PRODUCERS: Joel Silver
Arnold Schwartzenegger
SGT. ROCK
An Original Screenplay by
David Webb Peoples
based on the comic book character
created by Bob Kanigher
FIRST DRAFT
August, 1987
WARNER BROS. INC. O 1987
4000 Warner Boulevard WARNER BROS. INC.
Burbank, California 91522 All Rights Reserved
NOTE: Nazi rhymes with potsy...
Nazzey rhymes with snazzy...
Likewise the plurals...
A TINY VILLAGE/NIGHT Moonlight illuminates a mountain village consisting merely of a cobble
street and a cluster of modest cottages. A jeep full of NAZI SOLDIERS
grinds through the deserted street as words appear SUPERED over the
scene... ITALY, 1943 Peering from the cracks in shuttered windows frightened CHILDREN watch
shadowy NAZI SOLDIERS as they dismount from the Jeep. MOMENTS LATER The SOLDIERS move ominously from house to house while A NAZI OFFICER,
speaking in crude Italian, questions a PEASANT WOMAN in her doorway,
her CHILDREN clinging in terror to her skirts, their eyes on the
towering NAZI, whose face is lost in shadows... NAZI OFFICER (Italian, subtitled)
Americans? Where? PEASANT WOMAN (Italian, subtitled) No, no. Not here. NAZI OFFICER (Italian, subtitled) Where? How far? How many kilometers? The CHILDREN cringe in horror as the NAZI OFFICER grabs the WOMAN
roughly by the arm, shaking her. PEASANT WOMAN (Italian, subtitled) I don't know. (pointing south) That way, I think. Five kilometers
maybe. NAZI OFFICER (Italian, subtitled) You're lying, you wop whore, I don't believe you. A VOICE (O.S.) (German, subtitled) Excuse me, sir. The NAZI OFFICER turns to see a hulking NAZI CORPORAL approaching him
from the shadows, his face lost in the gloom. NAZI OFFICER (German, subtitled) What is it, Corporal? You're supposed to be watching the perimeter...
CORPORAL
(German, subtitled)
A message, sir, by courier...from the
Fuhrer himself. NAZI OFFICER
(German, subtitled)
What? What are you talking about? The CORPORAL moves closer, his face still shadowed, his voice
apologetic as the OFFICER glares suspiciously... CORPORAL
(German, subtitled)
The Fuhrer says there's been a
mistake, we're not the master race!
He says we're a bunch of perverted
fools. As the NAZI OFFICER stares in flabbergasted disbelief, the CORPORAL embraces him fiercely, yanking a nine inch knife blade upward from the NAZI OFFICER'S gut, ripping him open, spattering blood on the
astonished PEASANT WOMAN and her CHILDREN. As the NAZI OFFICER slumps to the ground, the big NAZI CORPORAL turns
on the dumbfounded PEASANT WOMAN and shoves her and her CHILDREN inside
the house. His words are English this time... CORPORAL Inside! Presto! Hurry, inside! As he turns his attention back to the street, we glimpse the CORPORAL'S
face for the first time...unshaven, scarred, tough and battle
worn...the face of war! This is SERGEANT ROCK, a thirty year old
American soldier of German descent disguised for the moment as a German
Corporal. Twenty yards away, in the street, two NAZI SOLDIERS are just noticing
the shadowy body of the OFFICER slumped on the cobbles in front of the
darkened doorway... ROCK opens up with an automatic weapon, a grease gun. RATTA RATTA RATTA RATTA! OUTSIDE THE VILLAGE WILDMAN, a wild looking American Corporal, blond and bearded, erupts
from behind a rock on the craggy slope, rifle ready. WILDMAN That's it! Come on, let's go. A lone GERMAN SENTRY, startled, raises his rifle to fire, but before
he can get off a shot, WILDMAN guns him down.
Seven more American Infantrymen burst from hiding and move toward the
village and the sound of gunfire. They are... TONY PASCALANO, WHIPSNAKE JAMES, BEEF RILEY, TEXAS FLORES, GERONIMO
JONES, MIKE FARRACCI, MARTIN KLUZEWSKI, and TOM PARDEE. STREET, VILLAGE Still crouched in the doorway, ROCK fires on a jeep load of four GERMAN
SOLDIERS as they pull up close to the bodies of the men he fired on. Bullets splatter around ROCK as the GERMANS, crouching behind their
halted jeep, blaze away at him furiously until they're suddenly
distracted by shots from their flank. ROCK takes advantage of the distraction to hastily yank a grenade from
a D-ring on his chest, pull the pin, and toss it toward the jeep. BOOOOOOOOOM! The grenade explodes. ROCK starts to advance on the jeep, firing steadily. CRACK! Somebody fires from behind him. ROCK whirls and hits the ground rolling, seeing a dark figure emerging
from the shadows, firing on him. DARK FIGURE Given zee up, asshole! ROCK Hold your fire, it's me. Don't shoot. The dark figure is WHIPSNAKE. WHIPSNAKE Shit, Sarge, you sure had me fooled. VILLAGE STREET/LATER Two GERMAN SOLDIERS are squatting with their hands on their heads,
while WHIPSNAKE covers them with an M-1. Two more GERMAN SOLDIERS lie bleeding while GERONIMO and PARDEE bend
over them, tending to their injuries. Four more GERMAN SOLDIERS are sprawled in the street, dead, while TEXAS
searches them and KLUZEWSKI examines the dead OFFICER. ROCK is shedding his disguise, revealing the fatigues with the chevron
underneath the German uniform as BEEF approaches him... BEEF They didn't suspect ya, huh, Sarge? Ya walked right up to them?
ROCK
Easy, no problem. BEEF No kidding. You didn't talk to 'em did you? I mean, did you say anything
in kraut? ROCK
Not much. BEEF (awed)
You talked to 'em? You actually
talked kraut with them and they
thought you were a nazzey? God damn!
Whadja talk about? ROCK
Politics. Nonplussed, BEEF watches ROCK, in American uniform now, turn his back
and start across the street. Just then KLUZEWSKI approaches ROCK... KLUZEWSKI
Hey, Sarge, there's an officer with
these deceased guys in a different
uniform. Like the ones at Kassarene...
ROCK reacts sharply as we... CUT TO: STREET/MOMENTS LATER ROCK frowns as he stares at one of the dead bodies. The uniform is
indeed slightly different from the others. ROCK considers a ring on
the dead man's finger. Then he rips the collar patch from the jacket. ACROSS THE STREET FARRACCI is surrounded by the local PEASANTS, including the PEASANT
WOMAN. He's talking to them in Italian as ROCK crosses the street
toward him. FARRACI (Italian, subtitled)
A lotta Americans speak German and Italian. Our parents come from over
here, we got roots in the old country.
My folks are from outside a Firenze,
they're always talkin' about old
Firenze...
Interrupting FARRACCI in English, ROCK looms over the awed PEASANTS,
holding up the collar patch from the Nazi uniform... ROCK Ask them if they've seen any more
krauts with outfits like this... FARRACCI turns to the PEASANTS as we... CUT TO OUTSIDE VILLA MODESTO/MORNING Several rifle companies are bivouaced in a confusion of tents outside
an elegant Italian villa perched on a steep slope in the mountains. As
GIs busy themselves waiting for more war, WHIPSNAKE, BEEF, PASCALANO,
and FARRACCI regale some of the other unshaven, war-weary men from Easy
Company with details of last night's patrol... WHIPSNAKE ...so we're gonna sneak up on 'em
cause we don't know how many there
are or anything, and the Wildman's
s'posed to slit the sentry's throat
only he gets the dull edge of the
knife against the kraut's neck... A listener named BIGELOW is horrified at the fuck-up. BIGELOW
The dull edge! BEEF (triumphantly)
...so he strangles the guy instead... WHIPSNAKE ...and Rock sees there's no blood on
the uniform... BEEF
...and the kraut's about his size... WHIPSNAKE ...so Rock puts on the kraut uniform... BEEF
...and walks right in there with the
krauts... WHIPSNAKE ...and talks to them in German! BEEF
About politics for Christsake!
As jaded and weary as the listeners are, they're all at least mildly
impressed by ROCK'S exploits...except one, a grizzled old timer
(thirty-five) named RETREAD... RETREAD He's gonna get us killed. The man
takes risks... A storm of protest... FARRACCI Careful risks! PASCALANO An' he takes 'em, Retread. He's not
like summa them officers, he don't ask
you to do somethin' he wouldn't do... RETREAD shakes his head knowingly as if talking to children... RETREAD That might be true...but there isn't anything that asshole wouldn't do! So where's that leave ya? RETREAD, his point proven, smiles triumphantly as we... CUT TO INSIDE THE VILLA MAJOR PRITCHARD, battalion commander, frowns as he fingers the collar
patch ROCK tore from the Nazi while CAPTAIN WALTERS addresses him... WALTERS You don't want to discourage the men
from bringing in information, sir... They're in the huge ballroom of the villa where furniture has been
pushed aside to create a ludicrously spartan Battalion Headquarters in
the midst of Italianate splendor. PRITCHARD Of course not! But I don't want them
playing genius and drawing conclusions
they're not qualified to draw
either... WALTERS He's an experienced man, not a new
recruit, he's served in North Africa,
he was decorated three times at
Kassarene...
PRITCHARD
For bravery, not for intelligence.
I admire brave men, Captain, but I've
observed that some of the bravest are
some of the stupidest. In fact the
qualities at times seem to be
complimentary. And stupidity loses,
Captain (almost always), where smart
wins (almost always)... WALTERS
(coldly)
I guess courage is irrelevant, sir. PRITCHARD
(a shrug)
We lost at Kassarene.
(then... )
Through no fault of the Sergeant's,
I'm sure. Send him in. WALTERS, furious, moves to the door and calls into the foyer... WALTERS
Sergeant Rock... WALTERS stands aside as ROCK enters and salutes the MAJOR smartly. The
battered Sergeant looks particularly out of place in the villa. PRITCHARD
At ease, Sergeant...
(then... )
That was a helluvan action last night,
impressive in every way. You
inflicted casualties on the enemy
without suffering any losses. Top
notch soldiering! You submit a list
of the men on that patrol to the
Captain and I'll see that every one
of them is decorated, yourself included. ROCK'S eyes drift to the collar patch in PRITCHARD'S hands even as he
responds stiffly... ROCK
I'm sure I speak for the men in
thanking you, sir. They'll be
grateful. PRITCHARD has caught ROCK'S look and now he holds up the collar patch. PRITCHARD
Captain Walters says you attach
considerable significance to this
patch, Sergeant.
ROCK
I've seen them before, sir. In North
Africa. Waffen SS, Panzer Division. PRITCHARD
You're not going to see tanks up here,
Rock, not in this kind of country.
We tried some Shermans, five of them,
and we lost three in one week. Not
to the enemy, to the terrain. ROCK
Well, sir, with or without tanks,
they're crack troops, they're not a
defensive outfit... PRITCHARD
(cutting him off)
Sergeant, you're not qualified to
speculate. I'm going to forward this
patch along with your report, not your
conclusions, to Intelligence where
it'll be properly analyzed by
qualified people. In the meantime,
I don't want you gossiping around the
battalion... ROCK'S eyes flash with suppressed anger, his jaw sets, his voice cold
and flat... ROCK
"Gossiping," sir? PRITCHARD
Starting rumors about an attack by
Nazi super-soldiers in tanks. That
kind of nonsense can be very
demoralizing to the men, especially
the Negroes. There's a colored outfit
in the battalion and those people can
get spooked by rumors and panic! Am
I clear? ROCK stares stiffly ahead. ROCK
Yes, sir. PRITCHARD
(turning away)
Give those names to the Captain. You
did very good work. Dismissed. As ROCK turns to go, WALTERS gives him a secret, rueful shrug, but ROCK
doesn't respond, exiting.
PRITCHARD See what I mean? Guts up the giggy, but no brains at all, he probably
can't fart and wipe his ass on the
same day, too complicated... WALTERS He's not bookish, Major, but that
doesn't mean... PRITCHARD
(exploding)
They're not Indians, Captain! They're
not going to sneak up on us on tippy
toes, they're Germans! Nazis, the
Wehrmacht, a war machine! If they're
gonna attack this pass, they'll pound
the living shit out of us with
artillery, they'll hammer us with 88s
and screaming mimis, they'll bomb us
till we're grateful to be attacked,
for Chrissake! Now do you hear any
German planes? Do you hear any German
fucking artillery? As if on cue, there's a whistling sound. The two men stare at each other and PRITCHARD'S jaw sags as the
whistling gets louder, someone SHOUTS outside and then... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! The whole place shudders, plaster falls as a shell
bursts outside, close to the villa. OUTSIDE THE VTLLA Chaos! Death! Blood! Screams! RETREAD and BEEF are yelling for everyone to take cover... RETREAD
Inside! Get in the cellar! Take cover. WHIPSNAKE is shouting for a Medic as WILDMAN and PASCALANO try to help
FARRACCI who's sprawled in a confusion of torn and twisted bodies
completed covered with blood. As they free him, another shell whistles
overhead and SOLDIERS dash frantically out of the way... BAAAAAWHOOOOOOOM! A shell slams into the villa, partially collapsing
the roof. WILDMAN is still holding FARRACCI, screaming for a Medic. A red-haired youth, a medic named O'HARA, is helping an injured man
when WILDMAN grabs him and indicates the bloody FARRACCI. O'HARA looks at FARRACCI and shakes his head.
O'HARA
He's gone, soldier. Better take
cover. RETREAD and BEEF are helping men into the smoking villa as another
shell whistles overhead ominously... RETREAD
Come on, you assholes! The cellar! INSIDE THE VILLA In the smoke and plaster dust PRITCHARD is digging in the debris of the
collapsed section of ceiling, uncovering CAPTAIN WALTERS, as the next
shell hits outside, shuddering the whole villa. BEEF and RETREAD are herding men past PRITCHARD toward the cellar. PRITCHARD
You! Give me a hand. BEEF dutifully responds, lifting a board and revealing CAPTAIN WALTERS
face. WALTERS is weak, blood tricking from his mouth. He looks at
PRITCHARD and speaks weakly. CAPTAIN WALTERS
Fucking Indians! PRITCHARD watches horrified as WALTERS slips into unconsciousness and
BEEF takes his pulse... BEEF
He's dead, Major. We better get in
the cellar. OUTSIDE THE VILLA WILDMAN, PARDEE, KLUZEWSKI, GERONIMO, and TEXAS are supporting or
carrying INJURED MEN into the damaged villa, heading for the cellar. PARDEE reacts to something he sees. O'HARA and another MEDIC are hunched over a body, the face so bloody as
to be unrecognizable...but the Sergeant's Chevrons are clearly visible
and the bulky arms and torso clearly belong to ROCK. PARDEE
(shaken)
Oh, Jesus!
CUT TO
IN THE CELLAR/LATER PRITCHARD is hovering over a RADIO OPERATOR who's trying to get the
radio equipment, newly moved to the cellar, to operate.
RADIOMAN (into radio)
This is Dog Easy Baker Six calling
Blue King Six...
(to Pritchard)
I'm trying Regimental HQ, sir... GIS are jammed in the crowded cellar, the familiar bunch from Easy Clustered in one corner, arguing emotionally... PASCALANO No way! No way Rock's dead, you're
fulla shit. He's indestructible. RETREAD
Nobody's indestructible, Pasky. PARDEE
I'm just saying what I saw, that's all. WILDMAN
An' you're sure it was him? PARDEE
Yeah, I'm sure, and he looked like he
had a bad head wound... PASCALANO That doesn't mean anything, you wash
off the blood it could be superficial,
it could be... PARDEE (erupting)
Hey, I didn't take his pulse. I
didn't take Cameron's pulse that time
either. Remember Cameron? Huh? Is
Cameron dead or alive? There's a momentary hush at that, then KLUZEWSKI speaks in a low voice. KLUZEWSKI
I saw him too. WILDMAN
Rock? You saw Rock? PASCALANO Was he dead or not? KLUZEWSKI (grimly)
He looked the way Cameron looked that
time.
Silence. Grim faces, as we... CUT TO A VISION/OUTSIDE Out of focus, an unshaven youthful face looms full frame, crowned by
flaming hair. The bright blue eyes are full of fury, the mouth is
almost snarling the words...this is O'HARA... O'HARA COME ON, YOU BASTARD! SUCK IN!
SUCK IN, YOU SONOFABITCH, DON'T
QUIT, DO IT, DO IT, DO IT, DO IT,
DO IT! ROCK'S unfocussed eyes stare stupidly at the medic O'HARA moving over
him and pounding on his chest. There's blood all over ROCK'S face and
neck. ROCK Uh...uh...uh... O'HARA'S face looms close again, unfocussed, as he works on ROCK... O'HARA COME ON, SERGEANT, DON'T GIVE IT ALL AWAY, HANG ON, YOU BASTARD, THINK ABOUT THE GIRLS, THINK ABOUT THE STEAKS, THE KIDS, SUNNY DAYS, BREATHE,
YOU STUPID SONOFABITCH, BREATHE,
BREATHE, BREATHE, YOU FUCKING
CHICKENSHIT QUITTER, WHAT WOULD YOUR
MOTHER SAY? HOW ABOUT YOUR FATHER? ROCK gurgles, his eyes vaguely alive now...with fear...while shells thunder around them BOOOOOM BOOOOM BOOOOOOOM and we... CUT TO KIDS/SNOWBALLS/AMERICAN STREET KIDS, ten to twelve years old, are furiously hurling snowballs and
shouting insults. A SUPERED TITLE tells us where we are... AKRON, OHIO It's Akron a long time ago, almost suburban. The KIDS are snowballing
a dignified white haired gentleman, MR. VAN ROCKLIN, who's walking
along a neatly shovelled sidewalk toward a corner Grocery Store... BOYS Nazi Bastard! Kraut! Hey, jerry,
heil Hitler! Sig Heil! VAN ROCKLIN, wiping snow from his face with as much dignity as he can
muster, addresses the boys in a thick German accent...
VAN ROCKLIN
Hitler you cannot kill with snow. I
am not Hitler, I am only myself, a
German. The speech only inflames the KIDS who, while maintaining their
distance, rain a fury of snowballs on the elderly man as he enters the
Grocery Store... INSIDE THE GROCERY STORE/MOMENTS LATER A paper bag. The middle-aged CLERK is pulling it from under the
counter. With a quick glance around to make sure no one is looking, he
puts it on the counter in front of VAN ROCKLIN whose coat is still
dripping from the snowballs. CLERK
Twelve dollars, that's the best I can
do. VAN ROCKLIN
That much? As the CLERK pulls a box out of the paper sack, he indicates a newspaper lying on the counter, featuring a bold black headline: GERMAN COUNTER ATTACK and a sub head HARD FIGHTING ON ITALIAN FRONT. CLERK There's a war on, Mister Van Rocklin,
in case you didn't notice. Guys are
dying. This stuff is rationed, it's
black market... VAN ROCKLIN looks at the opened box. Partagas Cigars from Havana,
short, stubby coronas. VAN ROCKLIN
Okay, yes, I pay, I understand. CLERK I wouldn't even do this if you weren't
referred by a regular customer... CUT TO SIDEWALK/MINUTES LATER VAN ROCKLIN hurries off with the paper sack while the BOYS pelt him
mercilessly with snowballs and hurl anti-German insults at him and
we... CUT TO
BERGAMO, ITALY/NIGHT It's pouring rain in the darkened Bergamo, a town just large enough to
have two hotels and a cathedral, as a 4X4 U.S. Troop carrier grumbles
through the darkened streets... INSIDE THE TROOP CARRIER Instead of troops the rear of the vehicle is jammed with cooking
equipment and one fresh faced young officer, LIEUTENANT GORYL, who's
slumped on top of a field stove, peering out through a gap in the
canvas covering. Obviously unseasoned, GORYL is getting his closest
look at war so far from the slowly moving troop carrier. GORYL sees a confusion of battle-weary FOOTSOLDIERS in dirty uniforms
hunkering in doorways out of the rain. Bergamo has been taken over as
Regimental HQ and now, although the town is blacked out, lights flash
now and again revealing nightmare glimpses of defeat. He sees into the
covered rear of a jeep where WOUNDED MEN are lying, wrapped in bloody
bandages, their eyes dull with horror, plasma-bottles feeding into
their arms. Big guns are booming monotonously somewhere in the distance as the
carrier inches through the narrow main street jammed with muddy
battered vehicles and exhausted, beaten GIS, passing the local
Cathedral, now serving as a hospital. GORYL cringes at the sound of a
piteous VOICE crying out... VOICE (O.S.)
WHERE AM I? WHERE THE FUCK AM I? I
CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T FUCKING SEE! Looking out of the moving truck, GORYL glimpses a stretcher bearing a
BLIND SOLDIER, his eyes covered with a bloody bandage. It's he who's
crying out as the MEDICS carry him into the Cathedral Hospital. Just then a bunch of COOKS rush the back of the troop carrier. COOKS
Hey, stop! Goddamnit, that's our gear. As the troop carrier lurches to a halt, COOKS swarm aboard, grabbing
equipment, ignoring GORYL who scrambles off the stove hastily. Among the COOKS we see but do not notice a FACE that we'll see later...a FACE that means nothing to us now and is in no way special
or noticeable. As the COOKS unload their equipment, the CORPORAL/DRIVER of the carrier
moves into view and addresses GORYL... CORPORAL/DRIVER
That's Regimental HQ right across the
street, Lieutenant.
GORYL follows the CORPORAL'S indication and sees the local Hotel with
GUARDS stationed at the door and lots of in and out traffic. INSIDE THE CATHEDRAL/NIGHT
The ceiling is lost in a vaulted gloom dominated by shadows while the
damp walls reverberate with urgent VOICES, cries of pain, desperate
moans. Is this Hell? Is this a nightmare? It's what ROCK is seeing as his eyes blink open and he stares stupidly,
obviously confused and disoriented while the BLIND MAN'S VOICE
(offscreen but close at hand) seems to express ROCK'S own confusion in
an urgent refrain... BLIND SOLDIER'S VOICE (O.S.)
Where am I? Where the fuck am I?
Please, goddamnit, tell me? Where am
I? ROCK is flat on his back on a cot. His skull has been partially shaven
and partly bandaged, his face has new scars, his neck is heavily
bandaged as well. He lifts his head cautiously and looks around. MEDICS and DOCTORS are rushing about in lantern light, UNCONSCIOUS SOLDIERS, plasma bottles plugged into them, bump urgently past on stretchers hauled by more MEDICS. BLIND SOLDIER'S VOICE (O.S.)
Can anybody hear me? Please. ROCK looks to his right. The BANDAGED MAN on the next cot, is
motionless and silent, clearly not the speaker. Searching for the
VOICE, ROCK looks down between the cots and sees the BLIND SOLDIER
lying on a stretcher on the floor. The BLIND SOLDIER is tugging at his
bandages, pulling them off his eyes. BLIND SOLDIER
I can't see for Chrissake, I can't see
at all. Where am I? ROCK speaks...with effort...his voice weak, tentative... ROCK
A hospital. It's all right. It's...a
hospital. More like a nightmare! INSIDE "HOTEL HQ"/NIGHT Maps, desks, squawking radios, jangling phones, typewriters, ENLISTED STAFF, OFFICERS. Regimental HQ is chaotic, hysterical. GORYL hovers nervously near CAPTAIN SLOAN'S desk as an enraged COLONEL CRONKITE snaps at the beleaguered SLOAN...
COLONEL CRONKITE
Make it an order then! Henceforth no
line officer is to report that he's
"pinned down" by machinegun fire,
mortar fire, rocket fire, or any other
fucking fire! Is that clear? SLOAN But, sir, if they are pinned down,
don't we need accurate -- ? CRONKITE
(waving reports)
It says "pinned down" in every goddamn
report from every goddamn company
commander, from every fucking platoon
leader...thank God the men don't
transmit individual fucking reports
because I'm sure they're all pinned
down! Now I'm going to assume
everybody's pinned down from now on,
okay? So don't tell me when you're
pinned down, tell me when you're not
pinned down. That's what I want to
hear...when you're not pinned down. Looking worried, GORYL watches SLOAN nod wearily. SLOAN Yes, sir. No more "pinned down," only
"not pinned down." CRONKITE turns away and SLOAN scribbles a note, then he turns back to
GORYL'S orders on his desk. SLOAN Easy Company's up on the line. You
can get a ride up there in the
morning. In the meantime bed down
anywhere you can. GORYL
Thank your sir. SLOAN is turning away. GORYL hesitates, then blurts... GORYL I guess it's pretty...pretty rough up
on the line. For a moment SLOAN just stares at GORYL blankly as if GORYL spoke
Swahili...then he shakes his head slowly...
SLOAN Oh, no, Lieutenant, no, no, not at
all. It's rough in here...up on the
line, it's just one big...one big...
party. Laughing and joking with the
goodhearted people of Germany who
happen to be visiting Italy like
ourselves. SLOAN turns away abruptly and heads for another desk, leaving GORYL by
himself. Feeling foolish and green, GORYL heads for the door. Meanwhile, SLOAN is addressing a PRIVATE at a desk. SLOAN Type up an order, Private. "The words
'pinned down' will not be used in
future transmission to HQ. It is only
acceptable to report 'not pinned
down.'" Colonel Cronkite will sign
it. STREET/NIGHT GORYL has paused for a moment in the dark street to look toward the
front where big guns thunder in the night. On the distant slopes the flashes of fire as the shells explode are out
of sync with the sounds of the guns, lending an eerie, surrealistic
quality to the obscure battle ten miles away. It doesn't look
real...but it's scary. GORYL turns away and enters a doorway... INSIDE "QUARTERS" In the gloom of a former restaurant the GIS are only shadows and
glowing cigarette butts...and VOICES... VOICE/DARKNESS We were gettin' all this shit from a
kraut fifty, so this kid, he works his
way to maybe 25 yards from 'em,
fucking courageous. He's gonna send
'em some pineapple, right? So he
pulls the pin. Booooom! Short fuse!
Right in the fucking face. ANOTHER VOICE/DARKNESS I seen ugly and I seen uglier, but a short fuse is the ugliest. VOICE/DARKNESS Well, it didn't kill him, it blew his
fucking face off is all. He was
screaming, "I can't see, I can't see."
Massachusetts guy. Gimme a light.
A light flickers and GORYL'S face is briefly visible. GORYL looks
shaken as we... CUT TO HOSPITAL/NIGHT The canvas over the stained glass has been partially pulled back to let
some of the weak winter light in. A DOCTOR is speaking to the BLIND SOLDIER who's on a cot now, wearing
fresh bandages, somewhat cleaned up. DOCTOR
We're going to do everything we can
for you, Private...everything! But
your sight is gone. We can't bring
that back, that's not something we can
change. Do you understand that? BLIND SOLDIER (bravely, desperate good
cheer)
Yes, sir. ROCK is watching this painful scene from the next cot. And now the
DOCTOR turns to him, turning a page of his chart. DOCTOR
Well, Sergeant...you're looking better
today. A lot better. ROCK
I...don't remember...how I got here.
I don't remember...you. DOCTOR
That's not unusual under the
circumstances, a mild antrograde
amnesia. It'll come back to you in
bits and pieces...in flashes. Your
prognosis is for complete recovery
from all your wounds...you're one of
the lucky ones. (glances significantly
toward the Blind Soldier)
By tomorrow you'll be on your way to
England where you'll continue post-
op care for about a week, then back
to the States. It's gonna be rough,
soldier, very rough...clean sheets,
hot meals, pretty nurses. Think you
can handle it? The DOCTOR is about to move on, but ROCK looks disturbed.
ROCK How long have I been here? DOCTOR
(a glance at the chart) Two weeks. ROCK
(stunned)
Two weeks! DOCTOR
Twelve days, actually. You had a close call, Sergeant, you're lucky. A SUDDEN VISION, A FLASHBACK OF THE MEDIC O'HARA, OUT OF FOCUS SEEN
FROM ROCK'S POINT OF VIEW AS HE SCREAMS AT ROCK TO BREATHE! THEN
VISION IS GONE... The DOCTOR is moving to the next bed. Shaken, ROCK calls out to him... ROCK
I remember... DOCTOR
(impatient)
Yes? ROCK
A...a medic! He...saved me. DOCTOR
They're good men. Brave men. As the DOCTOR moves to the next cot where he starts to speak to the
SOLDIER virtually mummified in bandages, ROCK just lies there staring
at the ceiling. Then he hears muffled sobs. Turning, he sees the
BLIND SOLDIER, completely isolated in his dark world of misery, shaking
with the sobs he's trying to stifle. ROCK struggles weakly to sit up. Looking around, he sees the bustle of
the hospital...stretchers with WOUNDED MEN groaning, MEDICS, scurrying
DOCTORS. ROCK considers the bandages on his chest...then he pokes himself,
looking for pain. Across the cot-cluttered nave, a CORPORAL on MAIL DUTY is shouting
aloud as he distributes mail to bedridden GIS... MAIL DUTY CORPORAL
Awright, Dog! Any more Dog, last call
for Dog Company. Sing out (or bark)
if you're Dog. A VOICE
Yo Dog! Dog here!
The MAIL DUTY CORPORAL heads for the DOG SOLDIER as ROCK swings his
legs over the side of the cot and rests for a moment. Then he
tentatively tries his feet on the floor. ANGLE ON A MEDIC/SECONDS LATER As the MEDIC moves along an aisle between the cots, hauling one end of
a stretcher, he comes face to face with ROCK who's wobbling unsteadily
among the cots. ROCK I'm looking...for a medic... MEDIC What's the problem, buddy? ROCK A medic with...red hair... MEDIC You better get back on your cot, fella. Maneuvering the stretcher around ROCK, the MEDIC and his PARTNER move
their patient, a BLACK SOLDIER, onto an empty cot. ROCK pauses, observing the youthful face of the unconscious, blood
covered BLACK SOLDIER as the MEDIC quickly and efficiently hooks a
bottle of plasma to an IV stand beside the cot. A piece of tape on the plasma bottle says "COLORED." The MEDIC turns and glances toward ROCK. MEDIC Red hair. Around here that's O'Hara. ROCK Where can I find him? The MEDIC is pillowing the head of the unconscious BLACK SOLDIER as he
shakes his own head. MEDIC Missing in Action. About a week. Better get back in your bunk, okay? MAIL DUTY CORPORAL'S VOICE (O.S.) Easy Company! Anybody else from Easy? Still dazed and weak, ROCK reacts as a SOLDIER in a cot twenty cots
away shouts... SOLDIER Hey, right here! I'm Easy. There's a ripple of weak laughter and someone adds, "Aren't we all?"
ROCK starts to make his way unsteadily in that direction, passing
horribly WOUNDED MEN, nearly stepping on a BANDAGED SOLDIER lying on
stretcher on the floor. Across the room, the soldier from Easy, GOINES, is opening the the
envelope the MAIL DUTY CORPORAL has handed him. He stares at the
contents in outrage and dismay... GOINES
Jury duty! For Christ sake! I'm
supposed to serve on a jury in
Brattleboro, Vermont? MAIL DUTY CORPORAL
No kidding? I just gave a guy from
Iowa a bill from his plumber, how do
ya like that? ROCK'S VOICE (O.S.)
Goines! GOINES turns and his eyes widen in amazement as he sees ROCK, still
unsteady on his feet, looming beside his cot. GOINES
Holy...shit! Sarge! I...thought
...we all thought...we thought you
were... ROCK
No. No, I...I made it. MAIL DUTY CORPORAL (to Rock)
You from Easy too, pal? What's your
name, maybe I got something for
you...? ROCK (to the Corporal)
Rock, John. (to Goines)
What happened? They shelled us...
How many casualties...? GOINES
Since then? Shit, Sarge, you don't
know? ROCK
No. No, I've been...I don't
remember...
GOINES
(tears forming)
They ate us alive. First the arty,
then the krauts...bad ones...worse
than Kassarene...the Colonel assigned
us to the ass...everybody's falling
back, we're protecting the rear...
eighty per cent casualties. ROCK
Eighty per cent! MAIL DUTY CORPORAL
Here ya go! I knew I recognized the
name. The CORPORAL has been digging through his big bag and now he produces
a neatly wrapped package which he hands to the stunned ROCK who barely
notices it as he accepts it. ROCK'S eyes are on GOINES' bed. Under
the sheets the shape of his legs ends above the knees where GOINES'
legs were amputated! GOINES
More by now. Eighty per cent two days
ago. There was hardly anyone left
when they took me out. I'd be dead
if it wasn't for the medics... MAIL DUTY CORPORAL
It's hell up there, we got orders,
hold the mail for Easy, Dog, and
Baker. Whyncha open the package,
see whatcha got? Absent mindedly ROCK starts to unwrap the package as he speaks to GOINES... ROCK
What about the Wildman? What about
Flavin and Pascalano? GOINES Flavin didn't make it. Wildman was
okay. Pascalano too, and Beef. I
dunno about Mitchell or Texas. Like
I said, we all thought you were dead
too. What's in the package? My girl
sent me dry socks. Argyles! Ha ha. ROCK looks numbly at the package in his hand. It's the box of cigars!
Coronas! There's a note on top of it. ROCK stares at the crudely scrawled note... "Dear son, I love you. Kill Hitler! Your father."
OUTSIDE/DAY
A lull in the rain. Leaden skies. The distant booms of the big guns
seem remote. On the bland, woodsy slopes twenty miles north occasional
flashes indicate exploding shells. More ominous is the steady flow of FOOTSOLDIERS and MILITARY VEHICLES
crawling into the town from the north like blood from a wound. Troop
carriers overflowing with WOUNDED MEN, tired plodding FOOTSOLDIERS with
haggard faces and vacant eyes suggest the true horror of those remote
hills and distant sounds. GORYL is in the street, arguing with a PFC who's sitting at the wheel of
an idling jeep. GORYL
You just told me you had about sixty
miles of gas, Private. That's enough
to get me to the line and get you
back, so what's the problem? PFC
I thought you wanted to go south, sir.
This gas is southerly gas, sir. It
don't go north, it's a matter of
internal combustion. GORYL
I see. What do I need to get some
"northerly gas"...a written order from
the Colonel and threat of a court
martial? PFC (starting the jeep)
No, sir. What you need is a lotta
luck and a different driver. RRRRRR. The PFC pulls away into the confusion of troop carriers,
jeeps, and trucks clogging the street. GORYL is scowling in frustration when he hears an urgent shout. Looking around he sees SOLDIERS pointing toward the north where three
specks are approaching low over the mountains...getting bigger.
Planes! Suddenly SOLDIERS are shouting "Butcherbirds! Butcherbirds," running
every which way, jumping from trucks, taking cover. GORYL hastily follows GIS into a doorway and crowds in as the three
BUTCHERBIRDS (Folke Wulfs) thunder in low, cannons firing into the
crowded street, machineguns rattling. GORYL sees a running SOLDIER cut in half.
WHOOOOOOOOM! An explosion shakes the town as a bomb bursts. WHOOOM!
BAH-BOOOOOOOOM! KA-BLAAAAAAM! MORE BOMBS! GORYL presses back among the GIS wedged like sardines in the doorway,
driven back by heat from flames. He's cowering there when he hears a
SERGEANT scream in rage and anguish... SERGEANT The bastards bombed the hospital!
They bombed the hospital! The BUTCHERBIRDS are climbing off into the distance, their bombs and
ammo spent, as SOLDIERS rush to the hospital. Smoke pours from a gaping wound in the giant red cross painted on the
stones of the cathedral. The ceiling and wall are partially collapsed. GORYL stares in horror. He can hear screams from within the collapsed
walls. INSIDE THE HOSPITAL Smoke! Panic! Confusion! Chaos! Vague FIGURES move about, obscured
by smoke. GOINES lies dead, crushed by debris across his chest. As confusion reigns all around and MEDICS rush to and fro, a HAND
emerges from the debris near GOINES. Grasping, pulling, it's the hand
of someone pulling himself from the debris. WE DON'T HAVE TO SEE HIM
TO KNOW IT'S ROCK! ANGLE ON CIGARS The box of cigars, overturned, lies beside the note, covered with
mortar dust. The HAND reaches for the box, scoops spilled cigars into the box, takes
the box and the note. For a second ROCK looks down at GOINES' lifeless face. ROCK'S eyes are
like tiny diamonds...his face like cold stone. A BOX OF UNIFORMS In the midst of the smoky chaos THE HAND reaches into a jumble of
uniforms tossed in a crate in the corner of the nave. THE HAND is
sorting through the torn and sometimes bloody fatigues... A BOX OF BOOTS The same thing...THE HAND searching for the right boots...
BOOTS WALKING Through the chaos and confusion of the hospital THE BOOTS move with
purposeful strides...stepping over the torn BODIES and the debris...
past the dead BLIND SOLDIER. DEAD CORPORAL/DEBRIS/NAVE In the confusion and debris the MAIL DUTY CORPORAL lies dead, sprawled
face down beside his spilled mail bag. THE BOOTS start to step over him...then halt... A moment passes...
then HANDS reach into the spilled mail...searching...finding a bundle
marked COMPANY E... THE STREET OUTSIDE A MEDIC is squatting beside a BLOODY SOLDIER, applying a tourniquet. The BOOTS appear close to the busy MEDIC...the HANDS reach down and
remove several grenades from the BLOODY SOLDIER'S chest...while the
MEDIC continues to work... A DAMAGED JEEP The DEAD DRIVER is slumped at the wheel. There's a pack beside him on
the seat and an M-1. HANDS reach in, take the pack...open it..dump it out...stuff the box of cigars and the bundle of mail inside...close the pack...take the M-1... A DAMAGED BUILDING A Browning Automatic Rifle lies unattended beside the smoldering debris
of a bomb damaged wall. The BOOTS appear...the big HANDS scoop up the BAR... Likewise a box of ammo... THE ROAD INTO BERGAMO The WOUNDED and the WEARY are still streaming into the bombed town,
clogging the road with one-way traffic. But in the foreground appear the BOOTS! One man alone is going in the
other direction. It's ROCK, laden with a full pack, an arsenal of weaponry, grenades
dangling from his chest, the stub of a cigar in his mouth, an angry
look in his eye. Ahead of him, on the faraway hills, the big guns boom.
ROCK heads straight for them, carrying more than a man should carry as
we... CUT TO FARMHOUSE/SLOPE MAJOR PRITCHARD, unshaven and haggard, is standing outside his new,
less grand Battalion HQ, a farmhouse which squats on a slope at the
southern end of a mountain pass. He's peering through binoculars at
the wooded slopes to the north above the pass. He can hear the patter
of rifle fire and the chatter of machineguns in the woods. PRITCHARD
What the hell? Standing beside PRITCHARD, a GI is watching a SECOND GI sprinting
toward them. GI
Runner, sir. PRITCHARD lowers the glasses as the SECOND GI, a runner, staggers up
them, totally winded.
PRITCHARD Well? SECOND GI (gasping for breath)
Dog's...falling back, sir, like you
said for 'em to. Twenty-two
ambulatory...six non-ambulatory.
Their walkie talkie was busted, that's
why... PRITCHARD
What about Easy? SECOND GI
There...ain't no Easy, sir. Not to
speak of. Four guys from the third
platoon, six from the fourth. They're
dug in around the mouth of the pass
down there... The SECOND GI is pointing at the wooded slopes with their secrets... PRITCHARD
"Dug in"! Did you tell them to fall back? SECOND GI
They can't move, sir. Krauts got two
fifties right on 'em. I got as close
as I could and shouted. I think they
heard me.
PRITCHARD (disgusted)
All right, what about Baker? Where
the hell is Baker? SECOND GI
Couldn't find any live ones, sir, but
I spotted four dead niggers near the
mouth of the pass on that side... The SECOND GI is pointing to the opposite slope, the eastern slope... PRITCHARD "Negroes," soldier, not "niggers."
"Negroes!" SECOND GI
Well, whatever they were, sir, they're
dead now, Major. They been gutted. PRITCHARD "Gutted"? SECOND GI
Mutilated, sir. At least that's what
it looked like through my glasses, I
couldn't get near 'em. It looks like
the krauts killed 'em and ripped 'em
open. PRITCHARD
Jesus! And there was no sign of the
rest of Baker? SECOND GI (indicating the slopes)
Sir, there's krauts all over down
there. Anybody down there is damn near
surrounded. ROAD/MID DAY Scraaatch! ROCK strikes a match without breaking his steady stride and
relights his cigar. Traffic flows past ROCK in the opposite direction, retreating vehicles
and weary FOOTSOLDIERS, heads down, eyes unseeing. Ahead the shelling
has stopped, an apparent lull in the fury of the battle. Suddenly a VOICE calls out close by... VOICE (O.S.)
Say, Sergeant, can I give you a lift? ROCK turns and finds himself staring at a fresh young officer at the
wheel of a jeep headed for the line...GORYL.
MOVING JEEP/MINUTES LATER ROCK is behind the wheel now and GORYL is beside him in the passenger
seat. GORYL sneaks glances at ROCK, looking him over, noting the scar
on his face, glimpsing the partially shaved skull, the bandage on his
neck... GORYL
I guess...I guess you...you've been
up on the line already, huh, Sergeant? ROCK Yes, sir. GORYL
I guess you've heard of Easy Company... ROCK Easy Company, sir? GORYL
You must have, they're supposed to be
the roughest outfit around, they were
in North Africa, the only company that
held ground when Rommel and the Afrika
Korps attacked the Kassarene Pass.
Of course I guess it wouldn't be
really the same outfit, there were
heavy casualties, a lotta them musta
been killed. A 4X4 laden with bagged and unbagged bodies grinds past in the opposite
direction. ROCK (remembering)
Right...heavy casualties... (then...)
Why are you interested in Easy,
Lieutenant? GORYL I'm their new C.O. Deadpan, ROCK shifts the cigar between his teeth as he considers the
fresh faced youth at his side and we... CUT TO MOVING JEEP/SEVERAL MILES LATER The jeep is alone now, the retreating army is behind them to the south
and the wooded slopes ahead are much closer. GORYL is chattering out
of nervousness...
GORYL ...so I hadda M.A. in psychology and
they were looking for guys like me
to work in the War Department. Psy-
war stuff, intelligence, desk jobs...
actually interesting work for
someone in my field... ROCK
And you turned them down? GORYL
Pretty stupid, huh? It was guilt.
This kid down the block, I used to
play ball with him, he lost both arms
over in North Africa. And this other
kid I didn't know so well got killed
in the Pacific...I already felt guilty
and I figured it was gonna get worse,
so here I am, headed for the line, the
C.O. I know everything...and I don't
know anything...and I'm in charge. ROCK (deadpan)
Cigar, sir? GORYL looks startled as we... CUT TO WOODS/DAY TEXAS is squirming on his belly through the rotting leaves, sweating
furiously, casting nervous glances to his right. The woods to the right look bland...and ominous. The unseen enemy is
visible in TEXAS' fear, the way he hugs the ground and sweats as he
inches along. Arriving at the lip of a foxhole he looks over the rim at the grim,
exhausted faces of RETREAD and PASCALANO who are crouched in their
muddy foxhole in several inches of water. They've been fighting 22
days straight and it shows. TEXAS We're gonna make a run for it. PASCALANO In daylight? TEXAS When Wildman gives the signal, Klu's
gonna give us some cover if they open
up...
RETREAD
Oh, they'll open up, you can count on
it. TEXAS squirms off, leaving RETREAD and PASCALANO alone again in the
hole. PASCALANO Shit! You think that's a good idea? RETREAD
Doesn't matter what I think, that's
the plan. PASCALANO Yeah, yeah, Wildman makes me nervous.
I wish Rock was here. RETREAD
(sarcastic)
Oh, that'd be great, just great.
We're pinned down, you know what that
asshole would do? PASCALANO Get us outta here alive maybe? RETREAD
Attack. SECOND FOXHOLE/DAY TEXAS is on his belly, looking into a second foxhole where BIGELOW and
GERONIMO are huddled miserably. TEXAS When he signals, head for that big
rock back there about a hundred yards,
take cover there. Got it? BIGELOW and GERONIMO nod grimly and TEXAS crawls off, leaving them
alone. BIGELOW immediately burrows frantically in a pocket and pulls
out a half a pack of lifesavers. With trembling hands he examines the
lifesavers...hesitates...chooses a red one...then reconsiders
indecisively as GERONIMO watches...finally changes his selection and
pops a green one in his mouth. BIGELOW
Green one. GERONIMO
Yeah? That's good luck, a green one? BIGELOW
You could have one, Ger, go ahead.
GERONIMO
Be a waste. I'm not superstitious. BIGELOW
Sure ya are. Indians are religious,
you got Gods and stuff, I believe in
Lady Luck, it's the same thing. GERONIMO
You believe in lifesavers, it's
different. BIGELOW I'm not dead, am I? Or maimed? THIRD FOXHOLE/DAY TEXAS is peering into the third foxhole at WHIPSNAKE and KLUZEWSKI as
KLUZEWSKI frowns a question... KLUZEWSKI So we provide cover, then what? TEXAS We'll cover you from the rock back
there. Just don't fire till they do.
They might not ever shoot. WHIPSNAKE (glumly) Right. FOURTH FOXHOLE/MOMENTS LATER BEEF, one eye bandaged, and PARDEE, haggard and gaunt, are looking up
at TEXAS as he peers down at them into their foxhole. PARDEE In daylight? Why don't we wait till
it's dark? TEXAS 'Cause they'll put up flares like they
did last night. BEEF Yeah, but daylight's worse! TEXAS Don't start that shit, just go when
he signals. TEXAS turns and squirms away as we.... CUT TO
A MONTAGE/DIFFERENT FOXHOLES RETREAD looks stoic, PASCALANO is chewing his lip nervously as they
crouch, all ready to move... BIGELOW is choosing a yellow lifesaver with shaking hands while
GERONIMO watches deadpan... KLUZEWSKI aims the BAR over the lip of the foxhole while WHIPSNAKE
prepares a pile of magazines. BEEF and PARDEE are tense, ready to go... TEXAS looks expectantly at WILDMAN who's coiled like a spring. WILDMAN
sticks his rifle up out of the foxhole in two quick thrusts, a signal... WOODS/SECONDS LATER They're running low, eight of them, zig-zagging among bare trees, the
only sound their feet in the leaves. It's spooky how quiet it is after
all the tension... One second... Two seconds... Three seconds... BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA! The German machinegun chatters
mindlessly, bullets sizzle in the air. PARDEE lets out a sharp cry as he lurches forward, then crashes to the
ground. The others dive down on their bellies. CHATTA CHATTA CHATTA CHATTA. The BAR joins the cacophony, returning
fire. BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA. The second German machinegun replies. THIRD FOXHOLE KLUZEWSKI is firing the BAR at the German position which is invisible
except for the nervous muzzle flashes of the first machinegun while,
beside him, WHIPSNAKE fires his M-1. KLUZEWSKI
How far are they? WHIPSNAKE
(looking back)
Not far enough, they're gonna have to
come back.
WOODS
As bullets whiz over him, BIGELOW hugs the ground and looks toward the
objective... a boulder barely visible through the trees sixty yards away
on slightly higher ground. BIGELOW turns and speaks to GERONIMO lying
three yards to his right... BIGELOW We can't make it, we gotta go back. GERONIMO doesn't answer...and BIGELOW suddenly sees that GERONIMO'S
eyes are glassy and lifeless. TEN YARDS AWAY WILDMAN is calling out as he squirms back toward his foxhole twenty
yards behind... WILDMAN Back. Get back in the holes. TEN YARDS FURTHER
PARDEE is on his back, moaning pitifully as BEEF bellies toward him... BEEF Where you hit? Pardee! Where'd you get hit? PARDEE I dunno, I dunno. It hurts! BEEF Where? Where's it hurt? BEEF is close now, trying to examine PARDEE. PARDEE I dunno. In my body!
(panic) I can't move, I can't move. BEEF sees blood all over PARDEE'S front. He digs in his first aid kit. FIRST FOXHOLE RETREAD and PASCALANO are scrambling back into their foxhole. PASCALANO Great plan, that was a great plan. RETREAD They got our positions again. We're gonna get some mortar fire. WHOOOSH! The sound of a mortar on cue.
KAH-BOOOM! The mortar shell explodes fifteen yards from the foxhole. RETREAD
What'd I tell ya? FIFTH FOXHOLE WILDMAN and TEXAS are firing at the German woods from their foxhole when
BIGELOW crawls to the rim, tears in his eyes... BIGELOW
They killed the Indian, they killed
Gerry! TEXAS Get in, you're drawing fire. BIGELOW
Bastards won't even let us run. We
were running! KA-BOOOOOOM. A mortar shell explodes ten yards from the foxhole. TEXAS We shouldn'ta shot those last two
mortar shells, we shoulda saved 'em... WILDMAN
Shut up.
WOODS
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! PARDEE is screaming in agony as BEEF, crawling on
his belly, tries to drag PARDEE with him toward a foxhole. KA-BOOOOM! A mortar shell hits twenty yards from them. It isn't working. Besides PARDEE'S agony, they're not making any
progress... BEEF
Listen, Pardee, I can't do anything
for you, okay? I'm gonna grab your
clips and go back to the hole. We'll
come back an' getcha when it's dark. PARDEE
Right, yeah. Gimme another shot. BEEF (grabbing clips)
Too soon. PARDEE
I'm not gonna make it, Beef, I'm not
gonna make it.
BEEF (lying)
Yeah, yeah, you're gonna be okay.
We'll getcha tonight. It hurts,
right? That's good. It's when you
can't feel it, that's when you got a
problem. KA-BLAAAAM! Another mortar shell hits fifteen yards away and BEEF
starts to crawl for the foxholes. OUTSIDE THE FARMHOUSE/A MILE AWAY/LATE AFTERNOON The mortar concussions and intermittent bursts of machinegun fire are
subdued by distance while the woods themselves, like a mask, reveal
nothing to MAJOR PRITCHARD as he peers through his binoculars from the
ridge in front of the farmhouse. There's simply nothing to see down
there in the pass. He's lowering the glasses when the FIRST GI
approaches him... FIRST GI Message from Regimental, sir. PRITCHARD Permission to withdraw? FIRST GI No, sir. A General from Division's
coming forward to survey the
situation. They -- PRITCHARD (erupting)
A General! Up here! Great Christ
Almighty we can't protect a General!
We can't protect ourselves. (heading for the farmhouse)
Did you tell them we've got men pinned
down and we can't pull 'em out? FIRST GI (on Pritchard's heels)
They won't accept "pinned down," sir. PRITCHARD What? FIRST GI Colonel's orders. All transmissions
must say "not pinned down." PRITCHARD "Not pinned down!" Jesus H. Christ. PRITCHARD charges into the farmhouse as the FIRST GI follows him.
INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE PRITCHARD looms over the RADIO OPERATOR. PRITCHARD
Get Regimental! Tell them we can't
protect a General unless he brings an
armored division with him. Tell them
we want permission to withdraw, we're
suffering heavy casualties and we're
about to be overrun. FIRST GI
Uh, also, sir...we have, er, some
replacements... PRITCHARD
Replacements? FIRST GI
Uh, Lieutenant Goryl and Sergeant
Rock, for Easy Company. PRITCHARD turns and notices GORYL and ROCK for the first time. Both men
salute the astonished PRITCHARD who suddenly recognizes ROCK. PRITCHARD
Right. Rock. You were injured. ROCK
Fully recovered, sir. PRITCHARD
Good. You were lucky, luckier than
your buddies anyway. ROCK
Sir? PRITCHARD
Decimated. We got the first and third
platoons out with fifty per cent
casualties. What's left of the Second
and Fourth are down in those woods,
trapped, along with what's left of
Baker. ROCK
You're pulling out without them, sir? PRITCHARD
Oh, God no, Sergeant. I've got the
whole HQ platoon here, almost thirty
men. What we're gonna do is attack,
all thirty of us. We're gonna jump those Waffen SS (you
were right about that, Sergeant) and
kick their Nazi butts all the way to
Rome, bet yer ass. Fuck yes! We're
gonna save those poor bastards from
Easy and those Baker Negroes, yessir! BOOOOOOOOM! A shell hits outside. ROCK is heading for the door. ROCK
Western slope, is that right, sir? PRITCHARD
Huh? Hold on, Sergeant, you're
reassigned to HQ, what -- ? Bang! The door slams behind ROCK, leaving PRITCHARD with his mouth
open. BOOOOOOOOM! Another shell hits outside as PRITCHARD steps to the
window. He sees ROCK walking steadily toward the slope into the pass. PRITCHARD
Where the hell does he think he's
going? The FIRST GI and GORYL look uneasy as PRITCHARD opens the door and
shouts at ROCK. PRITCHARD
Sergeant! Sergeant Rock! Get your
ass back here! Pronto! ROCK keeps walking. PRITCHARD
(turning to Goryl)
Lieutenant! I want that man back
here. Get him back here on the
double! GORYL
Right away, sir. GORYL hastens out the door. ON THE SLOPE BOOOOOOOOM! A shell hits on the ridge as ROCK, fifty yards from the
farmhouse, starts down the slope into the woods. GORYL pants after him, shouting... GORYL
Sergeant! Hey, Sergeant!
ROCK keeps walking even as GORYL pants up to him and continues at his
side, breathlessly... GORYL
Sergeant, the Major wants us back
there. He's ordering us back to HQ. ROCK (without breaking stride)
I can't hear him, sir. It's the
shells. BOOOOOM! Another shell hits on the ridge as ROCK continues without
looking back, leaving GORYL to stare after him, flabbergasted. WOODS/MOMENTS LATER Fifty yards down the slope, ROCK is in the woods now, alert for signs
of the enemy, scanning the confusion of trees when footsteps behind him
cause him to turn. GORYL draws alongside him, rifle in hand. GORYL I couldn't hear him either. CUT TO THE ROAD FROM BERGAMO A jeep is winding through the slopes, not yet in sight of the
Farmhouse/HQ. CAPTAIN SLOAN is at the wheel. All we see of the man
beside him is a helmet with three stars on it. The GENERAL'S face is
obscured in profile and the shadow of his helmet. Shells are thundering into the woods just ahead of them. SLOAN (slowing down)
I think we're getting kind of close,
actually, sir. WHOOM! As if to confirm the statement, a shell explodes only a couple
of hundred yards from the road. The GENERAL doesn't flinch. He speaks
sardonically, still in shadowy profile, his helmet more in evidence
than his face. GENERAL Don't like shooting, Captain? SLOAN (bristling)
No, sir, I don't like it and I don't
know anybody who does. Would the
General like to proceed with the
understanding that Major Pritchard
advises us he cannot guarantee the
General's safety...and that the men
are already demoralized without losing
a General, General? GENERAL Fair enough, Captain. I withdraw the
comment. HONK! HONK! SLOAN and the GENERAL (his face still obscured) turn to
see a Troop Carrier looming behind them on the road, eager to pass. INSIDE THE REAR OF THE TROOP CARRIER MORGAN, a cook, is sitting on top of the same confusion of cooking
equipment GORYL rode in on, peering ahead around the canvas roof and
speaking to several other COOKS lost in the gloom in the back. MORGAN
Christ almighty! The asshole's
honking a General off the road. COOK'S VOICE (O.S.) So fucking what? They're useless
bastards, Generals. You could have
all the wars you want without
Generals, but you can't have shit
without food. Generals are useless,
we ain't. INSIDE THE JEEP CAPTAIN SLOAN is pulling off the road to let the troop carrier by... SLOAN Cooks. They're gonna try and give 'em
a hot meal up on the line at Major
Pritchard's request. The Troop Carrier is grinding by, the DRIVER saluting the CAPTAIN and
the GENERAL who's still obscured by the angle... GENERAL Let's get out of here. The men would
rather see a hot meal than a General
any... SLOAN shouts as the sound of an incoming shell crescendos... SLOAN
GENERAL! JUMP FOR IT! BAAAAAAAAAAWHOPOOOOOOOOOOOM! THE SHELL HITS FULL FRAME, OBSCURING THE JEEP AS THE TROOP CARRIER GRINDS PAST AND WE... CUT TO
SKY/LATE AFTERNOON The gloomy overcast sky is blackening, the first drops of rain are
falling... FIRST FOXHOLE RETREAD is taking in the socks he was drying on the rim of the foxhole
as the rain begins to sprinkle... RETREAD Didn't get dry. BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA. A German machinegun opens up. PASCALANO is looking off to his right. He can see WILDMAN slithering
along on his belly as the tracers whiz over him. PASCALANO It's Wildman. RETREAD Now what? PASCALANO Headed for Pardee.
THIRD FOXHOLE
WHIPSNAKE comes awake at the sound of the machinegun and sees KLUZEWSKI
looking out of the foxhole... WHIPSNAKE What's going on? They coming? KLUZEWSKI It's Wildman, he's covering up Pardee. WHIPSNAKE He's dead? KLUZEWSKI (watching)
From the rain. He's still alive, he
was yelling for medicine a couple a
minutes ago. WHIPSNAKE Take a turn, I'll watch. KLUZEWSKI (sarcastic)
Great. It's raining. You got a dry
sleep, I take a wet one.
WHIPSNAKE
Anytime you sleep it's gonna be wet,
Kluzewski, you're the horniest bastard
in Italy. KLUZEWSKI
What's that mean, what're ya talking
about? WHIPSNAKE
You think nobody notices you pounding
it? You think it's a big secret? KLUZEWSKI
Horseshit! Who says? WHIPSNAKE
Everybody says! Anytime you're off
the watch you're flogging it.
Pascalano warned me, he said, "He's
gonna flog it an' moan everytime he
shuts his eyes." KLUZEWSKI
Aaaw, crap! I'm a restless sleeper,
I squirm around, maybe I make some
noises...I got gas is all. My wife
used to get on me about it. WHIPSNAKE
You beat your meat in front of your
wife? KLUZEWSKI
Fuck you! FIFTH FOXHOLE The rain is coming down fiercely now as TEXAS watches WILDMAN scramble
into their foxhole, machinegun bullets sizzling above them. TEXAS How is he? WILDMAN
How do I know, am I a medic? He's
bad, I gave him a shot, he's all
chewed up, I don't know what to do for
him. TEXAS That was a great plan, making a run
for it in daylight... WILDMAN
Shut the fuck up!
WILDMAN and TEXAS are glaring at each other as we... CUT TO
MEADOW/DUSK
The rain is pouring down on a tiny hut, apparently abandoned, in a
meadow on the fringe of the woods as ROCK and GORYL appear, slogging
through the meadow toward the woods. A machinegun rattles in the wood
ahead and GORYL reacts nervously. That gun isn't too far away and he's
scared now. ROCK Kraut gun. GORYL
H-how do you know? ROCK Faster rate of fire. GORYL
Oh. ROCK is considering the peasant hut. It looks deserted. ROCK If that place is empty, we could wait
in there till dark. GORYL Uh, right. Good idea. INTERIOR/FARMHOUSE/NIGHT PRITCHARD peeks out between the curtains that cover the window. He
can't see anything, rain is slashing at the window. He turns to the
weary looking FIRST GI slumped by the door. PRITCHARD Private, I want you to go out and
check our positions, make sure
everyone's on their toes... The FIRST GI blinks in disbelief, then climbs reluctantly to his feet,
his tone almost openly hostile... FIRST GI Right, sir. PRITCHARD
They've stopped shelling. That could
mean they're approaching, it could
mean...
RADIO OPERATOR'S VOICE (O.S.) Sir! Orders from Battalion HQ, sir. Colonel Cronkite. PRITCHARD turns abruptly and heads for the radio where the RADIO
OPERATOR sits, wearing headphones. PRITCHARD Withdraw? RADIO OPERATOR Fall back to Bergamo, yes, sir. PRITCHARD breathes a sigh of relief and turns toward the FIRST GI. PRITCHARD All right, we're gonna get the fuck outta here! Notify everybody in... WHAM! The door bursts open, interrupting PRITCHARD in midsentence.
PRITCHARD'S eyes bulge and his jaw sags at what he sees in the doorway. Dripping wet in the doorway is an angry looking MAN of about fifty,
grizzled and graying...STARK NAKED EXCEPT FOR COMBAT BOOTS AND A HELMET. Everybody in the room is staring in disbelief when PRITCHARD
suddenly notices that there are three stars on the NAKED MAN'S helmet. PRITCHARD hesitates, then, still slack-jawed, tentatively
comes to attention and salutes like a man afraid not to. The NAKED MAN brusquely returns the salute as we... CUT TO WOODS/NIGHT It's pitch black, pouring rain when suddenly a flare whooshes and
bursts overhead, illuminating the woods in a spooky green light,
catching WILDMAN running low. BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA, the German machineguns open up, spraying
bullets as WILDMAN dives flat on his belly and squirms and wriggles the
rest of the way toward the foxhole. CHATTA CHATTA CHATTA CHATTA. The BAR responds, firing a burst at the
winking muzzle of the German machinegun as the flare fades overhead. FIFTH FOXHOLE TEXAS is firing his M-1 at the German guns as WILDMAN tumbles into the
watery foxhole. WILDMAN Don't waste rounds.
TEXAS I was covering you. WILDMAN
You can't see 'em, you can't hit 'em. TEXAS What about Pardee? Is he alive? For a long moment WILDMAN doesn't answer. The guns have stopped firing
and there's no sound but the raging rain. Then he speaks in a low
voice... WILDMAN He's all bandaged. TEXAS
Bandaged? Whaddaya mean "bandaged"? WILDMAN His chest, his gut, his wound, it's
all bandaged up. He says a medic did
it. TEXAS Medic! What medic? Where? WILDMAN He's crazy in the head, he must have
a fever.. TEXAS So who bandaged him? WILDMAN
(dubiously)
He musta done it himself. There
aren't any medics around here. TEXAS Can he move? Whadder we gonna do about him? WILDMAN He's crawled about ten yards already,
he's resting up. TEXAS He's gonna crawl here? Okay, then
what? We were gonna get outta here
tonight. If he can't walk... WILDMAN
We can't get outta here because
they'll put up a flare.
TEXAS So why'd we go in daylight? We're
worse off now with him non-
ambulatory than if... WILDMAN It's called "pinned down," asshole! TEXAS I know what it's called, Wildman.
What the fuck are we gonna do about
it? THIRD FOXHOLE/NIGHT Barely visible in the rainy darkness, WHIPSNAKE is poking KLUZEWSKI
awake. WHIPSNAKE
You awake, Klu? It's your watch. KLUZEWSKI stirs, grunts, sits up in the darkness while WHIPSNAKE
shields a flashlight as he tries to make a bed for himself under a
poncho that half roofs the hole. KLUZEWSKI There oughtta be a flag you could wave
when you gotta take a crap. Like a
time out. WHIPSNAKE
This is a war, not a basketball game,
Kluzewski. KLUZEWSKI
There's rules in war just like in
basketball. They gotta crap, we gotta
crap. You want me to crap in the
foxhole? WHIPSNAKE (curling up, dousing the
light)
You crap in the foxhole, asshole, I'll
kill you before the jerries get you. KLUZEWSKI I don't have to crap anyway, I didn't
eat anything. WHIPSNAKE Shuddup and lemme sleep. Silence. Rain pours down.
A long moment, then... WHOOOSH! A flare bursts overhead, turning the
woods a spooky yellow, revealing KLUZEWSKI in the foxhole and WHIPSNAKE
beside him, already asleep under the poncho. KLUZEWSKI stares at the brightly lit woods. Nothing moves. There's no
sound except the thrashing rain. It's very spooky, almost surreal. Nervously, KLUZEWSKI whispers loud in the direction of the other
foxholes. KLUZEWSKI
Sssssst! Wildman!
(no answer)
Retread? Hey, Retread! Nothing! It's like KLUZEWSKI is all alone in the world as the light
from the flare diminishes but, instead of fading entirely, remains a
gloomy yellow, giving the woods a creepy glow. KLUZEWSKI is uneasy as he sits back in the foxhole...and stiffens
suddenly as his hand touches something. He looks. There's something in the wall of the foxhole, buried in the
mud. Tentatively he touches it, wiping away mud, and sees...A HUMAN HAND. For a moment KLUZEWSKI stares at it in horror. It's a small hand, as
if a woman or child were buried in the mud...not too long ago. IT MOVES! No! Impossible. It must be an illusion, something to do with the
continuing weird yellow afterglow of the flare. IT REALLY MOVES! WRITHING, EXPOSING A DELICATE WRIST. Without taking his eyes off the horrifying phenomenon, KLUZEWSKI hisses
urgently at WHIPSNAKE... KLUZEWSKI Whip! Whip, wake up! Whip! WHIPSNAKE doesn't stir. KLUZEWSKI forgets to say anything more as, hypnotized, he watches an arm emerge from the mud and then a face, covered with mud. A WOMAN'S
FACE! Bug-eyed, KLUZEWSKI sees the hand wipe mud from the face. KLUZEWSKI
Angie! Jesus Christ! ANGIE is squirming out of the muddy wall of the foxhole, a lithe young
woman of twenty-three, stark naked. She gives an apologetic little
laugh...
ANGIE
I been going crazy, Klu, ha ha. KLUZEWSKI Angie! Angie, this is fucking Italy. We're at war. ANGIE
I know, honey, but I got hot pants,
I'm going crazy. KLUZEWSKI casts a frantic glance at WHIPSNAKE who's still sound
asleep...thank God. KLUZEWSKI Angie, we can't do nothing here. I
mean, there's guys around...Germans for Christ sake! We're in a foxhole. It's a small foxhole, there's nowhere to go. ANGIE has a hand on
KLUZEWSKI'S crotch. The rain is washing the mud off her, revealing her
firm breasts, her alabaster skin, her wet black hair. She's moving the
hand gently, speaking in a breathy, intimate voice... ANGIE Remember that time when the kids were
out back...when we did it on the
kitchen floor? KLUZEWSKI (sudden alarm)
The kids! Where are the kids? ANGIE (rubbing against him)
With your parents. Come ooooooon,
baby... KLUZEWSKI'S gonna shit or go to heaven! His eyes are rolling, his
breath is heavy. She's kneading his crotch. He tongue kisses her,
puts a muddy hand on her firm breast. She moans hotly. Rain soaks
them. FIFTH FOXHOLE/NIGHT Darkness. Rain. TEXAS stiffens and kicks WILDMAN awake. TEXAS (whisper)
Sssssst. Someone moving. WILDMAN (whisper)
Don't shoot, it could be Pardee. TEXAS Whozzat?
PARDEE'S VOICE (O.S.) Lana Turner. TEXAS (to Wildman)
Whatsa countersign? WILDMAN Big tits, stupid. TEXAS Big tits. PARDEE appears and flops down painfully into the foxhole while WILDMAN covers them with a poncho and flicks on his flashlight. PARDEE Tell me...tell me the truth. WILDMAN What truth? PARDEE I'm alive, right? TEXAS Yeah. PARDEE I thought maybe I was dead. You know
who I saw out there...three minutes
ago? WILDMAN Who? PARDEE
Sergeant Rock! I seen Rock! WILDMAN
Fuck you. PARDEE Sergeant Rock! I swear to God. WILDMAN He's dead, asshole. PARDEE That's what I'm talking about. He's
dead, but I see him, what's that make
me? He's out there, him and another
guy.
WILDMAN
(to Pascalano)
Give him a dose, he's fucked up from
the wound. PASCALANO You got a fever, Pardee... PARDEE
He said to me, "Ssssst! Pardee! You
okay?" I said, "I dunno, Sarge. I
thought you were dead." "Where's the
Wildman?" he says... WILDMAN
Shut up, Pardee. Shut up and swallow. PARDEE
..."Wildman's over there," I go, "dug
in." "What about the rest," he says,
"Who's left?" PASCALANO Hallucination. PARDEE
Well, I told him...or it...the
hallucination, and the hallucination
crawled off with this other guy, this
other hallucination. WILDMAN
(keeping watch)
Rock isn't out there, Pardee. PARDEE
Maybe we're all dead. FIRST FOXHOLE/NIGHT The rain is diminishing, the moon appearing behind blowing clouds as
PASCALANO nervously alerts RETREAD. PASCALANO Hey, I see something. RETREAD
Again? PASCALANO Over there...something moved. SECOND FOXHOLE/NIGHT BEEF and BIGELOW are both awake, peering into the shadowy darkness. BIGELOW Where? BEEF
Over there. Watch. BIGELOW Might be Pardee. WHOOOOOOSH! A flare bursts, the woods are suddenly bright green. THIRD FOXHOLE/NIGHT Oooooooooh! Uuuuuuuuuuuun! In a blaze of green light, her head thrown
back in wild abandon, ANGIE comes as KLUZEWSKI humps her furiously in
the brightly lit foxhole. WHIPSNAKE'S VOICE (O.S.) Kluzewski, you asshole, cut it out. ANGIE'S face is distorted with the agony of the climax! WHIPSNAKE'S hand clutches KLUZEWSKI'S shoulder as the German
machineguns start to rattle... KLUZEWSKI looks up. WHIPSNAKE is shaking him. WHIPSNAKE Wake up, you dumb fuck! KLUZEWSKI shakes his head clear and grabs his rifle. There is no
ANGIE, the flare is dying, the BAR is making dull sounds, rifles are
snapping. KLUZEWSKI
What's goin' on? WHIPSNAKE is firing over the lip of the foxhole...BANG! BANG! WHIPSNAKE You an' the krauts, you're both coming! SECOND FOXHOLE The woods are moonlit again as BEEF looks frantically off and behind
them where a muzzle flashes a burst of automatic fire... BEEF
Who's that? Who the fuck is that over
there? BIGELOW fires a burst at the German machineguns as he answers.
BIGELOW Dunno! Krauts? FIRST FOXHOLE
RETREAD and PASCALANO are observing the same muzzle flashes as they
return German fire. RETREAD Not krauts. PASCALANO Who? BAAAAAAAWHOOOOOOOOOM! A sudden explosion. PASCALANO and RETREAD stare in amazement. RETREAD Jesus Christ! SCREAMS fill the night. Words of agony...IN GERMAN! PASCALANO The bastards blew up. RETREAD It was a grenade. PASCALANO I thought nobody had any left! A sudden burst of automatic fire and more screams. THIRD FOXHOLE WHIPSNAKE and KLUZEWSKI are equally confounded. KLUZEWSKI Who the fuck is shooting? WHIPSNAKE Must be Wildman. He musta gone after
'em. More screams, more GERMAN words... FIRST FOXHOLE PASCALANO swings his rifle violently toward rapidly moving shadows to
the right.
VOICE/DARKNESS DON'T SHOOT!
BANG! PASCALANO fires as a shadowy figure looms out of the darkness above them and...leaps into the foxhole on top of PASCALANO and RETREAD. VOICE/DARKNESS
It's okay, you missed me. RETREAD peers into a face partially visible in the silvery moonlight, a
fresh, young, non-combat kind of face...GORYL. RETREAD
Who the fuck are you? GORYL
Lieutenant Goryl, your new C.O. RETREAD and PASCALANO are flabbergasted... PASCALANO Yer shitting me...uh, sir. RETREAD
"Girl"? GORYL
Gore-ill, Tom. RETREAD
That was you over there with the BAR? GORYL
Right. As soon as Sergeant Rock takes
out the second machinegun position,
we're gonna move out. PASCALANO (bug-eyed)
Rock! FIFTH FOXHOLE/MINUTES LATER WILDMAN, TEXAS and PARDEE are looking at PASCALANO in disbelief as
PASCALANO peers into the Fifth Foxhole... TEXAS Alive? WILDMAN
You're sure? A GERMAN VOICE is screaming in the darkness...pain. PARDEE
I toldja.
PASCALANO We're supposed to put Pardee on a
poncho and move out when Rock takes
out the second machinegun. THTRD FOXHOLE/MOMENTS LATER KLUZEWSKI and WHIPSNAKE are reacting to PASCALANO who's peering over
the lip of their foxhole as the GERMAN VOICE shouts in the
background... WHIPSNAKE
Sergeant Rock! He's alive? PASCALANO He's gonna take out the other gun,
then we're supposed to go according
to Lieutenant Girl... KLUZEWSKI
"Girl"! PASCALANO No such luck, pal. He's pretty, but
it's just a name. SECOND FOXHOLE/SECONDS LATER BEEF and BIGELOW are facing PASCALANO who's peering into their foxhole
from above as the GERMAN VOICE wails in the background... BIGELOW
How's he gonna take out the machinegun? PASCALANO He got the first one, didn't he? You
hear that Kraut fucker crying? Ask
him. BEEF
I like Rock. He's a sonofabitch, a
real goddamn leader. GERMAN POSITION The GERMAN SOLDIERS are crouched behind their machinegun, cold and businesslike. As two GERMANS drag the wounded, screaming GERMAN
SOLDIER into their position, the CAPTAIN snaps an order. The GERMAN
SOLDIER is silenced immediately! These guys mean business! PLOP! A grenade flops stupidly in front of them, a silly little
pineapple of iron. The CAPTAIN looks at it, it registers in his mind...then it explodes.
BOOOOOOM! TATTA TATTA TATTA TATTA...a grease gun opens up, bullets ripping into
the already ravaged GERMAN SOLDIERS as we... CUT TO MOONLIT WOODS/SECONDS LATER Nine SHADOWS, stumbling, struggling through the darkness with the tent
man, PARDEE, in a poncho. Stumbling. Cursing. WILDMAN Where we going, huh? GORYL Up the pass. There's a hut, we meet Rock there. In a meadow. BEEF
(tripping) Fuck. KLUZEWSKI
(freezing) Listen. The rapid patter of the German machinegun. WHIPSNAKE That's the kraut gun. WILDMAN is grim in the moonlight as BIGELOW says aloud what all of them
are thinking... BIGELOW He didn't get 'em, they got him. GORYL is worried, but he forces himself to take charge. GORYL Come on, men, let's keep moving. WILDMAN Maybe a couple of us should go back. Me and Retread. GORYL No. Keep moving. Let's go. WILDMAN hesitates, his eyes meeting GORYL'S. GORYL looks away.
PASCALANO Rock ain't dead. He's fucking
indestructible, can't be killed. We
just seen that, we thought he was
gone, we see him half dead, then he
shows up. GORYL is moving ahead and the others are falling in behind him. WILDMAN hesitates, then follows. Behind them, the machinegun stutters again... TEXAS Who the fuck they shooting at? BEEF Colored guys. From Baker. They were
on the east slope. PASCALANO Bullshit! Not Baker. Fucking Rock
got the kraut gun and he's shooting
the goddamn huns with their own gun,
that's all. GERMAN POSITION The machinegun spatters bullets into the moonlit woods where GERMAN VOICES exchange urgent shouts. ROCK is behind the gun, blazing away, finishing off a belt. Beside him
in a pool of blood a badly INJURED GERMAN speaks to him. INJURED GERMAN (German, subtitled) Give me more medicine. For the pain. ROCK (German, subtitled) I gave you all I had. Having failed to find another ammo belt, ROCK is hastily grabbing some
German grenades and other gear. INJURED GERMAN (German, subtitled)
How come you talk German without an
accent? ROCK (German, subtitled)
My parents came from the Ruhr.
INJURED GERMAN (German, subtitled) Too bad, they should've stayed. You guys don't have a chance. We're like
a big machine, the Panzers are coming now, tanks. ROCK
(leaving) We eat tanks, we piss on them, tanks
are nothing to us. Laden with gear, ROCK slips off into the woods and, the instant he's
gone, the INJURED GERMAN shouts at the top of his lungs... INJURED GERMAN (German, subtitled) THERE'S ONLY ONE, HE'S ALL ALONE! GET
HIM! WILLIE! CHRISTIAN! GET HIM! CUT TO MEADOW/LATER TEXAS is moving cautiously back through the meadow to where GORYL and
the rest of Easy are waiting tensely... TEXAS No hut up there, sir. Muttering among the men..."Christ!" "Lost." "Stupid kid." Shaken, GORYL tries to hide his waning confidence... GORYL
I must have got turned around. It's
that way. Let's go. More grumbling. BEEF murmurs to RETREAD... BEEF
We're fucking lost. I got no
confidence in this kid at all! RIDGE/OUTSIDE THE FARMHOUSE/NIGHT Crouched behind a machinegun outside the farmhouse, three weary GIS
are sharing a quick smoke, hiding the single cigarette in a helmet so
the glow won't give them away... SECOND GI
Naked? Bare ass? FIRST GI
Fucking aye! Bare fucking ass! Boots
and a helmet is all...
THIRD GI
A helmet with three stars! FIRST GI
He says his jeep got shelled, gasoline
all over his uniform. Took it off so
he wouldn't catch fire. THIRD GI
Poor bastard was out there in the
woods buck naked for about three
hours... SECOND GI "General Cook," huh? I never hearda
no General Cook. FIRST GI
(imitating)
"Cook, Third Division, gimme that
uniform, private.' SECOND GI
(incredulous)
He took your fucking uniform? FIRST GI
Am I gonna say "Fuck you, General"? SECOND GI
It makes you wonder sometimes if this
is a war or a comedy... FIRST GI
Comedy, my ass! That bastard ain't
funny unless getting killed is ha-ha!
You know what he's doing, he's in
there telling Pritchard we're gonna
stick it out. The dumb shit wants
to attack, he's calling for support... INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE PRITCHARD looks agitated as GENERAL COOK, wearing an ill-fitted
private's uniform, harangues him... COOK
You get your man to repeat the order.
I want at least a dozen howitzers, I
want Long Toms, I want air support,
and I want six rifle companies by... PRITCHARD General, I don't think you quite grasp
our situation here. By the time any
support arrives we'll already be --
COOK interrupts, leaping to his feet, waving his arms theatrically and
declaiming loudly... COOK "Then up spoke brave Horatius, the
Captain of the gate! 'To all the men
upon this earth, death cometh soon or
late! And how can man die better than
by facing fearful odds for the ashes
of his fathers and the temples of his
gods?" Stunned, PRITCHARD can only stammer while everybody in the room stares
at the General, completely non-plussed... PRITCHARD
I...uh, I beg your...pardon, General? COOK
Tennyson! You didn't learn Tennyson
at The Point, Major? Goddamn pity. (to the amazed GIs)
Of course we don't believe in all
that crap about ashes of fathers and
temples of gods, that's Greek stuff...
but we believe in our families, our
loved ones, our country, and Jesus
Christ...and our men down in that
pass. PRITCHARD
General, that's very emotional stuff
about "fearful odds," but, as you
know, sir, wars are won with tactics
and... COOK
"'Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
with all the speed ye may, and I with
two to help me will hold the foe at
bay!'" (triumphantly) "'For in yon straight path a thousand may well be stopped by three, now who
will stand on either hand and fight
the foe with me?'" (to everyone)
That's your tactics! It was a bridge,
see? Narrow like that pass down
there. The idea was three men could
stand off an army of thousands...and
they did! That's called "tactics mitt
balls," got that?
PRITCHARD General, our situation is very serious
and I don't think we should discuss
this in front of... COOK
What's that? COOK has suddenly noticed some cans piled under a shelf in the corner
which he's pointing at... RADIO OPERATOR Looks like paint, sir. COOK (inspecting)
Paint! What kind of paint? PRITCHARD
I imagine it's Italian paint, General,
it was here when we established HQ.
I wonder if we could continue our
discussion of tactics in private so
that... COOK
It's white paint! COOK has opened a can and dipped his finger in as we... CUT TO HUT, MEADOW/NIGHT Squatting in a moonlit meadow, the little peasant hut looks ominous
to GORYL and the men of Easy who are eyeing it warily from a safe
distance. PASCALANO expresses almost universal sentiments as he
mutters under his breath... PASCALANO I was beginning to think it didn't
exist. GORYL (ignoring the remark
bravely)
The Sergeant and I checked it out this
afternoon. It's abandoned. RETREAD
Yeah? I smell smoke.
BEEF
Me too.
GORYL
(decisively)
I'm gonna look it over. I need a
volunteer to go with me. GORYL finds himself looking into battle-hardened faces, men who don't
volunteer...especially not for green lieutenants. No response. Hiding his own fear, GORYL consider the tough faces one by one. Then
he points... GORYL
You. Let's go. Without waiting for WILDMAN to answer, GORYL starts toward the hut. With a shrug, WILDMAN falls in behind him. The others watch the two of them move stealthily toward the hut. BEEF I'll say this for the Lieutenant, he's
goin' himself, he didn't send two of
us. RETREAD
That's 'cause he's so fucking green
he's more scared of us than the
krauts. He'll learn. CLOSE TO THE HUT WILDMAN moves cautiously to a window, then turns and hisses to
GORYL... WILDMAN
Window's covered with something. GORYL hides his trembling hands as he whispers. GORYL
Cover me. I'm going in. WILDMAN is actually impressed. He looks GORYL in the eye. WILDMAN
I got more experience, sir. I could
go in. GORYL
I need more experience. Cover me. WILDMAN stands by the door as GORYL suddenly shoves it open.
INSIDE THE HUT
As GORYL drops in low, a gun muzzle touches his temple... FORTY YARDS AWAY BEEF, RETREAD, and the others watch breathlessly as WILDMAN follows
GORYL in through the door. The men wait tensely for a shot or something... Suddenly WILDMAN appears and approaches the anxious men somberly...
WILDMAN Sergeant Rock is preparing a light
repast of hot K rations and he wonders
if we would care to dine with him. PASCALANO What'd I tell you? The bastard can't
die, he's superhuman!
MEADOW/DAWN
The hut is a glum silhouette against the weak light coming from the
east where the rising sun is obscured by clouds. BIGELOW'S breath
comes in puffs of steam as he stands watch outside the hut, holding his
hand out to collect the first flakes of snow that's beginning to fall
almost imperceptibly. INSIDE THE HUT The men of Easy, huddled on the floor, are just beginning to stir.
PASCALANO is seeing to PARDEE'S needs while ROCK passes out another
round of K rations from his pack. TEXAS That true what Whip said about the hospital? The Krauts bombed it? ROCK
(a grim shrug)
It coulda been an accident. PARDEE
It killed Goines, right? Chopper was
probably there too, and Fortuna. BEEF
Som