I don't get?
Why they haven't tossed you
out on some lunatic discharge. . .
-. . .some bullshit like that.
-I ain't crazy.
You're out of your fucking mind.
My reasons are my reasons and
no one has to like them.
What about these fucking war games?
What if it's a lie?
What if the guys who tell you and me
shit to do were lied to also?
Maybe since everyone believes
in the same mistake, you know. . .
. . .maybe they're all as confused
as we are.
All this "Boy's boy,
man's man" bullshit.
Ever feel you're just being stupid?
Yeah. And it gives me a warm,
gooey feeling inside too.
Oh, man, we need women, Pax!
We need song and prayers to the moon
and deep breaths of the night wind.
Oh, I hear you, buddy!
I hear your asshole's tighter
than a migraine.
-Fuck you!
SOLDIER: Hey, man.
-You're Bozz, right?
-Uh-huh.
Fellas say that if you don't
want to go to Nam. . .
. . .you better pray to Jesus
or talk to Roland Bozz.
-Better start praying to Jesus, then.
-Sorry, kid!
-Oh, my God, look here.
-Oh, Jesus!
-I'm in trouble, I'm in trouble!
-You are!
-Come here, baby.
-I'll come if you got some money.
-I might have some money.
-You might or you do?
-You better have some.
-That's what I need to see.
-You want to see it?
-Yeah, I do.
-You got me covered, right?
-Here it is.
BOZZ: As I was about to come, I let
out a fart. Should've seen her face.
PAXTON: Heard it in the next room.
Thought a grenade went off.
-How was yours?
-Expensive.
-You feel guilty?
-Because I'm broke?
I figured you for a guy
who left a sweetheart back home.
-She left me.
-That's why you joined the Army.
-Go on, confess.
-No, she broke it off when I enlisted.
-Didn't want to be a widow.
-She's got a point.
After all this bullshit. . .
. . .you still want to go kill women
and children in rice paddies?
-Come on, Paxton!
-Where you going, Bozz?
-I have no idea.
-Fuck.
-We are gonna jump, my young friend!
-Shit, Bozz, I'm too drunk.
-Come on, Paxton.
-I'll break my neck.
I don't want to go without you,
man.
All right, I see what this is.
This jump, it's like this
existential leap of faith.
Abso-fucking-lutely.
I have no idea what that means.
We'll break those legs
and get out of the war.
-Okay, let's go.
-That's it, here we go.
-I'm ready.
-That's it.
It's gonna be on my count.
It'll be one, two, three.
-Let's break those legs.
-Okay, one!
Two!
Three!
-Was that the count?
-That was the count.
-Okay, okay.
-Here we go, here we go.
-Hot girl.
-Oh, yeah, hot girl.
On my count again, one, two, three.
Okay, one!
Two!
Three!
The legs won't move. Shit.
They're out for themselves.
Goddamn it.
If that bottle was a leg, we'd be
out of the war about now.
-Looks like that would really hurt.
-Oh, fuck.
(PAXTON GRUNTS)
Canadian Atlantic Railway.
There's your ride out of here, Bozz.
Go to Canada and live with
a fucking moose? No way, man.
Mexico, that's where I'd disappear to.
Can't you just smell it?
See it? Shit, I can
smell it from here.
All that sunshine and tequila. All
those little senoritas walking around.
-Would you--?
-What?
If I told you about people
who can get us to Mexico. . .
. . .away from the war, would you go?
No.
No, I wouldn't.
I enlisted, so there's a place for me.
If I don't go, somebody
has to take that place.
And if they die, well. . .
. . .they're dying for me.
You're a brave man.
-You're the brave one, Bozz.
-Bullshit.
Courage is when you're the only guy
who knows how shit-scared you are.
Then you're right.
I am the brave one.
Let's get out of here.
We gotta get back.
Fucking Sergeant Thomas
will chew my ass for chow!
-Anytime today, Private Paxton.
-I'm coming, Private Bozz.
Fuck.
PAXTON:
We should have jumped.
BOZZ:
Yeah.
We can always go back.
Come on, man.
(WILSON YELLS)
SOLDIER:
Fight!
Calm the fuck down here!
Calm the fuck down!
-Calm down.
SOLDIER: Get him, Bozz!
Get him, Bozz, get him!
PAXTON: Let him go! You're gonna
hurt him, Bozz, let him go!
Let him go, Bozz!
Let him go! Come on! Get off!
Goddamn it!
JOHNSON:
Damn you, Paxton. Let them fight.
Shut the fuck up.
JOHNSON:
You know he deserved every bit of it!
Took four hours for
my nose to stop bleeding.
Get off it, Wilson!
You had it coming, man!
-I was just fucking with him.
-If Paxton here had kept quiet. . .
. . .boy, you'd be in hell right now,
sure as shit!
If I knew Bozz would stop,
I wouldn't have said anything.
Apologize, Bozz.
Get off it.
You heard me, Bozz.
You apologize to me right now.
Yeah, Bozz. Apologize to the man.
Say, "I'm sorry I didn't
kill your ass! "
Think that's funny?
Fuck.
You tried to embarrass me in front
of every fucking person here.
Apologize.
MAN OVER P.A. :
Cease firing!
Clear your weapons!
Weapons clear.
Next group on the line, let's move!
Next group on the line!
-Weapon safe?
-Yeah, all clear.
Take a mag.
Ready on the right.
Ready on the left.
Firing line is ready.
Shooters, prepare to fire!
Fire!
Cease fire! Clear your weapons!
-Weapon clear, Barnes?
-All clear, Bozz.
JOHNSON: The fuck you doing, Wilson?
-Killing me a Cong.
What the hell's going on?
Unload that weapon!
Head or the body, Bozz?
You choose!
Unload that fucking weapon!
-Head or the body?
BOZZ: Damn it, unload that piece!
-Fuck you, Bozz.
-Unload that weapon!
Fuck you, Bozz!
Fuck you!
(SOLDIERS REACTING)
(WILSON SQUEALS)
SOLDIER:
It's jammed.
Did you see that? Did you see that?
Looks like a misfeed jammed it.
Well, you are one lucky dick, Bozz.
It would've killed you
and the three people next to you.
-Hope you're not too disappointed.
-What do you want to do?
How about get Wilson as far
the fuck away as possible, sir?
Well, you have the right to
press for a court-martial.
Otherwise, you can let us
handle it our way.
I'd personally prefer that option.
-Consider it a personal favor to me.
-Get Wilson out, sir.
I don't recall telling you
to open your stinkhole.
He's right, sir. Wilson
shouldn't be in the Army.
Even if he did try to kill somebody.
You and I need to exchange some ideas.
That doesn't solve our problem.
We need to get him out now
or we'll file for a court-martial.
Paxton, you're dismissed.
Yes, sir.
He's learning.
Bozz, do you think the Army's never
seen pissants like you before?
I know you think you're some
big swinging-dick hero.
I know a lot of the men think so too.
But I know you for what you are.
You are a coward.
You're a born leader and you're afraid
to take any real responsibility!
That's why you dropped out of school,
why you drop out of everything!
You're pissing your life away!
I don't need the fucking Army. . .
. . .and I don't need the war
to tell me that, sir!
Get on your feet, soldier.
Attention!
I don't want you in a stockade.
I don't want you recycled.
I don't want you drummed out
on some bad conduct discharge.
I want you exactly where you are.
And we'll just naturally chew you up.
I'll take care of Wilson.
You get the fuck out of my face.
Sure glad they got Wilson's ass out.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
-Shut your fucking mouth.
-You shut the fuck up.
-Guys, relax.
-I ain't starting.
You already got your ass beat once.
-Just watch your back in Tigerland.
-I'll do that.
I guess I'm supposed to joke
about how I owe you my life.
-He almost killed you.
-You jealous?
You wanted to know what it was like.
What what was like?
The great lesson
of being close to death.
Know what I know?
Same thing you know.
We're in a real bad way.
Fuck.
Real bad way.
All right! Let's go! Move it!
Come on! Let's go!
-Come on! Move! Move!
SERGEANT: Move your ass!
Come on, fat boy! Move your ass!
Let's go, soldier!
SERGEANT:
Let's go! Let's go!
C.O. :
Welcome to Tigerland!
Your final training
before you're shipped overseas!
Here, everything's done
exactly as it is over there.
You will search and destroy,
hunt and kill!
You'll move by chopper to secure
any area deemed necessary.
You'll be allowed one hour's sleep.
Minor mistakes
will pay back major punishment.
Maybe you've heard
we've lost this war.
Or we've lost the support
of people here at home.
It's too late to
ask those questions.
You're not back on the block.
You're alive in a year,
we'll talk about it.
When you arrive in Nam. . .
. . .it's important to get acclimated
as quickly as you can.
Remember to think.
-You understand me?
-Yes, sergeant!
What matters now is sharpening your
ability to find and destroy the enemy.
Practice how to stay alive.
I know what you're thinking.
I've been there myself.
You're thinking you'll
go somewhere safe.
You'll luck out.
Tigerland is where
you stop bullshitting yourself.
SOLDIER: Sarge, you got any advice
on how to stay alive in Vietnam?
SERGEANT: I do, private. Don't go.
-Right on, right on.
BOZZ:
My friend here wants the experience.
Says he ain't scared.
Well, good luck.
If you ask me, I'll stick
with the smart and the scared.
You'll be under the care of NCOs
and officers who were in combat.
Listen to them.
They know what they're talking about.
Cota.
I'm Staff Sergeant Cota.
I've done two tours in Vietnam.
My first in ' with the st.
Ijust completed my second with MAC-V.
I only have two words
of advice for you.
And those are to listen...
...and to learn.
All right, let's saddle up.
Let's go! Let's saddle up!
Let's go, goddamn it!
COTA:
Get down!
Good job, Paxton. Good job.
Good job, Johnson.
All right.
Get your ass behind that tree!
Fantastic. You guys move
like fucking soldiers!
Get your ass down!
Ryan, get your ass down!
Go! Move! Move!
Bozz, keep that barrel
out of the dirt!
Move, move, move!
Paxton, why are you slowing up?
Get your ass down!
You are the weak link!
This is not the time to slow up.
Adapt! Overcome!
Move! Get in there!
You good?
Why were you slow, Paxton?
-Are you hurt?
-No, I'm fine, sergeant.
Diagonal, Private Barnes.
-So you don't chop your knee off.
-Yes, sergeant.
Go ahead, Paxton.
I gotta take a piss.
-You okay?
-Yeah.
BOZZ: "Jim Paxton
on personal guide to pain. "
Get that fucking torch out of my face
and put that cigarette out.
You might as well
hang a big neon sign that says:
"Dumb-fuck grunts, right here. "
You broke light discipline.
Therefore, you're dead.
-Do you understand?
PAXTON: Yes.
-Good.
BOZZ: I'm still alive, sergeant.
-What did you say?
-I said, I'm still alive.
I miraculously survived the attack.
-You didn't get hit?
-No.
Are your friends alive?
Yeah, Paxton's good.
Johnson, he's good and he's good.
If you're gonna make up a story,
make up a happy one.
I ain't making anything up, son.
And in Vietnam there are no
happy fucking stories.
I had a best buddy, Kelly Morgan. . .
. . .that I went to AIT with.
In ' when the call came,
we got sent off to Nam.
We had only been in country
a few days. We was green as grass.
We were in a two-man listening post,
talking just like we are here.
Kelly lit up a cigarette.
One minute we're naming
his unborn child. . .
. . .and the next second
his brains were in my lap.
The sniper zeroed in
on the cherry of his cigarette, Bozz.
Gentlemen, it's all about respect.
Respect for your superiors
and what they're trying to teach you.
Respect for yourselves and your unit.
And most important. . .
. . .respect the enemy.
You have minutes. . .
. . .then the squad's on patrol.
Fuck.
Gentlemen, this is the best Vietnamese
village we could create for you. . .
. . .here on the base!
Now, listen. You're all gooks,
so nobody speaks English.
Anybody asks you a question
in English, you answer, "No bic. "
It means, "I don't speak" in gook-ese.
Let's hear it.
No bic.
Good. Private Bozz, you are
the only man that speaks English.
Speak only to the man who identifies
himself as interpreter. Understood?
-Yes, sir.
-Good. Private Paxton.
You are the Vietcong.
They come through, their objective
is to find the VC sympathizer.
In other words, you, Private Paxton.
They have five minutes.
You tell them nothing.
I warn you, they're beat up.
They've been awake three nights.
Forced marched all day.
They fuck this up,
they'll march another six miles.
One other thing:
They find out
which one of you is VC...
...and you'll be the ones
out in the boonies...
...on no sleep, forced marching
for the next two nights.
Understood?
-Yes, sergeant.
-Let's get to work.
Private Bozz, Paxton. Over here.
Lets see. . . .
Lukins, Barnes, in this hooch.
Make it as realistic as possible.
This is not a fucking joke.
I like this.
It's like a war theme park.
I'm so tired. I'm gonna pass out.
Hey, here they come.
Shit.
It's Wilson.
What?
-I thought we got him out.
-There's a war going on.
Plenty of room
for psychopathic killers.
Let's move it.
We don't got much time.
We gotta find the VC.
No bic.
Fuck me.
-VC?
-No bic.
-Get your ass on the ground!
-No bic.
-No bic.
-No bic. No bic.
Get on the fucking ground!
-You VC?
-No bic.
-You VC?
-No bic.
-You VC?
-No bic.
HICKS:
How'd that feel?
Need an interpreter?
I'm the only one that speaks English.
HICKS:
How does that feel, Paxton?
HICKS:
What are you gonna write about now?
What are you writing in your journal?
Don't fucking move!
Let go of him, goddamn it!
-You're in charge! On your feet!
-Yes, sergeant.
COTA:
Where is your weapon, soldier?
There it is.
Why didn't you secure the area,
Private Wilson?
I'll tell you why.
Because you lost control!
Yes, sergeant.
Did you find any VC?
No, you didn't.
That's the fucking answer.
Come here.
I promise you tears before breakfast.
Get your men and get out of here.
Get out of here! Let's go. Move!
-I'm gonna kill you.
-Is that right?
-You gonna kill me again?
-I'll kill you.
Get your hands off him!
You want to go?
Get the fuck out of here!
-Get the fuck out!
-I'll break your neck!
-Let's move!
WILSON: Get the fuck out of here!
Somebody grab my steel pot.
COTA:
Get out of here.
-How you doing?
-Shit.
Is he all right?
BOZZ:
No, he's not all right.
COTA:
Take your time.
(PAXTON COUGHS)
-You going?
BOZZ: I can't take you with me.
Not me. Paxton. He's hurting.
He signed up.
And you judged him for it.
You even made me feel guilty
and I was drafted.
You saw what Wilson did to him today.
He's broken down.
And the Army didn't do
all the breaking. Take him.
It's not my fault if he
just realized what he did.
I only got time for my sad story.
-Take him with you.
-Fuck off!
Wilson's gonna take
his hate out on somebody.
You run, he'll kill Paxton.
If not here, for sure over in Nam.
Johnson, I like you, but fuck off.
Yeah, well,
I ain't standing in your way.
Rise and shine, gentlemen!
Let's go, gentlemen! Roll 'em!
Let's go! Move! Get on your feet!
I know you're tired, but you'll be
doing a lot of this in the next year!
If you're not. . .
-. . .then you're in a body bag.
-Where's Bozz?
Waiting for a dust-off.
Where is your squad leader?
Is this his weapon?
Does anybody know
where your squad leader is?
Where is he, Johnson?
-Where is your weapon, Private Bozz?
-Right here, sarge.
I know that.
The next time you decide
to take a piss or a fucking shit. . .
. . .you make sure you have your weapon.
Your weapon is your lifeline.
Why didn't you have it?
I was gonna make a break for Mexico.
I didn't think I'd need it.
Very funny.
You take point.
Paxton, take slack. Johnson, drag.
The rest of you fall in behind.
Listen up.
You'll square off
against the boys from yesterday.
They may have booby traps.
They may have forward observers
watching.
They may do all manner of shit
that you don't know.
That's why you will keep
your eyes open and your mouths shut.
-Is that fucking understood?
-Yes, sarge.
Let's move out.
-Welcome back.
-You owe me bucks.
COTA:
Hurry up, Paxton. Let's go.
Dixie, dixie, my .
Dixie, my .
Move it! Come on!
You okay?
Fuck, Bozz. Joke's over.
Can't you see we're fucked?
Relax. You'll be fine.
You'll be fine.
WILSON:
Psst, psst, psst.
Wilson, what the hell are you doing?
That's live ammo.
Ambush! : !
Live ammo!
Cease fire! Cease fire!
PAXTON:
Fuck!
Private Wilson!
Private-fucking-Wilson!
Private Wilson, look at me, goddamn it!
PAXTON:
Oh, Jesus Christ!
Look at me.
You will place your weapon on safe!
You will raise your weapon
above your fucking head. . .
. . .or I'll blow
your fucking brains out!
PAXTON:
Oh, Jesus!
Do it!
On your fucking knees, now!
Get on your fucking knees!
You will be court-martialed!
Do you fucking hear me?
COTA: What happened?
-An accident. My fault.
-Let me look.
-Oh, fuck!
COTA:
Get him up.
Let me see the eye.
I miss my mama
RYAN:
I miss my woman and kid
I think about all the things
From way back when
SOLDIER:
Sing it, boy.
I miss my grandma 's apple pie
Shit, I miss getting high
And my Uncle Sam is sending me to die
You know what now?
He got me looking for Charlie
And I don 't know who he is
I used to have a Cadillac
I left it back home
Shit, I left my woman
Still can hear her moan
Is so much misery
Up here in Charlie Company
I wonder if I die
Will they still remember me?
Let's go, move it!
This war is not gonna last forever!
Bozz, bus number three!
You don't want to miss this war!
Let's go!
PAXTON:
Hey! Bozz.
-Want to come along?
-I did, but you wouldn't let me.
How's your eye?
Got an injury bad enough to get out,
no permanent damage. Imagine that.
More corny wisdom for your book.
"In the country of the blind,
the one-eyed man is king. "
Pretty fancy shooting, Tex.
Thank you.
It was just luck, Jim.
I could have killed you.
No, it wasn't.
Somebody had to take your place.
Bozz!
Last chance.
Don't make me bring the war to you.
Write me when you get there.
This is it, man.
No more phony Army buddy crap.
Go home.
Live a long time.
Try not to be too much of an asshole.
I'm gonna write
a whole book about this.
Tell everyone about you.
Paxton.
Sergeant Thomas. . .
. . .sorry for my misbehavior earlier.
Real sorry.
See you back here. Take care.
-Watch your back.
JOHNSON: See you.
-I'll write a book about you, Bozz!
-No, you won't.
Come on, quit playing.
That's my journal.
Jesus! Bozz!
Come on, quit fucking around.
That's my book!
What are you doing? Shit!
Stop the bus!
Oh, Bozz, what is this shit?
PAXTON:
I never saw Bozz again.
Some guys said he died in Nam...
...but he was never listed.
Some said he just
disappeared over there.
One guy called and said
he thought he saw him in Mexico...
... with a beautiful woman.
But knowing Bozz...
...he'd be pissed off
I was talking about him anyway.