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FULL METAL JACKET

The screenplay by

Stanley Kubrick, Michael Herr and Gustav Hasford

Based on the novel The short-Timers by Gustav Hasford

FADE IN:

WARNER BROS. LOGO:

WARNER BROS. PICTURES

WB

A WARNER COMMUNICATIONS COMPANY

LOGO FADES OUT:

Music: Johnny Wright's "Hello Vietnam"

TITLE: A STANLEY KUBRICK FILM

CUT

TO:

TITLE: FULL METAL JACKET

CUT TO:

1 INT. BARBERSHOP--PARRIS

ISLAND MARINE BASE--

DAY

Marine recruits having their heads shaved with electric clippers. The hair piles up on the floor.

2 INT.

BARRACKS--DAY

Marine recruits stand at attention in front of their

bunks.

Master Gunnery Sergeant HARTMAN walks along the line of blank-faced recruits.

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

(louder) Sir, yes, sir!

Sergeant HARTMAN stops in front of a black recruit, Private SNOWBALL.

HARTMAN What's your name, scumbag?

SNOWBALL (shouting) Sir, Private Brown, sir!

HARTMAN

Bullshit! From now on you're Private Snowball! Do you like that name?

SNOWBALL

(shouting) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Well, there's one thing that you won't like, Private Snowball! They don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall!

SNOWBALL Sir, yes, sir!

JOKER

(whispering) Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

HARTMAN

Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit twinkle-toed cocksucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking- standing! I will P.T. you all until

you fucking die! I'll P.T. you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk.

Sergeant HARTMAN grabs cowboy by the shirt.

HARTMAN

Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?!

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN

You little piece of shit! You look like a fucking worm! I'll bet it was you!

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir!

JOKER

Sir, I said it, sir!

Sergeant HARTMAN steps up to JOKER.

HARTMAN

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.

Sergeant HARTMAN purnches JOKER in the stomach. JOKER sags to his knees.

HARTMAN

You little scumbag! I've got your name! I've 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!

JOKER

Sir, yes, sir!

what, sir?

HARTMAN

I'm asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?!

COWBOY

Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?

COWBOY Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Are you shook up? Are you nervous?

COWBOY

Sir, I am, sir!

HARTMAN

Do I make you nervous?

COWBOY

Sir!

HARTMAN Sir, what? Were you about to call me an asshole?!

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN

How tall are you, Private?

COWBOY Sir, five foot nine, sir!

HARTMAN

Five foot nine? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir.

HARTMAN

Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you've been cheated!

HARTMAN

Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?

COWBOY

Sir, Texas, sir!

HARTMAN

Holy dogshit! Texas! Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy! And you

don't look much like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dicks!

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN

Are you a peter-puffer?

COWBOY

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach- around! I'll be watching you!

Sergeant HARTMAN walks down the line to another recruit, a tall, overtweight boy.

HARTMAN

Did your parents have any children that lived?

trace of a strange smile on his face.

HARTMAN

Do you think I'm cute, Private Pyle? Do you think I'm funny?

PYLE

Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN

Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!

PYLE

Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!

PYLE

Sir, I'm trying, sir.

HARTMAN

Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds--excactly three fucking seconds--to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you! One! Two! Three!

PYLE purses his lips but continues to smile involuntarily.

PYLE Sir, I can't help it, sir!

HARTMAN

Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!

PYLE gets down on his FEnees.

HARTMAN

Now choke yourself!

PYLE places his hands around his throat as if to

choke himself.

HARTMAN

Goddamn it, with my hand, numbnuts!!

PYLE reaches for HARTMAN's hand. HARTMAN jerks it away.

HARTMAN

Don't pull my fucking hand over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!

PYLE leans forward so that his neck rests in HARTMAN's open hand.

HARTMAN chokes PYLE.

PYLE gags and starts to turn red in the face.

HARTMAN

Are you through grinning?

PYLE (barely able to speak) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Bullshit! I can't hear you!

PYLE (gasping) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Bullshit! I still can't hear you! Sound offlike you got a pair!

PYLE

(gagging) Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

That's enough! Get on your feet!

HARTMAN releases PYLE's throat. PYLE gets to his feet,

Ah, gimme some...

HARTMAN

Ah, gimme some...

RECRUITS

Ah, gimme some...

HARTMAN

P.T....

REcRuITs

P.T....

HARTMAN

P.T....

REcRuITs

P.T....

HARTMAN

Good for you!

RECRUITS

Good for you!

HARTMAN

And good for me!

RECRUITS

And good for me!

HARTMAN

Mmm, good.

RECRUITS

Mmm, good.

HARTMAN Up in the morning to the rising sun.

RECRUITS

Up in the morning to the rising sun.

HARTMAN

Gotta run all day...

4 EXT.

PRACTICE FIELD--SUNSET

Recruits, silhouetted against the sun, climbing

ropes, nets and ladders.

HARTMAN

...till the running's done!

RECRUITS

Gotta run all day till the running's done!

HARTMAN

Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!

RECRUITS

Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!

HARTMAN

Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year- itch!

RECRUITS

Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year- itch!

DISSOLVE TO:

5 EXT. PARADE DECK--DAY

HARTMAN marches the platoon across a wide expanse of asphalt. The recruits carry rifles.

HARTMAN

Left, right, left, right, left! To your left shoulder.

.. hut! Left, right, left! Port... hut!

HARTMAN

Left, right! Platoon ... halt! Left shoulder ... hut!

PYLE

momentarily places his rifle on the wrong shoulder and immediately corrects himself:

PYLE

Sir, right side, sir.

HARTMAN

Don't fuck with me again, Pyle! Pick up your fucking cover!

PYLE Sir, yes, sir!

DISSOLVE TO:

6 EXT.

PARADE DECK--DAY

HARTMAN marching the platoon. - bringing up the

rear is PYLE, his fatigue pants down around his ankles; he is sucking his thumb and he carries his rifle muzzle down.

7 INT.

BARRACKS--NIGHT

HARTMAN walks along the line of recruits in skivvies

holding their rifles and standing at attention in. front of their bunks.

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 old 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! Prepare to

mount! Mount!

On HARTMAN's command the platoon mount their bunks with their rifles and lie on their backs at attention.

HARTMAN

Port... hut!

The recruits snap their rifles to the port arms position. over their chests.

HARTMAN Pray!

RECRUITS

(in unison) 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 saviours of my life. So be it ... until there is no enemy ... but peace. Amen.

HARTMAN

Order... hut!

The recruits snap their rifles down to their sides.

HARTMAN

At ease!

HARTMAN turns off the barracks lights.

HARTMAN

Good night, ladies.

RECRUITS (in unison)

10 EXT. PARADE DECK--DAY

HARTMAN marching the platoon, calling cadence.

11 EXT. "ARMSTRETCHER"

OBSTACLE--DAY

Hand over hand the recruits swing along the

"Armstretcher."

HARTMAN

Ten fucking seconds! It should take you no more than ten fucking seconds to negotiate this obstacle! Quickly, move it out! There ain't one swinging dick private in this pla- toon's gonna graduate until they can get

this obstacle down to less than ten fuck- ing seconds!

12 EXT. "TOUGH ONE" OBSTACLE--DAY

HARTMAN watches as the recruits climb ropes and ladders to a high wooden tower above the platform

13 EXT.

PUGIL-STICK CIRCLE--DAY

PYLE and another recruit, wearing football-style helmets, batter each other with pugil sticks.

The recruits are formed up around them in a cir- cle. They cheer as PYLE is beaten, to the ground.

14. EXT. "DIRTY NAME" OBSTACLE--DAY

RECRURTS

waiting in two lines for their turn.

HARTMAN Next two privates! Quickly!

The next two recruits struggle over the obstacle.

HARTMAN

Get over that goddamn obstacle! Move it! Next two privates! Quickly! Hurry up! Get up there!

JOKER and another recruit go over easily.

HARTMAN

Private Joker, are you a killer?

JOKER

Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN

Let me hear your war cry!

JOKER Aaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

HARTMAN

Next two privates, go!

PYLE and another recruit. PYLE is hopeless.

HARTMAN

Quickly! Get your fat ass over there, Private Pyle! Oh, that's right, Private Pyle ... don't make any fucking effort to get 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?

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