Captain Potts: Your rank?

James Bailey: Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Captain Potts: Who are you?

Miles Heywood: 4277298 Private Heywood, M, sir.

Captain Potts: Heywood? Ever heard of General Heywood?

Miles Heywood: My father, sir.

Captain Potts: Really? Read Admiral Heywood?

Miles Heywood: My grandfather, sir.

Captain Potts: Air Commodore Heywood?

Miles Heywood: My uncle, sir.

Captain Potts: Ah! Quick test. What's the first thing that comes into your head?

Miles Heywood: Women, sir.

Captain Potts: You're a soldier by tradition and instinct.

[Charlie has managed to reasemble a Bren machine gun, despite being distracted during the demonstration]

Gun Sergeant: Looks like you *were* listening.

Charlie Sage: I wasn't listening.

[Jerks his head towards the Bren]

Charlie Sage: I used to work in the factory where they make these things!

James Bailey: [During bayonet practice:] Don't you think this is a trifle out of date in a world bristling with H-Bombs, Sergeant?

[Golightly charges, only to get caught up in the hanging sack]

Sgt. Grimshawe: Private Bailey, in answer to your question, I'd back him against the H-Bomb any day!