Port side stick, starboard side stick. Move fast and clear those murder holes.
Keep the sand out of your weapons... keep those actions clear... I'll see you on the beach.
It's like finding a needle in a stack of needles.
He better be worth it. He better go home and cure a disease, or invent a longer-lasting light bulb.
Sometimes I wonder if I've changed so much, my wife is even gonna recognize me whenever it is I get back to her, and how I'll ever be able to, tell about days like today. Ahh, Ryan. I don't know anything about Ryan, I don't care. The man means nothing to me; he's just a name. But if, you know, if going to Rem"al, and finding him so he can go home, if that earns me the right to get back to my wife, well then, then that's my mission.
Things have taken a turn for the surreal.
I just know that every man I kill, the farther away from home I feel.
[Dying words, to Private Ryan] James . . . earn this. Earn it.
I have here a very old letter, written to a Mrs. Bixby in Boston. "Dear Madam: I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. Yours very sincerely and respectfully, Abraham Lincoln."
That boy is alive. We are gonna send somebody to find him. And we are gonna get him the Hell... outta there.
My dear Mrs Ryan: It's with the most profound sense of joy that I write to inform you your son, Private James Ryan, is well and, at this very moment, on his way home from European battlefields. Reports from the front indicate James did his duty in combat with great courage and steadfast dedication, even after he was informed of the tragic loss your family has suffered in this great campaign to rid the world of tyranny and oppresion. I take great pleasure in joining the Secretary of War, the men and women of the U.S. Army, and the citizens of a grateful nation in wishing you good health and many years of happiness with James at your side. Nothing, not even the safe return of a beloved son, can compensate you, or the thousands of other American families, who have suffered great loss in this tragic war. I might share with you some words which have sustained me through long, dark nights of peril, loss, and heartache. And I quote: "I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom." -Abraham Lincoln. Yours very sincerely and respectfully, George C. Marshall, General, Chief of Staff.
[Lining up a rifle shot] Be not that far from me, for trouble is near; haste Thee to help me.
[Lining up a rifle shot] Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
[Lining up a rifle shot] My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.
[Lining up a rifle shot] O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.
Seems to me, Cap'n, this mission is a serious misallocation of valuable military resources.
Well, sir, seems to me, God gave me a special gift, fashioned in me a fine instrument of warfare.
What I mean, sir, is if you was to put me with this here sniper rifle anywhere up to and including one mile from Adolf Hitler... with a clean line of sight... well, pack your bags, boys. War's over.
I don't know. Part of me thinks the kid's right. He asks what he's done to deserve this. He wants to stay here, fine. Let's leave him and go home. But then another part of me thinks, what if by some miracle we stay, then actually make it out of here. Someday we might look back on this and decide that saving Private Ryan was the one decent thing we were able to pull out of this whole godawful, shitty mess. Like you said, Captain, maybe we do that, we all earn the right to go home.
You don't know when to shut up; you don't know HOW to shut up!
We're in business, definitely!
This time the mission is the man.