[tries to stop smiling]
[Pyle drops down to his knees]Now choke yourself.
[Pyle wraps his own hands around his throat]Goddamn it, with MY hand, numb-nuts!
[Pyle reaches for Hartman's hand]Don't pull my fucking hand over there! I said choke yourself; now lean forward and choke yourself!
[Pyle does so]Are you through grinning?[gagging] Sir, yes, sir.[louder] Sir, yes, sir.
[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman walks toward Pvt. Pyle; Pyle holds up his rifle][hard and firm tone] Sir, four counts, sir!
[turns and addresses rest of platoon]Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon. I have tried to help him. But I have failed. I have failed because YOU have not helped me. YOU people have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle fucks up, I will not punish him! I will punish all of YOU! And the way I see it ladies, you owe me for ONE JELLY DOUGHNUT! NOW GET ON YOUR FACES!
[rest of recruits get in front-leaning-rest position, Hartman turns to Pyle]Open your mouth!
[shoves jelly doughnut into PYLE's mouth]They're payin' for it; YOU eat it! Ready! Exercise!
[after discovering Private Pyle's unlocked footlocker]Jesus H Christ. Private Pyle, why is your footlocker unlocked?
[Pyle accidentally puts his rifle on his right shoulder, then corrects quickly, but not before Hartman sees it. He walks up on him]Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?[slaps Pyle hard on the left hand side of his face] What side was that, Private Pyle?[shouts] Are you sure, Private Pyle?[slaps him hard again, this time on right side of his face, knocking his hat off; shouts]
What side was that, Private Pyle?[nearly in tears] Sir, right side, sir!