JAG

Batman 1, this is Red Crown.

We have a pop-up on the surface bearing 2-5-0 at 7 miles.

Request you investigate.

Red Crown, Batman 1 is on it.

Camera's ready?

Just point and shoot.

Smile for the birdie.

What was that?

Bird strike in the port engine.

Shutting it down.

We're losing fuel.

Red Crown, this is Batman 1 declaring an emergency.

Port engine is shut down.

We're losing fuel.

Request priority.

Batman 1, be advised, we have only 1.5 to give and X-Man is at the pump.

X-Man's breaking off.

Anchor's all yours, Pappy.

Don't cut your fuel short, X-Man.

We can share and wait for the next anchor up.

You take it all, Pappy.

You're leaking like my 65 Mustang.

Thanks, X-Man.

X-Man, it's okay, Pappy.

I'm good to the boat.

Badman, this is Warp Paint Strike.

Dirty up to three miles of shifting paddles.

Warp Paint, paddles, this is Badman.

Gear down.

Single-engine approach.

Ball manual, 0.5.

On flight deck.

Damaged airplane in the groove, all.

Paddles, get him on the first pass.

He'll never make it around for a second.

Badman 1, fall.

Roger.

Ball, you're a little low.

A little low.

You're below the glide path.

Pick it up.

Pick it up.

Power!

Power!

Pick it up.

Around.

One more time.

Checking bird and landing area.

This is Badman 2.

Can't do it, boss.

I'm sucking on fumes.

Get that Tomcat out of here.

We got another bird with bingo fuel.

Clear the deck.

Badman 2, fall.

Get.

That Tomcat out of here.

We.

Got another bird with bingo fuel.

Get that Tomcat out of here.

We got another bird with bingo fuel.

He's the best little guy.

Aren't you, A.J.?

Aren't you the best little guy?

Actually, he'd be better than the best if he spent his night sleeping instead of testing his lungs all night.

Cheer up, mate.

Maybe your midnight warbler will be the next Mick Jagger.

Oh, is that a new recruit I see?

Oh, Colonel, congratulations on your promotion.

Thank you.

Want to hold him?

Oh, there he goes, sailor.

Aw, you must be a sailor.

Must be why girls go for a man in uniform.

I'm sorry I missed your wedding, Dale, but A.J.

had the crew.

Oh, being a mom comes first.

Lieutenant Sims, maybe you know where the file is for the last command inspection?

Yes, sir.

It's right over here, sir.

At least it's supposed to be right here, sir.

I'm sure I put it there, unless I filed it under C.

Well, Tiner, maybe you should look for it.

Yes, sir.

It's supposed to be right here.

Oh, and what is your weekly schedule doing with the special request chits?

I was wondering where that was.

You know, Lieutenant, since you've been on reserve duty, this office is a bigger mess than a sack full of damn cats.

It's good to see that somebody scored away.

All right, my friend, the time has come.

Are you ready?

Give me what you got.

Heads up, everybody.

Behold, the first turd on X-Men's record.

Can you believe it?

After all those Greens, we are talking 14 in a row.

The greatest streak since DiMaggio.

And suddenly, Splat, the king of the greenie board, the master of the three

wire, an alien, if there ever was one, steps in the same sorry stuff as the rest of us.

That is impressive!

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Just think, if I snagged the one wire ten more times, I'd be even with the rest of you, slug-up.

Hey, Buxton, take another look at the greenie board.

Someone's gaining on ya.

Oh, you mean the senior citizen I helped across the street today.

Six straight Greens, six straight happy landings.

He still won't catch me.

He'll catch the uncatchable me.

Attention on deck.

As you were, people.

Before I start this briefing, Buxton, what were you trying to prove today?

That you're good to the last drop?

No, sir.

I was just trying to help Commander Rabb, sir.

My bird ate too much seagull keg.

The X-Man saved my six.

And damn near lost his.

Kids, next time you both take on some fuel, then wait for the next gas station.

Aye, aye, sir.

Aye, sir.

I know Commander Imes is trying to court-martial Pensacola.

So why does the watch bill say that she's on duty this weekend?

There must be a mistake, sir.

And it's not the only one, Tiner.

I can't seem to find Commander Mattoni's name on here anywhere.

I believe that's because he's on leave, sir.

I know that, Tiner.

But for the whole damn month?

You know, it seems Lieutenant Sims has disappeared.

Actually, she's changing A.J.

The baby, sir?

Perfect metaphor for the moment.

You know, Lieutenant, I wish we'd have cloned your wife.

She obviously did a hell of a lot more around this office than just raid the refrigerator when she was pregnant.

Hey, you two are catching cases, right?

Uh, no, sir.

We have a plea bargaining session on the Winrow case.

If my client doesn't like Colonel Mckenzie's counteroffer, the court-martial starts tomorrow.

It's supposed to be in the docket, sir.

Is something wrong, Admiral?

No.

No, nothing that couldn't be fixed by a good old-fashioned lobotomy.

Tire.

Two years in the brig, or six months.

Which sounds better to you, Corporal Winrow?

Neither one, ma'am.

Well, from where I'm sitting, those look like the only choices you're gonna get.

But I know how to fire the Brimstone 2000, ma'am.

When you're sober.

I had some drinks the night before, yes, ma'am, but I got my sleep.

Not enough to keep you from missing your target and burning down 227 acres of woods at Quantico.

Now, that's not what the Marine Corps expects from its weapons instructors.

I'm aware of that, ma'am.

I just don't understand how it happened.

Commander, can you make your client listen to reason?

Put yourself in his shoes, Colonel.

Even with a lesser sentence, he's still facing a bad conduct discharge.

He shouldn't expect anything else after what he did.

Give us a minute.

Do you want to reconsider?

No, sir.

We'll fight it.

Colonel, you never told me how you celebrated your promotion.

Uh, privately.

Well, if you ever want to go public, I'd be honored to take you to dinner.

Don't you have a court-martial to lose?

Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I believe you've been a tad overconfident.

Mick, your chances would be bad.

You'd be better defending Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

The Great Chicago Fire?

Yeah.

And the cow wouldn't have looked so bad if the fire engine had gone to the right address.

Oh, thanks for enlightening me.

Okay, so you wouldn't care to have a wager on Corporal Winrow's fate, would you?

Oh, let me guess.

Um, loser buys dinner.

Great minds think alike.

Not if you think we're going to call it a date.

I'm quoting from the Rules of Independence.

Elements of Command Battle Group 63 may exercise proportional force only in order

to disengage from units demonstrating hostile intent or committing hostile acts

and only for the duration of the hostile acts.

The battle group will pass requests for use of force to the NATO force commander.

And if I have to scratch my six, do I need to phone the president?

Lock it up, Lieutenant.

Obviously, these Rules of Engagement are somewhat restrictive.

But, we're facing a difficult situation here trying to keep the Yugoslavians in

line without antagonizing any of our allies, especially the Russians.

Now, I'd be happy to answer any questions you have.

Yeah, I was just wondering, since you are the gentleman from.

Fleet Jag, if you would be so kind as to give us a translation.

I thought I just did that.

So, if I get locked on by a MiG, I can shoot then?

When hostile intent is perceived, you are permitted to exercise...

It's only a proportional response while asking for guidance from a higher authority.

Help me, Lord.

But if they fire a missile, we can wrap their knuckles.

Firing a missile is clearly a hostile act.

So what?

We're just meat on the table until then?