Full Metal Jacket

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy f***ing walrus-looking piece of sh*t. Get the f*** off of my obstacle. Get the f*** down off of my obstacle. Now. Move it. I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world. I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-d*cks every cannibal on the Congo.

Private Joker:
The dead know only one thing: it is better to be alive.

Crazy Earl:
These are great days we're living, bros. We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth shooting.

Private Joker:
Are those... live rounds?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Seven-six-two millimeter. Full metal jacket.

Private Joker:
My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming F*** Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of sh*t... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Today... is Christmas! There will be a magic show at 0930! Chaplain Charlie will tell you about how the free world will conquer Communism with the aid of God and a few marines! God has a hard-on for marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls! God was here before the Marine Corps! So you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the Corps! Do you ladies understand?

Recruits:
Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I can’t hear you!

Recruits:
(louder) SIR, YES, SIR!

Private Cowboy:
Don't sh*t me, man!

Private Joker:
I wouldn't sh*t you. You're my favorite turd!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Today you people are no longer maggots. Today you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human, f***ing beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian sh*t. Because I am hard you will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on n*ggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps. Do you maggots understand that?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
How tall are you, private?

Private Cowboy:
Sir, five-foot-nine, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Five-foot-nine, I didn't know they stacked sh*t that high.

Private Joker:
Leonard, if Hartman finds us here, we'll be in a world of sh*t.

Private Gomer Pyle:
I *am*... in a world... of sh*t.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Oh that's right, Private Pyle, don't make any f***ing effort to get to the top of the f***ing obstacle. If God would have wanted you up there he would have miracled your ass up there by now, wouldn't he?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Were you born a fat, slimy, scumbag puke pieca' sh*t Private Pyle, or did you have to work on it?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would f*** a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
The deadliest weapon in the world is a marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead marines and then you will be in a world of sh*t because marines are not allowed to die without permission. Do you maggots understand?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Bullshit. It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
(angrily bellowing) WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS?! DIDN'T MOMMY AND DADDY SHOW YOU ENOUGH ATTENTION WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD?!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Pyle, you climb obstacles like old people f***.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Tonight, you men will sleep with your rifles. You will give your rifle a girl's name because this is the only p*ssy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary J. Rottencrotch through her pertty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful.

Private Cowboy:
You know there's not a single horse in the entire country of Vietnam? There's definitely something wrong with that.

Private Cowboy:
I think what she's trying to say is that you black boys pack too much meat.

Pogue Colonel:
Marine, what is that button on your body armor?

Private Joker:
A peace symbol, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Where'd you get it?

Private Joker:
I don't remember, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
What is that you've got written on your helmet?

Private Joker:
"Born to Kill", sir.

Pogue Colonel:
You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?

Private Joker:
No, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant sh*t on you.

Private Joker:
Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.

Private Joker:
I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
The what?

Private Joker:
The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Whose side are you on, son?

Private Joker:
Our side, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Don't you love your country?

Private Joker:
Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Then how about getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?

Private Joker:
Yes, sir.

Pogue Colonel:
Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.

Private Joker:
Aye-aye, sir.

Animal Mother:
You a photographer?

Private Joker:
I'm a combat correspondent.

Animal Mother:
Well you seen much combat?

Private Joker:
I've seen a little on TV.

Animal Mother:
You're a real comedian.

Private Joker:
Well they call me the Joker.

Animal Mother:
Well I got a joke for you. I'm gonna tear you a new a**hole.

Private Joker:
Well pilgrim, only after you eat the peanuts out of my sh*t.

Animal Mother:
You talk the talk. Do you walk the walk?

Private Joker:
I wanted to see exotic Vietnam... the crown jewel of Southeast Asia. I wanted to meet interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture... and kill them. I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill!

Animal Mother:
If I'm gonna get my balls blown off for a word, my word is poontang.

Private Joker:
A day without blood is like a day without sunshine.

Door Gunner:
Anyone who runs is V.C. Anyone who stands still is well-disciplined V.C.

Door Gunner:
Anyone who runs is a V.C.! Anyone who stands still... is a well-disciplined V.C.!

Chili:
You weren't on Operation Hastings, Payback. You weren't even in country.

Private Payback:
Oh, eat sh*t and die, you f***ing Spanish American. You poge.

Private Cowboy:
Eightball, let's dance.

Private Eightball:
Put a n*gger behind the trigger!

Private Joker:
How can you shoot women and children?

Door Gunner:
Easy... you don't lead 'em so much.

Door Gunner:
Ain't war hell?

Private Joker:
I wanna slip my tube steak into your sister. What'll you take in trade?

Private Cowboy:
What do you got?

Da Nang Hooker:
Hey, you got girlfriend Vietnam? Me so horny. Me love you long time.

Private Eightball:
What we have here, little yellow sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama Blacksnake. But it ain't too goddamned beau coup.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Joker, do you believe in the Virgin Mary?

Private Joker:
Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Well, Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly.

Private Joker:
Sir, the private said "no, sir," sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Why, you little maggot! You make me want to vomit! (slaps Joker across the face) You Goddamn communist heathen! You had best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your guts out!

Private Cowboy:
Tough break for Hand Job. He was all set to get shipped out on a medical.

Private Joker:
What was the matter with him?

Private Cowboy:
He was jerkin' off ten times a day.

Private Eightball:
No sh*t. At least ten times a day.

Private Cowboy:
Last week he was sent down to Da Nang to see the Navy head shrinker, and the crazy f***er starts jerking off in the waiting room. Instant Section Eight. He was just waiting for his papers to clear division.

Private Eightball:
Personally, I think, uh... they don't really want to be involved in this war. You know, I mean... they sort of took away our freedom and gave it to the, to the gookers, you know. But they don't want it. They'd rather be alive than free, I guess. Poor dumb bastards.

Animal Mother:
Well, if you ask me, uh, we're shooting the wrong gooks.

T.H.E. Rock:
You're going home now.

Crazy Earl:
Semper fi.

Donlon:
We're mean marines, sir.

Private Eightball:
Go easy, bros.

Animal Mother:
Better you than me.

Private Joker:
Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

Private Cowboy:
Hey, start the cameras. This is "Vietnam - the Movie."

Private Eightball:
Yeah, Joker can be John Wayne. I'll be a horse.

Donlon:
T.H.E. Rock can be a rock.

T.H.E. Rock:
I'll be Ann-Margret.

Doc Jay:
Animal Mother can be a rabid buffalo.

Crazy Earl:
I'll be General Custer.

Private Rafterman:
Well, who'll be the Indians?

Animal Mother:
Hey, we'll let the gooks play the Indians.

Private Eightball:
Hey, what the mother f***?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Holy dog sh*t! Texas? Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy. And you don't look much like a steer to me so that kinda narrows it down. Do you suck d*cks?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Did your parents have any children that lived?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I'll bet they regret that. You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece.

Animal Mother:
All f***ing n*ggers must f***ing hang.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
When you two pukes are done here, I want you to clean the head.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I want that head so sanitary and squared-away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in and take a dump.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Do I make you nervous?

Private Cowboy:
Sir?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
"Sir" what? Were you about to call me an A**HOLE?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Do any of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot?... Private Joker.

Private Joker:
Sir. In the Marines, Sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
In the Marines. Outstanding. Those individuals showed what one motivated Marine and his rifle can do. And before you ladies leave my Island, you will all be able to do the same thing.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be sir. Do you maggots understand that?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Bullshit I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
What's your excuse?

Private Cowboy:
Sir, excuse for what, sir?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I'm asking the f***ing questions here private. Do you understand?

Private Cowboy:
Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Well thank you very much, can I be in charge for a while?

Private Cowboy:
Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I don't know but I been told...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Eskimo p*ssy is mighty cold.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
MMM, good...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Tastes good...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Feels Good.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
What's your name fat-body?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Lawrence? Lawrence what of Arabia?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, No, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
That name sounds like royalty are you royalty?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, No, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Do you suck d*cks?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, No, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Bullshit. I bet you could suck a golfball through a garden hose.

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, No, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
I don't like the name Lawrence, only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence. From now on you're Gomer Pyle.

Private Joker:
Ya know, half of these gook whores are serving officers in the Viet Cong; the other half have got T.B. Be sure you only f*** the ones that cough.

Private Eightball:
Believe it or not, but under fire, Animal Mother can be a wonderful human being. All he needs is somebody throwing grenades at him 'til the end of his life.

Private Joker:
Sir, does this mean Ann-Margaret's not coming?

Private Payback:
Joker ain't never been in the sh*t. He thinks "The Bad Bush" is between old mama-san's legs.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
What is this Mickey Mouse sh*t? What are you two animals doing in my beloved head? Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights out? Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon? Why are you not stomping Private Pyle's guts out?

Private Joker:
Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the senior drill instructor that Private Pyle has a full magazine that is locked and loaded, Sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Holy Jesus! What is that? What the f*** is that? WHAT IS THAT, PRIVATE PYLE?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, a jelly doughnut, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
A jelly doughnut?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
How did it get here?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Are you allowed to eat jelly doughnuts, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, no, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
And why not, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Because you are a disgusting fat body, Private Pyle!

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Then why did you try to sneak a jelly doughnut in your foot locker, Private Pyle?

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, because I was hungry, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Because you were hungry...

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored his platoon. I have tried to help Private Pyle. I have failed. I have failed because YOU have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle f***s up, I will not punish him! I will punish all of YOU! And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me for ONE JELLY DOUGHNUT! NOW, GET DOWN ON YOUR FACES!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Open your mouth!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
They're payin' for it; YOU eat it!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
What's your name, scumbag?

Private Snowball:
Sir, Private Brown, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Bullshit! From now on your name is Private Snowball. Do you like your new name?

Private Snowball:
Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Well I'll tell you one thing you won't like, Private Snowball: they don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall.

Animal Mother:
What do I think about the U.S. involvement in the war? We should win it.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Get your fat ass up there! I'll bet if there was some p*ssy up there you would get up there, wouldn't you?

Private Joker:
Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong and the senior drill instructor will beat him harder if he reverses himself, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Joker is silly and ignorant, but he's got guts. And guts is enough.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Pyle!

Private Gomer Pyle:
Private Pyle reporting as ordered, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Pyle, Private Joker is your new squad leader, and you WILL bunk with him! He'll teach you everything; he'll teach you how to pee!

Private Gomer Pyle:
Sir, aye aye, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Joker, he's silly and he's ignorant, but he's got guts and guts is enough. Now you two ladies carry on!

Private Gomer Pyle:

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps?

Private Joker:
Sir, to kill sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
So you're a killer?

Private Joker:
Sir, yes sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Let me see your war face.

Private Joker:
Sir?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
You got a war face? AHHHHHHHH! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face.

Private Joker:
Ahh!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Bullshit! You didn't convince me. Let me see your real warface.

Private Joker:
Ahhhh!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
You don't scare me! Work on it.

Private Joker:
Sir, yes sir!

Animal Mother:
F*** you Cowboy, f*** all of you a**holes!

Private Cowboy:
Remember, it’s just a bad dream, fat boy!

ARVN pimp:
Do you want number one f***ee?

Door Gunner:
You should do a story about me sometime

Private Joker:
Why should we do a story about you?

Door Gunner:
Because I'm so f***ing good

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Pick 'em up and set 'em down Pyle!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman:
Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel faint! Jesus H. Christ! I think you've got a hard-on!

Love the prime Alabama blacksnake speal from 8ball!

Tagline:
Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

Not until you eat the peanuts outta my sh*t!

“I am Gry Sgt. Hartman your senior drill instructor from now on you will only speak only when spoken and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be sir do you maggots understand that” “SIR YES SIR” “BULLSHIT I CAN’T HEAR YOU SOUND OFF LIKE YOU GOT A PAIR” “SIIRRR YESSS SIRR!!!” “If you ladies leave my island if you survive recruit training you will be a weapon you will be a minister of death praying but until that day you are pukes your the lowest form of life on earth your are not even human f***ing beings your nothing but unorganized grab asstic pieces of amphibian sh*t because you will not like me but the more you hate the more you will learn I am hard but I am fair there is no racial bigotry here I do not look down on n*ggers,dykes,waps or greasers here you are all equally worthless and my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who are not fit to serve in my beloved do you maggots understand that” SIR YES SIR” “Bullshit I can’t hear you” “SIRRR YESSSS SIRRR”

“I am Gry Sgt. Hartman your senior drill instructor from now on you will only speak only when spoken and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be sir do you maggots understand that” “SIR YES SIR” “BULLSHIT I CAN’T HEAR YOU SOUND OFF LIKE YOU GOT A PAIR” “SIIRRR YESSS SIRR!!!” “If you ladies leave my island if you survive recruit training you will be a weapon you will be a minister of death praying but until that day you are pukes your the lowest form of life on earth your are not even human f***ing beings your nothing but unorganized grab asstic pieces of amphibian sh*t because you will not like me but the more you hate the more you will learn I am hard but I am fair there is no racial bigotry here I do not look down on n*ggers,dykes,waps or greasers here you are all equally worthless and my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who are not fit to serve in my beloved corps do you maggots understand that” SIR YES SIR” “Bullshit I can’t hear you” “SIRRR YESSSS SIRRR”

Hartman:
Left shoulder, hut! [Lawrence briefly hikes his rifle to his right shoulder, but corrects himself though Hartman notices and realizes what has happened] Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?!

Lawrence:
Sir, I don't know, sir!

Hartman:
You are dumb, Private Pyle, but do you expect me to believe that you don't know left from right?!

Lawrence:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Then you did that on purpose! You wanna be different!

Lawrence:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
[slaps Private Lawrence's left cheek] What side was that, Private Pyle?

Lawrence:
Sir, left side, sir!

Hartman:
Are you sure, Private Pyle?!

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
[slaps Private Lawrence's right cheek; knocking his cover in the process] What side was that, Private Pyle?!

Lawrence:
[about to fall apart] Sir, right side, sir!

Hartman:
Don't f*** with me again, Pyle! Pick up your f***in' cover.

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You are going to give your rifle a girl's name, because this is the only p*ssy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary Jane Rottencrotch through her purty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful! Port, hut! [Recruits grab their rifles] Prepare to mount! [Recruits step back towards their bunks.] Mount! [Recruits quickly hop onto their bunks] Port, hut! [Recruits grab their rifles and hold them up] Pray!

Recruits:
[simultaneously] This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: My rifle and myself are defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.

Hartman:
Order, hut! [Recruits lay their rifles at their sides] At ease! [He turns the barrack lights off] Good night, ladies.

Recruits:
Good night, sir!

Hartman:
[to Night Watchman] Hit it, sweetheart.

Night Watchman:
Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Hartman:
Next two privates, go! Quickly! [To Lawrence as he struggles with an obstacle at the beginning of an obstacle course] Get your fat ass over there, Private Pyle. Oh, that's right, Private Pyle. Don't make any f***ing effort to get up to the top of the f***ing obstacle! If God wanted you up there, He would've miracled your ass up there by now, wouldn't he?

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Get your fat ass up there, Pyle!

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
What the hell is the matter with you anyway? I'll bet you if there was some p*ssy up there on top of that obstacle...

Lawrence:
[falling off again] Sh*t!

Hartman:
...You could get up there. Couldn't you?

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Your ass looks like about 150 pounds of chewed bubble gum, Pyle. You know that?

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
[discovers that Lawrence had his footlocker unlocked during inspection] Jesus H. Christ. Private Pyle! WHY is your footlocker unlocked?

Lawrence:
Sir, I don't know, sir!

Hartman:
Private Pyle, if there is one thing in this world that I hate, it is a unlocked footlocker, you know that, don't you?!

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
If it wasn't for d*ckheads like you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this world, would there?!

Lawrence:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
GET DOWN! [Lawrence steps down from the footlocker box. Hartman opens the cover with a bang] Well, now, let's just see if there's anything missing! [Hartman angrily begins rummaging through the box, then freezes as he finds a jelly doughnut] Holy Jesus. What is that? What the f*** is that? [He picks the doughnut up with thumb and forefinger of his right hand, and holds it up to Lawrence] WHAT IS THAT, PRIVATE PYLE?!

Lawrence:
Sir, a jelly doughnut, sir!

Hartman:
A jelly doughnut?!

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
How did it get here?

Lawrence:
Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!

Hartman:
Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?

Lawrence:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Are you allowed to eat jelly doughnuts, Private Pyle?

Lawrence:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Then why not, Private Pyle?

Lawrence:
Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!

Hartman:
Because you are a disgusting fat body, Private Pyle!

Lawrence:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Then why did you hide a jelly doughnut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?

Lawrence:
Sir, because I was hungry, sir!

Hartman:
Because you were hungry. [after Lawrence admits hiding a jelly doughnut due to being hungry; Hartman turns and walks down the line of recruits, still holding the doughnut] Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon! I have tried to help him, but I have failed! I have failed because you have not helped me! You people have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! [turns round and marches back the way he has come] So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle fucks up, I will not punish him! I will punish all of you! And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me for one jelly doughnut! Now get on your faces! [to Lawrence] Open your mouth! [Lawrence does so and Hartman shoves the doughnut into his mouth] They're payin' for it, you eat it! [to recruits] Ready, exercise!

Recruits beside Pyle:
[doing push-ups] 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4!

Joker:
[narrating] Our last night on the island. I draw fire watch.

[Joker goes into the head to find Private Lawrence sitting on a toilet, loading his rifle]

Lawrence:
[eerily] Hi, Joker.

[Lawrence loads the bullets into the magazine as Joker turns off his flashlight]

Joker:
[worried] Are those... live rounds?

Lawrence:
7.62 millimeter... [loads another bullet into the magazine] Full Metal Jacket.

Joker:
[shaken and alarmed] Leonard... if Hartman comes in here and catches us... we'll both be in a world of sh*t.

Lawrence:
I am... in a world... of sh*t! [loads the last bullet into the magazine and begins drilling loudly] Left shoulder, hut! Right shoulder, hut! Lock and load! [picks up the loaded magazine, inserts it into the rifle and chambers a round] Order, hut! [smartly brings the rifle down to the "order arms" position] This is my rifle! There are many like it but this one is mine! My rifle is my best friend! It is my life!

Hartman:
[storms out of his bedroom; angrily, to the other recruits, who have gotten out of bed to see what the noise is] Get back in your bunks! [storms into the head] What is this Mickey Mouse sh*t?! What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head?! Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights out?! Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon?! [to Joker] Why aren't you stomping Private Pyle's guts out?!

Joker:
Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the senior drill instructor that Private Pyle has a full magazine and has locked and loaded, sir!

Hartman:
[to Lawrence; slowly, quietly and strictly] Now, you listen to me, Private Pyle, and you listen good. I want that weapon. And I want it now. You will place that rifle on the deck at your feet... and step back away from it.

[Lawrence insanely and eerily smiles, aiming the rifle at Hartman.]

Hartman:
[realizing what's happening; bellowing angrily] WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS?! DIDN'T MOMMY AND DADDY SHOW YOU ENOUGH ATTENTION WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD?!

[Lawrence shoots and kills Hartman, then aims at Joker.]

Joker:
[trembled nervously] Easy, Leonard. Go easy, man.

[Lawrence eases off of Joker, sits back down on the toilet, and puts the rifle's muzzle in his own mouth.]

Joker:
[alarmed] NO!!!!

[Lawrence shoots himself and blood splatters on the wall behind him]

Da Nang Hooker:
Hey, baby. You got girlfriend Vietnam?

Joker:
Not just this minute.

Hooker:
Well, baby, me so horny. Me so horny! Me love you long time. You party?

[Helicopter Door Gunner opens fire, and Rafterman is uncomfortably nauseous]

Door Gunner:
Get some! Get some! [continues firing] Get some! Get some! Yeah! Yeah! Get some! Get some! Come on! Come on! [continues firing] Get some! [continues firing] Ha-ha! Get some, baby! Get some! Get some! Get some! Get some! Get some! Come on! Get it! Come on! Get some! Get some! Yeah-yeah-yeah! I've got you, mother! [stops firing] Ha-ha! [looks at Joker and Raftman] Anyone who runs is a VC! Anyone who stands still is a well-disciplined VC! [laughs] You guys oughta do a story about me sometime!

Joker:
Why should we do a story about you?!

Door Gunner:
'Cause I'm so f***in' good! That ain't no sh*t, neither! I've done got me 157 dead gooks killed. And 50 water buffaloes, too! Them're all certified!

Joker:
Any women or children?!

Door Gunner:
Sometimes!

Joker:
How can you shoot women and children?!

[Rafterman gags in disgust]

Door Gunner:
Easy! You just don't lead 'em so much! [laughs] Ain't war Hell?

Joker:
[under his breath, imitating John Wayne] Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

Hartman:
[hearing him] Who said that? Who the f*** said that?! [crossing toward Joker's end of the barracks] Who's the slimy little Communist sh*t twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy f***ing godmother said it. Out-f***ing-standing. I will PT you all until you f***ing die! I'll PT you until your a**holes are sucking buttermilk! [to Cowboy] Was it you, you scroungy little f***, huh?!

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
You little piece of sh*t, you look like a f***ing worm! I'll bet it was you!

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Joker:
Sir, I said it, sir!

Hartman:
Well, no sh*t. What have we got here? A f***ing comedian. Private Joker. I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and f*** my sister. [punches Joker in the gut; he falls to his knees] You little scumbag! I got your name! I got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers! I will teach you! Now get up! Get on your feet! [Joker does so] You had best un-f*** yourself, or I will unscrew your head and sh*t down your neck!

Joker:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps?

Joker:
Sir, to kill, sir!

Hartman:
So you're a killer.

Joker:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Let me see your war face.

Joker:
Sir?

Hartman:
You got a war face? [gives a fierce yell] That's a war face! Now let me see your war face! [Joker gives one with a not-so-convincingly-fierce yell] Bullshit! You didn't convince me. Let me see your real war face! [Joker gives a louder, more convincing fierce yell, but Hartman is not impressed] You don't scare me. Work on it.

Joker:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
What's your excuse?

Cowboy:
Sir, excuse for what, sir?

Hartman:
I'm asking the f***in' questions here, Private! Do you understand?

Cowboy:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Well, thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?

Cowboy:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Are you shook up? Are you nervous?

Cowboy:
Sir, I am, sir!

Hartman:
Do I make you nervous?

Cowboy:
Sir!

Hartman:
"Sir" what? Are you about to call me an a**hole?

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
How tall are you, Private?

Cowboy:
Sir, five-foot-nine, sir!

Hartman:
Five-foot-nine? I didn’t know they stacked sh*t that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?!

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you’ve been cheated! Where in the hell are you from anyway, Private?

Cowboy:
Sir, Texas, sir!

Hartman:
Holy dogshit! Texas? Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy, and you don’t much look like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down. Do you suck d*cks?

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Are you a peter-puffer?!

Cowboy:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
I’ll bet you're the kinda guy that would f*** a person in the ass, and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you.

Hartman:
[To Privates Joker and Cowboy] As soon as you finish your bunks, I want you two turds to clean the head.

Joker & Cowboy:
Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Hartman:
I want that head so sanitary and squared away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in there and take a dump.

Joker & Cowboy:
Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman:
Private Joker, do you believe in The Virgin Mary?

Joker:
Sir, no, sir!

Hartman:
Well, Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly.

Joker:
Sir, the private said "No, sir," sir!

Hartman:
Why, you little maggot; You make me wanna vomit! [Slaps Joker across the face] You Goddamn communist heathen. You had best sound off that you love The Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your guts out! Now, you do love The Virgin Mary, don't you?

Joker:
Sir, negative, sir!

Hartman:
Private Joker, are you trying to offend me?

Joker:
Sir, negative, sir! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong, and the Senior Drill Instructor will beat him harder if he reverses himself, sir!

Hartman:
Who's your squad leader, scumbag?

Joker:
Sir, the private's squad leader is Private Snowball, sir!

Hartman:
Private Snowball!

Snowball:
Sir, Private Snowball reporting as ordered, sir!

Hartman:
Private Snowball, you're fired. Private Joker is promoted to squad leader.

Private Joker:
[last lines] I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of sh*t. Yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Private Joker:
[narrating] Graduation is only a few days away, and the recruits of Platoon 3092 are salty. They are ready to eat their own guts and ask for seconds. The drill instructors are proud to see that we are growing beyond their control. The Marine Corps does not want robots. The Marine Corps wants killers. The Marine Corps wants to build indestructible men, men without fear.

Gunnery Sgt. Hartman:
Today, you people are no longer maggots. Today, you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood. From now on, until the day you die, wherever you are, every Marine is your brother. Most of you will go to Vietnam. Some of you will not come back. But always remember this: Marines die. That's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever and that means you live forever.