Good Morning, Vietnam Page #9

The men all hate Hauk.|They want Cronauer back.

He's an exhilarating personality,|and polkas are just no substitute.

- I think I see a pattern forming here.|- Sir, these letters are unequivocal.

Uh, e.g. "Hey, Hauk, eat a bag|of sh*t. You suck."

That's pretty much to the point, sir.|Not much grey area in this one.

We got one positive call from some guy|in Wichita who thought Hauk's comedy|was visionary and interesting.

The other 1,100 calls said that the man|can't do comedy to save his dick.

- That's a direct quote, sir.|- I've taken 90 calls this morning.|They just don't like Hauk.

From a marine in Da Nang: "Captain Hauk|sucks the sweat off a dead man's balls."

I have no idea what that means, sir,|but it seems very negative to me.

I think the troops are tryin'|to tell us somethin', fellas.

Sir, if it is my programming|choices, I can change.

I've been broadcasting|the polkas because I thought|a certain segment of the men...

weren't represented by Cronauer's|broadcasts of rock and roll.

But I can easily play|an occasional Gary Lewis record.

It doesn't make a damn whether|you play polkas or don't play polkas.|Military politics.

Nothing personal. The men just|like him better than they do you.

He maliciously and with purposeful|intent read unofficial news.

No, no, no, no.|He made a mistake.

We all make mistakes. Now this thing|is a delicate balance over here...

and I don't want it|dependent on a disc jockey.

The men want him back,|I want him back.

Sir, you heard from the men|who don't like my humour, but what|about the silent masses who do?

And as far as polkas, they are|a much-maligned musical taste.

Lieutenant, you don't know whether|you're shot, f***ed, powder-burned or|snake-bit. I don't care about polkas.

They're rioting in Hue. We're bringin'|in thousands of troops every month.

Terrorism's on the uprise|in Saigon.

The problems of this country have not|one goddamned thing to do with...

whether you play polkas|or don't play polkas.

The men want him back.|I want him back.

Reinstate the man.

Sir, in my heart...

I know I'm funny.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

- There you are, sir.|- Please don't call me "sir."

It just came down the pike.|You're back on the air, sir.

- I'm not goin' on.|- What do you mean|you're not goin' on?

If you don't understand what I said,|maybe you should take my English class.|I'm not goin' on.

You're a very attractive man, Abersold.|Don't think I haven't noticed.

- You'll be bored, you know.|What are you gonna do with your time?|- I don't know.

I may go downtown, look|for a Vietnamese man named Phil.

Or I may just stay here|and listen to old Pat Boone records.

Try and find some hidden meaning|'cause basically I believe that|that man is a misunderstood genius.

Genius. What are you|saying to me?

I'm sayin' I'm through, Ed. I'm tired|of people tellin' me what I can't say.

This news isn't official.|That comment is too sarcastic.

I can't even make fun of|Richard Nixon, and there's a man|who's screaming out to be made fun of.

So f*** it. Sorry.

- Is he all right?|- No, Phil, he's not all right.

A man does not refer to Pat Boone|as a beautiful genius|if things are all right.

- Sir.|- Garlick?

I'd like you to collate these|one-minute spots prior to broadcast.

You have a problem|with that, young man?

Absolutely not.|I live to collate, sir.

Good. So do I.

- "Get A Job."|- Get a job. Again.

- Get a job. Right. You got it.|You're cookin' now.|- Sir?

- Edward.|- I'd like an explanation.

- On anything in particular?|- A lot of people|went to the mat for you.

Thousands of guys wrote in, called in,|tryin' to get you reinstated.

And I literally think|that you owe it to all of them|to get your ass back on the air.

If you haven't noticed,|the army doesn't really want me, Ed.

They've been harassing me since|the day I got off the plane.

So what? It's the guys|in the field that matter, remember?|Those are the guys that are dyin'.

Edward, I tried to tell the truth,|and they kicked me off the air.

I screw up once more,|Dickerson sends me into the field|with a rifle. I come home in a box.

What you do is important|to a lot of people.

Forget it, will ya?|Listen. I give up.

I'm gonna phone 'em in, okay?|Enough bullshit.|I'm outta here. See you, fellas.

- Buy you some lunch.|- Can't let you do that.

Listen, if I don't get to my class,|there's gonna be a bunch of Vietnamese|speaking in short, choppy sentences.

- Look, we gotta talk.|We gotta talk now.|- Not now, man. Come on.

I can't believe you!|What? That's it?

You're gonna leave the whole f***in'|thing behind. You're gonna leave|everything f***in' hanging.

- People are depending on you!|- Edward, please.

That's two nasty words|in one year.

- Forgive me.|- Hey.

Hey, you wanna give me a ride to school|or am I gonna have to buy another bike?

You're pissin' me off.

- What the hell's the hold-up?|- Check it out.

Garlick, will you cut it out?|You're beginning to sound like|a priest in a '40s movie.

We are not firing you|when the boys are dependin' on you.

- Gentlemen?|- What are you doing, Ed?

Hey, guys. Guess who the hell|I got in here.

- Uh-oh. Don't do this sh*t.|- Groucho Marx!

- Senator Dirksen.|- Hey, Curly!

-Moe.|-Come on, come on, come on. Guess again.|-Oh, bag it. Bag it, Garlick.

The fellow I got in here is|the gentleman, the one and the only...

- You're a dead man.|- king of the airwaves, Adrian Cronauer.

Hey, Peterson, get up here, man.|I think we got Cronauer here.

Hey, Cronauer, say|"Good morning, Vietnam."

Oh, give me a break, man.|It's too hot for radio sh*t, okay?

- Come on.|- Come on!

- How do we know it's Adrian Cronauer?|- Okay.

I'll give her the best shot.

Good morning, Vietnam!

All right! All right!

We love you, Cron!

All right, this is Adrian Cronauer.|I'm on at 6:00 and again at 4:00.

Hey, we'd like to welcome you|to Vietnam, the country|that is more stimulating...

than a strong cup of cappuccino|or an espresso enema.

That one's comin' right at you|right now, but first,|our fashion report from Special Forces|Sergeant Ernest Lee Sincere.

"Thank you. I think this fall,|the discerning GI is gonna|be wearing green in the jungle.

Why? Because it matches|with the green. I don't know.

The leaves, they fall upon the helmets,|says yes to me." Thank you.

Here's a little news flash|comin' your way right now.

We can't afford the teletype.|Here it is, comin' for you|right now. Quick news flash.

Former President Eisenhower,|actually cartoon character Elmer Fudd.

He was quoted as saying:|"Thank you, America.

It was fun being Pwesident."

Also, Gina Lollobrigida has been|declared the Italian National|Mountain Range.

Thank you, Gina. "Look out.|Look, I don't see the sun any more."

Let's play a little game show while|we're waiting. And who can tell me|who sang the song "My Guy"?

- Hi. Where you from?|- Uh, Boston.

- Boston, you know who|sang the song "My Guy"?|- Yeah, sh*t, I can't think of it.

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