1. Episode 1 (第1季)【完整台词】

Hey, can somebody help me here? Help him! Help him! Oh, shit! Don't worry.

I'm turning There's something wrong with the plane! Man, just got to keep going.

So you're helping the boys on the ground after all.

- I hope you die! - Got to jump, Yossarian! No, come back! I'm right behind you.

I've got to get it out You goddamn spastics think I'm gonna let you prance around here like a Busby Berkeley chorus line, then you've got another think coming to you.

I make you practice marching more than any other squadron so you'll be better for the Sunday parades, and what happens? - We look worse.

- You look worse.

Just meet me halfway.

Don't I always meet you more than halfway? That may be why we never meet at all.

Is it my fault? Is any of this my fault? I want to be told.

I won't punish the man who tells me the truth.

- I swear.

- Oh, yes, he will.

I would be thankful to the man who tells me the truth.

Why can you not walk a straight line? Why can you not turn a 90-degree angle after 11 weeks? Why do you not seem to care that we are nine days from the Inter-Squadron Parade Jamboree? What the fuck are you staring at? How can we finally, finally I beg you find a way of getting this thing right? I actually know the answer to this.

- No, you don't.

- Oh, my God, Clevinger.

No, really, I was looking - at the parade manual - Shut up.

About breaking us into smaller - groups to start.

- You really need to shut up.

And the $100 question why is it so hard to restrict the swing of your arms to a maximum seven-inch lateral pendulum arc with a maximum four-inch distance from wrist to thigh? Peele, if you please! Seven-inch lateral pendulum arc, four-inch distance wrist to thigh.

- Thank you, Peele! - Yes, sir! Why is that so hard? Why is that so hard? Seven-inch swing, four-inch gap.

Then we look tight.

Then we look fierce.

Then we stand out from all the goddamn free-swinging arms that seem to be the goddamn fashion these days.

Then we win the goddamn pennant because your goddamn hands ought never move more than three and a half inches in either direction, north or south, from the center of your thigh! But apparently we're all a bunch of mongoloids.

He's talking about you, Clevinger.

Reprobates! And I've been staying up at night.

I've been saying to myself "How are we gonna win this thing, boys?" And you know what'd do it? I got a friend in the sheet-metal shop, and he'd make me little pegs of nickel alloy, and I could sink each one of them into your thigh bones and connect it to your wrists with strands of copper wire with exactly three and a half inches of play, because apparently we're all a bunch of pansies! So I'm asking you, somebody tell me, what is it that I am doing wrong? Somebody, anybody tell me, where have I failed? No, it's a rhetorical question.

- Sir! - He - Soldier? - Jesus Christ.

Well, sir, I've actually been thinking about this.

And, you see, I think it's quite a simple solution.

What's your name, soldier? - Clevinger, sir.

Air Corps Cadet Timothy Clyde Clevinger.

So I was thinking, the problem lies in the relationship between the synchronization of the whole unit and synchronization of the individual lines, you see? You start small rather than big, you divide the unit into practice groups, say six to ten men, well, it's just human nature to take in information more concretely in smaller groups.

So, sir, I would suggest your error Clevinger, stop fucking talk This group small enough for you? I still can't understand it.

What is there to understand? They hate you.

They hate you before you got here.

They hate you while you're here, and they're gonna keep on hating you after you leave.

I'm sorry, buddy.

As the lead bombardier in the squadron, everyone else is following your cues.

So, with this practice run, set your sighting angle to 70 degrees.

Now, clutch in, turn your rate and motor switch on.

The rate and motor runs within five RPMs of the chosen speed.

Here they come, Nately.

It's the Red Baron.

Take him down.

You know what's happening to your rate index? You're trying to find just one point on that scale.

But watch the indices.

That's the only way you keep track of where you are.

So get in the habit now.

So, you're lined up.

What's next? Open bomb bay doors.

Okay, go ahead.

Opening bomb bay doors.

Level carefully so you can keep the vertical reference line.

Every calculation must be precise.

And next? - Bombs away? - Correct.

Bombs away.

Whoo! Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You know, I bet I could name two things to be miserable about for every one you can name to be thankful for.

Mmm, be thankful you're healthy.

Be bitter you're not gonna stay that way.

Be glad you're even alive.

Be furious how you're gonna die.

Things could be much worse.

Yeah, well, things could be one hell of a lot better.

You're naming only one thing.

You said you could name two.

Mmm.

And don't tell me that God works in mysterious ways.

There's nothing mysterious about it.

He's not working at all.

- You know, he's playing.

- Mm-hmm.

Or else He's forgotten all about us.

He is a brainless, conceited hayseed.

I mean, how mu how much reverence can you have for a supreme being who finds it necessary to rob old people of the power to control their bowel movements, hmm? Why the hell did He create pain? Pain is useful.

Pain is a warning to us of bodily dangers.

And who created the dangers? Yeah, He was certainly being He was certainly being charitable when He gave us pain.

Why couldn't He have used a-a doorbell to let us know? Or one of Or one of His celestial choirs? You know, when you think about the chance that He had to do something good, and then you look at the stupid ugly mess that He made of it instead, His incompetence is staggering.

Better be careful what you say about Him, honey.

He might punish you.

Like He doesn't punish me already.

You know, one day I'm gonna make Him pay.

One day I'm gonna grab that little yokel by His neck.

You're gonna be in so much trouble.

I thought you didn't believe in God.

I don't.

But the God I don't believe in is a good God.

Not the mean and stupid God you make Him out to be.

I'm not making Him out to be anything.

- Mm-hmm.

- I'm just reporting the facts.

Take it easy, McWatt.

Get in the goddamn bunk.

It's almost lights out.

Hey, what time's the parade drill tomorrow? - 0600.

- Fuck, great.