I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false are often reveling.

— Donny!
— Yeah?
— Got us a German here who wants to die for country. Oblige him.

There's a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch.

— You didn't say the goddamn rendez-vous was in a fuckin basement.
— I didn't know.
— You said it was in a tavern?
— It is a tavern.
— Yeah, in a basement. You know, fightin in a basement offers a lot of difficulties, number one being, your fighting in a basement.

— You know what sit down means Werner?
— Yes.
— Then sit down.

I know this is a silly question before I ask it, but can you Americans speak any other language besides English?

— Did you hear that? That's the sound of my Luger pointed right at your testicles.
<...>
— I was saying that makes two of us. I've had a gun pointed at your balls since you sat down.
— That makes three of us.

— It would appear, there's only thing left for you to do.
— Say, auf wiedersehen to your balls!

That's why any and every son-of-a-bitch we find wearin a Nazi uniform, there gonna die.

— How about you Uitivich?
— I guess so too.

The Jew degenerate known as The Bear Jew, hence forth, is never to be referred to as The Bear Jew again.

Every man under my command, owes me, one hundred nazi scalps.

But I sure as hell, didnt come down from the goddamn Smoky mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half Sicily, and then jump out of a fuckin air-o-plane, to teach the Nazi's lessons in humanity.

You know somethin Uitivich, I think this just might be my masterpiece.

— When you get back home, what'eha gonna do?
— I will hug my mother like I've never hugged her before.
— Well, ain't that nice?

— You know, Lieutenant, you're getting pretty good at that.
— You know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don't you? Practice.