Mr. President, about, uh, 35 minutes ago, General Jack Ripper, the commanding general of,...

General "Buck" Turgidson: Mr. President, about, uh, 35 minutes ago, General Jack Ripper, the commanding general of, uh, Burpelson Air Force Base, issued an order to the 34 B-52's of his Wing, which were airborne at the time as part of a special exercise we were holding called Operation Drop-Kick. Now, it appears that the order called for the planes to, uh, attack their targets inside Russia. The, uh, planes are fully armed with nuclear weapons with an average load of, um, 40 megatons each. Now, the central display of Russia will indicate the position of the planes. The triangles are their primary targets; the squares are their secondary targets. The aircraft will begin penetrating Russian radar cover within, uh, 25 minutes. President Merkin Muffley: General Turgidson, I find this very difficult to understand. I was under the impression that I was the only one in authority to order the use of nuclear weapons. General "Buck" Turgidson: That's right, sir, you are the only person authorized to do so. And although I, uh, hate to judge before all the facts are in, it's beginning to look like, uh, General Ripper exceeded his authority.

The general is in the powder room right now. Could you tell me what it's about? Just a second. Apparently they monitored a transmission eight minutes ago... from Burpelson Air Force Base. Right. It was directed to the 843rd Bomb Wing on airborne alert. It decoded as Wing attack Plan R. Well, tell him to call what's-his-name, Base Commander Ripper. Do I have to think of everything? The general suggests you call General Ripper, the 843rd base commander. Oh. All communications are dead! Bull! Tell him to do it himself. The general asks if you could possibly try again yourself. I see. He says he's tried personally several times, but everything is dead. Even the normal phone lines are shut down. Fred? Buck. What's it look like? Yeah? Well, are you sure it's Plan R? Huh. What's cooking on the threat board? Nothing? Nothing at all? I don't like the look of this. Tell you what you better do, old buddy. You better give Elmo and Charlie a blast and bump everything up to condition red. Stand by the blower. I'll get back to you. - What's up? - Nothing. - Where's my shorts? - On the floor. Where are you going? No place. I thought I might mosey over to the War Room to see what's doing over there. It's 3:00 in the morning. The air force never sleeps. Buck, honey, I'm not sleepy either. I know how it is, baby. Tell you what you do. You start your countdown and old Bucky will be back... before you can say "Blastoff!" Your Commie has no regard for human life, not even his own. For this reason, men, I want to impress upon you the need... for extreme watchfullness. The enemy may come individually or he may come in strength. He may even come in the uniform of our own troops. But however he comes, we must stop him. We must not allow him to gain entrance to this base. Now, I am going to give you three simple rules. First: Trust no one, whatever his uniform or rank... unless he is known to you personally. Secondly: Anyone or anything... that approaches within 200 yards of the perimeter is to be fired upon. Third: If in doubt, shoot first and ask questions afterwards. I would sooner accept a few casualties through accident... than lose the entire base and its personnel through carelessness. Any variation on these rules must come from me personally. Now, men, in conclusion...