Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Avert your eyes!
In their eyes, you'll never be as good as them.
I can't do that, chief. I haven't reported for duty.
When people ask why you’re doing this
My name is Master Chief Billy Sunday.
You were right, chief. You and I have nothing in common.
I made some calls.
Knowing you, it's gonna be something big.
Well, I'll be goddamned.
Some good, some bad.
...that some things do not change.
I just made you a deck seaman three days ago.
Roger that.
Put pineapple on your pizza if you feel like it
Say now, who wants to quit?
Carl, do you read me?
Senior Chief Sunday...
Never been there.
Watch the door. Try not to touch anything.
Swim champ had half a chance.
You have to let them know who's boss.
You're fined one half month's pay for six months...
...it's time to ring in the New Year.
Stationed in Norfolk, Virginia, the divers were flown here hours ago...
It's a lot of brass to sling up from a seated position.
Late for what?
Senior Chief Brashear, the business of the modern Navy...
I got no room for heroes or stuttering swim champs with a wife and kids.
I pass, I become an intern, maybe someday a doctor.
Three from the first row, step forward.
...where it is my greatest wish...
- Auld lang syne and all. - Auld lang syne.
This field ain't ever gonna be done.
I guess not.
I wrote it.
We landed on something.
I heard you were a hell of a swimmer, Snowhill. State champ?
Pull him up. Faster! Faster!
- A Navy master diver? - Yes, sir.
Three-quarters of you standing here will fail to become Navy divers.
you know what the chinese say cookie?
My opinion might mean something here.
She told me it was okay to dance with girls.
- Red diver, what's your situation? - The whole ship just dropped 50 feet.
We gotta go now, because Billy's gonna dance with me.
Give up, Cookie.
Goddamn It, Karlo, Move Your Ass! I Want My 12 Goddamn It, Cookie, Move Your Ass! I Want My 12
Pimple on God's ass.
Where are you? Are you okay?
Fraternizing among Navy men?
You got fucked Happens to the best of us
- You can't go down there. - I won't have your familiar tone.
Captain, I concur with your assessment.
Could you do that, Senior Chief Brashear?
And which one is that?
I can't.
- Has-been. - Yes.
Hell I don't know why anyone would want To be a floatplane pilot
Here, sir.
To return to the chief's primary concern.
- We'll bring him home. - Sailor!
- You fail the next test, you're out. - Yes, sir.
Let's go, son. Your father's waiting on us.
Thirty-six hours ago, an American B-52 bomber...
But the joke is, I'll wash out if I fail my next exam.
And me? You better than me?
Come on, Jane.
Afternoon, chief.
Come on. We'll help you.
Makes you think twice about who you invite into your home.
Sailor! Sailor!
...we have every cook and shine boy thinking they'll be next...
Come on, Carl.
Move!
- It won't happen again. - Yes, it will.
Change a fucking bedpan!