(both drunk, under fire, in a foxhole)
Potter: Fire that weapon!
Hawkeye: Fire it? I don't even like looking at it!
Potter: I said fire that weapon!
Hawkeye: All right. [To the gun] You're fired! [To Potter] I did it as gently as I could.
Potter: That was an order, Pierce.
Hawkeye: (Snapping his fingers): Oh waiter, would you take this man's order, please?
Potter: Fire the gun Hawkeye.
Hawkeye: Look Colonel, I'll heal their wounds, treat their wounds, bind their wounds, but I will not inflict their wounds.
Potter: You can't just sit there.
Hawkeye: I may be sitting on the outside but I'm running on the inside.
Potter: You love life that little?
Hawkeye: I hate GUNS that much.

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