Lobel Quotes in Fallen Angels
“You call that a sport?” Monaco asked. “I mean, there you are, you gotta weigh two hundred pounds, and you got a rifle, and you’re against a squirrel that weighs maybe two or three pounds, and he ain’t got nothing.”
“Man, it’s a damn sport!” Simpson protested […]
“The way I figure it,” Monaco went on, “if you hunt a squirrel with a rifle, what do you hunt a bear with? Artillery?”
“Call in some white phosphorous on him,” Brew said. “That’ll get his attention until the jets zero in.”
[…]
“You don’t know nothing about no hunting!” Simpson was getting pissed. “You don’t know what hunting is!”
“What he’s trying to say […] is that the white phosphorous is enough. After it burns the bear’s ass off, then the good sergeant will finish him off with a couple of frag grenades,” [said Lobel].
[…] Sergeant Simpson got up and left the hooch.
“Hey, Lobel, I didn’t mean anything,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“No sweat […] I’m a little nervous, too. I’d be real nervous, except I know none of this is real and I’m just playing a part.”
“What part are you playing?”
“The part where the star of the movie is sitting in the foxhole explaining how he feels about life and stuff like that. You never get killed in movies when you’re doing that. Anytime you get killed in a movie, it’s after you set it up.”
“You play a part when we were on patrol?”
“That wasn’t a patrol […] that was a firefight […] Anytime anybody is getting shot at it’s a firefight. […] Anyway, I was playing Lee Marvin as a tough sergeant. That’s my best part.”
Then I asked him about the letter.
“You know why that letter sucks?” he asked.
“How come?”
“Because I joined the friggin’ army in the first place so he would stop thinking I was a faggot,” Lobel said. “Now he thinks I’m a creep because I’m in the army.”
“What the hell does he know?”
“You know what I hope?” Lobel asked. “I hope I get killed over here so he has to fit that shit between his vodka martinis.”
“The next time we call for artillery, we’ll aim it right at your pad at home,” I said.
“You know what that jackass doesn’t know?” Lobel said, looking away from me, “He don’t know that now I can go back home and blow him away. That’s what I’m fucking trained for man. That’s what I’m fucking trained for.”
Lobel damned near dragged Jamal into our hooch.
“Go ahead, tell him what you heard,” Lobel said to Jamal.
“Sergeant Simpson and Captain Stewart got into a fight,” Jamal said. “Captain Stewart told Sergeant Simpson that if he didn’t shut up and get out he was going to bust him down to private.”
[…]
“What they fighting about?” Johnson asked.
[…]
“He found out that Captain Stewart is volunteering Alpha Company all over the place. He asked him what he’s doing that for, and Captain Stewart said that if he didn’t want to fight, he shouldn’t have extended.”
What Jamal said went down hard. We didn’t mind doing our part because it had to be done, even though we didn’t have answers to why we were doing it.
But nobody wanted to go out and risk their lives so that Stewart could make major.
Lobel Quotes in Fallen Angels
“You call that a sport?” Monaco asked. “I mean, there you are, you gotta weigh two hundred pounds, and you got a rifle, and you’re against a squirrel that weighs maybe two or three pounds, and he ain’t got nothing.”
“Man, it’s a damn sport!” Simpson protested […]
“The way I figure it,” Monaco went on, “if you hunt a squirrel with a rifle, what do you hunt a bear with? Artillery?”
“Call in some white phosphorous on him,” Brew said. “That’ll get his attention until the jets zero in.”
[…]
“You don’t know nothing about no hunting!” Simpson was getting pissed. “You don’t know what hunting is!”
“What he’s trying to say […] is that the white phosphorous is enough. After it burns the bear’s ass off, then the good sergeant will finish him off with a couple of frag grenades,” [said Lobel].
[…] Sergeant Simpson got up and left the hooch.
“Hey, Lobel, I didn’t mean anything,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“No sweat […] I’m a little nervous, too. I’d be real nervous, except I know none of this is real and I’m just playing a part.”
“What part are you playing?”
“The part where the star of the movie is sitting in the foxhole explaining how he feels about life and stuff like that. You never get killed in movies when you’re doing that. Anytime you get killed in a movie, it’s after you set it up.”
“You play a part when we were on patrol?”
“That wasn’t a patrol […] that was a firefight […] Anytime anybody is getting shot at it’s a firefight. […] Anyway, I was playing Lee Marvin as a tough sergeant. That’s my best part.”
Then I asked him about the letter.
“You know why that letter sucks?” he asked.
“How come?”
“Because I joined the friggin’ army in the first place so he would stop thinking I was a faggot,” Lobel said. “Now he thinks I’m a creep because I’m in the army.”
“What the hell does he know?”
“You know what I hope?” Lobel asked. “I hope I get killed over here so he has to fit that shit between his vodka martinis.”
“The next time we call for artillery, we’ll aim it right at your pad at home,” I said.
“You know what that jackass doesn’t know?” Lobel said, looking away from me, “He don’t know that now I can go back home and blow him away. That’s what I’m fucking trained for man. That’s what I’m fucking trained for.”
Lobel damned near dragged Jamal into our hooch.
“Go ahead, tell him what you heard,” Lobel said to Jamal.
“Sergeant Simpson and Captain Stewart got into a fight,” Jamal said. “Captain Stewart told Sergeant Simpson that if he didn’t shut up and get out he was going to bust him down to private.”
[…]
“What they fighting about?” Johnson asked.
[…]
“He found out that Captain Stewart is volunteering Alpha Company all over the place. He asked him what he’s doing that for, and Captain Stewart said that if he didn’t want to fight, he shouldn’t have extended.”
What Jamal said went down hard. We didn’t mind doing our part because it had to be done, even though we didn’t have answers to why we were doing it.
But nobody wanted to go out and risk their lives so that Stewart could make major.
