Rudyard Kipling's
Soldiers Three
A Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Picture, copyright 1951

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Best lines
Warning: may contain spoilers!

Scottish soldier in kilt: I trust you'll no take a chance of strikin' the ladies.
Malloy: Only in self-defense ... ma'am. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Sykes: Arr, I wouldn't part with that no more than my mother if I had one.

Ackroyd (to the sedan drivers): Turn around and go back in the direction of the other way.

Col. Groat: Captain Pindenny, just for my own information, just what is the sedan chair about?
Capt. Pindenny: Well, sir, it was used as a sort of ... decoy, sir. They--to--to sort of penetrate the spies' whereabouts, sir. Rather the way the ancient Greeks reached the walls of Troy, sir.
Groat: Don't you know your history? The Greeks used a horse.
Pindenny: Oh. Well, I suppose the horse did have some use in those days, sir.

Malloy: It just goes to show ya--give a man one little ounce of authority, it turns him into a bloomin' officer every time. ...
Hey, hey, hey! How much is three 18s? Fifty-four, ya cheat!
Sykes: Arr, an' if you're goin' t' do 'n, do 'n right! Take 17.
Ackroyd: Three 17s is 51! How do I get a third by taking 17?!
Malloy: All right, then, all right, I'll tear this into three halves for ya. How will that content ya? [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Malloy, proffering Ackroyd's left-behind laundry: Oh, uh, Sergeant, sir, your socks, sir. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Malloy (to Ackroyd): Why, ya--ya dirty twister!
Sykes: Why, you--you dirty twister! [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Pindenny: Can you moo like a cow, Sykes?
Sykes: Arr, I--I'm bad out of practice, sir.
Pindenny: Do your best.
Sykes: Moo! Mooo!
Ackroyd: You're doin' it all wrong. You're mooing like a woman. You wanna put more bull in it!
Sykes: Arrrrr, then. Mmmmmmooooooooooooooo!
Cow: Mooo. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Malloy (reminding Ackroyd to disrobe, like the rest of the company): And, Sergeant, sir, your trousers, sir.
[Ackroyd scowls and wades into the river.]
Pindenny: Ackroyd! Ackroyd! Ackroyd, you idiot! Come back!
Ackroyd: I'm sorry, sir, but I trust my trousers to nobody. [Pointing to Malloy and Sykes:] Especially some. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Sykes: I never understood the invention of water--it ain't fit to touch and it ain't fit to drink neither. Why, it's-- [glub]
Malloy: Ah, will ya push, Bill, for the love o' Mike! Sure I can't do it all. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Malloy: Just imagine--being saved from a watery grave by a sergeant.
Sykes: Arr, that's no sergeant; that's Archibald! [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Pindenny: Ackroyd, you--you are now the only man with any trousers.
Ackroyd: Yes, sir, I'm the stupid one, sir.
Pindenny: Do you, um--d'you think you could ... find some for the rest of us? Have you any ideas?
Ackroyd (thinking a moment): Yes, sir, I have, sir. I'll do my very best, sir. In fact, I might say my utmost, sir. Above and beyond the call of duty, sir.
Pindenny: Carry on.

Ackroyd, visiting an old girlfriend: Might a man have left some clothes around the house?
Crenshaw (indignantly): Clothes! So that's why. What are you, a rag picker? No man's clothes are around this house--nor shall there be, and that includes yours!

Pindenny: Easy on the oxen!

Groat: No sedan chair, Pindenny?

Ackroyd: Moooooo.
Sykes: Mooooooo.
Ackroyd: Moooooo.
Sykes: Archibald!
Ackroyd: Ah, you knew it was me, eh?
Malloy: Well, as one cow to another, we did, yes.
Sykes: Arr, but 'twas a pitiful moo. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Major Mercer: Pindenny, if you'd stop writing valentines to Brunswick, you might think better.

Ackroyd: Sir, if I get killed doin' this, sir, which is very likely, sir, would it be too much to ask the Colonel to put "Private Ackroyd" on my tombstone?
Malloy: You know, it strikes me, with us lads sittin' here on this powder, we mightn't be havin' any tombstones at all, might we?
Sykes: An' nothin' to put under 'em if we had 'em. [Click here for a RealAudio clip]

Groat: What about England and Ackroyd? Or is it Ackroyd and England?
Brunswick: Ackroyd is England, blast him.

Brunswick: Sit down, Ackroyd.
Ackroyd: ... I won't if you don't mind, sir. Bit of an engagement with a cactus, sir.
Brunswick: I see. Rear action, eh?

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