CHRIS (V.O.) They sent us back into the valley the next day – about 2,000 metres from Cambodia – into a battalion perimeter. Alpha Company had been hit hard the day before by a sizeable force and Charlie Company had been probed that night. There were other battalions in the valley, we weren’t the only ones but we knew we were going to be the bait to lure them out. And somewhere out there was the entire 141st NVA Regiment.
The BATTALION PERIMETER now breaks in the clear ahead. Smoke grenades of various colors are being popped on the cleared LZ. It’s not big, its radius 200 yards, heavily sandbagged, deeply dug, rolls of barbed wire protecting it, radio antennas sprouting from the CP – and surrounded on all four sides by jungle.
The First Chopper rocking down, whipping up dust clouds. Chris jumps out, moving out fast as the Second Chopper starts in.
EXT. BATTALION CP – PERIMETER #3 – DUSK
At the Battalion CP, the Major confers with Captain Harris and two other Captains. Two NVA PRISONERS are sitting on their knees, interrogated by Vietnamese Kit Carson scouts and a U.S. Sergeant, their hands tied.
The Scout slaps the shit out of the NVA.
EXT. PLATOON CP – PERIMETER #3 – DUSK
All this is watched from a distance by Ace and Doc and Lt.Wolfe at the Platoon CP. Ace and Doc are digging the foxhole, the ace of spades in Ace’s helmet band, sharing the information with Tony and Francis.
ACE … they caught ’em last night pulling some shit on Charlie Company. They found maps on ’em, man – got a friend at Battalion says they had every fuckin’ foxhole here fixed on it. Distances, treelines, our claymores, trip wires, everything? I shit you not.
DOC Shit, so what the fuck are we doing here? Why don’t we move … (no answer) Bad vibes, man, I got bad vibes here. Where are the new guys they provided us anyway.
TONY I heard we’s in Cambodia right fuckin’ NOW.
FRANCIS You kidding man …
Rhah comes up, a walking stick in hand, huge pirate kerchief on his head, semi-naked.
RHAH You wanted to see me sir?
WOLFE Jackson, looks like you got Elias’ squad now.
RHAH Squad? I didn’t know we was still referring to this platoon in terms of squads sir. (with a snicker for Ace and Doc)
WOLFE (indicating a rough drawing in the dirt) These two holes are yours …
RHAH Begging your pardon Lieutenant but my holes are far enuff apart you could run a regiment through there and nobody’d see them – I got five live bodies left …
WOLFE I don’t want to hear your problems, Jackson. You’ll get new men any day. Time being you make do like everybody else.
RHAH Hey Lieutenant I didn’t ask for this job, I …
WOLFE (leaves) I don’t want to hear about it Jackson.
RHAH (amazed, looking off at him) You don’t want to hear about it?
WOLFE (turns) That’s right. I don’t want to hear about it ’cause to tell you the truth, I don’t give a shit okay … I just don’t give a shit anymore.
RHAH (shrugs, to himself) Right …
WOLFE (passing Ace digging the CP hole) This is one time we could sure use Elias.
ACE (to Doc) ‘Some people say I’m wishy washy. Maybe I am. Maybe I ain’t.’
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – CHRIS’ FOXHOLE – DUSK
On the edge of the perimeter, King puts out his claymore, unraveling it back towards his FOXHOLE, intersecting MEN form the Third Platoon, who file out on a night ambush, skirting the trip wires, demoralized, silent. Eye exchanges, but no words.
Chris sits on the foxhole watching the ambush go out, smoking a joint by himself, depressed. King comes in with the claymore wires, attaching them to their detonators. Their foxhole – as are all of the Platoon’s – is positioned just inside the treeline bordering the LZ, so that they are quite isolated from the center of the perimeter where they first landed.
KING Glad I ain’t going with ’em. Somewhere out dere man is de Beast and he hungry tonight … Man, what a bummer. Ten days and a wakeup and I’m still dealing wid this shit – fuckin’ etcetera and ad infinitum man …
The LAST SOLDIER in the file recedes into the foliage.
KING (CONT’D) (noticiing Chris’ silence) What’s the matter wid you? … How come you ain’t writing no more? You was always writing something home. Looks like youse half a bubble off, Taylor.
He doesn’t answer, makes a futile gesture.
KING (CONT’D) What about your folks? That grandma you was telling me about? …
Chris shakes his head.
KING (CONT’D) Girl?
Chris’ eyes answer negatively.
KING (CONT’D) Must be somebody?
CHRIS … there’s nobody.
KING (shifts, uncomfortable) You been smoking too much shit babe. Gotta control that. Takes a man down … I remember when you first come out to the bush, you was straight as a …
CHRIS Who gives a shit!
He shifts, annoyed, prepares his grenades along the sand bags. King shrugs, preparing his meal, sings himself a snatch of song, a good natured man.
KING (soft) ‘People say I’m the life of the party cause I tell a joke or two although I may be laughing loud and hardy deep inside I’m blue …’
CHRIS Y’ever get caught in a mistake King and you just can’t get out of it?
KING Way out of anything, man. Just keep your pecker up, your powder dry, the worm WILL turn. How many days you short?
CHRIS Not just me … it’s the way the whole thing works. People like Elias get wasted and people like Barnes just go on making up rules any way they want and what do we do, we just sit around in the middle and suck on it! We just don’t add up to dry shit.
KING Does a chicken have lips? Whoever said we did, babe. Make it outta here, it’s all gravy, every day of the rest of your life man – gravy. Oh shit, superlifer!
O’Neill comes up, jerks his thumb at King.
O’NEILL Get your gear together, King, your orders just come through.
KING (speechless) You jokin’ me man? … shit, you ain’t kidding! Cocksucker. Oh wowww … the lifers made a mistake, they cuttin’ me some slack, they cutting me some slack Taylor! (dances)
O’NEILL Collect your shit and move out King. You got 10 minutes make the last chopper. Cee ess em oh or your ass is mine. (to Taylor) Francis is coming over. (hurries off)
King packing up, double time. Chris comes over, helps him, trying to share his happiness but not succeeding.
CHRIS Hey that’s great King, that’s great … you take it on home for me, you tell ’em King … got your address right? You know where you can reach men, man. Anytime!
KING I gotta didi man. Don’t wanna miss that chopper. I’ll send you a postcard. After I get me some. I’ll send you some tapes too man. This new guy Jimi Hendrix man, whew … you okay Taylor? Just ‘member take it easy now, don’t think too much, don’t be a fool, no such thing as a coward cause it don’t mean nuthin. Jes keep on keepin’ on. Okay my man …
Chris, fighting his depression, slaps hands with King. A brief moment, they look at each other. A friendship that was forever and is now over. They both sort of know they’ll never see each other again.
CHRIS I’ll walk you out …
Francis coming up, hauling his pack.
EXT.PERIMETER #3 – JUNIOR’S FOXHOLE – DUSK
On another foxhole, Rodriguez positions his M-60, brings up his ammo belts (no loaders left). Tony eating, nervous, watches him, shakes his head.
TONY Rumor goin’ round is they got tanks. Soviet shit, T- 34’s … (pause) Hey Rodriguez, don’t you ever say nothing?
RODRIGUEZ (a thick Mexican accent) What do you want me to say, it’s all the same ol’ shit.
Tony shrugs, back to his food.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – JUNIOR’S FOXHOLE – DUSK
On another foxhole, Barnes in full pack checks the soles of Junior’s bare feet. Bunny and O’Neill looking on. Junior is moaning as if he’s dying, overdoing it by a mile.
BARNES So what’s the problem?
O’NEILL Says he can’t walk.
BARNES Shit. Get your boots on Martin, next time I catch you putting mosquito repellant on your fuckin’ feet I’m gonna courtmartial your nigger ass.
JUNIOR (cracks) DEN COURTMARTIAL ME MOTHERFUCKAH, bust my ass, send me to fucking Long Binh, do your worst but I ain’t walking no more. De white man done got his last klik outta me. Get some chuck dude to hump this shit.
BARNES (suddenly soft) Get me that centipede, O’Neill.
O’Neill is puzzled. What centipede?
O’NEILL Sarge?
BARNES Yeah that long hairy orange and black bastard I found in the ammo crate. I’m gonna put it in this asshole’s crotch, see if he can walk.
Junior’s eyes bulge with suspiscion and sudden terror, his demeanor totally alert now.
O’NEILL (understanding) Oh yeah, right away Sarge.
JUNIOR No! Wait! I’ll walk, fuck you I’ll walk, I don’t need this shit! I don’t need this shit!
BUNNY Fucking pussy, fuck it Sarge, I gotta have him on my hole?
Barnes going. O’Neill catching up with him.
O’NEILL Uh … Bob. Like to speak to you. Take a minute.
BARNES (stops) Yeah, what is it?
O’NEILL (shuffles, reluctant) Bob, I got Elias’ R&R … It’s coming up in 3 days. Going to Hawaii. See Patsy. (pause, no reaction from Barnes) I never asked you for a break, I was hoping you … you’d send me in on the chopper with King … what do you say Chief? (a friendly punch)
BARNES I can’t do that for you, Red … We need every swinging dick in the field. Sorry bout that … (starts to go)
O’NEILL (pleads) Hey Bob, come on! Talk to me hunh, it’s your friend Red, I’m only asking you for three days chief …
BARNES I’m talking to you Red and I’m telling you no. Get back to your position.
O’NEILL (grabs him, desperate) Bob, I gotta bad feeling about this, I … I’m telling you I got a bad feeling, man, I don’t think I’m gonna make it .. y’know what I mean?
BARNES (quietly) … everybody gotta die sometime Red … Get back to your foxhole.
A look in his eyes. Very remote, very cold, silencing O’Neill. Barnes walks off.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – BATTALION LZ – DUSK
At the LZ, King runs out, gets on the last SUPPLY CHOPPER with some other men. It lifts off, swirling dust, the last rays of daylight.
Chris watches from a Battalion CP area, waves back – the chopper sound receding in the horizon, the comparative silence of the jungle now creeping up on the perimeter. He turns and starts back to his foxhole.
A man is watching him. He’s sitting on a sandbag, face in shadow. It startles Chris, something about him. Something different. A deep West Virginia drawl.
SMOKING MAN Got a light?
CHRIS Uh sure …
Goes over reluctantly, flicks his lighter, cupping it from the wind. The flame catches a sudden, uneasy expression in Chris’ face as he sees the Smoking Man.
We come around and see what Chris sees in the light of the flame. A face that smiles at him like a death’s head, a large ugly blister on his mouth, whiskered, pale – but smiling. A sick man wouldn’t smile like this, but he is smiling too intimately, as if he knows Chris from way back. But he doesn’t. Or does he? Perhaps it was the man Chris first saw at the airstrip when he came in-country. The same expression of evil, of a man who has seen too much and died, but still lives.
Chris feels an unnatural fear passing through him.
The Man stands, sucking on his cigarette, stretches. He is thin and very tall, towering over Chris.
SMOKING MAN … later.
He goes. Chris watches him, wondering. The man never looks back, a leisurely, confident stroll. In that moment, there is an EXPLOSION from way out in the jungle, about a quarter of a mile. Then another, then small arms fire. Chris looks, knows.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – RHAH’S FOXHOLE – DUSK
On his foxhole, Junior listening to the distant firing. Bunny is introspective – talking to Junior as if he were his best friend, although they have nothing in common.
BUNNY … y’know some of the things we done, I don’t feel like we done something wrong but sometimes y’know I get this bad feeling. Not all that shit the Chaplain’s jamming up our ass ’bout the Good Lord … just a fucking bad feeling, y’know what I mean? Don’t know why. I told the Chaplain the truth is I really like it here. You do what you want, nobody fucks with you. Only worry you got’s dying and if dat happens you won’t know about it anyway. So what the fuck … (chuckles)
Junior looks at him like he’s really crazy. Back to the distant firing.
JUNIOR (pissed now) Fuck! I gotta be on this hole with YOU man. I just know I shouldna come!
Bunny finds it funny, laughs.
BUNNY Don’t you worry bout a thing Junior, you with Audie Murphy here, my man …
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – COMPANY CP – DUSK
At the Company CP, Captain Harris is talking urgently into the radio.
HARRIS Bravo Three Alpha! Send me a grid. Send me a grid, over!
A young inexperienced VOICE screams back into the radio amid intense background FIRING filtered by radio and sounding disembodied.
RADIO VOICE We’re pinned down sir, they’re in the fucking trees! The trees –
HARRIS OK, Three Alpha, calm down now, son. I’m gonna get you a fire mission ASAP. Smoke’ll be first …
RADIO VOICE (panic) Lieutenant’s dead sir, radioman look dead sir, I don’t know where the map is Captain! They’re all around us sir. They’re moving! Hundreds of em! I can hear em talking gook!!! Jesus Christ!
HARRIS (calming him) … Just spot the smoke son and tell me where to shift. We’ll get you out of there. Just hang tough and tell me where the rounds hit, over.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – PLATOON CP – DUSK
At the Platoon CP, Barnes stands, legs akimbo, watching the jungle, anticipating the coming fight as overhead we now hear the 155 SHELLS whistle from a 10-mile distance – passing above them – then pounding down into the jungle in the near distance. Barnes turns, glances at Wolfe, smiles.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – COMPANY CP – DUSK
At the Company CP, Captain Harris is back on the radio.
HARRIS Bravo Three Alpha six. How bout those rounds son? Can you adjust fire? (waits) Three Alpha, if you can’t talk, just key the handset twice over. (waits)
Silence, then a vague MURMURING – becoming clearer and clearer. It’s in Vietnamese. The radio is then bashed in, the sound like thunder in the Captain’s ear. He looks at his RTO, both of them shocked.
EXT. NVA JUNGLE – NIGHT/DUSK
In the Jungle itself, the ENEMY is moving. Flurries of movement and sound, blurred visuals. Hands taping a piece of cloth to a tree, moving on – revealing a luminous arrow pointing left … Figures moving past it.
Hands unraveling a thin wire waist-high, backwards.
Hands sliding along another wire. We now see a moving helmet with a luminous plaque on the back of it, leading a file up the wire. To a Jump-off point about 50 yards outside the U.S. perimeter. Figures crouch. Whispers. Movement. A pen flashlight on a drawing of the foxhole positions. The NVA moving out in several directions at once.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – CHRIS’ FOXHOLE – NIGHT
On their foxhole, Chris and Francis wait anxiously. Overhead the ARTILLERY keeps pounding into the ambush area. Now SMALL ARMS FIRE can be heard picking up at random spots along the perimeter. The battle, like a tide, is obviously moving closer to them.
FRANCIS Oh shit me I wish I was back in Memphis now, oooh baby this is gonna be a motherfucker!
Chris says nothing. Suddenly off to their right, about 80 yards, a BLUE FIZZLE of light erupts.
CHRIS Trip flares! … Rodriguez’s hole.
Rat-tat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. Machine gun, outgoing, followed by a sharp explosion. A ROCKET!
CHRIS (CONT’D) RPGs! Shit!
VOICE (crying) MEDIC!! DOC! DOC!
A FIGURE thrashes up through the foliage behind them.
RHAH (a fierce whisper) Taylor! Francis!
CHRIS Over here!
Rhah jumps into their hole with them, out of breath.
CHRIS (CONT’D) Rhah! What’s going on. Rodriguez’s hole just got …
RHAH (gets his breath) Okay, here it is – one, we got gooks in the fuckin’ perimeter.
FRANCIS Oh shit! Dat’s it, dat’s it …
RHAH They got through Alpha Company! Anything behind you don’t identify itself, blow it away. Two – air strike’s coming in. They gonna lay snake and nape right on the perimeter so stay tight in your holes and don’t leave ’em.
FLARES now shoot up over the perimeter. Reds, greens, yellows, squeaking as they float doen on their parachute hinges throughout the ensuing battle. The perimeter is illuminated at spotty intervals – sometimes arctic bright, sometimes inexplainably dark til new flares shoot up.
Chris, Francis, Rhah all look up at the light, and hug their holes even tighter, feeling naked in the light. Flares cut both ways.
RHAH (CONT’D) … they’re probing us, they gonna go up and down this line all night trying to get through. Stay cool … I’ll be back …
Runs out of the foxhole. Chris suddenly reacting to a noise out front, gripping Francis and pointing to the sound.
A BODY is thrashing towards them, about twenty-five yards, not yet visible but a little awkward and lungy in it’s movement, as if desperate.
Francis, tense, is about to pop his grenade when Chris grabs him.
CHRIS Hold it! (loud whisper) WHO IS IT!
But the body keeps coming, lurching now, falling.
FRANCIS Come on man!
CHRIS No!
A POP! – then a fizzle of BLUE LIGHT as the Figure hits their trip flare – revealing itself to be large, with no helmet, and gasping, terrified of the trip flare.
TERRIFIED SOLDIER DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT!
CHRIS It’s the ambush! (calling out) In here, man! Hurry.
The SOLDIER now runs in like a fullback going down for the tackle, sprawling into the hole, knocking Chris and Francis down beneath him.
He is sweating, terrified, a white boy with an unrecognizable, filthy face, no rifle, no helmet, his fatigues torn all over.
TERRIFIED SOLDIER Water! Water!
Chris gives him his canteen, his shoulder and neck hurting from the collision. The Soldier sucks down the canteen.
TERRIFIED SOLDIER (CONT’D) (between gulps) They’se all over the place, hundreds of em moving this way! They wiped us out man, we didn’t have a chance! Where’s the CP?
FRANCIS (points) Back there.
The Soldier struggling out of the foxhole.
TERRIFIED SOLDIER You guys get outta here! They’re right on my ass and they ain’t stoppin’ for shit!
He tears off, leaving Francis in a state of incipient panic. He looks at Chris.
FRANCIS Taylor, let’s di-di man!
Chris adjusting position, facing the front, anger in his voice.
CHRIS You go.
Francis hesitates, stays.
INT. PERIMETER #3 – BATTALION CP – NIGHT
At the Battalion CP, the Major is inside his BUNKER, busy between his radio nets.
MAJOR (to RTO 1) Get me Bravo!
RTO 2 Charlie Company reports hand to hand on the perimeter sir. Three holes are down. They need help!
MAJOR (looks at his watch, to his XO) Okay move two squads from Alpha down there. Where’s that goddamn air strike, you bet your ass if we were the First Cav they’d be here now.
RTO 1 (handing him the transmitter) Bravo Six sir.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – BATTALION CP – NIGHT
Just outside the Bunker, a MASTER SERGEANT spots something in the flarelight. TWO FIGURES with helmets running towards him at an angle.
MASTER SERGEANT Hey you boys! Which Company you …
A sudden burst of FIRE cuts the Sergeant down in his tracks and the Figures fly by.
Soldiers in the immediate area spot them.
SOLDIER #3 SAPPERS!
SOLDIER #4 THE BUNKER!
A burst of fire. One of the RUNNING FIGURES goes down. An Explosion engulfs him.
INT. PERIMETER #3 – BATTALION CP – NIGHT
But the SECOND SAPPER runs right into the bunker in a kamikaze charge, the light from inside momentarily revealing a bulky satchel strapped on his person and the face of the astounded Major.
RTO 3 SIR!!
EXT. PERIMETER #3 BATTALION CP – NIGHT
The Bunker EXPLODES with a deafening roar.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – CHRIS’ FOXHOLE – NIGHT
In their foxhole, Chris and Francis look at the curling ball of flame, stunned.
CHRIS Oh no!
EXT. PERIMETER #3 COMPANY CP – NIGHT
In their foxhole, Chris points.
CHRIS There!
SHAPES moving in the trees. Chris blows his claymore handles. One explosion on top of the other out front. Then return fire. Flashes from a muzzle, rak-a-tak, rak-a-tak, rak-a-tak, the heavier sound of an AK-47.
Chris opening up with his 16. Then being blown down by a grenade explosion at the edge of the foxhole. Then nothing. A pause. Chris’ ears ringing, slightly concussed.
Suddenly from down the perimeter there is the sound of a faulty LOUDSPEAKER crackling out from the jungle. A pidgen English, the words mauled, then a snatch of patriotic North Vietnamese music, played from a scratchy old record.
Chris uneasy, looking at Francis who looks terrified. The SOUND now of a whistle. Two hoots, then a sharp third. Then yelling.
Chris grabbing Francis’ arm, pointing. There is a VOICE directly out to the front of them – muttering something in Vietnamese, no more than 20 yards away but unseen. It’s like hearing a casual conversation from another room, then the sounds of several bodies moving in separate directions – encompassing the foxhole.
CHRIS (CONT’D) (to Francis, a whisper) Out of the hole! Fast!
Chris crawls out, stops, looks back. Francis won’t leave, hugs the shelter.
CHRIS (CONT’D) (a fierce whisper) Goddamit Francis! Move your fucking ass. Now … THEY GONNA BLOW IT!
Reaches in and yanks him with all his strength half out of the hole. Francis, finally sparked, now moves out. Both of them bellying it into the brush behind the hole.
Not a moment too soon. An RPG ROCKET whistling in.
The FOXHOLE takes a direct hit, caving in, whirls of smoke spinning off it.
Chris and Francis look back covered with debris. They hear movement.
SHADOWS are swarming towards the foxhole, firing into it to finish them off.
Francis grabs Chris’ leg, indicating they get out of there. Chris hesitates – a moment, a decision made now in angry passion – rises up and charges the NVA.
SHADOWS scatter and tumble, caught by his surprise close-range fire.
Chris moving forward into them, blasting, agile, his instincts finely tuned, and totally insane in this moment of time, indifferent to his life. He YELLS insanities, pumping himself up with the adrenaline of courage.
CHRIS (CONT’D) DIE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!! YAAAAAAAAA!!!
Screams from the dark shadows, they fall.
Chris smashing a wounded SHADOW with the butt of his gun down into the foxhole. He jumps back into it, reoccupying it. Blasting the dead gook.
Opening fire out to the front, driving the Shadows back.
Francis watching this, amazed. After a moment of doubt, he too tears back out to join Chris in the foxhole, unbelieving, as he jumps in with him.
FRANCIS (joining in the frenzy) YAAAAAHHHH!!!! KILLLLL!!!
Then stunned again to see Chris suddenly rise up out of the foxhole and charging forward into the jungle. He is now over the edge.
CHRIS (charging off into the jungle) DIE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – BUNNY’S FOXHOLE – NIGHT
In his position, Bunny is experiencing the same ‘high’ as Chris, yells out at them.
BUNNY Come on MOTHERFUCKERS, COME ON!!!
Junior, huddled in the hole with him, speechless and terrified, looks at him with huge eyes. The guy is nuts. An incoming grenade explosion shakes the hole.
BUNNY (CONT’D) (laying out more fire) Come on you can do better than that!
JUNIOR Fuck this shit! I ain’t dyin’ in no white man’s war! Ise didi-ing this motherfuckah!
Junior freaks out, throws his rifle down and hobbles out of the hole on his damaged feet at an incredible speed.
BUNNY (yelling after him) Get back here you gutless shit …
A SHAPE suddenly out of nowhere, looms up fast behind Bunny, running at him.
Junior, insane now with fear, runs smack into a tree, knocked senseless and reeling to the ground.
Bunny turning back too late. The crazy drug-high Shape is yelling something like:
NVA SOLDIER Diiiiikaaeeeeeee!
And jumps right into the hole blasting Bunny point-blank in the chest.
Bunny struggling to consciousness at the bottom of the hole. THUCK! A boot in the gaping hole where his chest was. Bunny, his eyes uncomprehending. A muzzle is jammed into his mouth, breaking his teeth with an ugly sound. Another yell from the NVA trooper. A flash of orange red light. Bunny’s face blown to bits.
Junior, dizzy from the blow to his head, looks up.
A yellow flare somewhere out there and a SHADOW above him digging a bayonet into his belly with a grunt. A long oozing sigh of belly gas.
An explosion. The Shadow with the bayonet staggering blind without eyes, holding his brains with his hands.
Barnes throws open the empty LAAW rocket casing he has just fired off and charges forward with a yell, cutting down another NVA in Bunny’s old foxhole. Jumping into the hole, the bottom of which is a liquid pit of guts, blood, ooze. Another Enemy running in on him. A short burst of fire. Barnes hit. Firing into each other. Barnes draggin him down into the pit with him, grappling alongside the corpse of Bunny. Barnes uses an entrenching tool to finish him off.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – PLATOON CP – NIGHT
At the Platoon CP, small arms fire is all over the place, the NVA closing the ring. Ace, in the foxhole, yells to Wolfe.
ACE Negative contact. Can’t raise Barnes, Two Bravo, Two Charlie, nothin’!
WOLFE Get me Six!
Nervously aiming his rifle as a man comes running towards them, staggering.
ACE It’s Doc!
Doc plops down, out of breath, drained, bleeding all over his chest.
DOC They’re coming through all over! I can’t … I can’t do …
WOLFE Where’s Barnes!
DOC I think he’s dead … it’s awful, they’re all dying.
Wolfe is stunned, Barnes his last crutch against the chaos. Ace handing him the handset.
ACE Six!
CAPTAIN HARRIS’ VOICE Yeah! Send traffic or clear this goddamn net!
WOLFE We’ve been overrun Captain, we’re pulling back. Over!
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – COMPANY CP – NIGHT
At the Company CP, things are just as bad. A Radioman is sprawled over a smashed radio. Captain Harris is in a bunker working the radios himself, as his Radiomen fire at yelling, running FIGURES scurrying all over the inner perimeter.
HARRIS (furious voice) Bravo Two, Six! Goddamit where the hell you plannin’ to pull back to! They’re all over the perimeter. Be advised Lieutenant, you WILL hold in place and you will FIGHT and that means YOU, Lieutenant. Out!
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – PLATOON CP – NIGHT
At the Platoon CP, Wolfe is astounded by the message. Ace looking at him straight in the eye.
ACE You’re an asshole Lieutenant, you know that.
As he abandons his radio, grabs up his 16 and moves to an adjacent position. Doc, a quiet man up to now, is treating a wounded Parker who is now hit by bullets and thrashes wildly and jerks to a stop. He is obviously dead but Doc goes on trying to finish the bandage. Suddenly he goes beserk, grabs a 16, starts firing and yelling.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – COMPANY CP – NIGHT
At the Company CP, Harris gets on the radio with the air strike. One of the RTOs on a separate radio calls over.
RTO #5 Captain, Third Battalion Armoured’s on its way with tracks ’bout 2 kliks west!
HARRIS (ignores it, into radio) Snakebite leader, Ripper Bravo Six, we’re gonna need you soonest be advised I’ve got zips in the wire down here, over!
PILOT’S VOICE (distorted high frequency) Roger your last Bravo Six, Snakebite lead we can’t run it any closer. We’re hot to trot and packing snape and nape but we’re bingo fuel. It’s your call, Six actual, Over.
Harris looks around. The decision made.
HARRIS Snakebite leader, Bravo Six, for the record, it’s my call. Dump everything you got left ON MY POS. I say again, I want all you’re holding INSIDE the perimeter. It’s a lovely war. Bravo Six Actual and Out.
Pilot’s reaction. Very calm. A Farmboy twang.
PILOT’S VOICE Roger your last Bravo Six. We copy it’s your call. Get em in their holes down there. Hang tough, Bravo Six we are coming cocked for treetops. Whiskey to Echo … Snakebite Two, this is lead. Last pass on zero niner. Watch my smoke to target, expend all remaining. Follow my trace …
The transmission drops out. Harris now looking up into the darkened skies. The planes in no way evident – but they’re there. And they’re coming.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – PLATOON CP – NIGHT
At the Platoon CP, the NVA are sweeping fast, crouched, using cover, yelling. Small fires are raging all over the perimeter.
Ace putting out fire, is hit. The NVA are coming over his sandbags. A burst of fire. Ace goes down.
Doc has cracked up, firing at anything, indifferent to his safety. One of the NVA goes down. The Doc is hit in the side, wounded, struggles, is hit again, but keeps trying to fire. He’s hit a third time – in the jugular vein. Nearby, Wolfe is firing madly at the oncoming NVA. One goes down. A second is wounded, yelling in pain. Wolfe reloading his 16, popping up, too late. One of them is coming over the sandbags. He sees Wolfe. Wolfe sees him. In the same moment.
Wolfe hesitates, frozen up. The gook unloads his AK-47, a magazine worth, into Lieutenant Wolfe, who crashes down, sprawled unnaturally on the jungle floor. A spasm shakes his body. Then stops. Dead.
Boots run by.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – O’NEILL’S FOXHOLE – NIGHT
At his foxhole, O’Neill peeks up out of the hole. Several NVA are darting through the jungle 20 yards away, coming towards him, talking loudly to each other. He quickly slips back down in the hole, entwining himself with the approaching NVA, clinking metal.
The NVA stop, glance in the hole. Something is muttered. They run out.
O’Neill opens his eyes, breathes.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – BARNES’ FOXHOLE – NIGHT
BARNES swings his mashed M-16 full into the FACE of an enemy SOLDIER who screams and goes down, Barnes chopping at him with his club. His helmet is gone, his shirt ripped to shreds, his shoulder bleeding, making his last stand against the hated Gooks.
Nearby HUFFMEISTER is hit in the shoulder by a running FIGURE and collapses into the bottom of the foxhole, crying out in pain.
The running FIGURE runs past right into the full force of BARNES’ swinging rifle. SMACK! He crumples.
INTERCUT
Chris bellies into the area, see Barnes, recognizes him, amazed.
An ENEMY fires, taking Barnes high in the left thigh. A patch of skin blowing off. Barnes rigidly goes down on his left knee like a wounded horse. Holds there, staring into the Enemy, waiting for the coup de grace.
A series of SHOUTS and the Enemy staggers dead as:
Chris lays out a curtain of fire. A GRENADE goes off near him, blowing off his helmet. Dazed, Chris rushes forward firing from the hip – sucked into Barnes’ suicidal vacuum. He cuts down an Enemy as:
Barnes, given a new lease, limps angrily forward and tackles a wounded Enemy trying to crawl away, terrified at the sight of Barnes coming after him. Barnes lets out a vivid scream.
And beats the soldier mercilessly, half the stock of his M-16 flying apart broken.
Chris swivels alert on his knees. A pause. No more enemy. Turns to Barnes, his back to Chris still beating at the dead corpse.
CHRIS Barnes!
Barnes swivels instinctively off the corpse and for a petrifying moment Chris sees:
A maddened scar of a face, lips specked with foam. The EYES – refracted in a red-green flare overhead – the pupils distorted into angry red points.
For Chris it is no doubt the most frightening single image he has seen in his life. It will be in his nightmares forever. The essence of evil: wrath, obsession, anger, fear, hatred, permanence – he is paralyzed.
Barnes smashes him full across the face with the broken stock of his M-16. Not even conciously, for at this point, his mind has gone over the edge and the entire world is his enemy. American or Vietnamese, it makes no difference as he strikes Chris harder and harder.
Chris struggles, moans, his teeth and nose cracked. Barnes emits another chilling yell an springs like a humpback up on his good right leg, the left bent – set to deliver the killing blow, the mangled rifle pulled to its highest arc.
CHRIS (CONT’D) Nooooooooo!
The PHANTOM FIGHTER JET comes now like a great white whale. One big beautiful monstrous beat of deafening sound. Its silver and white belly hurtling low over the treeline in one giant leap of sound momentarily illuminated by a flare. Then a monstrous ROAR of anger.
The bomb ripping Barnes off the body of Chris and spitting Chris across the jungle floor – crashing into a tree some 30 yards away.
FADE OUT
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – CHRIS’ JUNGLE – DAWN
FADE BACK IN. Vague sunlight. Blurry. Chris fluttering his eyes. A sharp MOVEMENT in the bush. His eyes fight their way open.
SOFT EYES are watching him from behind foliage. A soft, furry head, alert, rigidly still.
Chris fights his way up to his elbow, in pain, looking at the eyes. The head turns and in one fluid move, bolts. Gone. Like the wind. A deer. A big brown deer. Or was it? Chris will never be quite sure. But whatever it was, it was surely a sign of grace – the grace of Elias. This he knows as he feels himself for the first time alive.
And in pain. His left hand torn and bleeding, shrapnel in his side, cuts on his face, dried blood caking him. Looking around his garden of eden. A messy jungle floor. Cordite fumes. Burned bush and trees. Torn sandbags. Dead NVA. Bird songs somewhere in the distance. It is the very crack of dawn, a pink- red sun casting long oblique light patterns through the trees. A holy light.
Chris pushes himself to his feet, feels his weight and the pain. He walks. In the near distance, towards the LZ area, there’s the sound of Armored Personnel carriers grinding, men moving, calling out in Americanese. But Chris is alone here.
He fishes up an AK-47 from a dead NVA. Checks it, a weapon. Walks on.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – BARNES’ FOXHOLE – DAY
Past scores of NVA bodies. Past the Foxhole where Bunny lays dead in the bottom, faceless. Looking over at Junior bayoneted to the ground, dead. NVA everywhere around the hole, some of them still moving, badly wounded.
Chris looking around, then noticing a movement a little further out in the Jungle. Then he sees who.
The uniform is shredded, the figure obviously hurt in several places (thigh, back, neck, hand) but not mortally so, now struggling to right itself, dragging its face up from a belly- down position. Streaked with dirt and blood, we see Barnes once again re-emerging from the dead.
Chris steps over to him, a solemn look on his face. Barnes looks up, begs.
BARNES Get me a Medic will ya. Go on …
Chris doesn’t move. Barnes looks at him again, reading the intention that has crossed Chris’ mind. An expression of surprise crosses his face, then amazement, almost shock.
BARNES (CONT’D) Fuck you in hell …
Chris shoots him. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence …
Barnes is finally dead.
Chris looking at the corpse, numbed, no exultation in his expression. Just cold satisfaction and little feeling left.
Behind him, the SOUND of a big machine moving. He turns.
A huge Nazi flag on an antenna looms up in the bush, followed by the great belly of a turreted dragon crunching down a tree for its breakfast.
A big tough GERMAN SHEPARD comes boudning at him sniffs, followed by a flak-jacketed MONSTER MAN – filthy and greasy, unshaven face, earring in his left ear, ‘DEATH CORPS’ scrawled on his shirtless flak jacket and a drawing of a death’s head, he looks like a cross between a pirate and a hell’s angel. Behind him, a SECOND MONSTER MAN and the ARMORED PERSONNEL CARRIER grinding its engine, a human skull hanging from its turret.
MONSTER MAN (to Dog) Bozo! Get back here!
His eyes passing on Chris like so much meat.
MONSTER MAN (CONT’D) (to Chris) Can you walk outta here?
Chris nods. The Soldier pointing to the LZ behind him as a sign he should go that way. The other Soldier already stripping the NVA dead, as the APC grinds on into the jungle, reconnoitering.
Chris walks out of the jungle, head bowed, nauseated, mixed feelings roiling him.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – FRANCIS’ FOXHOLE – DAY
In another foxhole, Francis waits, the sounds of the approaching APC cutting through. He thinks about it a moment. It must be fast. It must be a hard cold decision. Now!
He pulls out his K-bar and with one last anguished hesitation, drives it into his thigh muscle.
Francis yells out and collapses in his hole.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – O’NEILL’S FOXHOLE – DAY
In another foxhole, O’Neill, unscratched but covered with dirt, waits tentatively as SOLDIERS arrive at his hole. They’re a little awed by the sight of the tough-looking O’Neill emerging from his foxhole like Sgt.Rock, dozens of dead NVA littered around him.
APC SOLDIER #1 You alone Sarge?
O’NEILL Fuck yeah. They all left me, bunch of fuckin’ faggots.
APC SOLDIER #2 Man, you gonna get yoself a silver star.
O’NEILL Fuck the silver star. You got any booze?
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – RHAH’S FOXHOLE – DAY
Rhah, alive and well, is poking around the NVA corpses with a long gnarled walking stick, looking like a crazy Johnny Appleseed with his pants rolled up on his thin hairy ankles and wearing a red bandana tied in a four-knot around his head.
As one of the APC SOLDIERS carves an ear off a dead NVA, Rhah works his way through the torn bloody pocket of an NVA Troop in full rigor mortis, extracting what he thought was there – a wrapped cellophane of heroin.
Rhah’s face glows with satisfaction as he tastes it, then snorts it. With a certain satisfaction of triumph over the grim circumstances.
RHAH (to the powder) Yeah, that’s good shit …
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – LZ – DAY
CHRIS is hauled out on a litter. Morphined, his eyes watching it all from somewhere deep in his brain. Passing:
Groups of SOLDIERS looking like bowery bums and moving like rats through the smoke and garbage snooping for souvenirs with wheezy tired eyes and grunts of greed.
Passing a bulldozed PIT with heaps of NVA BODIES in them. a BULLDOZER pushing another set of bodies in, like photos of a Nazi death camp.
Nearby, two burly SOLDIERS lift a WOMAN NURSE and with a once- through build for momentum, toss the fresh body into the pit.
Chris, numb, goes by.
RADIO OPERATOR (into radio, exhausted) – 37 U.S. KIA, 122 wounded and still counting. Estimate 500 Victor Charlie KIA, 22 wounded and still counting. Over.
2ND RADIO OPERATOR Sir, a television crew’s coming in with the General –
CAPTAIN HARRIS doesn’t respond; at this point he doesn’t give a shit, standing apart from the radios looking numbly at the remnants of his boys filtering by on litters.
Chris intersects him now, Harris’ eyes looking blankly, then nodding sickly trying to give him encouragement. Just coming to the edge of tears, choking it back, and turning back. These are his sons who are lost. A good officer.
Rodriguez, wounded, is lifted up in his litter and moved out to the waiting MEDIVAC CHOPPER, a huge red cross painted on a white square.
Doc goes by on another litter, then Ace, Adams, Huffmeister, etc.
Then Francis is littered by, bandages around his leg, a big smile on his face.
FRANCIS Hey Taylor, you okay man?
CHRIS Yeah. How ’bout you?
FRANCIS Jes’ fine man, jes fine! Ain’t never felt better! Both of us two timers man, we’re out. (gives him a slap as he goes by) See you at the hospital man, we gonna get high-high yessir … (goes off)
The Medic points to the chopper.
MEDIC (to Chris) That’s your ride man, you ready?
CHRIS (tries a smile) You bet.
Chris starts towards it, the Medic assisting him.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – LZ – DAY
Sgt.O’Neill watches the loading process forlornly from the distance. Captain Harris intersects him.
HARRIS You got Second Platoon Sergeant.
O’NEILL (reflexively) Yes sir –
And as Harris moves away, O’Neill is left thinking. Finally there is a certain frustration to his actions; he has taken such great pains to stay alive that the tuition he pays is precisely to stay in this Jungle. Inevitably his time will come – one way or another.
His eyes now follow the MEDIVAC CHOPPER upwards, whatever is left of his shrunken soul yearning to go with it.
EXT/INT: PERIMETER #3 LZ CHOPPER – DAY
As the Chopper rises off the battlefield, Chris, who is sitting at the edge so that he has a full view out the open door, waves back at Rhah.
EXT. PERIMETER #3 – DAY
Rhah, at the edge of the treeline, vigorously shakes his walking stick at him, his other hand a fist, waving them, emitting his cry.
RHAH Baaaaaaaaa!!!!!!
Defiance. Pride. Dig me, I’m Rhah – and there isn’t nobody like me in the world.
EXT/INT: PERIMETER #3 – LZ CHOPPER – DAY
The chopper – with its huge red cross painted on – now rising to meet God. Smashed on morphine, Chris looking out at the waving ants below.
Now the trees, the skyline and the chopper is moving fast over the devestation. The jungle forever locked in his memory, Chris looks back, copious, quiet tears flowing from his eyes.
CHRIS (V.O.) I think now, looking back, we did not fight the enemy, we fought ourselves – and the enemy was in us … The war is over for me now, but it will always be there – the rest of my days. As I am sure Elias will be – fighting with Barnes for what Rhah called possession of my soul … There are times since I have felt like the child born of those two fathers … but be that as it may, those of us who did make it have an obligation to build again, to teach to others what we know and to try with what’s left of our lives to find a goodness and meaning to this life …
The music surges now to its full strength as we replay bits of film with each actor’s name listed – some with silly, clowning looks, others sober, haunted. Gardner, Tex, King, Rhah, Lerner, Sanderson, Manny, Big Harold – all the boys … and then Barnes staring quietly into the camera, and lastly Elias – shirt off, bowl of grass in hand, his big, beautiful smile.
FADE OUT
