Hamburger Hill

We had a short-timer once. Johnny I-forget-his-name. He wore a flak jacket, two helmets and armor underwear. A Shau Valley... your time's up, your time is up.

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0

We're Airborne. We don't start fights, we finish 'em!

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0

Sgt. Frantz: Who is it? Doc: How the hell do I know? He's got no goddamn head.

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0

Newsman: [trying to interview GIs returning to base after a hard day of fighting] Hey, word down at division is you guys can't take this hill. What do you have to say about that? In fact, Senator Kennedy insists you guys haven't got a chance at all. Sgt. Frantz: [glares at newsman for a few seconds] You really like this shit, don't you? It's your job, a story, wait here like a fucking vulture for someone to die so you can take a picture. Newsman: [becoming angry] It's my job... Newsman: What? Sgt. Frantz: You listen to me. We're gonna take this fucking hill, Newsman. And if I catch you on top taking pictures of any of my people, I will blow your fucking head off. You haven't earned a right to be here. You got that?

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0

Doc: Surely, you people must be aware... that the brothers are here because they cannot afford an ed-u-cation. Beletsky: So what am I doing? Sitting in some fuckin' country club sipping on seven-n-sevens and eating a steak? Take a look around, Doc. I see all kinds of white faces here. Doc: [clears throat] Okay. The war started for you... when you farted, and said "good morning Vietnam!" See, now I was born into this shit. Beletsky: And they yanked that gold fuckin' spoon outta MY mouth and sent me over here to see how you low-class eleven-boos live. Is that it? Doc: [approaches Beletsky as if to fight, but extends his hand and smiles] Brother blood!

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0

Worcester: I'm gonna put the new guys in your squad. Sgt. Frantz: Oh, shit! Worcester: Hey, don't 'oh shit' me, troop! The old man has me breaking-in another new Lieutenant, and he looks like Palmolive-fucking-soap! Sgt. Frantz: Yeah, well I don't need this f-n-g shit, Worcester. Worcester: Yeah, well write your Congressman. And while you're at it, tell him I need a steak, a bucket of cold beer and a round-eye to wrap my leg around!

Hamburger Hill, CC BY-SA 4.0