- Here's that 4-10.
- Right, Moe. Thanks.
I've been pumping p*ssy since
Christ was a Corporal.
I've gotta tell you,
the best poontang
I ever paid for was in Da Nang.
The girls were checked out daily.
And we got ourselves
laid in a safe, orderly,
proficient, m*llitary manner.
Until some suckhead
writes home to Mama...
and says he dipped his wick in
the Republic of South Vietnam.
Well, then the sh*t hits the fan.
A committee of congressmen,
who, assh*le to assh*le...
couldn't make a beer
fart in a whirlwind...
starts telling your
basic ass-in-the-grass
Marine, "No more short time."
We respond in true
Marine Corps fashion.
We salute and do an about-face...
double-time back to the
boom-boom garbage dump...
where we proceed to get the
clap, the drip, the crabs...
and generally a poor attitude
towards the female of the species.
w*r is hell, boy. That's a fact.
I don't like soldier boys.
Say what?
You wanna pop that
puppy's can, you don't
gotta grease him so hard, jarhead.
Sounds like you're a
man of experience.
What the f*ck's that
mean, grunt-sh*t?
It means be advised that
I'm mean, nasty and tired.
I eat concertina wire
and piss napalm.
I can put a round through a
flea's ass at 200 metres.
So you go hump
somebody else's leg,
mutt-face, before I push yours in.
Ain't gonna be so smart with your
balls stuffed in
your mouth, jarhead.
Oh, sh*t.
Hang on to this, boy. I think
w*r's just been declared.
Why don't you just sit
there and bleed a
while before you taste
some real pain?
Maybe first I carve
me some f*gg*t wings.
He'll k*ll him.
Then again, there was this
dusky gal in Bangkok.
A real crossway breezer, I swear.
Thank you for your
testimony, Officer Reese.
Sergeant Highway.
Drunk and disorderly.
Fighting in a public
establishment.
Urinating on a police vehicle.
Well, it seemed like
the thing to do, sir.
Just because there's
no w*r going on...
doesn't give you the right to
start one every
time you get drunk.
I'm taking into account your
excellent m*llitary record...
and your commitment to the
security of this great nation.
But this is your last chance.
One-hundred-dollar fine. Next.
Your nightstick file
for divorce, Reese?
Who do you think you are,
pissing on my squad car?
Think you can break our
rules and just walk away?
We're supposed to
wet our pants over
your dress blues and
coloured ribbons?
Read your file sometime,
hero. Check the dates.
It's ancient history. One night,
you'll be puking
blood in an alley.
You'll look up, see
me. Then we'll see.
- Keep dreaming.
- You'll pay full price.
I don't give a
serviceman's discount.
Too bad. Your old lady does.
Just about cleaned you out.
Makes you feel good,
doesn't it, helping
Uncle Sam battle dirty drawers?
Just pump the dog again, Jake, or
are you always that slack-eyed?
Looks like you could use a lift.
Suck on this. Smooth as a prom
queen's thighs, only not so risky.
Havana cured. Got a pal
in Guantánamo in Supply.
We do each other
favours. I got lots
of friends. I can
always use another.
- So we can do each other favours?
- Yeah, sure.
If your pencil wasn't
so sharp and your
eyesight not so clear
around here...
I could make your lot in
m*llitary life a lot comfier...
not to mention
downright rewarding.
You get that contraband
stogy out of my face...
before I shove it so
far up your ass you'll
have to set fire to
your nose to light it.
Gunny Highway. Major Devin
wants to see you ASAP.
At ease. That will be
all, Sergeant Major.
Aye, aye, sir.
For Christ sakes, Highway, relax.
Stop being so gung ho.
That's what I am, sir.
What do you got now,
about 24, don't you?
And then some, sir.
Some men in your position would
look forward to retirement.
Maybe take the wives on a
round-the-world cruise.
But that's not your way, is it?
You choose to harangue my staff
with a request for
transfer to a...
Fleet Marine Force unit.
The very unit you got busted
out of some time ago...
for insubordination.
Conduct unbecoming.
That's true. I have had my
differences with some limp dicks.
Highway.
I truly don't know
whether to admire you
or resent the living
hell out of you.
Either way, it doesn't matter.
You're out of here immediately.
What did I do?
Second Recon Battalion.
Second Marine Division.
You're going home.
Aye, aye, sir.
Gunny Highway.
Sir?
Be careful what you wish
for. You might just get it.
Whoa. Hut.
We're gonna bring
up the last victim.
A true-blood, born in Jersey.
He's the president of
punk, the earl of funk.
Here he is, the next
king of rock 'n'
roll, ladies and
gentlemen, Stitch Jones.
Stitch Jones?
Whoa, whoa.
Do I mess with you all all when
you play "Romance the Sheep"?
Bag these geeks. Keep
America beautiful.
Put a 10-gallon bag
over their head.
Let's take care of this.
You look like the twin towers
gone cellulite. Heh-heh-heh.
I can play country
western. Give me a chance.
I know Merle Haggard, the
Beverly Hillbillies.
Come on, man. I need the money.
- How far?
- About two stops.
sh*t.
- You the maid?
- No.
I want the seat, but the
sh*t ain't worth dying over.
Hell. You know.
Liz and d*ck. Lennon and
McCartney, even. Ali and Frazier.
They worked it out. So can we.
Stitch Jones is the name. Rocking
and rapping is the game.
Pleased to meet you too.
Banged up my Corvette.
But I figure
it's a chance to meet
regular people...
dudes like yourself.
People like my fans.
I'm a singer. Stitch Jones.
Earl of funk. Duke of cool.
- Ayatollah of rock 'n' roll-ah.
- Shut your face, hippie.
You say "hippie," man?
Ain't been no hippies
for centuries.
You been freeze-dried
or doing time?
Whew.
One of those would
sure go down nice.
I'd buy one from you, but I don't
have my plastic.
Usually my lackeys...
You can have one, if it shuts
the hole under your nose.
Ah. Thank you, my friend.
Jones.
This doesn't mean you can
blow in my ear. Tom Highway.
Yo, man, these ain't
your magazines.
Somebody must have
left them there.
"The Sexual Politics
of Living Alone."
"The Big Commitment and You." Ah.
How to Stay Tan, Tickly,
and Tantalised...
in the Cool Waters of Jamaica."
Not bad, man.
"Sunday Sex with a
Wednesday Lover."
Yo, man, that sounds like
a song. Check it out.
I met her on a Wednesday
She was the best
Come Sunday morning I needed rest
Because she didn't shave,
She didn't use Neet
Tried to use my face
As a bicycle seat
Word. Am I fresh?
This chick's got some angry
titties. Hostile projectiles.
Put your sh*t in,
you get frostbite.
She isn't so bad.
You wanna talk, I'll listen, but
don't try to sell Stitch Jones...
on making love or
making music, because
I'm an authority. Born to screw...
and bred to sing. That's me.
Now, I've gotta cut some Z's.
So if you don't
mind, keep down the
chatter while I get
my beauty sleep.
Groupies are fun, but you need
vitamin E. They wear you out.
- Anything else, General?
- No, I'm fine.
What are all those medals?
I'll never tell. At least not
while the sun's shining.
This babe is wack.
She doesn't know what's
12 inches long and white.
Nothing.
Hey, man, no offence. Just
working on my routine.
I'll tell you what's black and
bleeding if it don't
shut its face.
Mellow, man. It's
gonna be a nice day.
Tell the driver I'll be right out.
I'm gonna use my
plastic. My treat.
Well, thanks. I'll get the tip.
Oh...
My buddy's gonna take care of
that. He said to tell you:
"There's no sun shining
in the men's John."
I'm here, baby, let's
do some distance.
Son of a bitch.
Hey, crotch rot.
Gonna slurp my lifer's
juice out of my own cup?
Yeah, I guess I should have
gotten sh*ts beforehand.
If your brain was as quick as your
mouth, you'd be a 20-star General.
If I was half as ugly as you, I'd
be a poster boy for
a prophylactic.
Still a mean and nasty bastard.
Good to see you, Tom.
Back where you belong.
Take it easy. Everybody's
gonna think I'm spoken for.
Ten-hut.
Morning, sir.
Sergeant Major.
Coffee, sir?
Negative.
Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Highway
reporting for duty, sir.
That operation officer's
farthole is sewed
so tight he shits
out of his mouth.
Academy?
Big-time football hero.
When am I ever gonna get a break?
Never.
- Sergeant Major.
- Sir.
Bring in Gunnery Sergeant Highway.
Been in a long time.
I've felt a little heat, sir.
Korean. Dominican in
'65. Three tours in Nam.
Hell, he's carrying
so much shrapnel,
he can't pass through
a metal detector.
I haven't as yet had the
privilege of combat.
I came over from
Supply and Logistics.
An unappreciated field
of endeavour, sir.
Quite.
My record of achievement thus
far has been exemplary...
and I fully intend for
that to continue.
Sir.
I want this battalion to be
the class of the division.
I expect my non-commissioned
officers to lead by example.
Public fighting and
insubordination to
civilian authority are
not good standards.
- It was a minor altercation, sir.
- You make a habit of doing that.
A year ago you hit an officer. I
went to Annapolis with that man.
You try that with me
and you'll drag your
butt in a sling for a
month. You hear me?
Yes, sir.
I don't know what strings
you pulled to get
back in this division,
but I don't like it.
This is the new Marine Corps.
A new breed.
Characters like you
are an anachronism.
You should be sealed
in a case that reads,
"Break glass only in
the event of w*r."
No tolerance for
old-timers who think...
you know better and can have
it your way. Understand?
I understand a lot
of body bags get
filled if I don't do my job, sir.
Major.
Division has assigned Highway
to our reconnaissance platoon.
Yes, recon.
My last Sergeant was an
old-time combat vet too.
But he went R.O.A.D. on me.
Retired On Active Duty.
Had a few months to retirement,
figured he'd coast.
Allowed the men lapse
into mediocrity.
You're close to mandatory
retirement yourself, aren't you?
That's right, Major.
Well, I ask for Marines...
the division sends me relics.
The men in Recon
Platoon are less than
highly motivated,
to say the least.
And I want those men in shape.
I'll make life-takers and
heartbreakers out of them, sir.
Dismissed.
Is he always like that or just
trying to make a good impression?
He consults his manual before
he mounts his old lady...
to ensure he performs
in an orderly...
Proficient m*llitary manner.
Chow with Helen and me tonight.
Later, we go stomp some brain
cells and tell some story.
I'd like to, but I
better get organised.
Sure, I understand.
Oh. Excuse me, sir.
I mean, Gunny. Sergeant Major.
This is Gunnery Sergeant Highway.
He's been assigned
to Recon Platoon.
Oh. Outstanding, welcome aboard.
Well, I gotta hightail it.
I'm late for pre-scuba school.
Lord.
His mama know he's playing Marine?
By the way, he's Lieutenant
Ring, your platoon leader.
Thanks a lot.
You didn't think you
was just gonna tilt
nipple to a bunch of
no-rank fuzzbutts?
Want me to intro you
to your troops?
No, no, that's all right.
- Take my pick-up.
- Hey, thanks. Where is it?
- Just tell by the sign.
- "Sergeant Major."
Is this Recon Platoon?
No speak English.
You?
My name is Gunnery
Sergeant Highway.
I've drunk more beer,
pissed more blood,
banged more quiff, busted more...
than all you numb-nuts
put together.
Major Powers has put me in charge.
We take care of ourselves.
You couldn't take
care of a wet dream.
- God loves you.
- I know that.
You men do not impress me.
Recon Platoon kicks butt.
Ow.
If you ladies think you
can slip and slide...
because your last
Sergeant was a p*ssy...
who was just marking the
days, well, q*eer bait...
start acting like
Marines right now.
Who invited you?
I'm not doing this because I wanna
take long showers
with you assholes.
And I don't wanna get my head
sh*t off in some faraway land...
because you don't
habla. Understand?
Oorah.
- You?
- Yes, Gunny.
I think you're fine
And you got that big behind
Well, well, well, well.
I'm here to tell you all that
life as you know it has ended.
You might as well all
go to town tonight.
Laugh and make fools of yourself.
Rub your pathetic little
peckers up against
your honey, or stick
it in a knothole.
Whatever it is, get rid of it,
because at 0600 tomorrow...
your ass is mine.
Where's your bunk?
Yo, man. Come on.
What the hell's going on?
This is gonna mess
up your karma, man.
It's gonna haunt you
in your next life.
- Let's have it.
- What?
- The money from my ticket.
- No need to use v*olence, man.
I'm a peace lover. I was down
with the money on my luck.
Yeah. I got a little
money right here.
- That's all I got.
- And the meal?
- Meal?
- Yeah, the meal.
All right.
- That's really all I got.
- And the tip.
- That's really it, man.
- You owe me.
Now, it's my will against
yours. And you will lose.
So 0600 tomorrow.
That's 6:00 in the morning for
all you people who don't habla.
Damn. He just tore off my ear.
Lucky he had a chance to
escape before I kick his ass.
Big leatherneck,
jarhead m*therf*cker.
Something's gonna have to be done.
What are we gonna do?
Wait till the Swede
gets out of the brig.
That's it. The Swede, man.
He'll rip his head
off and dump in it.
Then eat it.
- I would've done that.
- Goodbye, Highway.
Swede. Swede. Swede.
Hey, baby.
I called his wife...
You fool around on the first date?
Oh...
Damn you, boy. Don't you
know how to write or call?
I didn't wanna cause you any
sleepless nights,
thinking about me.
- I'll get you a beer.
- Great. I could use one.
That's for sure.
You look great.
They don't make them like
you any more, sweetheart.
Oh, hell. Sure they do.
But if you want a lot from a
woman, you have to give a lot.
Not this kid. It seemed
marriage and the
Marine Corps weren't
too compatible.
Panther piss. The best years
of my life were with a Marine.
If I was a little
younger, I'd make you
eat your words and curl your toes.
Yeah, I'll bet you could.
Aggie always kept a
smile on your face.
That was pain.
Tom, she's in town.
Well, I figured as much.
If she's looking for
more alimony, I'm
so broke I couldn't
get out of sight...
if it took a quarter to
go around the world.
She's cocktailing
over at the Palace.
I figured she'd be married
to a General by now.
Can I get my old room back?
Hell, yes. Are you gonna see her?
Hell, no. Can I run a tab?
Hell, no.
Tough woman.
And now, back from an
awesomely successful tour...
the earl of funk,
the duke of cool...
the ayatollah of rock 'n' roll-ah:
Stitch Jones.
♪ Stop telling me what to do ♪
♪ And that goes for
your mama too ♪
♪ Ask me and I'll
tell the truth Hey ♪
♪ You need to call up Dr Ruth ♪
♪ Girl, you know I love
you But I ain't stupid ♪
♪ Said you know I love
you But I ain't stupid ♪
♪ Don't be illing ♪
♪ I'm just chilling No
need to make a k*lling ♪
♪ A kiss is just as thrilling
And I'm still willing ♪
♪ So forget all about it
Baby, we can do without it ♪
♪ Yo, if you shout about it
Believe it, don't doubt it ♪
♪ Your daddy works at IBM, baby ♪
♪ So good for you Good for them ♪
♪ Baby Your brother
says he's being nice ♪
♪ I don't need his free advice ♪
♪ Girl, you know I love you... ♪
Okay, what will it...
Aggie.
- What do you want?
- A beer.
- What are you doing here?
- Ordering.
♪ Shake it, don't break it
No need for you to fake it ♪
♪ I know we can make it ♪
♪ Girl, you know
I'll turn you out ♪
♪ Make me scream I need to shout ♪
♪ Kiss me And you make my day ♪
♪ I love it when you
talk that way ♪
You even remembered the brand.
Bad whiskey, bad sex and
bad men, I never forget.
You didn't talk dirty like
that when we were married.
Heh. Always. Only you were
never there to hear it.
- Look, Tom, I'm working.
- Hey.
You look great.
- The lights are low.
- No, I mean it.
I'd recognise you
coming and going.
Save the banter for your bimbos.
It's late, I'm tired, my feet
hurt. What are you doing here?
I'm back with recon.
And you just happened to wander
into the joint? Ain't life grand?
I didn't come here to fight.
You mean old dogs do
learn new tricks?
I just come here for a beer, and
you're ragging my ass already.
Aggie, is there a problem here?
No, as a matter of
fact, I'd like you
to meet one of my favourite exes.
This is Thomas
Highway. This is Roy
Jennings, he owns the Palace now.
Heard all about you. And
your bullshit heroics.
Tom is just gonna leave. Heh.
Aggie, I'll take you home
after we close up...
as usual.
You sure can pick
them, I'll tell you.
Hah. Look who's talking.
Ah, you know I love you
Oh, please And I ain't
crazy neither, hah.
All right.
I'm gonna play
something from N.Y.C.
I want all of you
to rock the house.
Why don't you get
your hair cut, huh?
You're so ugly, you need to be out
at the airport sniffing baggage.
- You think you're funny?
- Tell you what:
You all, cross your legs,
hold your noses and fart.
- You could clear out your minds.
- Say what?
Yo, yo, yo. Tell you what.
Don't start no S-H, won't be
no I-T. We got ladies here.
Point yourselves this way, have a
drink with the nation's finest.
- All right.
- Chill out.
Hoo. Hoo.
Knock it off. I said knock
it off, g*dd*mn it.
Sit down, buddy.
- Why don't you lay off them?
- Why don't you stay out of this?
It's none of your
business, Highway.
What are you, some
kind of smart-mouth?
- I'm just trying to sing here.
- You get off on rousting Marines?
Leave it alone. It
doesn't concern you.
I chew on jarheads
and spit them out.
You do?
Why don't I bend you
over that table
then, and nail you in the keister?
- What are you talking about?
- That's what your persuasion is.
I'll send you home
with an "I just pumped
the neighbour's cat"
look on your face.
What kind of f*gg*t talk is that?
You have no right to do this.
Roy, man. He's just
pulling your leg, man.
They don't mean
nothing. Who'd have the
bad sense to f*ck
with Roy Jennings?
I mean, welcome to
fantasy disco, huh?
The hell with both of you.
And you're out,
Jones. Hit the road.
And you watch it, funny man.
Get your tight little
butt out of here.
I never want to see you
in this place again.
I left my beer.
I have got a future here, damn it.
Cocktailing?
No, with Roy.
Maybe I expect better out
of an ex-wife of mine.
He's an improvement over you.
I don't believe this sh*t, man.
I'd have kicked Roy's ass
if I wasn't protecting you.
Redneck people love me. So you
owe me one. I saved your life.
This doesn't mean we're gonna
be swapping spit in the shower.
f*ck this jarhead sucker.
Drop your cocks and
grab your socks.
Off your ass and on
your feet. Get up.
Knees to the breeze
in five minutes.
It's g*dd*mn 5:00. You said 6:00.
So I can't tell time. So I lied.
Maybe some communist's
gonna make an
appointment to pop
you a new assh*le.
Let's go. Move out. You're Marines
now. You improvise. You adapt.
Four minutes. Fall out.
sh*t.
We move swift. We move
silent. We move deadly.
Only one shake of those wangs. Any
more than that
constitutes pleasure.
- Sleep well?
- Man, this is a nightmare.
Wake me up, Mama.
- Gunny, platoon's formed for PT.
- Take your post.
The Marines are looking
for a few good men.
Unfortunately you ain't it.
We will blaze a path into
battle for others to follow.
Surrender is not in our creed.
Let's hear you say that.
Surrender is not in our creed.
Louder, or next time you get R and
R, you'll be collecting pensions.
- Surrender is not in our creed.
- Louder.
Surrender is not in our creed.
Oorah.
- Strip off those T-shirts.
- What?
What's he talking about?
You'll all wear the same
T-shirts or none at all.
- sh*t...
- He's crazy.
- What's your name, Marine?
- Lance Corporal Fragetti, Gunny.
You shouldn't litter, f*g-etti.
It's ecologically unsound.
What's your name?
- Aponte.
- Yours?
- Profile.
- Yours?
- Quinones.
- Yours?
Collins.
All right, Colitis, Cojones...
Prophylactic, Ajax.
You boys are handsome.
You ladies look like models.
I want your hair high and tight
tomorrow morning. Everybody.
When you start looking
like Marines,
you'll feel like Marines...
and pretty soon you'll act like
Marines. Right face.
Forward march.
Left, your left, your
left, right, left...
Left, right, left, right, left...
When my boy Swede gets out of
the brig, this sucker's dead.
- You got that right, bro.
- Right on.
Ooh-oh-oh-oh.
Ooh-oh-oh-oh.
- Whoa-ho-ho.
- Turn right.
♪ Mama, Mama, can't you see ♪
♪ What the Marine Corps
has done to me ♪
♪ What the Marine Corps
has done to me ♪
♪ Used to drive a Chevrolet ♪
♪ Used to drive a Chevrolet ♪
♪ Now I'm marching every day ♪
Cojones, give us a cadence.
Your girlfriend's gonna weep
when I bite that finger off.
- Give me a cadence now.
- I don't remember any.
Think fast or I'll run
your ass until midnight.
Do it, man. This
dude is certifiable.
♪ Model A Ford and a
t*nk full of gas ♪
♪ Model A Ford and a
t*nk full of gas ♪
♪ Handful of p*ssy and
a mouthful of ass ♪
♪ Handful of p*ssy and
a mouthful of ass ♪
Yo, man, what's this sucker, lost?
What's he gonna inv*de,
South Carolina?
All right, men, let's smoke
this sucker's ass. Come on.
assh*le.
What did they put in his Geritol?
Lieutenant.
Oh. Gunny. Good morning. Missed
you and Recon Platoon at PT.
The men and I were
getting acquainted.
Excellent.
I want to freelance them for
a while. To evaluate them.
There's nothing on the schedule.
You want me to join you?
You have important work here.
I am preparing a
paper on tactics and
strategy for the w*r Club seminar.
Oh, it's fascinating stuff. Ow.
I don't know if the
Major told you...
but I was commanding officer of
my ROTC detachment in college.
I'll sleep better at
night knowing that.
Thank you. What college
did you go to?
Heartbreak Ridge.
Heartbreak Ridge? I've never
heard of that school.
sh*t.
Oh, yeah, that looks
nice. Real nice.
Oh, yeah.
Slick.
Smells like a Ben Gay
factory around here.
Strip off those T-shirts.
- We're all the same.
- Same as me?
- How are we supposed to know?
- You improvise, overcome, adapt.
Now, get off those
goddamned T-shirts now.
Platoon, right face.
Forward march.
You'd get away with
that with Tyler. But
this cat, he's nuts.
He'll catch you.
Don't worry yourself.
Hey, man, the few, the
proud, the chumps.
- Oh, no.
- Man, we can't win for losing.
He must have the key to the PX.
Anybody else got a better idea?
Where's Aponte?
He's sick, man. He looked like
living proof of life after death.
Went to get checked out.
- That's right, Gunny.
- Yeah.
I want the barracks field-dayed
and squared away ASAP today.
We cleaned them just a while ago.
Yeah, Gunny, you
know, it's Saturday.
Well, let's have a show of hands.
How many people think the squad
bay is ready to go as is?
Yeah.
There you have it.
Democracy in action.
- All right.
- We'll run instead. Attention.
Right face.
Forward march.
Double time.
What the hell's going on, man?
This is the AK-47. The preferred
w*apon of your enemy.
And it makes a distinctive sound
when fired. So remember it.
Let's move out.
Oh, man, that's bullshit, man.
He's sh**ting at us. What the
f*ck? I don't need this, man.
That's wrong, man.
Yo, you all, check the way he's
always squinting his eyes.
Trying to talk all tough.
I should slap him myself
just to call his bluff.
♪ Don't do that, man He's
just a jarhead fool ♪
♪ You're right. But hold me back ♪
♪ In case I lose my cool Because
we're the Recon Platoon ♪
♪ We always gung ho ♪
♪ Gung ho to party ♪
♪ Or watch The Late Show
Till Highway came along ♪
♪ His abuse we don't need But
we'll end this bullshit ♪
♪ When Highway meets the Swede ♪
- He gonna kick his ass.
- Right.
- Highway, I heard you were back.
- Webster.
These retards couldn't fight
their way out of a shithouse.
Is that where you've been?
Me and Major Powers are building
an elite company of fighting men.
The only thing you could build
is a good case of haemorrhoids.
What?
You're blowing all
your amm*nit*on.
Mr "I hate Americans" will
make you into Swiss cheese.
- Slow down your fire.
- It's not my f*cking fault.
The f*cking w*apon is
f*cking f*cked up.
Nothing wrong with that
r*fle. Keep it tight.
Did you wake up with a
piss-pot on your head?
No, Gunny, I wore
this in your honour.
Is that so?
This is a classic piece of issue.
You know, sands of Iwo Jima, Khe
Sanh. All that old antique stuff.
A nice tribute to
an ageing veteran
as close to retirement
as yourself.
I'm touched.
You know, a recon way of saying
welcome and, inevitably, goodbye.
And the Kevlar helmet
you were issued?
That didn't by chance find its way
into a pawnshop in town, did it?
No way, Gunney. That's
a serious implication.
We're financially
responsible for these.
That's right, you are.
So I want Kevlar on
your head by 1900
or you won't have a
head to wear it on.
Yes, sir, Gunny
Highway, Sergeant, sir.
Gunny, my w*apon's jammed.
- What the?
- Oh, sh*t.
assh*le.
- What the?
- You all right?
Major Powers is gonna teach you
how to discipline your men.
If Powers ever comes
to a sudden halt,
your face is gonna go
halfway up his ass.
Profile won't make it
back to the barracks.
Powers is cold-blooded, man.
Left...
right...
left.
Come on, Profile.
Don't give the prick the
satisfaction. You can make it.
Recon.
What did you say, gunner Sergeant?
I said, "Don't give the prick
the satisfaction," sir.
"Sensitive dialogue during
communication of the
relationship..."
- Follow you home?
- Sure, why not?
Come on, guys. Somebody see
what shirt he's wearing.
It don't matter, he'll find
something to complain
about anyway.
Life was a hell of a lot easier
before Frankenstein paid a visit.
How am I gonna play
American Bandstand?
This macho sh*t is
bad for my hands.
People, fall out.
I said fall out. Now.
We ain't going no place.
All this play-w*r
stuff is bullshit.
Yeah.
Gunny, this is all a question
of mind over matter.
We no longer mind because
you don't matter.
You've been voted out
of office, baby.
Mr Jones...
you fall out on that street or I'm
gonna kick your ass
off this planet.
Oh, I don't think so, babe. Swede?
Swede, Swede, Swede...
Ah. Gunny, I'd like you to meet
my big friend, Swede Johanson.
Swede, say something
charming to the man.
I'm gonna rip your head off
and sh*t down your neck.
See, Grungy Highway, we ain't
got no use for you no more.
Hit the road, Jack.
And don't you come back
No more, no more, no more
No more, no more, no more
Stick your chin up, man.
Higher.
- Christ.
- g*dd*mn.
Now, get your ass out on that
street, ladies, right this second.
I'll check you later, Swede. Yeah.
Sir, I'll wait outside
for the MPs to come.
Negative, Johanson. You're gonna
become a Marine right now.
- Fall out.
- Yes, sir.
Good morning, men.
I thought I'd lead you
through this exercise.
Couldn't find Gunny
Highway, though.
I don't know where he went.
Good Lord, what was that?
Sir, that's an AK-47
as*ault w*apon.
The preferred w*apon of our enemy.
It makes a very distinctive
sound when fired at us, sir.
Yes, it does, doesn't it?
- Good night, Aggie.
- Good night, Roy.
Hold up. I'll follow you home.
No, you go ahead.
I've got some pains.
- Oh, I got it.
- Not tonight you don't.
"Sensual communication,
meaningful..."
Panther piss.
Glad to know some things
don't change. You
still know what a
woman loves to hear.
Oh, I just happened to
be in the neighbourhood.
I thought maybe you'd like
to sit down and talk.
Are you reading those magazines?
- What magazines?
- Those magazines.
Oh. Oh, those. No, I... Somebody
must have left them here.
- Who?
- Choozoo.
- He don't even know how to read.
- Quit being so stubborn.
Why don't you sit
down so we can talk?
I am not one of your troops
that can be bullied.
Jesus. Was being married
to me that bad?
Yes.
Platoon, ten-hut.
Thank you, Gunny. What a fine
morning for a m*llitary exercise.
Today we will execute
an ambush against
a numerically superior
hostile force...
by using cover, surprise,
interlocking fields of fire...
and the natural aggressiveness
of a US Marine.
Show me some poontang, I'll
show you an aggressive Marine.
We will provide Powers and
his elite fighting force...
an accessible target to sharpen
their superior skills.
This will be facilitated by the
MILES gear each team wears.
As you know, when one
of our men is sh*t...
these laser-sensitive vests
emit a beeping noise.
Excuse me, Lieutenant, but are you
hinting that we don't fight back?
Yes, Gunny. The Major
likes to use the
Recon Platoon as a training tool.
What happens when
these men go into
combat, and they're not prepared?
They just get dead.
Well, yes, I see what you mean.
Have you talked this
over with Major Powers?
Let's move them out, Gunny.
Are you coming with
us, Lieutenant?
No, Gunny, I have a doctor's
appointment at 1100.
I hope it's nothing that will
keep you out of the next w*r.
Platoon, right face.
Sling arms.
Forward march.
You sure Highway can
run the ambush?
He's the best with
small unit tactics.
I doubt that.
Marines, today we're gonna
kick some recon ass.
Platoon, ten-hut.
Right face. Forward march. Hut.
Man, when I joined
the Corps, I thought
I was gonna be jumping
out of planes...
- and fighting the enemy.
- This is the new, modern Marines.
- We just jump out of our heads.
- Only enemy we fight is boredom.
You hear that voice? It's
calling me. Hollywood.
Stitch Jones is gonna be
a rock 'n' roll star.
Don't forget your bros
when you make it.
Front row, centre seat, and
all the girls I can't eat.
Oh, I love leftovers. Word.
Unsling those r*fles.
What for? We're not
supposed to win.
He watches too much prime time.
What was that?
You're dead, Marine. You
tripped on four booby traps.
Now we have to send out a search
party for your testicles.
Now, where the hell's your backup?
Profile.
What good are you
back there? Without
cover, I get my ass blown off.
While you pump the
neighbour's dog, we get
every swinging d*ck in
this platoon k*lled.
That's what we're here for.
- What?
- We're here for that.
We've ambushed Powers three times,
always here. We know
what we're doing.
sh*t-for-brains, who
says we're gonna
ambush Major Powers right here?
Didn't you hear Lieutenant Ring?
Major Powers wants us to die in a
loud, grotesque, m*llitary manner.
I don't give a f*ck
about Major Powers.
My job is to keep you men
alive. Now, let's move on.
We'll be coming to the ambush
site over the next hill.
Roger that.
It sure does help, knowing when
and where you're gonna be hit.
Easy. Give them a few more yards,
then we'll nail the coffin shut.
Chill out, here they come, man.
Hit them now.
Now.
Cease fire.
You're in the wrong ambush site.
Cease fire.
They're in the wrong ambush site.
Go, recon. Recon.
- Too bad, suckers.
- Sergeant Major.
- What?
- Turn this damn thing off.
Makes a hell of a racket,
doesn't it, sir?
This man's usurped authority,
disregarded procedures...
and ignored my personal directives
for over a week. Why, Lieutenant?
I thought the training...
You think too much
and act too little.
You're supposed to be an officer.
Look up that word in your
platoon leader's handbook.
Who gave you permission to deviate
from the training schedule?
I needed to evaluate my men, sir.
They're not your men,
you arrogant son of a
bitch. They're the US
Marine Corps' men.
The 2nd Division's men. The
8th Marines Regiment's.
In other words, they're my
men, and so are you. Get it?
The only thing I get is my ass
sh*t off if I'm in a hot landing
zone with an untrained
platoon that doesn't know the job.
You'll follow my program,
no questions asked.
We go into combat tomorrow,
you'll plant half those men.
You did it on your
own, didn't you?
I can't fix it if I don't
know what's broken.
Well, you make it easy.
Sir.
I gave the Gunny permission
to freelance his... I mean...
the men, sir.
- Wait outside, Ring.
- Aye, aye, sir.
I'm gonna run you out
of the Corps, Highway.
And you know what's funny?
You're gonna do all the work.
Sooner or later,
you'll disobey orders,
circumvent procedures again...
or just get drunk.
You can't help it. You're
too old, too stupid...
too prideful to change.
I'm gonna enjoy watching you fall.
Now, get out, and send
in that idiot, Ring.
He wants to see you, Lieutenant.
- Sorry.
- No need to be.
Lieutenant?
Recon.
You'll let anybody
in here, won't you?
Have one on the house
to ease your pain.
You wanna get drunk?
Howl at the moon?
Get us both busted back to
low-ass, no-rank, mud-rolling PFC?
I'm your man.
What are we, Chooz?
We're short-haired
bastards with meat
cleavers for pricks and
kerosene for blood.
Yeah. We're all of
that, that's for sure.
We're 0-1-1.
Say again?
Major Powers, one dark,
cloudy morning, said to me:
"Sergeant Major, you're 0-1-1.
No wins.
One tie, Korea.
And one loss, Vietnam."
I mean, we lost the w*r,
but we won the battles.
I'm not gonna lose the next one
because my men aren't ready.
What are you gonna do?
Make them Marines.
Stoney Jackson.
Best g*dd*mn platoon Sergeant...
two mewling,
short-pricked, pissant
little f*ckers ever
went to w*r with.
- Yep. Heartbreak Ridge.
- Heartbreak Ridge.
Your C.O. called.
Your battalion just
went on full alert.
God bless.
- I can't find my tent.
- Where's my poncho liner?
g*dd*mn it. Who's got my web gear?
Profile, that's my canteen.
Aponte better get his
cartoon face back here.
He's gonna do time for being AWOL.
People, let's have
an equipment check.
w*apon?
Keep it simple. You've
got your boots on.
You're gonna walk into
combat. Let's go.
- Bullshit.
- Where's Aponte?
He's sick. Must be the beef. I
ain't feeling too good myself.
You've eaten worse.
Only when I'm
sh*t-faced and silly.
Let's get going.
These DD 13-48 request forms
are not filled out properly.
We're going to approach this in
an orderly, proficient manner.
Yes, sir.
I want you to be sure each round
of a*mo is counted and returned...
in the same way it was received.
I'll dot the I's
and cross the T's.
Sloppiness breeds inefficiency.
Your outfit could use
some cleaning up, Gunny.
Sir, I want to issue my squad
leader some night vision glasses.
- I should've thought of that.
- It's not part of your T.O. & E.
I thought it...
Fill out the proper
request forms and
send it through the
chain of command.
Request forms?
Ten-hut.
At ease, men.
Major Malcolm Powers, sir.
Annapolis, class of '71.
How are your men doing, Major?
My men are ready to fight to the
death to protect our country, sir.
Well, let's hope that
won't be necessary.
Have we ever served together?
I don't know, sir. Sergeant
Major Choozoo and I...
were in the 2nd Battalion
of the 7th in '68.
I had a r*fle company
in the 1st Battalion.
We sure as hell chewed some
of the same dirt, sir.
That's for sure. What's your
assessment of this alert?
It's a clusterfuck.
Say again?
Marines are fighting men. They
shouldn't be sitting around...
filling out request forms for
equipment they
should already have.
Interesting observation, Gunny.
Carry on, Major.
Now hear this. Now hear this.
This is it. We're going to w*r.
This has been an emergency
deployment readiness exercise.
We are standing down.
The alert is cancelled.
Damn it.
- Maybe next time, sir.
- Gather your gear.
You heard him. We're moving out.
Hey.
Aponte.
- Oh, him.
- Where is he?
What's wrong with you?
Nobody goes over the hill on me.
If you didn't have those f*cking
stripes on, I'd kick
your f*cking ass.
Since I'm not into v*olence, I'll
refrain from kicking your ass.
I'm gonna give you a
rebate on your life.
Besides, who the hell is Aponte?
He ain't heavy and
he ain't my brother.
- Gunny Highway.
- That's right. Gunny Highway.
Come on in.
Sorry, Aponte, I had to tell him.
Don't worry. This is my wife.
Clean that up.
Look, Gunny, I filled out
all the forms there are.
But what the Corps gives you
isn't enough for the family.
- So I took a job.
- You got a job?
Yeah.
Did you want out of
the Marine Corps?
No. No way.
Then I guess we'll have to cut
through all the red tape B.S.
- Yeah, we are.
- Knock it off, will you?
Here. Here's a special fund.
Gunnery sergeants only.
Don't worry. You can pay it back.
Here, you better take
him. Jesus Christ.
Thank you.
What are you smiling
at, sh*t bird?
I knew you were Santa Claus.
You ever pull another
play like that, the
only thing that'll b*at
you to the brig...
is the headlights of the
ambulance you're on.
Yes, sir, Gunnery
Sergeant Highway, sir.
Hey, yo, you can't leave
the duke of cool.
This man has no social graces.
So...
Lureen down at the Palace
said you had the night off.
Lureen talks too much.
Can I buy you a beer?
Jesus.
You come stomping back into my
life after all this time...
with no warning whatsoever.
Interfere with me at my place of
work, damn near start a brawl.
Almost lost me the only
crummy job I could find.
Then you show up here,
expecting me to...
just smooth as silk, invite you
in for a sit-down and a smile.
It's always the same, Highway.
All balls, no brains.
Is there something
you're afraid of?
Yes.
I'm afraid I'll dent
that thick skull
of yours with this
frying pan here.
It wouldn't be the first
time for that, now would it?
No.
Nice place you have here.
Thanks. You want a glass?
Feet still bothersome?
Well, I hawk booze five
nights a week, you know?
There ain't no senior prom
looming on my horizon.
To the old times.
Just as long as you
don't say "good times."
We had our share of
those too, didn't we?
I don't know. I can't
think that far back.
How you feeling, babe?
Terrific. Absolutely
couldn't feel better.
So...
what brings you here?
I'm back with recon,
back where I belong.
So?
It's different this time.
How?
I'm coming to the end of it.
I don't know where I go from
here. I just want it to end...
as right as it was when I started.
You want some chips?
There's pretzels.
Yeah, thanks.
Fringe benefits of work.
Tell me something.
Did we mutually
nurture each other?
I beg your pardon?
Did we communicate in a meaningful
way in our relationship?
Relationship?
Hell, I thought we were married.
Well, I've been thinking
about the past lately...
and I was just wondering
what went wrong.
With what?
With me...
the Corps, with us.
That is so damn much like you.
You never could see
that everything just
doesn't fit so neatly
into right and wrong.
What else is there?
It isn't that simple.
I went by those rooms we rented
when we were first married.
Damn, they're small.
Yeah, well, they say
everything shrinks with age.
Tell me something.
What did you want out
of our marriage?
Well, we talked once about
an avocado ranch...
about buying a house with
a barbecue in the back.
But then you would
volunteer for every
g*dd*mn w*r that
came down the pike.
Oh. g*dd*mn it.
- What's the matter?
- How could I be so stupid?
What the hell are
you talking about?
You bastard.
You changed tactics on me.
What the f*ck are
you talking about?
Gave up the frontal as*ault,
tried to out-g*dd*mn-flank me.
I am on to you. I want you
out of here right now.
Jesus Christ, you're not acting
very dignified for a mature woman.
Why, you old f*cking Marine
warhorse. I'll show you dignified.
You get out of here.
Get out of here.
Go on. Get the f*ck out of here.
You better get your tail out
of here or I'll get mad.
Take that, you old f*ck.
I never want to see your craggy
old face here again. You hear me?
Don't ever come back. Ever,
ever, ever. How dare you...
She's as crazy as she's
always been, for Christ sake.
- You assh*le.
- sh*t.
f*ck.
g*dd*mn it.
I hate you, Highway.
f*ck you.
Tonight's winner is...
Miss Sarita Dwayne.
- Oh.
- What a gal.
Hey, yo, wait a minute,
man. That's bullshit. No.
You're trying to rip
me the hell off.
Nobody likes a sore loser.
I'm an equal opportunity
ass-kicker.
We gonna take a little vote.
All you all that voted for Miss
Banana Titties, say, "Yeah."
- No.
- Boo.
All you all that voted for
me, say, "Rock the house."
- Rock the house.
- Rock the house.
- Say, "Rock the house."
- Rock the house.
What's up? You all the
f*gg*t Mod Squad?
I don't play none of this jail
give-up-the-booty bullshit.
Yeah, right.
Don't ask for my autograph.
Yeah, you can rob me.
You can starve me...
and you can b*at me, and you can
k*ll me. Just don't bore me.
- I'm glad I could help.
- I owe you dinner.
Sounds good.
Try not to make a habit of that.
Jesus Christ.
Powers will thin-slice
your prick and pitch
your gonads if he
finds out about this.
- Sergeant Major.
- Who the hell are you?
Jones, sir. Second
Battalion, Recon Platoon.
Christ, Highway's platoon. Snap
to, marine. Give me a hand.
- We're like brothers.
- Like my grandmother.
Yes, well, I posted his bail.
- He needs you, Aggie.
- Ha-ha. Until the next w*r.
Good thing we got him out.
Oh, sh*t.
Coffee.
Yeah, I always wanted to
check this place out.
Look at all this history.
Mary's served Marines
from three wars.
How's he doing?
Aggie will put him back together
again, just like she always has.
Thank you, ma'am.
Highway's something else,
huh? High speed, low drag.
No one better to be with
if you're in a hot LZ.
Heartbreak Ridge.
It was the truth.
What's Heartbreak Ridge?
Now, listen. We have to
understand each other before...
we go any further.
Are we going any further?
You're going to be out
of the Corps soon.
But you're gung ho,
through and through.
You always will be.
And there is no room in my
future for a... Marine.
I'm not sure I like the
way you say "Marine."
I can say Marine any
damn way I choose.
I earned that right.
That's right, you did.
I lived in a rat-hole when they
brought those boys home...
in those flag-draped
metal coffins.
I don't think I got a wink's sleep
in '68. Do you remember that year?
Yeah, I remember.
I'd wake up in the
morning and turn on
the TV. I'd eat dinner
in front of it...
eyes glued, hoping to catch a
glimpse of you on the news...
and then praying that I wouldn't.
And then I would
crawl into bed and
I would wonder: Where were you?
What were you doing? Were you
alive? And I had
no way of knowing.
I guess there's a lot
of things that work
harder on a woman
than being sh*t at.
I swear, the not
knowing was the worst.
Oh, I'm sorry.
That's all right, baby.
That's all right.
We went up and down that pile of
dirt for six days and six nights.
Fixed bayonet, hand-to-hand.
Fought them something fierce. They
gave back as good as they got.
Lots of men d*ed. We were
with the 23rd Infantry.
We joined the Corps later. Hell,
we were even younger than you are.
I never heard of no
Heartbreak Ridge.
It ain't in any of the history
books. Just a little piece of w*r.
Place didn't even have
a name, just a number.
Stoney Jackson took
one look and said:
"If this don't k*ll us, it'll
surely break our hearts."
- Who's Stoney Jackson?
- Little Mary's husband.
He was our platoon Sergeant.
He was the one who
recommended Highway
for the Congressional
Medal of Honour.
Gunny Highway won the C.M.H?
He charged two
machine g*n nests by
himself. He didn't
sleep for three days.
The final human wave he held
off almost single-handedly.
When it was over...
there was me, Stoney
Jackson, Tom Highway.
We were the only ones still alive.
What happened to Jackson?
He was k*lled at Khe Sanh in '68.
Can I get you guys
something to eat?
I can fix it in no time.
No. No, thank you, ma'am.
Excuse me, ma'am. You
don't happen to be...
up and moving when Gunny
Highway leaves for the base?
I pour his coffee and
lay out his things.
Platoon, ten-hut.
Right face.
Forward march.
Each platoon will proceed
to the objective,
which in this case is
the Battalion Bear Pit.
Whoever reaches it first
will get a 72-hour liberty.
Sir. It'd be an honour if
you'd accompany my platoon.
Thank you, staff Sergeant.
Get out of your seats.
Johanson, tighten up that harness.
Gunny, I'm afraid of heights.
- So am I.
- You are?
Jumping out of a perfectly good
aircraft is not a natural act.
So let's do it right and
enjoy the view. Come on.
Let's move.
We made it. We're the first
platoon to reach the Bear Pit.
Not so quick, sir.
Oh, darn. First Platoon.
Major, it's Highway.
Damn.
Come on, men. Let's smoke them.
First Platoon, follow me.
Recon wins.
Gunny, you don't know your place.
First Platoon is the Victor.
I'd say we have ourselves
a dilemma, sir.
Sergeant Major, I order you to
declare 1st Platoon the winner.
Sir, that wouldn't be fair.
What do you propose to
resolve this situation?
Matchup.
Okay, men, get them off.
Get your sh*t off, let's go.
- Yeah. Yeah.
- Come on.
Come on.
Come on, shithead.
Get them out.
Get them out.
Come on, you f*cking dickhead.
- I got him. I got him. I got him.
- Pull.
Come on.
We've got him. First Platoon.
Recon.
Recon. Recon.
Sergeant Major, 1st Platoon wins.
I don't see it that way, Major.
You're out of order. First
Platoon is king of the pit.
- How do you figure?
- Your man cheated.
- I say he improvised.
- He cheated.
He adapted. He overcame.
There's only one way
to settle this.
Platoon sergeants,
front and centre.
Remember, Sergeant, I'm
leading your platoon today.
Old man, it's time for somebody
to put you in your place.
Come on, Major.
Let's go, Gunny.
Man, it felt great b*ating Major
Powers' elite fighting unit.
I've been bitten by every
bug known to mankind.
No, these bumps make you
look like you got muscles.
I bet I have poison ivy.
Man, you can get
permanent light duty...
for all the crud on your body.
Your dream come true. You won't
have to do this bullshit no more.
f*ck you. I'm getting
pretty good at this.
Whoa.
This man must be sick,
ladies and gentlemen.
I'll tell you sick.
Gunny Highway is the
sickest individual
it's been my sorry
pleasure to come across.
Order today and get this record
from Recon Records. Songs like:
- "Highway, You Sick Individual."
- Yeah.
"Polish My w*apon,
I'll Polish Yours."
That's my song.
- "Bionic, Bionic Marine."
- Bionic Marine.
- That's it.
- Do that one.
♪ Well, he kicked a lot of ass ♪
♪ At a place called
Heartbreak Ridge ♪
♪ Don't f*ck with Scarface Highway
Baddest jarhead that there is ♪
♪ He's a bad psycho
mother Bionic Marine ♪
♪ A leatherneck lifer who
likes the barracks clean ♪
♪ He kicked Powers in the ass
Webster upside the head ♪
♪ If you f*ck with this sick mother
Then you gonna end up dead ♪
♪ He's a fire-pissing
jarhead Bionic Marine ♪
♪ Salty dog don't wear nothing
But Marine Corps green ♪
♪ Ain't got time to sh*t or shower
Ain't got time to smoke a cig ♪
♪ I said don't f*ck
with Gunny Highway ♪
♪ Or you'll end up in the brig ♪
Tell you something else, man.
Highway won the
Congressional Medal
of Honour at Heartbreak Ridge.
- Check that out. Check that out.
- C.M.H?
I knew he was bad,
but not that bad.
Agent Powers wants statements
from each and every one of you.
What kind of statements?
Gunnery Sergeant Highway
used live amm*nit*on...
with unauthorised weapons
on the training exercise.
Says who?
I thought you guys
didn't like Highway.
I heard that AK-47 fire
coming from your A.O.
Don't you boys want
to go back to the
way it was? Nobody
f*cking with you?
It seems to me that no one's gonna
f*ck with us the way
things are now.
There's weekend liberty
in it for all of you.
I'll start with you.
I got nothing to say.
You.
This is gonna go hard on you all
if you all don't cooperate.
We ain't got nothing to
say to you, Webster.
Why don't you take
your ass back to
that f*gg*t 1st
Platoon of yours...
and don't go away
mad, just go away.
You've been told.
Bye, Webster.
Yeah.
- I hate social functions.
- You're gonna love it.
Your presence is requested at the
M.A.U. Commander's open house.
Full m*llitary dress.
Piss on that.
You will be there,
Sergeant Highway.
Stand tall and look
sharp so they can
see a hero who isn't
bleeding to death.
- Let's find the bar.
- Good idea.
How are you this evening? Thanks.
How are you?
Privileged to greet a
Medal of Honour winner.
Thank you, sir.
Run into any clusterfucks lately?
No. Not lately, sir.
Thank you for stopping
by. Enjoy the party.
I love watching the brass snap to
attention when they
see that ribbon.
What do you do at a party like
this? Stick out your pinkie?
Just don't unzip and
stick Old Blue out.
Didn't J.J. Johnson do that
at a WAVE party in San Diego?
No, that was me. J.J. mooned the
ARVN General at China Beach.
Here, let's drink a
toast to J.J. and
all the pieces of him
we couldn't find.
Funniest guy I ever met.
One thing about a party like this,
the conversation's so adult.
I think I'm gonna head for
the back door of this place.
And lose all this joy?
You won't be broken-hearted
if I cut in, will you?
I'll get over it. I'm gonna
see what the chow's like.
Would you like to dance?
- Yeah. What are you doing here?
- I'm still on the mailing list.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
Did I by any chance
give you that perfume?
What's so funny?
I was just thinking...
this reminds me of the senior prom
and that chaperone with the ruler.
"Agnes Anne, you keep 8
inches of daylight...
between you and that young
man you're dancing with."
Yeah, I do remember that.
Wasn't that the...?
The first night we ever...?
Yes. Yes, it was.
Agnes Anne, you were a
wild creature, I must say.
What do your magazines
say about that?
I don't know, I haven't
gotten to that part.
- Are you still reading them?
- Affirmative.
And what do they say
about ex-wives?
Not too much. Just that
the sex is great...
because you don't
have to establish
a relationship or be meaningful.
You really are trying
to understand us?
The best I can, yeah.
Is that because you
can't be a Marine
any more and you've
got no place to go?
I shouldn't have said
that. I'm sorry.
It's all right. We've known each
other too long to run away...
just over a little thing like
tearing each other's guts out.
Tom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't
have said that. It just...
It just never seems to work
out between you and me.
- With her husband.
- I see.
- I'm having a great time.
- It's a whole family gathering.
I've been thinking
a little bit about
that avocado ranch
we talked about.
Tom, Roy has asked
me to marry him.
What did you say?
Your attention, please.
The 22nd Marine Amphibious Unit's
alert status has
just been upgraded.
All officers and staff NCOs will
immediately return to their units.
Thank you.
What's the deal? Is this
another bullshit alert?
We're going to w*r, men.
Mother of Jesus.
We're gonna assist in an operation
on the island of Grenada...
to rescue American citizens there.
The island of what?
Grenada, a Caribbean island also
known as the Isle of Spice.
It's 86 nautical miles
northeast of Venezuela.
Our mission is to
helocast into a small
bay on the west side
of the island...
and recon in advance
of the Marines.
I can't do that, man. I
forgot my suntan oil.
Come on, it's time to earn
your pay. Let's move it.
Pick it up. Let's go.
Now hear this. Now hear this.
Flight deck, prepare to launch
Helo. Prepare to launch Helo.
Over there.
Your glasses.
Get ready.
Choozoo, do you read me?
This is Highway. Do you read me?
I want your platoon to recon
toward the university.
Stay low around Powers, you hear?
See you when it's over.
Spread out. Spread out.
Jesus, what was that?
AK-47. It has a distinctive sound.
Proceed swiftly and with caution.
Get that 60 going
around the corner.
Cover my ass.
Highway's crazy, man.
They pulled out, Lieutenant.
All right, Aponte.
Slowly.
Damn.
Cubans.
Three-man recon team.
Better spread out. I'm sure
they got buddies around here.
Let's go.
Spread the f*ck out. Let's go.
Okay. Go ahead.
We forgot the hot
dogs. I'll go back
to New York and get
the hamburgers.
Are you as good with
engines as your mouth?
Jones is the name,
hot-wire's the game.
Get on that cat.
Get on that cat with him.
- You set? Let's do it.
- Let's go.
Swede. Get up there
with that M-60.
Yeah.
I'm the ayatollah of
rock 'n' roll-ah.
Stay right there, sucker.
Whoo.
Stay low.
Jesus, please forgive me.
Come on, let's go.
Let them know who you are
so no friendlies get hurt.
Hello, happening hostages, I'm
Stitch Jones, Mr Funkadelic.
Try US Marine, shithead.
It's all clear.
United States Marines.
Ah.
You've improved.
g*dd*mn it, Gunny.
US Marines, ma'am.
- US Marines.
- Everybody all right?
A behind is a terrible
thing to waste.
Delta Company said they'd give us
surfboards and let us
go down to the beach.
One of those students kissed me
four times. I think I'm in love.
- Was he good-looking?
- It was a girl.
Clean your weapons,
check your a*mo.
All secured. No casualties,
no sign of enemy.
Very good. I want some pictures
before we wrap this mission.
We encountered heavy
resistance along the way.
Probably local fanatics.
Negative. Cuban regulars
with Russian r*fles.
That type of data has
already been factored in.
- Battalion.
- Go ahead.
Big Daddy says to get
off your fat ass
and get back in the
w*r. His words, sir.
Says to recon that hill.
Some flyer thinks
he saw some armour.
- You're full of good news.
- You're too ugly to live forever.
Gunny, recon that hill,
but wait for Foxtrot
Company before
launching any as*ault.
Now, you stay in contact.
Shall I send back data, sir, or
is that already factored in?
Move out.
Powers has the hots for you. Watch
your back. Could be wedding bells.
All right, let's move
out, recon. Form up.
All right, let's go.
Come on.
Keep moving.
Careful, guys.
sh*t.
- Let's move.
- Get down. Get down.
Get in the building.
No.
Move it.
Get in the building. Go.
Bad mistake, coming
in here like this.
- It's my fault.
- Apologise to their mothers.
Jesus, Gunny.
Lay some steel on those targets.
Collins, Aponte.
Radio battalion, see if we
can get some air support.
Yo, Gunny, I think Profile's dead.
Don't let him die, Gunny.
That's not up to me.
Come on, stay down,
everyone. Let's go.
- How you doing?
- I'm okay.
- Doing better than Profile.
- I can still fight.
- We gonna make it out?
- Why, got a date?
You never know.
Gunny, I got Profile k*lled.
It was his time.
When it's your time,
I don't give a damn
how fast you run.
I could've gotten them all k*lled.
But you didn't.
Just don't make the
same mistake twice.
Right.
I think I figured out a
way to call in an air
strike if we can find
where this line's cut.
Jones.
That's the name,
loving's the game.
Thanks for volunteering.
Say what?
Get up and find where
the line's cut.
Come on, don't stand
there, damn it.
I wish I was back in New Jersey,
watching The Flintstones.
I hate this bullshit.
Do you know who you're
sh**ting at? I'm
the ayatollah of rock 'n' roll-ah.
Probably don't speak no English.
Banana-eating, bean-farting
m*therf*ckers.
Hello? Hello?
- It works.
- Damn right, it works.
Almost got my ass
sh*t off for Ma Bell.
Hello? Operator?
I'd like to make an emergency
long-distance call...
to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
Collect.
What?
Anybody got a credit card?
They won't make collect calls.
Have no fear, Stitch
is here. I never
go to combat without my plastic.
Yes.
It's 6-6-0...
5-5-8...
0-7-1-1.
Camp Lejeune.
Are you for real?
Grid 2-1-9...
6-3-2-1-8...
Did they get it?
I don't know. The phone went dead.
Give me that.
Gunny, where are you going?
They don't see our marker,
we're in real trouble.
You don't know if the
transmission got through.
Well, I'll have to improvise, sir.
sh*t.
sh*t, Highway's been hit.
What are we gonna do, sir?
Let's go.
Don't die, man.
Gunny.
Jones...
Just because we're
holding hands...
doesn't mean we're gonna take warm
showers till the wee
hours of the morning.
You hear me?
- Sucker, I thought you was dead.
- Wishful thinking.
Well, Lieutenant, what
are we waiting for?
All right, you devil dogs.
- Let's take this f*cking hill.
- Oorah.
- Let's go.
- Go, go.
Go.
All right, get them out of there.
Put your hands up.
- Bunker secure, sir.
- Thank you.
- Corporal Jones.
- Yes, sir.
- Move them out.
- You heard the man. Move out.
Move it, ladies.
Just what the hell do you
think you were doing?
Just enjoying the view, sir.
Well, you disobeyed
a direct order.
I told you to stay in contact and
not to take this hill without me.
Get on your feet, Highway.
Will all due respect, sir, you're
beginning to bore
the hell out of me.
- Who's in charge here?
- I am, sir. Major Malcolm Powers.
Did you lead this as*ault?
Lieutenant Ring and
Gunnery Sergeant
Highway disobeyed a direct order.
I told them to wait
for support, but
they still charged up this hill.
Why?
We're paid to improvise,
sir. Overcome, adapt.
I gave the order
to take this hill.
Ring, this is gonna
ruin your career.
Are you new to the
infantry, Major?
Yes, sir. Come over from Supply.
- Were you good at that?
- Yes, sir.
Then stick to it. You're a walking
clusterfuck as an
infantry officer.
This is a Marine amphibious unit.
My men are hard-chargers.
Ring and Highway took a handful
of young fire-pissers...
exercised some personal
initiative, and kicked ass.
- Good work, Lieutenant.
- Thank you, sir.
See that some of
those students are
escorted back to Cherry Point.
Aye, aye, sir.
Well, you're dismissed.
What the hell are
you two sorry-assed
individuals looking
at? Get out of my LZ.
Semper Fi.
Oorah.
Well, Chooz, I guess we're
not 0-1-1 now, huh?
- There's my family.
- All right.
- Got anybody here?
- No, but it's a beautiful day...
and your boy Stitch
is ready to play.
Give them hell.
Yeah, I'm gonna do
that. Definitely.
Like I said, it's a
beautiful day and
Stitch Jones is ready
to play, you know?
- Anytime, man.
- All right, big guy.
You'll be a civilian soon. You can
let your hair long, sleep late...
and become an assh*le
rock 'n' roll star.
Sergeant Major Choozoo
gave me re-up papers.
And you signed them?
Tell you the truth, Gunny, I'm
a better Marine than a singer.
You're also a lot dumber
than I thought you were.
What about you?
No, I've had it. No room in
this man's Corps for me now.
Besides, they've got you.
Michael.
Hi, honey.
Hey.
I guess all this
marching bands and
parades and sh*t is
old stuff to you?
Tell you the truth,
this is the first time.
Well, well, well.
There are my ladies.
Well, hey, Gunny...
duty calls.
What's happening?
Heartbreak Ridge (1986)
Moderator: Maskath3
w*r on Amazon w*r Merch Collectables
History/Civil Wars, Cold w*r, WWI, WWII, Rebellions, Revolutions and more! w*r movies collection.
History/Civil Wars, Cold w*r, WWI, WWII, Rebellions, Revolutions and more! w*r movies collection.