[breaking up a fight] Cut it out! Cut it out! Cut it out! The hell's the matter with you?! Stupid! We're all very different people. We're not Watusi. We're not Spartans. We're Americans, with a capital 'A', huh? You know what that means? Do ya? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts! Here's proof: his nose is cold! But there's no animal that's more faithful, that's more loyal, more loveable than the mutt. Who saw Old Yeller? Who cried when Old Yeller got shot at the end? [raises his hand] Nobody cried when Old Yeller got shot? I'm sure. [hands are reluctantly raised] I cried my eyes out. [even more hands go up] So we're all dogfaces. We're all very, very different, but there is one thing that we all have in common: we were all stupid enough to enlist in the Army. We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us! We're soldiers, but we're American soldiers! We've been kickin' ass for 200 years! We're 10 and 1! Now we don't have to worry about whether or not we practiced. We don't have to worry about whether Captain Stillman wants to have us hung. All we have to do is to be the great American fighting soldier that is inside each one of us. Now do what I do, and say what I say. And make me proud. Fall in!
I've always been kind of a pacifist. When I was a kid, my father told me, "Never hit anyone in anger, unless you're absolutely sure you can get away with it." I don't know what kind of soldier I'm gonna make, but I want you guys to know that if we ever get into real heavy combat... I'll be right behind you guys. Every step of the way.
Winger: Did you ever see a monk get wildly fucked by some teenage girls?
Winger: So much for the monastery.
Recruiter: Now, are either of you homosexuals?
Winger: You mean like flaming?
Recruiter: Well, it's a standard question we have to ask.
Russell: No, we're not homosexual, but we are willing to learn.
Winger: Yeah . . . Would they send us someplace special?
Sgt. Hulka: Men, welcome to the United States Army. I'm Sergeant Hulka. I'm your drill sergeant. Before we proceed any further, we gotta get something straight. Your mamas are not here to take care of you now. It's just you, me, and Uncle Sam. And before I leave you, you're gonna find out that me and Uncle Sam are one in the same.
Winger: Uncle Hulka?
Sgt. Hulka: When I tell you move, you'll move fast. When I tell you to jump, you're gonna say, "How high?" And make no mistake. I don't care where you come from, I don't care what color you are, I don't care how smart you are, I don't care how dumb you are, 'cause I'm gonna teach every last one of you how to eat, sleep, walk, talk, shoot, shit like a United States soldier. Understand?
Hulka: Okay, Mr. Push-ups, let's hear your story.
Winger: Chicks dig me, because I rarely wear underwear and when I do it's usually something unusual. But now I know why I have always lost women to guys like you. I mean, it's not just the uniform. It's the stories that you tell. So much fun and imagination. [points to the soldier next to him] Lee Harvey, you are a madman. When you stole that cow, and your friend tried to make it with the cow. I want to party with you, cowboy. But the two of us together? Forget it! I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I'm gonna volunteer my leadership to this platoon. An army without leaders is like a foot without a big toe. And Sergeant Hulka isn't always gonna be there to be that big toe for us. I think that we owe a big round of applause to our newest, bestest buddy, and big toe... Sergeant Hulka.
[the soldiers start clapping]
Hulka: Well, okay, hotshot. We're gonna see what kind of soldier you are.
Hulka: Soldier, I've noticed that you're always last.
Winger: I'm pacing myself, Sergeant.
Hulka: Maybe you'd like to take a swing at me.
Winger: I 'd like to take a big swing at you, sarge.
Hulka: Well, go ahead and give it your best shot.
Winger: I don't think I want to go to the stockade.
Hulka: I'll take my hat off. There we are, Winger. Ain't no more drill sergeant. It's just you and me, kid, man to man. So go ahead, give it your best shot. Swing at me. Gutless. Punk.
[Winger fakes, then tries to hit Sgt. Hulka, who ducks and punches Winger in his stomach, dropping him to his knees, gasping for breath.]
Hulka: [putting his hat back on] I'm willing to forget this little incident. And I want you to think real hard about it. And maybe someday you'll understand what the hell I'm talking about.
[Drilling at graduation]
Winger: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Soldiers: To get from the left to the right!
Winger: He stepped out of rank, got hit by a tank...
Soldiers: He ain't no chicken no more!
General Barnicke: Where the hell have you been, soldier?
Winger: Traaaaaaaining, sir!
Soldiers: Training, sir!
Barnicke: What kind of training, son?
Winger: Aaaaaaarmy training, sir!
Soldiers: Army training, sir!
Barnicke: Where's your drill sergeant, men?
Winger: Blown up, sir!
Soldiers: Blown up, sir!
Capt. Stillman: Uhh, yes, sir, these are Sgt. Hulka's men. He was injured during basic training.
Barnicke: I see. So am I to understand you men completed your training on your own?
Winger: Tha's the fact, Jack!
Soldiers: That's the fact, Jack!
Barnicke: Captain, these are exactly the kind of go-getters I want on my EM-50 project.
Stillman: But, sir . . .
Barnicke: Don't "But" me, Captain. I want them on the plane. Tonight!
Winger: Gentlemen, it's party time...Italian style!
Winger: C'mon, it's Czechoslovakia. We zip in, we pick 'em up, we zip right out again. We're not going to Moscow. It's Czechoslovakia. It's like we're going into Wisconsin.
Russell: Well, I got the shit kicked out of me in Wisconsin once. Forget it.
Russell: Do the words "Act of War" mean anything to you?