Ahhh... I love soup. At least I think I love soup. Blasted shell! It's either soup or duck.
[Admiral Benson hits head on desk while ducking]
- Are you alright, sir?
Those are some long legs...
You know, I've personally flown over 194 missions and I was shot down on every one.
[greeting the arriving Admiral]
- Admiral Benson!
How are ya, sir?
- I could never find time for love. It's too heavy. It's an anchor that drowns a man. Besides, I got the sky, the smell of jet exhaust, my bike.
- A loner?
You disobeyed a direct order and lost a $13 million fighter in the process.
[Topper leans over her to press the button on the elevator and inhales]
- That's an interesting perfume.
- In exactly five hours and 17 minutes, we hit the enemy toast.
- I think that's the 'enemy coast', sir.
- Looks like enemy aircraft at 12 o'clock.
- Really? 12 o'clock? Well, that gives us about...
[checks his watch]
American planes will always be superior as long as there are wonderful men like you in the cockpit...
Alpha Velveeta Knuckle Underwear, you are cleared for take-off. When you hit that nuclear weapons plant... drop a bomb for me!
- We gotta mark the spot, though. Put Robinowitz in a life raft. Have him row in circles until we return.
- It could be days.
- You've got six bogies heading toward you!
[sneezes on the radar screen]
Hey Topper Harley, now that you've killed the bad guy and made the world safe for democracy, what are you going to do to cash in on your new found fame?
[air controller gets his earplugs out]
- We have these to hold down the sound, sir.
- Oh, good. Thanks.
[Admiral Benson swallows the earplugs]
My eyes are ceramic. Caught a bazooka round at Little Big Horn.
- I slipped on a crab. Who put that crab there?
- I don't see any crab, sir.
[Wash Out can't read the number on the runway he's landing on]
- I need clearance to land on runway thirty... thirty... something!
Now, if you have trouble hitting your objective, your secondary targets are here and here...
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