A squad of National Guards on an isolated weekend exercise in the Louisiana swamp must fight for their lives when they anger local Cajuns by stealing their canoes. Without live ammunition ... See full summary¬†¬Ľ

Simms: Why are we following this dumb bastard?
Stuckey: Because he's got stripes.
Simms: Hey Spencer. What about company command? They should be wondering about us, don't you think?
Spencer: No. Not yet.
Simms: We've been out of contact for 12 hours.
Cpl. 'Coach' Bowden: He's right. They should be looking for us by now.
Spencer: No way. National Guard, remember. We were supposed to meet the trucks 20 minutes ago. Another hour and a half the trucks will actually show up. Two o'clock they'll start asking around if anyone's seen us. At three they'll start checking the bars. At four they'll really get steamed. At five it will occur to someone that maybe we got lost. At six the captain will consider calling battalion; at seven thirty he will.Battalion will tell him it's too late; there's nothing anyone can do till morning.
Cpl. 'Coach' Bowden: Well, I do what I do.
Spencer: Smokes made it through the water, huh?
Hardin: Yeah, saved a pack. Lucky, huh?
Cajun Trapper: Kill him! Kill him!
Staff Sgt. Crawford Poole: [when they first meet] So, Hardin, how do you like being in the Louisiana Guard?
Hardin: [flat] I don't. But then I didn't much like being in the Texas Guard, either.
Staff Sgt. Crawford Poole: ...Well, not liking the Texas Guard makes sense. Not liking the LOUISIANA Guard can get you in trouble with me. You got that?
Simms: [crying] I didn't do anything wrong... I'm not supposed to be here... I'm not supposed to be here!
[gets shot in the chest]
Spencer: [Hardin and Spencer are trying to find a way out of the woods] Maybe we should call the National Guard?
Spencer: How long you been married?
Hardin: Five years.
Spencer: Happily?
Hardin: Yeah. I like her, she's got a good sense of humor. Why do you ask?
Spencer: Well, I just figured if I get out of here alive and you don't, I might look her up.
Hardin: Hey, I said *she* has a good sense of humor. *I* don't.
Sgt. Casper: [looking at a map, obviously puzzled] There's supposed to be a river here.
Spencer: Them ecology boys must've moved it.
Cpl. 'Coach' Bowden: Caspar! Comes a time when you have to abandon principles and do what's right.
Hardin: I got news for you. He's nuts. I mean really fuckin' nuts.
Sgt. Casper: Son of a bitch! You could've busted his jaw!
Simms: That's right.
Sgt. Casper: We want him to talk!
Cpl. Lonnie Reece: You almost knocked his mouth straight down to his ass.
Sgt. Casper: Jesus Christ, Simms! We've got to interrogate the man. Now how the hell is he gonna talk to us if you're gonna break his fuckin' jaw?
Simms: That's his fuckin' problem!
Spencer: Here's your ammo... blade to the throat, huh, that how they do these things in El Paso?
Hardin: Yeah, that's how they do things where I grew up.
Spencer: Thought you're some kind of chemical engineer.
Hardin: I am, and I'm out of the habit of spending time with a bunch of gun-totin' rednecks.
Spencer: Well, you know how it is, down here in Louisiana, we don't carry guns, we carry ropes, RC colas and moon pies, we're not too smart, but we have a real good time.
Spencer: And what'd you paint the cross on your chest for?
Cpl. 'Coach' Bowden: That's part of the joke.
Spencer: What joke?
Cpl. 'Coach' Bowden: It's a corporal joke, private.
Sgt. Casper: Oh what the hell Bowden, you dumb son of a bitch, you just blew up all the supplies we captured, all the guns, the ammo, the food...
Cajun Trapper: I ain't gonna kill y'all if I don't got ta... you got a bayou over dere... take it... stay to the west side... you're gonna find a road about a mile up dere.
Hardin: Do you mind tellin' us what the Hell this is all about?
Cajun Trapper: It real simple... we live back in here... dis is our home, and nobody don't fuck with us.
Hardin: [pointing at Bowden, who is hanging dead from a tree] What about HIM?
Cajun Trapper: What about 'im?
Hardin: Did he do it to himself or did your friends help him out?
Cajun Trapper: [fires shot at Hardin's feet] Now, if I was you all, I'd quit askin' questions and haul ass... 'cause my buddies... dey not nice like me.
Hardin: Are we supposed to say thanks?
Cajun Trapper: You not supposed to say nuttin'... soldier.
Hardin: Four of them with automatic weapons against some swamp rat. I make it even money.
Cpl. Lonnie Reece: Voulez vous fuck me!
Spencer: Now boys, the purpose of the Louisiana National Guard is to keep you darker boys away from decent Southern women, but in the spirit of the New South, I have made full arrangements.
Hardin: A truck! A fuckin' truck!
Cpl. Lonnie Reece: Like steel pussies
[pointing to bear traps]
Pfc. Tyrone Cribbs: What kind of women you been hanging around with?
Spencer: It's all set. Noleen and her bayou queens. Just a little something for morale. And let me add, Sergeant, that these women are expecting some, uh, small unit military penetration.

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