Men of Honor Page #3

back to bed, Snowhill!

The men you are watching

are going to be Navy divers.

You bottom suckers are not fit

to observe them.

Avert your eyes!

My name is Master Chief

Billy Sunday.

There's a preacher by the same

name cleaned up Chicago...

of all the whorin' spics, drunken wops

and motherfuckin' n*ggers...

that was makin' that place unfit

for decent white folks to live.

The only difference between me

and that old preacher...

is that he worked for God

and I am God!

Now, why don't the first ten of

you Girl Scouts step forward?

Come on!

Drop your d*cks! Let's go!

Three quarters of you

standing here today...

will fail

to become Navy divers.

Three from the first row,

step forward. Step forward!

Of those unfortunates

that do pass,

only three of you will live

to reach retirement...

'cause divin'is the most

dangerous job in the Navy.

So who wants to quit?

Say it now,

who wants to quit?

You got somethin' to offer,

huh?

Who wants to save me the sweat

of training your sorry ass?

You? You?

Cookie?

You?

You gonna look me

in the eye, son, huh?

What are you,

some kind of broke-dick Popeye?

Huh? Let me guess.

You were captain

of the swim team, weren't you?

You and your girlfriend used

to practice the breast stroke!

Say it

like you got a pair!

- My w-w-w-wife.

- Oh, that's right.

It's in your record.

You knocked her up sophomore year.

Well, maybe you can bring

the little w-w-w-woman down one night...

and all the boys can practice

the b-b-b-breast stroke.

I heard you were a hell of a swimmer,

Snowhill. State champ?

Y-Yes, y-yes,

M-Master Chief.

Snowhill,

please step forward.

Come on.

About face.

You let go before I relieve you,

you fail my course right now,

got it, swim champ?

Swimmin' don't got dick sh*t

to do with deep-sea divin'.

If Johnny f***in' Weismuller

were in the soup...

wearin' a 200-pound

Mark Five divin' rig,

he couldn't swim

to f*** Esther Williams...

if she was three feet

in front of him buck naked.

The only way to survive

is to trust each other,

'cause underwater all you got

is the man next to you.

And that is why the only men

that get through my course...

are the very, very best.

Now get out of my sight.

Boy, I don't know.

Permission to relieve

the man below, Master Chief.

What are you, cookie,

some kind of goddamn hero?

I got no room in my class for heroes

or stutterin' swim champs...

with a wife and kids

to worry about, do you read me?

If you wanna flunk me, flunk me, but

don't punish him for being decent to me.

I don't have to flunk you.

You're gonna do that all on your own.

He had half a chance.

He still does.

Permission to relieve him.

Claims he can hold his breath over four

minutes. Hell, it ain't even been two.

- I believe Gunner's Mate

Snowhill's a liar!

Now we're men of honor, ain't we,

cookie? We don't abide liars.

You're out of my program,

Snowhill.

Bosun's Mate Brashear,

you have the barracks to yourself.

Damn!

The Navy diver

is not a fighting man.

He is a salvage expert.

If it's lost underwater, he finds it.

If it's sunk, he brings it up.

If it's in the way, he moves it.

If he's lucky, he'll die young

200 feet beneath the waves...

for that is the closest he will

ever get to being a hero.

Hell, I don't know why anybody'd

want to be a Navy diver.

Good flange work, Rourke.

Almost there.

Thank you, Master Chief.

Machinist's Mate Rourke, 91.

Machinist's Mate Rourke, 91.

Bosun's Mate Brashear, 37.

- If you fail the next test,

you're out of the program.

- Yes, sir.

There are seats of learning beyond

the walls and control of this camp.

Ladies,

this is weekend liberty.

Anyone's ass

that ain't back here on time

will have to answer to me personally.

And remember, ladies, one-night stands

may be over by mornin',

but syp hilis lasts

a lifetime.

Dismissed!

Watch out.

- Have fun, baby.

- Flowers!

Flowers! Hey, how about some flowers

for your young lady, huh?

What's the hitch?

- You're the one who called.

- Yes, ma'am.

I told you. We're a public library,

not a tutoring service.

Now, if you don't mind,

there is a Mr. Biddle at home.

In fact, he's probably

brought flowers.

Have a wonderful weekend.

And lock up, would you?

- Uh-huh.

- And be sure to kick him out.

- Hello.

- We're closed.

Not for three minutes.

You studying on nursin'?

A person doesn't "study on"

anything, Bosun's Mate.

You know your rates and ranks. Did you

get that from one of these books?

Look, I'm not here

to flirt with you.

I'm in diving school

across the river.

I'm not just good at it.

I was born for it.

But the joke is, I'm gonna wash out

if I don't pass my next exam.

What was the last grade

you completed in school?

- Seventh.

- I can't help you.

- Why not?

- Because it took me four years

of working at places like this...

to get through med school.

Now I have six weeks to study for

my exam. I pass, I become an intern,

and maybe someday

become a doctor.

You're too far behind,

and I don't have the time.

Okay. Go on.

Walk around reading to yourself.

- Don't give me another thought.

Just go on.

- Don't you get it?

Whether I help you or not doesn't

matter. You're gonna fail anyway.

I won't. I can't.

Why do you want this

so badly?

Because they said

I couldn't have it.

I may know

a professor at City--

Boyle's Law describes

the behavior of gases undervarying

amounts of atmospheric pressure.

It states that if a diver

holds his breath at 100 feet,

continues holding while rising

to ten feet,

then the gases in his lungs

increase four times.

Now why is this important

to a diver?

Forget to exhale on the way up,

and your lungs explode.

I can work with you,

but my time is precious.

So the first time you go out

drinking and fighting...

and leave me waiting here,

our arrangement ends.

Good morning.

I, um... have to open up.

Now are you gonna tell me your

name, or is it still a secret?

My name is Jo.

My father always wanted

a boy.

He was in the Navy too.

- Is he still active?

- I haven't seen him since I was nine.

Mm-mm, mm-mm.

Like this.

- Good night.

- Good night.

Fire Controlman Mellegrano, 91.

Mate DuBoyce, 85.

Engineman Crofoot, 69.

Bosun's Mate

Carl Brashear,

Boots, cookie,

tear yourselves away, ladies.

You're next in the water. You're gonna

go down to the training vessel,

patch ahole so we canpump her full

of air and raise her to the surface.

Then we're gonna sink her

and do it again.

Because underwater,

all you've got is the man next to you!

Chief, what the hell's

goin' on down there?

That boy stays down there any longer,

he's gonna start gettin' mail.

Isert, come on.

Finish torching that hole.

I'm tryin',

but this thing's real awkward.

- How's it look?

- Looks like hell.

Green Diver, this is

Master Chief Sunday.

You have three minutes

to get your patch hot and hung

before the next team comes down.

Nowcome on, Isert!

Move your raggedy ass!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes