Jarhead

(Swoff)

A story.

A man fires a rifle

for many years...

and he goes to war.

And afterward,

he turns the rifle in

at the armory...

and he believes

he's finished with the rifle.

But no matter what else

he might do with his hands...

love a woman, build a house...

change his son's diaper...

his hands remember the rifle.

(Fitch)

You are no longer black,

or brown, or yellow or red!

You are now green!

You are light green

or dark green!

Do you understand?

(all)

Sir, yes, sir!

Swofford!

Sir, yes, sir!

You the maggot whose father

served in Vietnam?

Sir, yes, sir!

Outstanding!

Did he have the balls

to die there?

Sir, no, sir!

Too f***ing bad!

He ever talk about it?

Sir, only once, sir!

Good! Then he wasn't lying!

Are you eyeballing me

with those baby blues?

Are you?

Sir, no, sir!

Are you in love

with me, Swofford?

Sir, no, sir!

You don't think I look good

in my uniform, Swofford?

Sir, the drill sergeant

looks fabulous

in his uniform, sir!

So you're gay, then,

and you love me, huh?

Sir, I'm not gay, sir!

Do you have

a girlfriend, Swofford?

Sir, yes, sir!

Guess again, motherf***er!

Jody's banging her right now!

Get on your face

and give me 25...

for every time

she gets f***ed this month.

Down on your face!

(Swoff)

It was shortly after meeting

Drill Instructor Fitch...

that I realized that joining

the Marine Corps...

might have been

a bad decision.

What in the f***

is this?

Sir,

it's a recruit's drawing

of a footlocker, sir!

Jesus, Joseph

and doggie-style Mary!

That is a pile

of dog sh*t.

Sir, the recruit's

never been good

at drawing, sir!

Why the f***

are you my scribe, then?

Isn't my scribe

supposed to know

how to draw?

Sir, the recruit

doesn't know!

The recruit thought

the scribe was supposed

to write, sir!

Of course the recruit

doesn't know!

The recruit doesn't know

because I haven't told him!

[Groaning]

All right,

cum-for-brains...

show me exactly

where your Skivvies

and running shoes go.

Sir, the recruit

can't think...

while the drill instructor

is hitting him

on his head, sir!

You can't think

while I'm giving you

a few love taps?

How the f***

are you going to

fire your rifle...

when grenades are going off

in your face?

What the f***

are you even doing here?

Sir, I got lost

on the way to college, sir!

##[Don't Worry Be Happy

playing]

(Swoff)

So, now my hands

were dick skinners.

A flashlight was a moonbeam.

A pen was an ink stick.

My mouth was a cum receptacle.

A bed was a rack.

A wall was a bulkhead.

A shirt was a blouse.

A tie was still a tie,

and a belt a belt.

But many other things

would never be the same.

[Marines sounding off]

[Marines sounding off]

Swofford. What kind of

f***ing name is that?

It's English.

My great-grandfather

came over here

in the 19th century.

Whatever.

I'm putting you

in Golf Company.

It's full of retards

and f*** ups.

Maybe you can elevate

the sons of b*tches a little.

Or maybe not.

Next.

[Marines chattering]

(Swoff)

Jarhead:
Noun.

Slang for "Marine. "

Origin:

From the resemblance

to a jar...

of the regulation

high-and-tight haircut.

The Marine's head,

by implication, therefore...

also a jar.

An empty vessel.

[Marines exclaiming]

Hey!

May I help you?

Yeah, I was assigned

to Second Platoon.

Second Platoon?

Yeah.

What's going on, boss?

Nothing much, man.

Welcome to Second Platoon.

Thanks, man.

Hey, boys!

Fresh f***ing meat!

What kind of meat?

We don't want you!

[Grunting]

Boo, motherf***er!

[Marines hooting]

Get some!

[Groaning]

Oh, f***.

[Gun clicking]

Yeah, we switched out

the hot brand.

Little f***-f*** trick

we play on the new guys.

[Gun clicking]

Nice.

You want a brand,

you gotta earn it.

Welcome to the Suck.

[Sighing]

(Nurse)

Still got

that stomach flu, Swofford?

I can't seem to shake it.

That's all right.

Not everyone's cut out

for the Marines.

(Swoff)

But for me, there was nowhere

else. That was the truth.

After all,

I was made in a war.

Here's Mr. And Mrs. Swofford

on R&R from Vietnam.

Honolulu Hilton, 1969.

I can't watch...

and neither can you.

And here are some other things

I can't show you.

Visiting my sister.

[Sobbing]

Making muffins with Mom.

Breakfast conversations

with Dad.

But here are some things

you can see.

Taking a dump.

Thinking about

going to college.

Studying after school

with my girlfriend.

Oh, my God, I love you.

I love you, too.

Giving away

my favorite USMC T-shirt.

I'll write you every day.

(Staff Sgt. Sykes)

Hey!

Swofford?

Swofford?

Yo.

What the f***? You're sick?

No, I just had

a stomach thing, sir.

Staff Sergeant Sykes.

I'm with Surveillance

and Target Acquisition. STA.

I heard it took six guys

to pull that little branding

trick on you.

Your file says that you ain't

too f***ing dumb, either.

So you better get un-sick

most motherfucking

ricky-tick...

because there's a chance

that you could be

a scout sniper.

What the f*** is this?

"The Stranger by Camus. "

That's some heavy dope

right there, Marine.

"Mary however... "

"That's when we ran up

to the office... "

Indoc class starts on Monday.

I suggest you have

your ass there.

Is that an order,

Staff Sergeant?

It's a f***ing opportunity.

It's a f***ing honor.

It's the best f***ing job

in the Marine Corps.

Sounds good, Staff Sergeant.

Sounds good,

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