Jarhead

A story.

A man fires a rifleNfor many years...

and he goes to war.

And afterward, he turns theNrifle in at the armory...

and he believesNhe's finished with the rifle.

But no matter what elseNhe might do with his hands...

love a woman, build a house...

change his son's diaper...

his hands remember the rifle.

You are no longer black,Nor brown, or yellow or red!

You are now green!

You are light greenNor dark green!

Do you understand?

Sir, yes, sir!

Swofford!

Sir, yes, sir!

You the maggot whose fatherNserved in Vietnam?

Sir, yes, sir!

Outstanding!NDid he have the balls to die there?

Sir, no, sir!

Too fucking bad!NHe ever talk about it?

Sir, only once, sir!NGood! Then he wasn't lying!

Are you eyeballing meNwith those baby blues?

Are you?NSir, no, sir!

Are you in love with me, Swofford?NSir, no, sir!

You don't think I look goodNin my uniform, Swofford?

Sir, the drill sergeant looksNfabulous in his uniform, sir!

So you're gay, then,Nand you love me, huh?

Sir, I'm not gay, sir!

Do you have a girlfriend, Swofford?NSir, yes, sir!

Guess again, motherfucker!NJody's banging her right now!

Get on your faceNand give me 25...

for every timeNshe gets fucked this month.

Down on your face!

It was shortly after meetingNDrill Instructor Fitch...

that I realized that joiningNthe Marine Corps...

might have beenNa bad decision.

What in the fuckNis this?

Sir, it's a recruit'sNdrawing of a footlocker, sir!

Jesus, JosephNand doggie-style Mary!

That is a pileNof dog shit.

Sir, the recruit's neverNbeen good at drawing, sir!

Why the fuckNare you my scribe, then?

Isn't my scribe supposedNto know how to draw?

Sir, the recruitNdoesn't know!

The recruit thought the scribeNwas supposed to write, sir!

Of course the recruitNdoesn't know!

The recruit doesn't knowNbecause I haven't told him!

All right,Ncum-for-brains...

show me exactly where yourNSkivvies and running shoes go.

Sir, the recruitNcan't think...

while the drill instructor isNhitting him on his head, sir!

You can't think while I'mNgiving you a few love taps?

How the fuck are you goingNto fire your rifle...

when grenades are going offNin your face?

What the fuckNare you even doing here?

Sir, I got lostNon the way to college, sir!

So, now my handsNwere dick skinners.

A flashlight was a moonbeam.NA pen was an ink stick.

My mouth was a cum receptacle.

A bed was a rack.NA wall was a bulkhead.

A shirt was a blouse.

A tie was still a tie,Nand a belt a belt.

But many other thingsNwould never be the same.

Swofford. What kind ofNfucking name is that?

It's English.

My great-grandfather came overNhere in the 19th century.

Whatever.

I'm putting youNin Golf Company.

It's full of retardsNand fuck ups.

Maybe you can elevateNthe sons of bitches a little.

Or maybe not.

Next.

Jarhead: Noun.NSlang for "Marine."

Origin:NFrom the resemblance to a jar...

of the regulationNhigh-and-tight haircut.

The Marine's head,Nby implication, therefore...

also a jar.

An empty vessel.

Hey!

May I help you?

Yeah, I was assignedNto Second Platoon.

Second Platoon?

Yeah.

What's going on, boss?NNothing much, man.

Welcome to Second Platoon.NThanks, man.

Hey, boys!NFresh fucking meat!

What kind of meat?NWe don't want you!

Boo, motherfucker!

Get some!

Oh, fuck.

Yeah, we switched outNthe hot brand.

Little fuck-fuck trickNwe play on the new guys.

Nice.

You want a brand,Nyou gotta earn it.

Welcome to the Suck.

Still gotNthat stomach flu, Swofford?

I can't seem to shake it.

That's all right.NNot everyone's cut out for the Marines.

But for me, there was nowhereNelse. That was the truth.

After all,NI was made in a war.

Here's Mr. And Mrs. SwoffordNon R&R from Vietnam.

Honolulu Hilton, 1969.

I can't watch...

and neither can you.

And here are some other thingsNI can't show you.

Visiting my sister.

Making muffins with Mom.

Breakfast conversationsNwith Dad.

But here are some thingsNyou can see.

Taking a dump.

Thinking aboutNgoing to college.

Studying after schoolNwith my girlfriend.

Oh, my God, I love you.NI love you, too.

Giving awayNmy favorite USMC T-shirt.

I'll write you every day.

Hey!

Swofford?

Swofford?NYo.

What the fuck? You're sick?

No, I just hadNa stomach thing, sir.

Staff Sergeant Sykes.

I'm with SurveillanceNand Target Acquisition. STA.

I heard it took six guys to pullNthat little branding trick on you.

Your file says that you ain'tNtoo fucking dumb, either.

So you better get un-sick mostNmotherfucking ricky-tick...

because there's a chance thatNyou could be a scout sniper.

What the fuck is this?

"The Stranger by Camus."

That's some heavy dopeNright there, Marine.

"Mary however..."

"That's when we ran upNto the office..."

Indoc class starts on Monday.NI suggest you have your ass there.

Is that an order,NStaff Sergeant?

It's a fucking opportunity.

It's a fucking honor.

It's the best fucking jobNin the Marine Corps.

Sounds good, Staff Sergeant.

Sounds good,NStaff Sergeant!NSounds good.

Could I have my...

You know what?NI got a better idea.

You play any instruments?

I played the trumpet in third grade,NStaff Sergeant.

Played the trumpetNin third grade? Good.

You still play?

A little, for small holidayNconcerts and festivals.

Good. You ain't gotta beNChuck Mangione.

All I need is a bugler.

Somebody to play Taps,NReveille, Battle March...

that type of shit, raise the morale.NDoes that interest you?

Oh, yeah.

Good! Parade field, 0600.

All right, thank you,NStaff Sergeant!

My pleasure.

Can I get my book?

There's 60 of you.NI only need eight.

That means 52 of youNwill perish. Do the math.

There's no possible wayNthat all of you can make it.

If you thinkNyou're worth some shit...

Staff Sergeant Sykes!

Private SwoffordNreporting for bugle tryout!

Indoc! Atten-hut!

I don't give outNtoo many special treats...

but this morning,Nwe have a very special treat.

Private Swofford here is goingNto play Reveille for us.

Okay, Swofford,Nplay Reveille.

I don't have a bugle,NStaff Sergeant.

You don't have a what?NI don't have a bugle.

Oh, no. No, no.NDamn, damn.

You better playNwith your mouth.

What?

I said, play itNwith your goddamn mouth.

Fuck.

I love that tone.NSounds good to me.NMy morale is lifted.

You knowNany Stevie Wonder?

You know You AreNThe Sunshine Of My Life?

Yes, Staff Sergeant.NGood, that's a classic.

Will you shut the fuck up?NThere is no bugle program.

You sizzle-dick motherfucker.

Who do you think you are, someNkind of Kenny G or some shit?

No, Staff Sergeant.NGood.

Now to the rest of you,Ndo you have what it takes...

to be the meanest, theNcruelest, the most savage...

unforgiving motherfuckersNin God's cruel kingdom?

Yes, Staff Sergeant!

Will you be able to one dayNsay, "Yea, though I walk...

"through the valley of the shadow of death,NI will fear no evil...

"because I am the baddestNmotherfucker in the goddamn valley"?

Yes, Staff Sergeant!

We shall fucking see!

You still here?NYes, Staff Sergeant!

Yes, what?

Yes, I am still here,NStaff Sergeant.

So fucking be it. Fall in!

One mile!NOne mile!

Ain't shit!NAin't shit!

Two miles!NTwo miles!

Your mission is to kill me.

My mission is to killNyou first, and I'm good.

Them paintball bullets,Nthey hurt?