Ed: Beautiful evening.
Young Marine: (standing watch) If you say so, sir.
Young Marine: Goodnight.
Mark: Hey, Chief, the rubber on those wheels only retread, you know, with a ten thousand-mark warranty.
Ironside: That's not funny, Mark.
Mark: Okay, no red blankets and any hospital down there and that goes for the morgue, too. That's good news, kind of.
Ironside: Where is he? Where the hell is he?