Platoon
CHRIS That’s a nice way of putting it.
Elias cuffs a joint, keeping its glow hidden in the dark. A pause, both of them meditative.
CHRIS (CONT’D) Barnes got it in for you, don’t he?
ELIAS (philosophically) Barnes believes in what he’s doing.
CHRIS And you, do you believe?
ELIAS In ’65 – yeah. Now … (pause) No. What happened today’s just the beginning. We’re gonna lose this war …
CHRIS (surprised) You really think so … us?
Elias’ eyes seem to go to some inner place, his passion surging.
ELIAS … we been kicking other people’s asses so long I guess it’s time we got our own kicked. The only decent thing I can see coming out of here are the survivors – hundreds of thousands of guys like you Taylor going back to every little town in the country knowing something about what it’s like to take a life and what that can do to a person’s soul – twist it like Barnes and Bunny and make ’em sick inside and if you got any brains you gonna fight it the rest of your life cause it’s cheap, killing is cheap, the cheapest thing I know and when some drunk like O’Neill starts glorifying it, you’re gonna puke all over him and when the politicians start selling you a used war all over again, you and your generation gonna say go fuck yourself ’cause you know, you’ve seen it, and when you know it, deep down there …
He plants his fist in Chris’ gut, expelling his breath such is the force of the blow – like a power passed between them.
ELIAS (CONT’D) … you know it till you die … that’s why the survivors remember. ‘Cause the dead don’t let em forget.
His eyes blazing, reliving the deaths in the village, licking the wounds for the platoon, mourning the failure of its heroism. Chris looking at him, a little awed by his intensity. Elias looks away, embarrassed that he has sermonized, looks back at the stars.
ELIAS (CONT’D) Oh shit! Sometimes there’s things in my head … man. Grass does that to me, fucks me all up like a crazy Indian …
CHRIS Do you believe that stuff about … knowing you’re gonna die?
ELIAS Yeah, those are the guys that live. I really don’t think Death gives a shit, it’s like a giant garbage can, I think it takes whatever it can get … you never know where it’s gonna come from anyway … so why spin your wheels?
He shrugs, a certain bravado masking his own uncertainty.
CHRIS … You ever think about reincarnation, all that stuff?
A lightning quick movement follows. Elias’ hand passing over his face like a mime, a click of the fingers and he leans closer to Chris. A new expression on his face. Devil’s eyes, mocking child, danger in his soul, excitement, sex – the Elias that Chris saw in the smoking session in base camp. Chris smiles, sucked in, almost laughs and then the face is gone again.
ELIAS Sure, goes on all the time. Maybe a piece of me’s in you now, who knows. But when you die – really die – that’s a big return ticket. (soft) I like to think I’m gonna come back as … as wind or fire – or a deer (likes the image) … yeah, a deer …
He smiles at the thought. Chris looks at him, looks away. A shooting star falls suddenly and dryly through the cosmos. Their eyes.
EXT. JUNGLE – STREAM – DAY (RAIN)
The Platoon moves along a shallow STREAM bordering the jungle. A thick RAIN falls amid cracks of distant thunder. Chris, Rhah, Francis, Big Harold, others are at the rear of the platoon, their ponchos pulled over them like big sad grey tents. There’s a holdup ahead and the Men rest on rocks or stand. The rain makes a pointilistic pattern, the men collages of grey, their rifles slung upside down to keep dry.
Barnes is up ahead, out of the stream bank, on the radio.
EXT. JUNGLE CHURCH – DAY (RAIN)
Lerner’s on point, resting in the shadow of a decaying old French Catholic Church from the 19th Century. The jungle has long ago won the battle, vines creeping into the cracks, remnants of arches layered around the church at the epicenter. Behind Lerner is Sgt.Warren and his radioman.
EXT. JUNGLE CLEARING – DAY (RAIN)
Elias, further back, is checking out the jungle alongside the clearing, noticing a number of old spider holes long since abandoned. He goes over and checks them.
EXT. JUNGLE – STREAM – DAY (RAIN)
Back at the stream, Rhah, looking old and whiskered under his poncho hood, lights up a roach, puffs it. Another crack of thunder. Chris comes over, sits with him on his rock. Rhah passes him the joint. He smokes.
Big Harold pulls a leech out of his open crotch area.
HAROLD Shit, lookit this little fucker trying to get up ma glory hole.
FRANCIS Hey Big Harold, put dat in your turkey loaf it won’t come out your back end.
KING (ribbing) Yeah, big boy, thought you had that laundry gig all laid out?
BIG HAROLD (pissed) Shit, got to paint myself white get one of dem jobs. Get ma request in for a circumcision.
KING Gonna be a rabbi man?
FRANCIS Gonna cut your pecker down to size hunh Big Harold?
BIG HAROLD Dat’s okay wid me, better to have a small one den no one at all.
KING Your girlfriends gonna look for new lovers, man. Best thing a bro’s got’s his flap.
HAROLD I’ll drink to your flap in Chicago, King. All I gotta do is stretch it out to 15 days and I’ll be short 15 and the Beast just wouldn’t dare send me back to the bush.
FRANCIS You gonna get some for me back in the World, Harold? Whatcha gonna do? (dreaming of it)
HAROLD The world’s gonna be ma oyster man. First’s I gonna EAT – all the hamburger and french fries and steaks soaked in onions and ketchup I can get. Then I’se gonna FUCK and SUCK Sandy Bell till I sore all over and can’t fuck no more, and den I’se gonna SLEEP for DAYS, for WEEKS! Den I’se gonna think bout what comes next …
The words carry over Chris staring out at the rain, feeling a leaden fatigued high. Passes the roach, down to a millimeter, back to Rhah who points to his face.
RHAH … you got one right there.
Chris feels for, finds the leech on the edge of his lip, cursing under his breath.
LIEUTENANT WOLFE (in the stream, on radio) All right move out.
The men start slogging on against the rain.
Junior is drinking from the stream, as Fu Sheng passes.
FU SHENG Don’t drink that asshole. You’re gonna get malaria.
JUNIOR Shit I hope so!
EXT. JUNGLE – CHURCH – DAY (RAIN)
On point, Lerner moves out through a remnant of an old arch, somewhat casual in his approach to point.
LERNER Hey Sarge, you wanna tell me which way or do I get to figger it out?
Sgt.Warren, picking up a quick azimuth on his lensatic compass, points. Lerner moves in the new direction.
EXT. JUNGLE – DAY (RAIN)
Lerner moves away from the clearing, working up a slight incline when the MACHINE GUN FIRE erupts out of the jungle, spinning him – throwing him into the dirt like discarded garbage.
The men are down, yelling.
SGT. WARREN Ambush! Incoming! Fucking incoming!
Suddenly an RPG rocket breaks out of the bush, sounding like an atom bomb as it devastates the front of the Platoon. Radio Talk is continuous now, back and forth between the three platoon radios, through the ambush.
O’NEILL DOC, UP HERE! Lerner’s hit! …
More machine gun fire.
FRANCIS DOC! Over here – we got … one … two down. Warren’s hit.
EXT. JUNGLE – CHURCH – DAY (RAIN)
Chris moving up with Rhah and the others out of the stream, they hit the ground next to Sgt.O’Neill, who looks pretty scared, obviously not about to move.
CHRIS What’s going on?
O’NEILL Shit they got RPG’s on our ass. Fucking ambush – they was waiting for us to break trail!
KING WATCH OUT! ROCKET!
Another rocket whistling in. A huge roar. Trees shredded, dirt, dust rising.
CHRIS Who’s on point?
O’NEILL Lerner and Warren.
Chris uses his M-16 to lever himself up into a crouch and suddenly dashes forward, passing Rhah.
RHAH Where you goin’ man!
Chris tearing up. Past Flash – the hip black head with the colored beads. He’s dead, torn and shredded, his face and eyes stuff with dirt. Next to him Doc is frantically tourniqueting Tubbs, shot in the legs. He’s screaming.
Chris keeps moving to the front as if compelled.
EXT. JUNGLE – BARNES’ POSITION – DAY (RAIN)
Barnes is laying out fire.
BARNES Goddamit, you assholes get fucking’ firepower out there! (to Hoyt on radio) Get Two Bravo up here. Get me a gun. (to others) Spread it out! More to the flanks! Look for a fuckin’ target!
Another explosion.
EXT. JUNGLE – FORWARD POINT – DAY (RAIN)
Chris comes alongside Francis near the point, throws himself down. Banging his head against his helmet as he falls. The incoming rounds are tearing up the front of the platoon.
CHRIS (to Francis) Where’s Lerner?
FRANCIS (terrified) Out there man – behind the log.
Looking. A body – moaning, sort of moving, wriggling, as if trying to escape the pain.
CHRIS Oh Jesus!
His eyes moving to Sgt.Warren lying alongside a tree – calmly trying to stack his intestines back into his ruptured stomach. Another RPG comes in.
Chris makes a conscious decision, moves up – bit by bit, shielding himself with tree stumps, ant hills, laying out fire, trying to get closer to Lerner.
Francis following his progress, bug-eyed.
Fu Sheng now comes up with his M-60 – Harold his loader, belts of ammo flapping against their bodies. He fires from the hip, providing cover fire for Chris, then pops down.
EXT. FORWARD POINT – JUNGLE – DAY (DRIZZLING RAIN)
Chris, firing out another magazine, crawls closer to Lerner, trying to ascertain if he’s still alive.
CHRIS Lerner! Lerner, can you hear me man?
