Full Metal Jacket

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Full Metal Jacket is a 1987 film that follows a group of recruits through Marine training and their tour of duty in Vietnam.

Written and directed by Stanley Kubrick, based on the novel The Short-Timers by Gustav Hasford.
This is my Rifle, This is my gun. This is for fighting, This is for fun.taglines

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman[edit]

  • Well, no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Joker! I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister. [socks Joker in the gut] 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! You had best unfuck yourself, or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!
  • [to Private Cowboy] I'll bet you're the kinda guy that would fuck a person in the ass, and not even have the Goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you!
  • [to Private Pyle from the top of an obstacle] Get up here, fat boy! Quickly! Move it on! Move it on, Pyle! Move it on! You climb obstacles like old people fuck. Do you know that, Private Pyle? Get up here; you're too slow! Move it, move it! Private Pyle, whatever you do, don't fall down. That would break my fucking heart! [Pyle reaches the top] Quickly! Up and over. Up and over! Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, Private Pyle?! Get up and over! Move it! Move it! Move it! Are you quitting on me?! Well, are you?! Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! Now! Move it! [Pyle crawls down] I'm gonna rip your balls off so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!
  • 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 shit. Because Marines are not allowed to die without permission! Do you maggots understand?
  • Today...is Christmas! There will be a magic show at 0930! (9:30 A.M.) 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?
  • Today, you people are no longer pukes. 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.

Private Joker[edit]

  • [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.
  • The dead know only one thing: it is better to be alive.
  • [narrating] We have nailed our names in the pages of history, enough for today. We hump down to the perfume river to set in for the night. [the Marines sing "The Mickey Mouse Club" theme song.] My thoughts drift back to erect-nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch, and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit. Yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Crazy Earl[edit]

  • 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.


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?
Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Bullshit, I can't hear you! Sound off like you got a pair!
Recruits [louder] Sir, yes, sir!
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 that day, you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grab-ass-tic pieces of amphibian shit! 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 niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Left shoulder, hut! [Pyle briefly hikes his rifle to his right shoulder] Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?!
Private Pyle: 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?!
Pyle: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Then you did that on purpose; You want to be different!
Pyle: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Pyle's left cheek] What side was that, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, left side, sir!
Hartman: Are you sure, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Pyle's right cheek] What side was that, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, right side, sir!
Hartman: Don't fuck with me again, Pyle. Pick up your fucking cover.
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [To Pyle, as he struggles with an obstacle] Get your fat ass over there, Private Pyle! Oh, that's right, Private Pyle. Don't make any fucking effort to get up to the top of the fucking obstacle! If God wanted you up there, he would have miracled your ass up there by now, wouldn't he?
Private Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Get your fat ass up there, Pyle!
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: What the Hell is the matter with you, anyway? I'll bet you if there was some pussy up there on top of that obstacle...
Pyle: [falling off] Shit!
Hartman: ...you could get up there. Couldn't you?
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Your ass looks like about 150 pounds of chewed bubble gum, Pyle. You know that?
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Jesus H. Christ. Private Pyle, why is your footlocker unlocked?
Private Pyle: Sir, I don't know, sir!
Hartman: Private Pyle, if there is one thing in this world that I hate, it is an unlocked footlocker! You know that, don't you?
Pyle: Sir, yes sir!
Hartman: If it wasn't for dickheads like you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this world, would there?
Pyle: Sir, no sir!
Hartman: Get down! Well now, let's just see if there's anything missing. [empties out Pyle's footlocker] Holy Jesus. What is that? What the fuck is that? [removes a jelly donut from the foot locker] What is that, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, a jelly donut, sir!
Hartman: A jelly donut?
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: How did it get here?
Pyle: Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!
Hartman: Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Are you allowed to eat jelly donuts, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: And why not, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!
Hartman: Because you are a disgusting fat body, Private Pyle!
Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Then why did you hide a jelly donut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?
Pyle: Sir, because I was hungry, sir!
Hartman: Because you were hungry? [to recruits] 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 again and retraces his steps] 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 donut! Now, get on your faces! [to Pyle] Open your mouth! [shoves the donut into his mouth] They're paying for it; you eat it! [to recruits] Ready, exercise!
Recruits beside Pyle: [doing push-ups] 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You will give your rifle a girl's name, because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary-Jane Rottencrotch through her pretty 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!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [referring to Lee Harvey Oswald and mass murderer Charles Whitman] Do any of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot? Private Joker?
Private Joker: Sir, in the Marines, sir!
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!

Private Joker: [narrating] Our last night on the island. I draw fire watch.
[Joker goes into the head, to find Private Pyle loading his rifle]
Private Pyle: Hi, Joker.
Joker: Are those live rounds?
Pyle: 7.62 millimeter, full metal jacket.
Joker: Leonard, if Hartman comes in here and catches us, we'll both be in a world of shit.
Pyle: I am... in a world... of shit! [begins drilling loudly] Left shoulder, hut! Right shoulder, hut! Lock and load! [picks up the magazine, and puts it into the rifle] Order, hut! This is my rifle! There are many like it but this one is mine! My rifle is my best friend! It is my life!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [storms out of his bedroom; to other recruits] Get back in your bunks! [storming into the head] What is this Mickey Mouse shit? What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head? [to Joker] Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights out? Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon? 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 is locked and loaded, sir!
Hartman: [to Pyle, 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.
[Pyle insanely smiles, lifts the rifle up and aims it at Hartman.]
Hartman: WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS?! Didn't mommy and daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?!
[Pyle shoots him in the heart, killing him instantly, then aims at Joker.]
Joker: Easy, Leonard. Go easy, man.
[Pyle eases off of Joker, sits on the toilet, and puts the rifle's muzzle in his own mouth.]
Joker: No!
[Pyle shoots and blood splatters on the wall behind him.]

Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Joker: "Born to kill", sir.
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?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: What is it supposed to mean?
Joker: I don't know, sir.
Colonel: You don't know very much, do you?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: You better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you!
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man!
Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Colonel: The what?
Joker: The duality of man; The Jungian thing, sir.
Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?
Joker: Our side, sir.
Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Then how 'bout getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Son, all I've ever asked of my Marines is for them to 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 hard-ball world, son. We've gotta try to keep our heads until this peace craze blows over!
Joker: [salutes] Aye-aye, sir.

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, baby. You got girlfriend Vietnam?
Private Joker: Not just this minute.
Hooker: Well, baby, me so horny. Me so horny! Me love you long time. You party?
Joker: Yeah, we might party. How much?
Hooker: Fifteen dollar.
Joker: Fifteen dollars for both of us?
Hooker: No. Each you fifteen dollar. Me love you long time. Me so HORNY.
Joker: Fifteen dollar too beaucoup. Five dollars each.
Hooker: Me sucky-sucky. Me love you too much.
Joker: Five dollars is all my mom allows me to spend.
Hooker: Okay. Ten dollar each.
Joker: What do we get for ten dollars?
Hooker: Every t'ing you want.
Joker: Everything?
Hooker: Every t'ing.
Private Joker: [to Rafterman] Well, old buddy, feel like spending some of your hard-earned money?

Door Gunner: [Firing his M60 at Vietnamese civilians from the helicopter] Get some! Get some! Get some, yeah, yeah, yeah! [Stops firing and turns to Joker and Rafterman] 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!
Private Joker: Why should we do a story about you?
Door Gunner: 'Cause I'm so fuckin' good! That ain't no shit, neither! I 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 or children?
Door Gunner: Easy! You just don't lead 'em so much! [laughs] Ain't war hell?


  • This is my rifle. This is my gun. This is for Fighting (the rifle), this is for fun (holding their crotch).
  • Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
  • In Vietnam The Wind Doesn't Blow It Sucks
  • Vietnam can kill me, but it can't make me care
  • Born to Kill


External links[edit]

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