Sgt. Bilko

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Brass!

Livin' in the USA

This is WBXT,|the voice of Fort Baxter.

All personnel are invited to join|Sergeant Bilko in the motor pool...

...for a demonstration|of proper spark-plug maintenance...

...today at 0420, 0530 and 1455.

Those times again. 0420, 0530 and 1455.

- Did you win?|- Nope.

Private Wally Holbrook|reporting for duty.

- First assignment?|- Yes.

- Relax. Know where you're assigned?|- Motor pool.

- OK. Motor pool?|- Yes, I...

- You're going straight to the colonel.|- Colonel? What'd I do?

- How old are you, son?|- Nineteen, sir.

Nineteen... So young.

I'm a first-rate mechanic.|My two uncles owned a garage.

- Got any money?|- Yes, sir.

- Give it to me.|- But...

It's all right.

- My word, there must be $500 in here.|- 700. See, I worked at my uncle's...

You're going to take $700|in cash into Bilko's barracks?

- Yes, sir. Who, sir?|- Give me your hat, please.

Sergeant Bilko.|Master Sergeant Ernest G Bilko.

- Well, good luck. And Godspeed.|- Thank you, sir.

Remember, if you need anything|at all, need any help...

...the old colonel's door is always open.|- Thank you, sir.

Sir?

- I'm lookin' for Sergeant Bilko.|- You're too late, junior, no more bets.

- No, no, no. I'm reporting in.|- Come on, Duane! Pull!

Dig deep, baby!

Come on! Come on!

Come on! Come on!

He's got the wrong shoes!|Doberman's wearing the wrong shoes.

He's got no traction. And this horse!

This horse was not this lively this|morning. I want it drug tested now!

Someone, quick.|Get a urine bottle and a mop.

Hey! What's goin' on?

It's Private Doberman. He's the one|who looks sort of human.

Last night in the gym, Doberman said|"I feel as strong as a horse. "

Some guy from company P overheard him|and said "Yeah? For how much?"

It's the golden rule. You don't say nothing|unless you're prepared to back it up.

No, no, not across the line.|Don't go across. Back. Just, back. Back.

- Are you OK, Duane?|- Sarge, I can't do this any more!

You did your best, Duane.|What's money, anyway?

So, Bilko, I finally won one. Pay up.

- Hurry up.|- Oh, so now we're on a schedule?

- Shall we go once more?|- Sarge! Please, no more. No more, Sarge.

Don't worry. I won't put you|through that again.

- He's finished. He's a loser.|- No one calls one of Bilko's men a loser.

I oughta... Hold me back! Aah.|No, no! Let me go! I'll kill him.

- You wanna double the bet?|- Double the bet? Ha! You're serious.

- Sarge, no.|- What's the matter, Ernie? Scared?

Sarge, please. That's all|the platoon's money-every cent.

This is beyond money now. This is|a matter of honour. OK, the bet is 1,000.

Sucker.

Yeah!

Hey, you can't do that, man.

- Ready, Duane?|- Sure, Sarge.

See? He was just rollin' up the bet.

He's like a god.

Duane! Duane! Duane!

Duane! Duane! Duane!|Duane! Duane! Duane!

Yeah! Yeah!

Walk him around and wipe him down.

Not the horse! Doberman.

Listen, that M2 Bradley vehicle|is property of the US Army.

I want it back on the post by tonight.|We have rules! Rules and regulations.

I have your rental agreement right here.

And if you blow anything up,|it's coming out of your deposit.

Teenagers! So irresponsible.

- Sarge, you said I could count the take.|- She got to count it last time.

Will you stop fighting?|It's like I'm running a daycare centre.

Actually, that's not a bad idea.|We could keep 'em in the storeroom.

- Luis, how many kids on the post?|- Personal dependants under five?

- 293.|- Get me the total of their allowances.

- Hey, in the storeroom? Kids?|- Zimmy, they won't die.

In fact, that'll be our motto:|"They won't die. "

I'll count the money. Rocky, make sure|the horse gets back to Knott's Berry Farm.

Private First Class Holbrook, Walter T,|reporting in for duty, Sergeant!

Sarge, Holbrook is a tech-school terror.

First in his class,|motor-vehicle maintenance.

A real live wrench-turner|in the motor pool?

It's so crazy, it just might work.|I'll introduce you to the boys and girls.

What's the matter, Sarge?

Don't you smell it? It's money.

This is Sgt Henshaw and Sgt Barbella.|You'll see them about dances, raffles.

You'll get your tickets|through them. They run the shop.

So if you need stationery, magazines...|But not magazine subscriptions.

See Morales about that. Towels...

- Towels? Doesn't the army issue towels?|- Army? Get him a set of towels.

The fluffy ones.|The introductory price. Come on.

Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen.

This is Dino Paparelli.|You're gonna laugh, you're gonna cry.

You're gonna love|this scrappy little Italian.

- Hiya.|- Sam Fender. His motto in life is simple:

..."An indictment is not a conviction. "|- Damn straight.

That's manly talk. Mickey Zimmerman.

Tragically, Zimmerman was born|without a personality.

- Hello.|- Luis Clemente.

This guy is smart, very smart.|He has an IQ.

- Hello.|- See what I mean?

Tony Morales. The only thing|you need to know about him...

...is he doesn't take showers|because it fogs up the mirror.

Finally, the man of the hour, the master|of disaster, the king of the universe -

...look out, girls, he hates to dine alone -|Private Duane Doberman!

Aw, Sarge.

Doberman doesn't take showers either,|but for a much more frightening reason.

My orders, Sergeant.

Everything seems to be in order.|Henshaw will take your bags.

Don't worry, he's bonded. Got a licence?

- A driver's licence?|- We can make one up.

- Henshaw, get the camera!|- No, no. I have a licence. It's right here.

My wallet.

Oh, here it is. Empty.|It's in your hat, isn't it?

Good boy. Oh. Oh, there must be six...|no, seven hundred dollars in here. Good.

Well, you can start with this.|The colonel's car.

- OK, what's wrong with it?|- It's the odometer.

It says 12,000 miles,|and it should say 11,000 miles.

Tony drove it to Lake Tahoe|to go to his grandmother's funeral.

- I'm sorry.|- When I say that...

...I mean "visit his niece". And|when I say "niece", I mean lady friend?

Look. I'm winking. Look at my eye.

- You want me to turn that back?|- Yes.

- I can't do that, Sergeant.|- "Can't"! He said "can't"!

Sarge, are you all right?

Hey, man, "can't" is a four-letter word|in this platoon.

I cannot violate regulations,|unless it's an order...

...in which case I would have to ask|Master Sergeant Bilko to sign said order.

I'm asking you to do Tony here a favour.|We're all like family here.

Any one of these men|would take a bullet for you.

- Well, not in the chest.|- No, not in the chest, but in the thigh.

- Permission to speak freely?|- What, are we in Russia? Say anything.

You're soldiers. Guardians of freedom.

And frankly, I don't think there's a man|here taking his service oath seriously.

You know what? I'm gonna kill him.

Fender!

Now, this is the stuff|they should be teaching in the army.

- They are.|- No kidding?

Here's a mouldy oldie|for all our friends in the motor pool.

Ridin' along in my automobile

My baby beside me at the wheel

I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile

Brass!

My curiosity runnin' wild

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