"You talking about killing? Hmm? Y'all experts? Y'all know about killing? I'd like to hear about it, potheads. [takes pipe and sniffs] Are you smoking this shit so's to escape from reality? Me, I don't need this shit. I am reality. There's the way it ought to be, and there's the way it is. Elias was full of shit. Elias was a crusader. Now, I got no fight... with any man who does what he's told. But when he don't, the machine breaks down. And when the machine breaks down, we break down. And I ain't gonna allow that...in any of you. Not one. [hands pipe back and spits] Y'all love Elias. Oh, you wanna kick ass. Yeah. Well, here I am, all by my lonesome. And there ain't nobody gonna know. Six of you boys against me. Kill me. [pause] Huh. I shit on all of you."

"[pointing to a dead soldier] You all take a good look at this lump of shit. Remember what it looks like. You fuck up in a firefight and I goddamn guarantee you a trip out of the bush, in a body bag! Out here, assholes, you keep your shit wired tight at all times! [turns to Taylor] And that goes for you, shit-for-brains. You don't sleep on no fuckin' ambush! [turns to Junior] And the next sum'bitch I catch coppin' Z's in the bush, I'm personally gonna take an interest in seein' him suffer. I shit you not. Doc, tag him and bag him!"

"[to a wounded soldier] Shut up! Shut up, and take the pain! TAKE THE PAIN!"

"I think now, looking back, we did not fight the enemy, we fought ourselves, and the enemy was in us. The war is over for me now, but it will always be there, the rest of my days. As I'm sure Elias will be, fighting with Barnes for what Rhah calls "possession of my soul". There are times since, I've felt like a child, born of those two fathers. But be that as it may, those of us who did make it have an obligation to build again. To teach to others what we know, and to try with what's left of our lives to find a goodness and a meaning to this life."

"Day by day I struggle to maintain not only my strength but also my sanity. It's all a blur. I have no energy to write. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore. The morale of the men is low, a civil war in the platoon. Half the men with Elias, half with Barnes. There's a lot of suspicion and hate. I can't believe we're fighting each other when we should be fighting them."

"New Year's Day, 1968. Just another day, stayin' alive. There's been a lot of movement near the Cambodian border, regiments of NVA moving across. A lot of little firefights and ambushes. We drop a lot of bombs and then we walk through the jungle like ghosts in a landscape."

"Somebody once wrote, "Hell is the impossibility of reason." That's what this place feels like. Hell. I hate it already and it's only been a week. Some goddamn week, Grandma. The hardest thing I think I've ever done is go on point three times this week - I don't even know what I'm doing. A gook could be standing three feet in front of me and I wouldn't know it. I'm so tired. We get up at 5 am, hump all day, camp around four or five, dig a foxhole, eat, then put out an all-night ambush or a three-man listening post in the jungle. It's scary, 'cause nobody tells me how to do anything 'cause I'm new and nobody cares about the new guys. They don't even want to know your name. The unwritten rule is a new guy's life isn't worth as much 'cause he hasn't put his time in yet. And they say if you're gonna get killed in the Nam, it's better to get it in the first few weeks, the logic being you don't suffer that much. If you're lucky, you get to stay in the perimeter at night and then you pull a three-hour guard shift, so maybe you sleep 3, 4 hours a night, but you don't really sleep. I don't think I can keep this up for a year, Grandma. I think I've made a big mistake comin' here. Of course, Mom and Dad didn't want me to come here. They wanted me to be just like them. Respectable, hardworking, a little house, a family. They drove me crazy with their goddamn world, Grandma. You know Mom. I guess I've always been sheltered and special. I just wanna be anonymous like everybody else. Do my share for my country. Live up to what Grandpa did in the first war and Dad did in the second. Well, here I am, anonymous alright, with guys nobody really cares about. They come from the end of the line, most of 'em. Small towns you never heard of: Pulaski, Tennessee. Brandon, Mississippi. Pork Bend, Utah. Wampum, Pennsylvania. Two years' high school's about it. Maybe if they're lucky, a job waiting for 'em back in a factory. But most of 'em got nothin'. They're poor. They're the unwanted. Yet they're fighting for our society and our freedom. It's weird, isn't it? At the bottom of the barrel, and they know it. Maybe that's why they call themselves 'grunts', cause a grunt can take it, can take anything. They're the best I've ever seen, Grandma. The heart and soul. Maybe I finally found it way down here in the mud. Maybe from down here I can start up again and be something I can be proud of, without having to fake it, be a fake human being. Maybe I can see something I don't yet see, or learn something I don't yet know. I miss you. I miss you very much. Tell Mom I miss her too. Chris."

"[reading a letter Kurtz has sent to his son] Dear son, I'm afraid that both you and your mother will have been worried at not hearing from me during the past weeks, but my situation here has become a difficult one. I've been officially accused of murder by the Army. The alleged victims were four Vietnamese double agents. We spent months uncovering them and accumulating evidence. When absolute proof was completed, we acted. We acted like soldiers. The charges are unjustified. They are, in fact, and in the circumstances of this conflict, quite completely insane. In a war, there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action — what is often called ruthless, what may in many circumstances be only clarity — seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it directly, quickly, awake, looking at it. I will trust you to tell your mother what you choose about this letter. As for the charges against me, I am unconcerned. I am beyond their timid, lying morality, and so I am beyond caring. You have all my faith. Your loving father.""

"It is impossible to describe what is necessary, to those who do not know what horror means. You must make a friend of horror."

"MORNING SMELLS Some People Like Coffee. Some People Like Napalm."

"To the victims go the spoils."

"This is the end..."

"The Horror. . . The Horror. . ."

"Cynthia Wood - Playmate of the year"