Ted Striker: Surely you can't be serious.
Rumack: I am serious, and don't call me Shirley.
Ted Striker: My orders came through. My squadron ships out tomorrow. We're bombing the storage depots at Daiquiri at 1800 hours. We're coming in from the north, below their radar.
Elaine Dickinson: When will you be back?
Ted Striker: I can't tell you that. It's classified.
Ted Striker: It's a damn good thing he doesn't know how much I hate his guts.
Elaine Dickinson: It's a damn good thing you don't know how much he hates your guts.
Old woman: Nervous?
Ted Striker: Yes.
Old woman: First time?
Ted Striker: No, I've been nervous lots of times.
Stewardess Randy: Excuse me sir, there has been a little problem in the cockpit...
Ted Striker: The cockpit? What is it?
Randy: It's the little room in front of the plane where the pilot's in, but that's not important right now.
Elaine: You got a letter from headquarters this morning.
Ted Striker: What is it?
Elaine: It's a big building where generals meet, but that's not important.
Ted Striker: Surely there must be something we can do about it.
Dr. Rumack: There is something we can do about it. And please, stop calling me Shirley.
Ted Striker: Because of my mistake, six men didn't return from that raid.
Elaine Dickinson: Seven. Lieutenant Zip died this morning.
Ted Striker: It was a rough place - the seediest dive on the wharf. Populated with every reject and cutthroat from Bombay to Calcutta. It's worse than Detroit.
Jake Wyer: I got a plan. Full frontal assault.
Sam French: A full-frontal assault. That's your plan?
Jake Wyer: It's got the element of surprise.
Sam French: Suicide is always surprising.
