there they are.
hey.
yeah -- look at those uniforms.
gunner's mate, third class -- l. johnson, sir.
that's right, sir.
thank you, sir.
i haven't surfed since i got here.
nice.
boss. what's the wind like.
what, sir?
this l.z. is still pretty hot, sir, maybe we oughta stand somewhere else.
i think we ought to wait for the tide to come in.
sure -- fine --
maybe he'll get tubed.
maybe he'll get inside the tube -- where -- where they can't see him.
the tragedy of this war is a dead surfer.
just something i read in the free press.
he'll kill us.
what?
what?
yeah, i'm an artist, goddamit !
yeah.  thanks.
nah.
no -- no, captain.
the yater -- the clear one with the thin stringer.
yeah, jesus christ !
maybe we better stay in under the trees till dark -- we got his yater.
yeah.
you hear it again?
you think he'd of shot us?
any time -- us -- americans.
a yater spoon is hard to get -- especially here.
captain -- that was all true about the rats and chocolate and stuff?
and you could just tell when the supplies were booby trapped?
what's this tiger shit?
you think?
why don't you go pet the water buffaloes -- get off my back.
well -- uh thanks -- see you around.
we thought you were dead.
it breaks through in about twenty feet.
i'll help you with --
huh? oh. um, wouldya .  wouldya pass me the rice-a-roni, please.
the other one --
jesus !
sounds like hundreds of them.
chief's dead.
what?