Dispatches

War stories aren't really anything more than stories about people anyway.

Mal Hombre: God damn it, Sergeant. I thought you were a professional soldier.

Sergeant: I waited as long as I could, Sir. Any longer, and I was gonna lose my man.

Mal Hombre: This outfit is perfectly capable of taking care of its own dirty laundry. Is that clear, Sergeant?

Sergeant: Colonel, since when is a wounded trooper 'dirty laundry'?

Black sergeant: You a reporter?

Herr: No, a writer.

Black sergeant: Careful. You can't use no eraser up where you wanna go.

There was such a dense concentration of energy there [Vietnam], American and essentially adolescent, if that energy could have been channeled into anything more than noise, waste and pain it would have lighted up Indochina for a thousand years.

I think that Vietnam is what we had instead of happy childhoods.

Vietnam, Vietnam, Vietnam, we've all been there.

Soldier: You guys aught to do a story on me suntahm.

Herr: Why should we do a story about you?

Soldier: 'Cause I'm so fuckin' good, 'n' that ain' no shit, neither. Got me one hunnert 'n' fifty-se'en gooks kilt. 'N' fifty caribou. Them're all certified.