(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 69.34.39.176
Salty Language
by Col James W. Hammond Jr., USMC (Ret)
In the (not so) old Corps, the first time a "boot" referred to a vertical partition as a "wall" or said that he
had spilled something on the "floor," he incurred the unmitigated wrath of the nearest drill instructor. To gain the attention of the miscreant, the DI would smash his swagger stick on the top of the boot's pith helmet accompanied by a very loud bit of enduring advice, "That's 'bulkhead' [or 'deck']. If you draw the pay, you speak the language!"
Marines are "Soldiers of the Sea," and it is right and proper that conversation be sprinkled with nautical expressions. In "The Leatherneck," his introduction to "Fix Bayonets," the late Colonel John W. Thompson Jr., USMC (Ret) described the many men making up the 4th Marine Brigade about to see action at Belleau Wood in June 1918: "And there were also a number of diverse people who ran curiously to type, with drilled shoulders and a bone-deep sunburn, a tolerant scorn of nearly everything on earth. Their speech was flavored with Navy words, and words culled from all the folk who live on the seas and ports where our war-ships go." He was describing Marine professionals who, like all professionals, have a language peculiar unto themselves.
A language is a living and evolving thing. As we go to more strange and distant climes, some foreign words creep in. Some are transitory and don't survive. Marines still go to the "head" to "pump bilges," although there was a generation or two who went to the benjo for the same thing. I've always liked the story of the world-traveler Marine sitting in a bar in Athens who politely summoned the waiter and ordered a beer with "Garcon, iddy-wa, una botella de cerveza bitte."
But over the years I have detected not just a lessening of the use of nautical terms among the naval services, but almost a complete lack of them. This is more than 25 years ago when my son came home from the United States Naval Academy his Plebe Christmas. He had been raised on "deck," "bulkhead," "overhead," "ladder," "galley," etc. He called his Boy Scout equipment "782 gear," but he was no longer using those descriptive terms because they weren't in use at the Academy.
After he graduated, I spent a dozen years in Annapolis on the staff of the Alumni Association of my alma mater. I was appalled at the lubberly-ness of the staff, faculty and midshipmen at the Academy. Fortunately, the Marines on duty there kept the tradition of nautical language alive. It must be paying off because every year the allotted "boat spaces" for Marines on graduation are oversubscribed.
But I am not concerned with Navy per se, but rather our Corps of Marines. I equate it to the reply an old gunnery sergeant gave to the lady who upon hearing the legend that the quatrefoil on the cover of Marine Officers' frame caps stems from days of sail when Marines in the "fighting tops" could identify their officers on deck by the chalked cross on their caps and not fire on them, asked, "What about the Navy Officers?" "Who cared?" snapped the gunny."
Language is both spoken and written. "The Marines' Hymn" says, "We are proud to claim the title of United States Marines." There are Army officers and soldiers, Navy officers and sailors, Air Force officers and airmen, but we are all Marines. That is why Marine is always written with a capital "M."
We must be careful not to allow our own professional culture to be corrupted by the words of other services. The Army says 1600 (sixteen hundred) hours. We say 1600 (sixteen hundred). It is a small but subtle difference. Many years ago at a large East Coast Marine base, an over zealous "police sergeant" neatly painted on the "deck" in front of a regimental headquarters building: "NO PARKING AFTER 1600 HOURS." The commanding general, or "CG," came by and saw the offending sign. He dashed into headquarters, burst in the office of the commanding officer, or "CO," and began holding "school-of-the-boat" (the most basic instruction one can give to the landlubber) on the colonel.
He said, "In the Army, it's 1600 hours; in the Navy, it's 8 bells; in the Air Force, I think it is 'when Mickey's big hand is on 12 and his little hand is on 4,' but in the Corps, it is 1600. Get that abomination corrected immediately!"
Most Marines knew the motto of our Corps before they went to boot camp, or they probably wouldn't have gone. It is "semper fidelis" - always faithful. Shortened to "semper fi," it is a bond of respectful recognition between and among Marines. One Marine greets another with it. When they part company, each says to the other, "Semper fi." Informal memos or e-mails between Marines usually are signed "Semper fi" or just S/F. But there used to be a darker side. Used by Marines to members of the other services or civilians, "Semper fi, Mac," said with a sneer, had a sinister connotation. It could mean anything from "I got mine; the hell with you!" to "I did fine; how did you do?" An old "China Hand" once told me that on payday night in Shanghai cabarets, it meant, "You buy the fifth; my girl is drunk already!" I much prefer the version denoting mutual respect among a "band of brothers" than the cynical version.
Some words and phrases have found their way into common American usage through the Marine Corps. Some are of foreign origin. "We have fought in every clime and place." Others were Marine-coined.
The best example of a Marine-coined word in widespread use is "gizmo." "Gung-ho" is of Chinese origin, via Col. Evans F. Carlson of the World War II Carlson's Raiders. Going back several campaigns, we find that "boondocks" comes from the Tagalog "bundok" or mountain jungles of the Philippines. "Honcho" came back from Korea and Japan.
Another word that is sacred to our Corps is "Doc" - the corpsman who wear our uniform, joins with and cares for us in combat. Many years ago I had a "Stateside" battalion during the time that doctors were drafted for two years of service. My battalion surgeon (billet title since he wasn't really a "cutter") came to me with a complaint. The young Marines were addressing him as "Doc." Since he was a professional man, he felt he deserved the respect of being addressed as "Doctor." I told him that evidently he was not ready to be addressed as "Doc" inasmuch as that is the highest honor that a Marine can bestow upon a "squid."
The language door swings both ways. We have allowed civilian language to corrupt our pure nautical expression. While a landlubber may refer to a ship as "it," a true "soldier of the sea" knows that a ship is a "she." Likewise, it is a real nautical bust, both orally and in writing, to precede the name of a ship with a definite article. A ship is a distinct personality, and referring to the Lexington is as improper as referring to me as the Hammond. She is Lexington. Many readers will argue that the definite article is used in professional naval publications, and I invite their attention to the fact that those journals have professional editors and writers, not naval professionals. Finally, one serves in not on a ship. If it is the latter, you are in deep trouble. To a precise reader or listener it conjures up the vision of your sitting on the keel of a capsized vessel.
How did this departure from salty language occur? I alluded to the traumatic change to the nautical nature of the Naval Academy, at least in my observation. Emphasis was more on turning out graduates who could go on for advanced degrees. "Techies" and their bastardization of English for computer talk followed. This was compounded by flooding the faculty with academics holding advanced degrees from campuses of the '60s. This sizeable group of civilians avoided being part of the naval culture. Over the past quarter century, the leadership of half the naval service has eroded much of the base of salty-language usage. If those at the top don't lead
the way, it is a military axiom that those below won't follow.
But how did the decline of the use of salty language creep into our Corps? Drill instructors still drill into recruits the use of "deck," "bulkhead," "ladder," etc., although perhaps with a less emphatic way of getting their attention then in the (not so) old Corps.
For one thing, more Marines are married these days, and many live ashore among the civilian community. These Marines try to blend into the civilian community rather than flaunt their pride of being a Marine. Their use of salty language becomes one of the first casualties.
Even today it is a matter of pride to sport a regulation haircut, spit-shined shoes, proper civilian attire and, of course, salty language. It is gratifying when some stranger at a cocktail party says, "You sound like you're a Marine."
Another reason for the decline of salty language is that many young Marines are "cool." Nautical talk is not cool, computer talk and jive talk are. Unlike the Navy with its many technicians, "every Marine is a rifleman" and has the privilege of displaying pride in the language of his profession. It is a privilege not available to others.
How can we restore this eroding tradition? Like everything else in the Corps, it begins at the top. Senior officers should use salty language at every opportunity and hold school-of-the-boat on their subordinates who don't. Top staff noncommissioned officers should do likewise.
Tradition is not something that can be ordered. It must have solid roots to survive. Marines should want to show that they are a different breed and be willing to demonstrate their uniqueness at every opportunity whether among other Marines or among civilians. That's what it is about personal pride in being a Marine.
More than 50 years ago, during the Cherry Blossom Pageant in Washington, DC, 10 junior officers from the Army, Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard and Marine Corps were detailed as escorts for princesses from 48 states and the territories of Alaska and Hawaii. Most of the Marines were strangers to each other.
At the end of the ceremonies a musical tribute to the gallant escorts of the lovely princesses was announced. The band struck up a medley of "The Caisson Song," "The Air Force Song," "Anchors Aweigh" and "Semper Paratus." At the first note of "The Marines' Hymn," 10 Marine lieutenants scattered among the audience were on their feet as 20 heels clicked as one. An officer from another service paid them a high compliment. In a stage whisper audible to all, he said, "Those s.o.b.s!" That's what it is all about - exhibiting your pride in your Corps every time you can.
About 30 years ago there was the tale of an old sergeant major who retired and had a nice job, although he was putting in long hours. He had another problem as well, or at least his boss and co-workers thought so. He still said "deck," "bulkhead," "overhead," etc. The boss made him an appointment with the company psychiatrist. The sergeant major arrived, and the doctor, who was of the Freudian school, directed him to lie on the couch.
Doctor: "Do you lead an active sex life?"
SgtMaj: "Sure!"
Doctor: "Tel me about it."
SgtMaj: " What do you want to know?"
Doctor: "Your last affair, when was it?"
SgtMaj: "About 1950?"
Doctor: "You call that active?"
SgtMaj: looking at his watch: "It's only 2115 now!"
Draw the pay; speak the language.
Semper fi.
[Col Hammond enlisted in the Corps in 1946, was appointed to the Naval Academy in 1947 and was commissioned as an infantry officer in 1951. He commanded an infantry platoon and company, an artillery battery and battalion, an infantry battalion (2/4) in combat (RVN). He was wounded in action during the Korean War and twice wounded in the Vietnam War. He is the author of more than 50 professional articles in a wide variety of professional publications, including Marine Corps Gazette, Naval Institute Proceedings, The Hook and others. He was managing editor and then editor-publisher for Gazette from 1964 to 1966 and in retirement was editor of the U. S. Naval Academy Alumni Association's monthly magazine, Shipmate. He has written two books: "Poison Gas - The Myths Versus Reality" and "The Treaty Navy - The Story of the U. S. Naval Service Between the World Wars". Colonel and Mrs. Hammond make their home in Reno, but can be found in Annapolis during football season.]
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 69.34.39.176
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HOW JOHN WAYNE SAVED THE MARINES
A Free Article from TTP Intelligence Bulletin
By Dr. Jack Wheeler
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Today is John Wayne�s 98th birthday. He was born on May 26, 1907 in Winterset, Iowa, weighing 13 pounds. His birthplace is a museum, and a few years ago I took my son Brandon to visit it. There was a guest book, opened to a page with the entry, in the entrant�s handwriting, Name: Ronald Reagan. Address: 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington DC.
To celebrate the birthday of a truly great American, let me tell you how John Wayne saved the Marine Corps. In the aftermath of World War II, the psychological letdown after years of war and bloodshed, the huge demobilization of servicemen, the desire to slash military spending, and the antipathy towards the military by left-wingers in the Democrat Party all combined in a call by a number of Senators and Congressmen to abolish the Marine Corps.
In this, they were supported by the Doolittle Board, created by the Truman Administration, which called for the Marine Corps to be �disbanded� as a separate military force, and �unified� with the Army (yes, the board was headed by an Army general, Jimmy Doolittle).
A group of enterprising Marines � you can always depend on Marines to be enterprising � with Hollywood connections thought a movie made around the most famous photograph of World War II, Joe Rosenthal�s of the Marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima, could help sway public opinion against their disbandment.
They approached legendary director Allan Dwan, who agreed to commission a script. The movie was to be called �The Sands of Iwo Jima,� and everybody agreed there was only one man who could play the lead role of Sergeant Stryker: John Wayne.
To their great surprise, Wayne turned it down. He didn�t like the script, and he wasn�t enamored of the character of Stryker. The Marines came to the rescue again. The Marine Corps Commandant, General Clifton B. Cates, got on an airplane and flew from Washington to California to personally request Wayne make the picture. When General Cates explained the stakes involved � the very existence of the Marine Corps � Wayne immediately changed his mind, promising the general he would do everything in his power to have the movie be a success.
The Sands of Iwo Jima was released in 1949 and quickly became a runaway blockbuster, with millions of moviegoers packing every theatre showing it. Wayne was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, establishing him as Hollywood�s Number One box-office star. The Doolittle Board folded its tent, and no politician on Capitol Hill ever again said a word about disbanding the Marines.
So let�s all say �Semper Fi� to the memory of John Wayne.
To further celebrate his birthday, here�s a treat and some advice. The treat is this link: John Wayne biography - a tribute to John Wayne by Ronald Regan, in the October 1979 Reader�s Digest.
The advice is this: Don�t ever trust a man who doesn�t like John Wayne. A man�s opinion of John Wayne is a good rule-of-thumb test of his character and moral values. To admire John Wayne is to admire the heroic and the morally noble. To sneer at John Wayne is to admire the opposite. It�s revealing that you find very few liberals among the former, and very few conservatives among the latter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.jwplace.com/biography.html
Unforgettable John Wayne
biography by Ronald Reagan
courtesy of Readers Digest - October 1979
We called him DUKE, and he was every bit the giant off screen he was on. Everything about him-his stature, his style, his convictions-conveyed enduring strength, and no one who observed his struggle in those final days could doubt that strength was real. Yet there was more. To my wife, Nancy, "Duke Wayne was the most gentle, tender person I ever knew."
In 1960, as president of the Screen Actors' Guild, I was deeply embroiled in a bitter labor dispute between the Guild and the motion picture industry. When we called a strike, the film industry unleashed a series of stinging personal attacks on me - criticism my wife found difficult to take.
At 7:30 one morning the phone rang and Nancy heard Duke's booming voice: "I've been readin' what these damn columnists are saying about Ron. He can take care of himself, but I've been worrying about how all this is affecting you." Virtually every morning until the strike was settled several weeks later, he phoned her. When a mass meeting was called to discuss settlement terms, he left a dinner party so that he could escort Nancy and sit at her side. It was, she said, like being next to a force bigger than life.
Countless others were also touched by his strength. Although it would take the critics 40 years to recognize what John Wayne was, the movie going public knew all along. In this country and around the world, Duke was the most popular box-office star of all time. For an incredible 25 years he was rated at or around the top in box-office appeal. His films grossed $700 million-a record no performer in Hollywood has come close to matching. Yet John Wayne was more than an actor; he was a force around which films were made. As Elizabeth Taylor Warner stated last May when testifying in favor of the special gold medal Congress struck for him: "He gave the whole world the image of what an American should be."
Stagecoach to Stardom
He was born Marion Michael Morrison in Winterset, Iowa. When Marion was six, the family moved to California. There he picked up the nickname Duke - after his Airedale. He rose at 4 a.m. to deliver newspapers, and after school and football practice he made deliveries for local stores. He was an A student, president of the Latin Society, head of his senior class and an all-state guard on a championship football team.
Duke had hoped to attend the U.S. Naval Academy and was named as an alternate selection to Annapolis, but the first choice took the appointment. Instead, he accepted a full scholarship to play football at the University of Southern California. There coach Howard Jones, who often found summer jobs in the movie industry for his players, got Duke work in the summer of 1926 as an assistant prop man on the set of a movie directed by John Ford.
One day, Ford, a notorious taskmaster with a rough-and-ready sense of humor, spotted the tall USC guard on his set and asked Duke to bend over and demonstrate his ball stance. With a deft kick, knocked Duke's arms from his body and the young athlete on his face. Picking himself Duke said in that voice which then commanded attention, "Let's try that once again." This time Duke sent Ford flying. Ford erupted in laughter, and the two began a personal and professional friendship which would last a lifetime.
From his job in props, Duke worked his way into roles on the screen. During the Depression he played in grade-B westerns until John Ford finally convinced United Artists to give him the role of the Ringo Kid in his classic film Stagecoach. John Wayne was on the road to stardom. He quickly established his versatility in a variety of major roles: a young seaman in Eugene O'Neill's - The Long Voyage Home, a tragic captain in Reap the Wild Wind, a rodeo rider in the comedy - A Lady Takes a Chance.
When war broke out, John Wayne tried to enlist but was rejected because of an old football injury to his shoulder, his age (34), and his status as a married father of four. He flew to Washington to plead that he be allowed to join the Navy but was turned down. So he poured himself into the war effort by making inspirational war films - among them The Fighting Seabees, Back to Bataan and They Were Expendable. To those back home and others around the world he became a symbol of the determined American fighting man.
Duke could not be kept from the front lines. In 1944 he spent three months touring forward positions in the Pacific theater. Appropriately, it was a wartime film, Sands of Iwo Jima which turned him into a superstar. Years after the war, when Emperor Hirohito of Japan visited the United States, he sought out John Wayne, paying tribute to the one who represented our nation's success in combat.
As one of the true innovators of the film industry, Duke tossed aside the model of the white-suited cowboy/good guy, creating instead a tougher, deeper-dimensioned western hero. He discovered Monument Valley, the film setting in the Arizona - Utah desert where a host of movie classics were filmed. He perfected the choreographic techniques and stuntman tricks which brought realism to screen fighting. At the same time he decried blood and gore in films. He would say. "It's filth and bad taste."
"I Sure As Hell Did!"
In the 1940s, Duke was one of the few stars with the courage to expose the determined bid by a band of communists to take control of the film industry. Through a series of violent strikes and systematic blacklisting, these people were at times dangerously close to reaching their goal. With theatrical employee's union leader Brewer, playwright Morrie and others, he formed the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals to challenge this insidious campaign. Subsequent Congressional investigations in I947 clearly proved both the communist plot and the importance of what Duke and his friends did.
In that period, during my first term as president of the Actors' Guild, I was confronted with an attempt by many of these same leftists to assume leadership of the union. At a mass meeting I watched rather helplessly as they filibustered, waiting for our majority to leave so they could gain control. Somewhere in the crowd I heard a call for adjournment, and I seized on this as a means to end the attempted takeover. But the other side demanded I identify the one who moved for adjournment.
I looked over the audience, realizing that there were few willing to be publicly identified as opponents of the far left. Then I saw Duke and said, "Why I believe John Wayne made the motion." I heard his strong voice reply, "I sure as hell did!" The meeting and the radicals' campaign was over.
Later, when such personalities as actor Larry Parks came forward to admit their Communist Party backgrounds, there were those who wanted to see them punished. Not Duke. "It takes courage to admit you're wrong," he said, and he publicly battled attempts to ostracize those who had come clean.
Duke also had the last word over those who warned that his battle against communism in Hollywood would ruin his career. Many times he would proudly boast, "I was 32nd in the box-office polls when I accepted the presidency of the Alliance. When I left office eight years later, somehow the folks who buy tickets had made me number one.
Duke went to Vietnam in the early days of the war. He scorned VIP treatment, insisting that he visit the troops in the field. Once he even had his helicopter land in the midst of a battle. When he returned, he vowed to make a film about the heroism of Special Forces soldiers.
The public jammed theaters to see the resulting film, The Green Berets. The critics, however, delivered some of the harshest reviews ever given a motion picture. The New Yorker bitterly condemned the man who made the film. The New York Times called it "unspeakable ... rotten ... stupid." Yet John Wayne was undaunted. "That little clique back there in the East has taken great personal satisfaction reviewing my politics instead of my pictures," he often said. "But one day those doctrinaire liberals will wake up to find the pendulum has swung the other way.
Foul-Weather Friend
I never once saw Duke display hatred toward those who scorned him. Oh, he could use some pretty salty language, but he would not tolerate pettiness and hate. He was human all right: he drank enough whiskey to float a PT boat, though he never drank on the job. His work habits were legendary in Hollywood - he was virtually always the first to arrive on the set and the last to leave.
His torturous schedule plus the great personal pleasure he derived from hunting and deep-sea fishing or drinking and card-playing with his friends may have cost him a couple of marriages; but you had only to see his seven children and 21 grandchildren to realize that Duke found time to be a good father. He often said, "I have tried to live my life so that my family would love me and my friends respect me. The others can do whatever the hell they please."
To him, a handshake was a binding contract. When he was in the hospital for the last time and sold his yacht, The Wild Goose, for an amount far below its market value, he learned the engines needed minor repairs. He ordered those engines overhauled at a cost to him of $40,000 because he had told the new owner the boat was in good shape.
Duke's generosity and loyalty stood out in a city rarely known for either. When a friend needed work, that person went on his payroll. When a friend needed help, Duke's wallet was open. He also was loyal to his fans. One writer tells of the night he and Duke were in Dallas for the premiere of Chisum. Returning late to his hotel, Duke found a message from a woman who said her little girl lay critically ill in a local hospital. The woman wrote, "It would mean so much to her if you could pay her just a brief visit." At 3 o'clock in the morning he took off for the hospital where he visited the astonished child and every other patient on the hospital floor who happened to be awake.
I saw his loyalty in action many times. I remember that when Duke and Jimmy Stewart were on their way to my second inauguration as governor of California they encountered a crowd of demonstrators under the banner of the Vietcong flag. Jimmy had just lost a son in Vietnam. Duke excused himself for a moment and walked into the crowd. In a moment there was no Vietcong flag.
Final Curtain
Like any good John Wayne film, Duke's career had a gratifying ending. In the 1970s a new era of critics began to recognize the unique quality of his acting. The turning point had been the film True Grit. When the Academy gave him an Oscar for best actor of 1969, many said it was based on the accomplishments of his entire career. Others said it was Hollywood's way of admitting that it had been wrong to deny him Academy Awards for a host of previous films. There is truth, I think, to both these views.
Yet who can forget the climax of the film? The grizzled old marshal confronts the four outlaws and calls out: "I mean to kill you or see you hanged at Judge Parker's convenience. Which will it be?" "Bold talk for a one-eyed fat man," their leader sneers. Then Duke cries, "Fill your hand, you son of a bitch!" and, reins in his teeth, charges at them firing with both guns. Four villains did not live to menace another day.
"Foolishness?" wrote Chicago Sun-Times columnist Mike Royko, describing the thrill this scene gave him. "Maybe. But I hope we never become so programmed that nobody has the damn-the-risk spirit."
Fifteen years ago when Duke lost a lung in his first bout with cancer, studio press agents tried to conceal the nature of his illness. When Duke discovered this, he went before the public and showed us that a man can fight this dread disease. He went on to raise millions of dollars for private cancer research. Typically, he snorted: "We've got too much at stake to give government a monopoly in the fight against cancer."
Earlier this year, when doctors told Duke there was no hope, he urged them to use his body for experimental medical research, to further the search for a cure. He refused painkillers so he could be alert as he spent his last days with his children. When John Wayne died on June 11, a Tokyo newspaper ran the headline,
"Mr. America passes on."
"There's right and there's wrong," Duke said in The Alamo. "You gotta do one or the other. You do the one and you're living. You do the other and you may be walking around but in reality you're dead."
Duke Wayne symbolized just this, the force of the American will to do what is right in the world. He could have left no greater legacy.
JW Home
Biography
Ronald Reagan tribute to his long time friend, John Wayne.
John Wayne - Patriot
John Wayne works with the USO, visits the troops and is honored by the military with a Army RAH-66 Helicopter named the "Duke."
The Bracelet
The story behind John Wayne's POW and Montagnard bracelets.
In the News
John Wayne was often in the news. Here are some little known news events.
Congressional Gold Medal
The United States honors John Wayne with a gold medal.
Duke's Military Films
John Wayne represented all branches of the Armed Forces in his movies.
John Wayne Facts
Are you wanting to know how tall John Wayne was, where he was born, where he went to school... Check out this quick fact sheet on the Duke.
Memorable Moments
Special scenes and quotes in the film career of John Wayne.
John Wayne Trivia
Fun and interesting trivia in the life and film career of John Wayne.
John Wayne Tour
There are lots of "Duke" places to visit in California. Read our humorous account of "the John Wayne" tour.
***
John Wayne ... There Rode a Legend
***
The Ultimate John Wayne Trivia Book
***
John Wayne: Actor, Artist, Hero
***
Duke, We're Glad We Knew You
***
John Wayne : American
John Wayne books, movies, photos, posters, gifts and collectibles
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This message has been edited by Dick Gaines from IP address 69.34.39.176 on Jun 8, 2005 7:37 AM This message has been edited by Dick Gaines from IP address 69.34.39.176 on Jun 8, 2005 7:26 AM
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Well, now, actually, "Big John" did have a little help when he and I made "To The Sands Of Iwo Jima." And, yes, I and some 1,000 other Marines, then in the 1st and 7th Marines stationed at Pendleton at the time did have a role, although I'm forced to admit it was rather a minor one. At that time I was one of four officers in the Division Reconnaissance Company, Headquarters Battalion, 1stMarDiv, 80 Marines strong, and we had the only rubber boats in the Division. This meant that during the reproduction of the Tarawa scene we got to push the 7 man rubber boats in and out of the surf line at the mouth of the Santa Margarita river for some ten days on end until our fingers and other body parts suffered from terminal pruniness. There were, however, compensations. How many of you readers recall that "Big John's" next lead was a newcomer to the screen named John Agar? Or that he had recently married Shirley Temple? Well, one of the bennies of being an ossifer was that we were invited to the actor's tent for lunch, and along with the inevitle beach sand got to gawk at Shirley who not infrequently came down to lunch with her new husband and the sunburned pruny Marines. Colonel Shoup was his usual charming self, and you had to know him to fully understand the irony of that statement, and growled charminly into a EE-8 (telephone), which, curiously, and against all all the laws of physics, failed to melt. As you may know 1stLt Harold Schrier, former Raider, a current member of the Division, and an officer for whom we all had the deep the deepest respect, reprised his roll. John Bradley, Rene Gagnon, and Ira Hayes, three of the six pictured in the famous picture were also there, surrounding Schrier when Shoup handed the "flag" over to Schrier. That is not how it actually happened in real life. It had actually been the battalion commander of 3/28, LtCol Chandler W. Johnson who had handed Schrier the flag, but Johnson had been KIA on 9Mar45 by a direct hit by an HE artillery round.
The "Sands of Iwo Jima" opened with much fanfare in Hollywood in the spring of 1950. Every Marine with a set of Blues on the west coast was in the parade that marked the occasion. Whatever, after the parade was over, the ossifers were invited to a cocktail party respendent with Hollywood types including starlets resplendent in their various gowns that were obviously made during WW II since they bespoke a definite shortage of material in their nether and other prominent parts of their anatomy. Well, the champagne was flowing, and seldom did a tray get past the mob of Second Lieutenants who were being....well, you know....Second Lieutenants. Then, the rumor went later, that one of those half dressed little darlin's pranced up to Colonel Shoup, and pointing to the pretty blue ribbons with all them stars at the top of an array of gongs that must have cost him at least $4.50 at the PX and asked him, "And what did you get that one for, General...." Twas said a hush fell over the crowd.... as Shoup replied in his stentorian voice...."Young lady, One Thousand Marines died so that I might wear this medal...." And sadly....Shoup stalked out....And being well brought up Marine ossifers, so did we.
Well, that party was over, and two months later we went to Korea. Korea was either too hot or too cold, and hardly any fun at all. I wish Shoup had given us at least at least another hour at that cocktail party. Semper Fidelis, Sully
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From: "Michael Tank" <michaeltank@cox.net> View Contact Details
To: Undisclosed-Recipient@,
Subject: F- HOW JOHN WAYNE SAVED THE MARINES
Date: Wed, 8 Jun 2005 18:02:14 -0700
From Gunny Dick Gaines:
HOW JOHN WAYNE SAVED THE MARINES
A Free Article from TTP Intelligence Bulletin
By Dr. Jack Wheeler
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Today is John Wayne's 98th birthday. He was born on May 26, 1907 in Winterset, Iowa, weighing 13 pounds. His birthplace is a museum, and a few years ago I took my son Brandon to visit it. There was a guest book, opened to a page with the entry, in the entrant's handwriting, Name: Ronald Reagan. Address: 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington DC.
To celebrate the birthday of a truly great American, let me tell you how John Wayne saved the Marine Corps. In the aftermath of World War II, the psychological letdown after years of war and bloodshed, the huge demobilization of servicemen, the desire to slash military spending, and the antipathy towards the military by left-wingers in the Democrat Party all combined in a call by a number of Senators and Congressmen to abolish the Marine Corps.
In this, they were supported by the Doolittle Board, created by the Truman Administration, which called for the Marine Corps to be "disbanded" as a separate military force, and "unified" with the Army (yes, the board was headed by an Army general, Jimmy Doolittle).
A group of enterprising Marines, you can always depend on Marines to be enterprising, with Hollywood connections thought a movie made around the most famous photograph of World War II, Joe Rosenthal's of the Marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima, could help sway public opinion against their disbandment.
They approached legendary director Allan Dwan, who agreed to commission a script. The movie was to be called "The Sands of Iwo Jima" and everybody agreed there was only one man who could play the lead role of Sergeant Stryker: John Wayne.
To their great surprise, Wayne turned it down. He didn't like the script, and he wasn't enamored of the character of Stryker. The Marines came to the rescue again. The Marine Corps Commandant, General Clifton B. Cates, got on an airplane and flew from Washington to California to personally request Wayne make the picture. When General Cates explained the stakes involved, the very existence of the Marine Corps, Wayne immediately changed his mind, promising the general he would do everything in his power to have the movie be a success.
The Sands of Iwo Jima was released in 1949 and quickly became a runaway blockbuster, with millions of moviegoers packing every theatre showing it. Wayne was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, establishing him as Hollywood's Number One box-office star. The Doolittle Board folded its tent, and no politician on Capitol Hill ever again said a word about disbanding the Marines.
So let's all say "emper Fi" to the memory of John Wayne. To further celebrate his birthday, here's a treat and some advice. The treat is this link: John Wayne biography - a tribute to John Wayne by Ronald Regan, in the October 1979 Reader's Digest.
The advice is this: Don't ever trust a man who doesn't like John Wayne. A man's opinion of John Wayne is a good rule-of-thumb test of his character and moral values. To admire John Wayne is to admire the heroic and the morally noble. To sneer at John Wayne is to admire the opposite. It's revealing that you find very few liberals among the former, and very few conservatives among the latter.
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 69.34.39.176
Question:
I cannot remember Jack Webb's line in The DI that alludes to Elvis.
Have tried to find a screenplay transcript of The DI on the 'Net--to no avail...
The scene is that the Gunny is chewing @ss about recruits having not shaved all the way to the tops of their ears. Something about (paraphrased) "...and we all know who has long sideburns and plays a guitar, don't we?..."
That line, I think, tends to profoundly indicate the prevailing attitude of the times (1956-57), with the obvious exception of the younger generation, and the (then) 17-18 year old Marine boots. Elvis was the vanguard and the epitome of the new younger generation and all that was going "wrong" w/America, etc.
If only we really knew then....
~~~~~~~~~~~
Note:
Although I might have thought along the lines (back in the 50s/early 60s) of Elvis being something less than great, my opinion of him had changed dramatically in later years.
When Elvis came along, we already had a "beatnik" culture in fullswing in America--it was, I suppose, the forerunner of what later became the "hippy," war protestors, hate America, etc. culture.
I never did consider Elvis a part of that! He served honorably in the Army, when called; he refused to be used by the anti-establishment for their purposes, and so forth. Aside from his Rock-n-Roll crap--which is now more like old American ballads--he was a talented, very good, great, singer and entertainer. He had problems as all of us do, but probably behaved little differently than many of us did and/or might have. He was born just a few months before I was in 1935. Wish he were still around. We could use a man like that about now.
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 69.34.39.176
Subject: Marine Searching for Father's Guadalcanal Diary
SEARCH FOR A GUADALCANAL DIARY
June 4, 2005
Greetings,
I am attempting to locate my fathers Guadalcanal Diary, loaned to an unknown person for their research.
Approximately 10 years ago (+) my father, TSgt. Robert Lowell "Bud" Hall, USMC, 1st Division 1st Amtracs, responded to an "advertisement" in a publication he believes was Guadalcanal Echo's or a similar publication.
The advertisement asked for diaries and other personal accounts, and said they were researching and writing about the action on Guadalcanal.
My father accommodated the person with a small red diary, loaning it to them with their promise to return it to him. It was never returned.
I have known of this for some time and have just now decided to sit down (with this wonderful tool the internet) to see if I might locate my fathers diary and get it back to him before he joins his lost and departed comrades. My fathers active service, 1941 to 1945 to the Corps and Country was short but his true service as a Marine has continued his 85 years with participation in the 1st Marine Division Association and close affiliation with his living Marines. Truly a Marine of the Old Breed.
I realize this might be like finding a needle in a haystack - but after 32 years in the Corps myself, I also realize that nothing is impossible.
Thank you very much in advance for any anticipated help or information you may be able to assist me with.
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 69.34.39.176
From: Dr. R. E. Sullivan <piedpiper6@goliad.net>
For All Hands: Not sure, but have always suspected that this originated after WW I. Since there PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) wasn’t “invented” until the advent of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual….,II, 1980, and placed among the “Anxiety Disorders,” the symptoms of “Missus Moriarity” Boy” didn’t even have a proper diagnostic name. Thus science continues to lag behind reality. Should you have any comments in regard the below, please reply and I’ll file them with my copy of the document. Semper Fidelis, Sully (Web Site: http://www.sullyusmc.com>
Missus Moriarity's Boy
Missis Moriarity called last week, and she says to me,
"Sure the heart of me's broken entirely now - it's the fortunate woman you be:
You've got your Dinnis to cheer you up at home, but me Patsy boy where is he?
Layin' alone , cold as stone, kilt in the weariful whar.
Oh, I'm seein' him now as I looked on him last, wid his hair all curly and bright,
And the wonderful, tenderful heart he had, and his eyes as he wint away,
Shinin' down on me from the pride of his proper height:
Sure I'll remember me boy like that if I live to me dyin' day."
And just as she spoke them very same words me Dinnis came in at the door,
Come in from McGognigle's ould shebeen [tavern], came in from drinkin' his pay:
And Missis Moriarty looked at him, and she didn't say any more,
But she wrapped her head in her ould black shawl, and quietly wint away
And what was I thinkin', I ask ye now, as I put me Dinnis to bed?
Wid him ravin' and cursin' one half of the night, as cold by his side I sat;
Was I thinkin' the poor ould woman she was wid her Patsy slaughtered and dead ?
Was I weepin' for Missis Moriarty? I'm not so sure about that.
Missis Moriarty goes about wid a shinnin' look on her face;
Wid her gray hair under her ould shawl, and the eyes of the mother - mild;
Some say's a little bit off her head; but annyway it's the case.
Her timper's so swate [sweet] that you nivver would tell she'd be losin' her only child.
And I think, as I wait up ivery night for me Dinnis to come home blind,
And I'm hearin' his stumblin' foot on the stair along about half - past three;
Sure there's many a way of breakin' a heart, and I haven't made up me mind -
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 198.70.217.238
Here's one I received a few years ago from Marine Jim Ratliff, now deceased.
About four or five years ago when I was new to the net, I was soliciting stories for my Marine Vignettes/Tales Of The Corps webpages. I got an e-mail from Jim about that time, and he advised that he was then putting out a newsletter for H-3-5 News which was his old company from the Korean War days. His hands were full already w/the newsletter, but his newsletter contained many stories from H-3-5 Marines; and he invited me to post the stories to my webpages, if I would like to do so.
I e-mailed Jim back, "you bet, I want them!
I did post many of the H-3-5 stories, and they are still on Gunny G's...for anyone who would like to see them. Jim had been successful in rounding up many of the Marines and Navy Corpsmen from his old H-3-5 days.
Jim died a year or so ago, and here is one story of his own that I have had rat-holed on my hard drive and just ran across again today.
Dick Gaines
****************************
It Happened One Sunday
One Sunday morning, sometime I the spring of
1950, about a dozen of us guys were lying around
I the barracks at Camp Pendleton. How Company
had returned from being stationed in Guam in
February and after a typhoon had tried to blow us
away. We were given a thirty day leave on a
rotation basis, and about a third of the Platoon
was on leave at this given time. I imagine the
only reason some of us were in the barracks that
Sunday is that some few had laundry to do and the
rest of us were probably broke. A Marine base on
Sunday seems almost deserted. Most on liberty.
I remember it was sometime after breakfast and
before we went to lunch, the squad bay burst open
and in walks the C.O., Capt. Fagan. He walked
about a third of the way through the bay,
stopped, turned around facing the way he had come
in, did a quick count and said, You nine men,
get your web gear, your helmet liners, and your
rifles off the rack. Make sure you have your
dungarees on and fall out in front of the
barracks. I was one of the nine; shocked
thoughts running through our minds but needless
to say, we jumped to. In less time than it takes
to tell, we had fallen out and fallen in at the
front of the barracks. The Captain walked in
front of us, stopping and giving each of us two
clips of ammo for our rifles. His only orders
wereLock and load when I tell you and load
aboard that covered 6x6. The truck and driver
were parked in the area in front of the barracks.
We climbed aboard and off we went with not the
slightest idea where we were going or what we
were going to do. Out the back gate, into
Oceanside, left onto highway 101, traveling
south. I think we must have suggested a hundred
things of what was going on, from the sublime to
the ridiculous, but as it turned out we were not
even close with our speculations.
After about an hour we were in San Diego. Hey!
Must be something going on at the MCRD. Nope!
We just stayed on the highway and right through
San Diego still headed south. After a little
while one of the guys said, Were coming into
T-Town (Tijuana). All we could think or
sayWhat the hell! We did not stop at the
border, just kept on and after a few minutes we
did come to a stop. One of the fellows who was
sitting in the back next to the tailgate could
see a little, and he said, Were stopped in
front of the jail.
The Captain came to the back of the truck and
saidLock and load and I want three of you to
line up on the steps on the right, and three of
you line up on the same steps on the left and
dont let anyone come in until we come back and
the other three of you come with me. Here we
were, six Marines standing guard in Tijuana,
Mexico, scared S. By that time we had figured
that the Captain was there to get someone. Sure
enough, in five or ten minutes, seemed forever to
us six standing outside, out they came, the four
that had gone in and two more. Back in the 6x6
and off we go, through the border gate, back
through San Diego and all the way back to
Pendleton and our barracks without once stopping
in between.
Over the years, I had thought about that incident
many times. Today I imagine it would create an
international incident and would be in all the
newspapers.
After forty years and not seeing anyone from How
Company, details were forgotten and I even forgot
the names of the two fellows we got out of jail.
When I told the story at our first reunion in
Wichita, Kansas in 1993, I immediately
heardRats. You are pulling our leg. Thank
goodness, as soon as I had finished the story one
of the fellows sitting there said, Rats, you
know who you got out of jail? I said, No. He
said, It was me and Downing. That was H-3-5
George Kaczmarek and Downing was H-3-5 Bob
Downingand Thats the rest of the story.
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 65.41.134.232
Subject : Fw: Mike Smith, Jane Fonda's nightmare
----- Original Message -----
From: Gene Duncan
Sent: Thursday, May 19, 2005 5:59 PM
Subject: Fwd: Mike Smith, Jane Fonda's nightmare
Gene Duncan <gduncan1775@yahoo.com> wrote:
Date: Thu, 19 May 2005 14:35:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Gene Duncan <gduncan1775@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mike Smith, Jane Fonda's nightmare
To: Col Wayne Morris <waymor@bizec.rr.com>
Colonel Wayne:
I would greatly appreciate your considering putting this out to your countless supporters.
Wednesday Tom Moore and I spent most of the day with Mike Smith, the former Marine machinegunner of CAP days and the patriot who during April of this year expressed to Jane Fonda the undying displeasure of tens of thousands of veterans from the war in Vietnam.
Mike served with Tom and I in the Combined Action Force, CAG-2 and CAG-4 in Vietnam in 1970. He was just a boy then, and one hell of a good combat Marine.
Tom and I found Mike Smith to be an intelligent man of deep convictions. He is conversant, intelligent, and an American who exudes his love for this country and for our Marine Corps. He's in his early fifties, married for the second time to a woman he describes as "liberal," a liberal he loves very much. He faces some kind of judicial resolution to his current status, but he is not the least bit worried. He has received hundreds of phone calls, emails, personal visits and support from almost evereyone. He has declined to be interviewed on talk shows, even Sean Hannity. He is not seeking notoriety or fame. He merely made a statement which he feels, as do I, was long overdue.
He purchased Jane Fonda's book, on which bears stains of tobacco juice. He plans to put it on eBay for sale, and the profits WILL GO TO A VETERANS' ORGANIZATION dealing with medical problems of American veterans.
Mike is sixty percent disabled and receives his medical care from the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Kansas City. He is a man of modest means, and he has no desire or motive whatsoever to profit from his moment in the spotlight.
After several hours of talking with him, I asked if he would be interesting in making speeches and appearances before military or quasi-military groups. He said he would. He would not accept any fees for such appearances, but would need the financial assistance of getting to and from the location of the speech and accommodations and meals while there. Should anyone be interested in having him as an excellent guest at any kind of gathering, he can be reached by email at Mike Smith <deduke@kc.rr.com>. He prefers to wait until the court hearing has been held which is estimated to be in the month of June.
As an illustration of the way this Marine thinks and speaks, let me tell you about an incident which took place in Arlington, VA last year at the reunion of Combined Action Platoon Marines. Mike and his wife, who knows little about the marines and the way they think and feel, were standing before the Marine memorial (Iwo Jima flag raising) gazing at the bodies, faces, and uniforms of the Marines cast in bronze. She was silent for a long time, and then she spoke and said, "I'll bet their families are very proud of them." Mike replied to her, "Yes WE are" (emphasis mine).
I plan to keep you posted on the results of the court hearing. He has an attorney, a former Naval Aviator and friend of Tom Moore, who has taken on his case without any charge. When Mike's wife asked him about his fee, he replied that if Mike were Donald Trump, there would still be no charge.
Semper Fi
Gene Duncan
"God sent each person into the world with a special message to deliver, a special song to sing and a special act of love to bestow. No one else can speak my [your] message or sing my [your] song or offer my [your] love ... These are entrusted to me [you]."
Father J. Nash 2001
"... the twin pillars of political correctness are willful ignorance and a steadfast refusal to face the truth ..." George MacDonald Fraser
Gene Duncan
715 6th St.
Boonville, MO 65233
Tel: 660 882 8031
Cell: 660 537 2225
"God sent each person into the world with a special message to deliver, a special song to sing and a special act of love to bestow. No one else can speak my [your] message or sing my [your] song or offer my [your] love ... These are entrusted to me [you]."
Father J. Nash 2001
"... the twin pillars of political correctness are willful ignorance and a steadfast refusal to face the truth ..." George MacDonald Fraser
Gene Duncan
715 6th St.
Boonville, MO 65233
Tel: 660 882 8031
Cell: 660 537 2225
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 65.41.134.232
Washington Post
May 19, 2005
Pg. 26
Lacking In Firepower
'They Came Here to Die,' a May 11 front-page article about U.S. operations against insurgents in western Iraq, was deeply disturbing and if accurate should prompt immediate action by senior defense leaders or a congressional investigation.
Can it be that despite a $400 billion annual defense budget ($500 billion with supplemental appropriations) a U.S. Marine infantry squad fighting in the town of Ubaydi "carried nothing comparable" to insurgents' armor-piercing weapons during a firefight?
If that is true, this mismatch in weaponry, which led directly to casualties among those brave Marines, is inexcusable.
Thomas K. Longstreth, Arlington
The writer was deputy undersecretary of defense for readiness from 1998 to 2001.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ref
washingtonpost.com
'They Came Here to Die'
Insurgents Hiding Under House in Western Iraq Prove Fierce in Hours-Long Fight With Marines
By Ellen Knickmeyer
Washington Post Foreign Service
Wednesday, May 11, 2005; A01
JARAMI, Iraq, May 10 -- Screaming "Allahu Akbar'' to the end, the foreign fighters lay on their backs in a narrow crawl space under a house and blasted their machine guns up through the concrete floor with bullets designed to penetrate tanks. They fired at U.S. Marines, driving back wave after wave as the Americans tried to retrieve a fallen comrade.
Through Sunday night and into Monday morning, the foreign fighters battled on, their screaming voices gradually fading to just one. In the end, it took five Marine assaults, grenades, a tank firing bunker-busting artillery rounds, 500-pound bombs unleashed by an F/A-18 attack plane and a point-blank attack by a rocket launcher to quell them.
The Marines got their fallen man, suffering one more dead and at least five wounded in the process. And according to survivors of the battle, the foreign fighters near the Syrian border proved to be everything their reputation had suggested: fierce, determined and lethal to the last.
"They came here to die," said Gunnery Sgt. Chuck Hurley, commander of the team from the 1st Platoon, Lima Company, of the Marines' 3rd Battalion, 25th Regiment, that battled the insurgents in the one-story house in Ubaydi, about 15 miles east of the Syrian border.
"They were willing to stay in place and die with no hope," Hurley said Tuesday. "All they wanted was to take us with them.''
The fighting that began Sunday in Ubaydi was an unplanned opening phase of a massive Marine offensive in Iraq's far northwest against the foreign fighters who U.S. and Iraqi commanders say are crossing the Syrian border to join the Iraqi insurgency. By Monday, more than 1,000 Marines backed by Cobra helicopters and Hornet warplanes were pouring into an area north of the Euphrates River where few American troops and no Iraqi forces have been for at least a year.
U.S. commanders say they believe that foreigner leaders of the insurgency have established a refuge north of the Euphrates they use to channel incoming fighters, arms and support to insurgents in the rest of Iraq.
"We're taking down an enemy safe haven," said Lt. Col. Tim Mundy, commander of the 3rd Battalion, 2nd Regiment, which along with the 3rd Battalion, 25th Regiment, did the bulk of the fighting at Ubaydi.
U.S. officers say the most-wanted insurgent leader in Iraq, the Jordanian Abu Musab Zarqawi, is being sheltered among tribal leaders in Haditha and Hit, two towns 80 and 110 miles downriver. The Americans say Zarqawi was almost caught in February at a checkpoint between the towns. Other sightings since have placed him in other towns on the south side of the Euphrates. In Haqlaniyah, Zarqawi felt bold enough to preach a sermon at a mosque, according to at least one report to U.S. forces.
U.S. and Iraqi officials blame Zarqawi and other foreign fighters for many of the insurgency's bloodiest attacks, including suicide bombings that are claiming dozens of lives almost daily in Iraq.
Fighting continued Tuesday north of the Euphrates, where the Marines' heavy-caliber weapons, mortars and artillery could be heard booming across the green river at dusk.
At least three Marines have been killed in the offensive. Marine Col. Stephen Davis, commander of Marine Regimental Combat Team 2, said he believed at least 75 foreign fighters were killed Sunday, after the offensive opened prematurely with the clash at Ubaydi.
The Ambush
At noon Sunday, Marines were waiting on the bank of the Euphrates for U.S. Army engineers to finish erecting a temporary bridge when insurgents opened fire from Ubaydi, less than a mile away. They fired AK-47 assault rifles at helicopter gunships overhead and pounded the waiting Marines with mortar rounds -- including one that landed yards from a Humvee carrying the operation's commanding officers.
The Marines pressed against the walls of a ruined home for protection and waited for the mortars to stop. When they did, one officer said: "Let's go to Ubaydi."
Lima Company and a company from the 3rd Battalion, 2nd Regiment, entered the town. Insurgents -- dozens of them, Marines said later -- met them with AK-47 fire and rocket-propelled grenades. In the first hours, one Marine was killed and at least seven were wounded.
Lima Company battled its way through town, at one point exchanging fire with fighters on the roof of a mosque and forcing them down. The mosque's loudspeakers screamed Arabic that the Marines could not understand, but they said that since it was past time for prayers, they assumed the loudspeakers were rallying forces for attack.
According to Hurley and others who recounted the fighting that followed, Lima Company's Marines searched each house they passed. They turned up weapons cache after weapons cache: bombs made to be dropped from airplanes, a bicycle with a seat made of explosives and an antenna for remote-control triggering, a vest rigged with explosives, a car rigged with bombs, mortar tubes, rocket launchers with new backpacks full of rockets, artillery shells.
The costly equipment, as well as body armor later recovered from the bodies of dead insurgents, suggested that the fighters were foreigners, the military said. Though the level of foreigners' involvement in the insurgency has been disputed for nearly two years, Muslim men have come to Iraq from neighboring countries such as Saudi Arabia and from as far away as Chechnya and Indonesia to fight the United States and its allies.
The Marines also found Soviet-designed PKM machine guns and belts of armor-piercing ammunition. In contrast, Lima Company was armed with M-16 assault rifles and carried nothing comparable -- nothing that could penetrate walls and floors and still pack enough force to kill.
That was what awaited the Marines on the last block they cleared, at the last house. The first Marine there found the gate in the high walls around the house open; the front door was locked.
"As soon as he kicks the door, the machine-gun fire cuts him down," said Hurley, a Dayton, Ohio, police officer serving in the Marine Reserves. The Marine survived, but a second fell as well, fatally wounded. From inside, a foreign fighter fired a rocket-propelled grenade at the door.
At some point, the screamed prayers began: "Allahu Akbar" -- "God is great."
Marines fell, unable to tell the source of the screams or the shots. They fired blindly, as machine-gun rounds cratered the walls and floors around them.
"Our rounds couldn't get through the walls," Hurley said.
Survivors crawled out of the house under fire, unable to take the fatally wounded Marine with them. In the back of the house, Marines spotted two men running out. They fired. The two -- whose thick curly hair, olive skin and delicate features indicated they were not Iraqis, Marines said -- died at the back door, still holding their weapons.
Thinking the barrage had come from the two men they had just killed, the Marines reentered the walled compound. Sgt. Dennis Woullard, a Marine reservist on the Biloxi, Miss., police force, dragged out the first fallen Marine.
Farther inside, other Marines searched the house. One reached for the door of a storage closet under a stairwell. "As soon as he touches the door, the machine gun fires and cuts him down," Hurley said.
The Marines retreated, unable to bring their wounded colleague with them. Another wave went in to try to retrieve him, not realizing he was already beyond help. Machine-gun fire drove them out.
The Marines began to suspect that the insurgents were firing from a bunker somewhere in the house, Hurley said. They called in a tank, as other armored vehicles ferried the wounded away for evacuation by helicopter.
The tank fired, one round hitting a propane tank inside the compound and engulfing part of the house in a ball of orange flame. Tank cannon fired seven rounds in all, some of them meant to destroy bunkers.
'Pure Evil'
The Marines went in a fourth time. Bullets, and one chanting voice, met them.
"Nobody should have survived" the tank assault, Hurley later said in amazement.
"The whole scene, it was just pure evil inside the house," said Woullard, who came out of the first foray into the house with a frayed helmet and bruised temple from one machine-gun round and a pierced water bag on his back from another.
"I've never seen anything like this in my life," said Woullard, who fought at Nasiriyah in the first days of the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. "It was an all-out ambush."
The insurgents' armor-piercing bullets were penetrating the house's interior and external walls and the outer walls of the compound, some smacking into walls across the street.
Hurley and other Marines, still under fire, were able to get to the body of the second fallen Marine through the holes that the tank had blown in the house but could not pull it past steel reinforcing bars that jutted from the collapsed walls.
"Not a way I'd want to treat a Marine's body. But I know [the second fallen Marine] well enough to know no way he'd want a Marine to die to get his body," Hurley said.
Reluctantly, Marines called in an F/A-18 attack plane, which dropped two bombs at midnight. One failed to explode. The second missed the house.
Still under fire, the Marines holed up for the night in Ubaydi.
At daylight Monday, a staff sergeant skilled in rocketry set up a launcher in the street across from the house. Fired from a dozen or so yards, the rockets collapsed the walls over the fighters' hiding place -- a crawl space behind the door under the stairwell.
When the Marines entered a final time, the daylight finally showed them where the bullets had come from: the floor beneath their feet. The insurgents had lain faceup on the ground below, with barely enough room to point their weapons upward, Marines said. They simply blasted through the floor.
The Marines found the last foreign fighters there, dead. There were at least two, and it was unclear whether they had bled to death overnight or been killed in the morning's rocket volley, Hurley and other Marines said.
Suspecting explosives might be in the crawl space, the Marines didn't try to count the bodies closely or retrieve them, they said. But they dropped a grenade into the crawl space, just to make sure.
The ambush at Ubaydi was a new tactic, carried out lethally, Marines said.
"No one's ever seen or heard of guys getting attacked from under a house," Hurley said Tuesday, as the exhausted young men under his command slept in other rooms of a house in Jarami. "And just the idea of a machine gun being able to fire through concrete, to get to us," Hurley said, without finishing his sentence.
2005 The Washington Post Company
"Background
Th e militarys up-or-out policy has drawn #64257; re from critics since it became federal law in 1947. While the legislation was before Congress,
Senator Guy Cordon argued that the policy was wasteful and illogical
for the technical services.3 In 1976 the Defense Manpower Commission
concluded that the policy caused morale problems and personnel
turbulence.4 More recently the U.S. Commission on National
Security/21st Century argued that the triple systems of up-or-out
promotion, retirement, and compensation do not #64257; t contemporary
realities.5 Many individual o#64259;cers have also argued against the up-or-out
system.6
To understand why up-or-out is still policy after 57 years of controversy, one must understand its origins. Prior to 1947 the policy was neither up-or-out nor up-or-stay; it was a strict seniority system that could be characterized as stay-then-up. The system had a pernicious e#64256; ect on the readiness of senior military leadership at the outbreak of World War II.
3 U.S. Senate, Committee on Armed Services, O#64259; cer Personnel Act of 1947, Hearings 80th Congress, 1st Sess., July 16, 1947, p. 5.
4 Defense Manpower Commission, Defense Manpower: Th e Keystone of National Security, Report to the President and the Congress, Washington, D.C., March 1976, p. 261.
5 Th e U.S. Commission on National Security/21st Century, Road Map for National Security:
Imperative for Change, February 2001, p. 103.
6 For example, Donald Vandergri#64256; , Th e Path to Victory: Americas Army and the Revolution
in Human A#64256; airs, Novato, Calif.: Presidio Press, 2002. For an older critique, see Nicholas J.
Schmitt, Th e Up-or-Out Policy, Navy Proceedings, December 1979, pp. 3540.
4 New Paths to Success
George C. Marshall was compelled to create a plucking board to remove
o#64259; cers deemed un#64257; t for command,7 and Dwight Eisenhower later testi-
#64257; ed to Congress that not over #64257; ve of the Army o#64259; cers available to command
divisions and corps at the start of the war served in World War II.
All the rest . . . had to be replaced and gotten out of the way, and younger
men had to come along and take over the job.8 Th us, up-or-out became
law as a solution to a speci#64257; c problem.9
Up-or-out has been a career management policy for more than
half a century now, and its corollary youth and vigor ethos is ingrained
in military culture. Conventional wisdom holds that without
up-or-out, the military will once again be burdened with antiquated or
substandard o#64259; cers. Many o#64259; cers therefore see a very clear bene#64257; t of
keeping the up-or-out policy. When presented with the possibility of
changing or eliminating it, they ask a fair question: Why?
Th e easiest case to make would be that up-or-out has some obvious,
#64257; rst-order e#64256; ects that the services #64257; nd undesirable, such as a
large number of O-3s who are forced to separate when they are not
promoted to O-4. Th is would support Senator Cordons argument that
the practice is wasteful. However, the members of the line communities
we met with do not believe this is happening. Some communities
are paying critical skills retention bonuses (CSRBs) to reduce manning
shortages; some #64257; ll billets by having very high promotion rates; all have
the ability to selectively continue o#64259; cers who are not promoted.10"
So...Eisenhower, who was MacArthur's clerk, and a junior LtCol just prior to WW II, was then promoted again and again, then to claim that only 5 officers in the Army were qualified to lead a corps or division in WW II, and so all others were gotten rid of, and replaced...
Come to think of it, I had no idea that the Marine Corps had also started the up-or-out policy for enlisted Marines as well--I remember some mention of this in a thread on this board not that long ago--think it was somewhere in the following thread...
One of the most wasteful and cruel practices in the US military is the "up or out" career system, where those not chosen for promotion are forced out of the service. This article will focus on the method in which enlisted personnel are forced to retire in their 40s. Prior to World War II, enlisted men were required to serve until age 60 to draw retirement. Improved health care since World War II allows the average American male to live six years longer, however, a bizarre career system emerged after World War II in which enlisted must retire in the 40s.
Generals can serve until age 62, so why force enlisted to retire in their 40s? Few have college degrees and most do not have skills that relate directly to the private sector, so they'd rather stay in uniform, even after reaching their maximum retirement pay of 75% base pay after 30 years of service. Unfortunately, current law requires enlisted to retire at the 30-year mark, and time-in-service limits require E-8s and below to retire even earlier. These vary slightly in each armed service, and change every few years as Generals impose different manpower management philosophies. The Marine Corps recently published an update which provides an example of how enlisted careers are managed. A key element are promotion rates mandated by law:
PROMOTION MINIMUM STANDARD MAXIMUM
TO OPPORTUNITY OPPORTUNITY OPPORTUNITY
E-6 SSGT 70% 80% 90%
E-7 GYSGT 65% 75% 85%
E-8 1STSGT/MSGT 60% 70% 80%
E-9 SGTMAJ/MGYSGT 55% 65% 75%
Time-in-service limits are the other career factor. Enlisted who have not been promoted after a given number of years are discharged, no matter how well they perform or how critical their position. Higher pay and benefits make an enlisted career far more attractive than in past decades, so competition for promotion is much tougher and many good enlisted are forced out by service limits. The average servicemen enlists at age 19, so the average age has been added to this chart of Marine Corps service limits for clarity:
GRADE PROMOTION TARGET SERVICE LIMIT AGE DISCHARGED
E-4 CPL NA 8 YEARS 27
E-5 SGT 4 YEARS 13 YEARS 32
E-6 SSGT 8.5 YEARS 20 YEARS 39
E-7 GYSGT 13 YEARS 22 YEARS 41
E-8 1STSGT/MSGT 17.5 YEARS 27 YEARS 46
E-9 SGTMAJ/MGYSGT 22 YEARS 30 YEARS 49
Promotions to corporal and sergeant require achieving standards to reach a certain score. Most Marines who avoid trouble will make sergeant (E-5), except those squeezed out due to overages in their specialties, which is done by limiting reenlistments and requiring a higher "cutting score" for promotion. Sergeants face their first promotion board for staff sergeant (E-6) where around 20% are passed-over and discharged at age 32. The "promotion opportunity" percentage varies slightly each year to help manage manpower.
So for a group of 100 E-5s who stayed out of serious trouble for 8.5 years, 20 will fail promotion and face discharged after 13 years of service at age 32. This could be questioned as a waste of skilled manpower, while others argue that this is needed to prune poor performers from the career force. This also provides a manpower pool of E-5s for mobilization to replace combat casualties. At the 13-year mark, this group of 80 E-6s faces another pruning as 20 more are passed-over and forced to retired after 20 years. Once again, this need is debatable, although retired E-6s provide a valuable pool for wartime augmentation.
However, there should be little debate that the remaining 60 (now E-7s) should be considered career Marines and allowed to serve as long as they are able; like the E-7 pictured right. They met the promotion requirements for E-4 and E-5, and were selected for promotion to E-6 and E-7 above 40% of their peers. E-7s and above serve in positions which limit their risk of becoming battlefield casualties. They cannot all become E-9s, yet there is no reason they cannot remain in the Marines for 30 years or more. Nevertheless, 18 of these 60 E-7s are forcibly retired at age 41 after failing selection to E-8. Of the 42 survivors who make E-8, 15 more are retired at age 46 after failing promotion to E-9. Then the 27 of the original pool of 100 E-5 Marines who survived to E-9 are forced to retire at age 49 when they hit the 30-year mark.
No other organization in the world manages careers with such a method. This "up or out" system of early retirement places tremendous stress on enlisted as they must scheme for promotion just to remain in uniform. Even if they succeed with promotion to E-9 ahead of 73% of their peers, they will be forced into retirement in their 40s and forced to find menial jobs to support their family. This is cruel and wasteful. First, all E-7s and above should be allowed to serve 30 years. This can be done without a change in the law and should be implemented by Generals immediately.
PROPOSED CHANGE TO ALLOW E-7s AND E-8s 30-YEAR CAREERS
GRADE PROMOTION TARGET SERVICE LIMIT AGE DISCHARGED
E-4 CPL NA 8 YEARS 27
E-5 SGT 4 YEARS 13 YEARS 32
E-6 SSGT 8.5 YEARS 20 YEARS 39
E-7 GYSGT 13 YEARS 30 YEARS 49
E-8 1STSGT/MSGT 17.5 YEARS 30 YEARS 49
E-9 SGTMAJ/MGYSGT 22 YEARS 30 YEARS 49
The next step is to ask Congress to alter the law to allow all E-7s and above to serve to age 56. There is no reason they can't serve to age 62 like Generals, but a sudden major change will cause turmoil for manpower planners and stall the promotion process for years. In fact, this step should not be implemented until several years after E-7s and above are allowed to serve to the 30-year mark to allow the manpower and promotion systems to adjust. Allowing enlisted to serve to age 56 will require an adjustment of promotion targets to reflect longer careers. This may require a reduction of promotion opportunities to E-7, unless the numbers of senior enlisted are increased as part of a reduction of the officer corps by replacing many officers with senior enlisted.
PROPOSED CHANGE TO ALLOW E-7s AND ABOVE TO SERVE UNTIL AGE 56
GRADE PROMOTION TARGET SERVICE LIMIT AGE DISCHARGED
E-4 CPL NA 8 YEARS 27
E-5 SGT 5 YEARS 14 YEARS 33
E-6 SSGT 10 YEARS 20 YEARS 39
E-7 GYSGT 15 YEARS NA 56
E-8 1STSGT/MSGT 20 YEARS NA 56
E-9 SGTMAJ/MGYSGT 25 YEARS NA 56
Some will express concern that it will be impossible to retire fat or lazy senior enlisted personnel. In fact, each service has procedures to demote poor performing enlisted, although they are rarely used as lazy officers prefer to just write bad evals and let the "up or out" system discharge them a few years later. A full career system will prod officers to take action to demote or retire poor performers. Keep in mind that an E-7 has already proven himself during his first 15 years in service where he outperformed 40% of his peers. Another method is to require E-8 and E-9 promotion boards to retire senior enlisted whose performance is not only unworthy of promotion, but substandard for their current grade.
Physical fitness may concern some, but that is more a factor of exercise than age. The current system is irrational anyway as an E-9 who joined the service at age 30 can serve until age 60, while one who joined at age 17 is forced out at age 47. Enlisted who become warrant officers are allowed to serve until age 60, as though pinning on a red and gold colored bar provides youthful vigor. Few E-7s and above fill positions which require great stamina and they still must pass annual fitness tests to remain in service. It may become common for senior enlisted to be urged or forced to retire before age 56 because of weight gain or poor fitness, something that is already common for servicemen in the 30s and 40s.
A final step is to allow enlisted a better second chance at promotion. Currently, enlisted who are passed-over for promotion are allowed a second chance the following year. While this seems fair, tough competition for promotion makes those passed-over lepers, and 95% are passed-over again. However, if they did not come up for promotion until four years after being passed-over, they would have a far better opportunity during their second chance. They will have four more years of experience and several more performance evaluations. Any poor evaluation which hurt them four years prior will seem less important to the board. In addition, manpower requirements change over time; World War II happened within four years. They may have been passed-over because of an overage in their specialty at the time, which has since become a shortage. The passed-over stigma will still hurt their promotion chances, but four more years of experience should greatly increase their chances at promotion.
This will keep those passed-over motivated for promotion three years longer than today. For example, an E-6 now passed-over twice must retire after at the 20-year mark six years later no matter how they perform. They can earn the Medal of Honor and serve years in combat, but they must retire after 20 years. A four-year wait means they will retain hope for promotion until their second chance at the 19-year mark, then are retired at the 20-year mark should they fail again. Ideally, passed-over E-7s and E-8s will be considered for promotion every four years until retirement age. This will keep them motivated throughout their careers, and it may become common for most E-7s and E-8s to be passed-over during their first try in favor of more experienced enlisted considered for promotion during their second, third, and even fourth review.
These simple changes will result in a much more mature and experienced enlisted force. Some will grumble that promotions are slower, yet all will rejoice at the option to remain in uniform until age 56. In addition, E-7s and above will become "tenured" like college professors, allowing them to offer opinions without fear of alienating an officer who may end their career with a single bad evaluation. This will eventually save the armed services almost a billion dollars a year in retirement costs as those who retire early will do so at a lower grade, while others forgo several years or retirement pay by remaining in active service past the 30 year mark. In addition, readiness will improve as thousands of high skilled and experienced maintenance experts are not kicked out of the service each year. It is past time to eliminate the cruel and wasteful "up or out" career system for enlisted personnel and allow them full careers like everyone else.
I hear you guys. I served 27 years as a regular and reserve Marine. First time from 1959 - 67 and then as a reserve from 1983 - 2002. Our unit was activated for the Iraq War in 2002, and since I was about to turn 60, I had to retire. I guess a 60 year old Marine who consistantly runs a 280+ PFT and has good fitness reports is somehow not fit to fight. Maybe now that the recruiters are having a tough time getting recruits, someone will change the rules. I'm still ready!
I can remember when I joined the Corps in the late 1950s. We still had a few "lifers" around back then. These Marines had been busted (usually for getting drunk out in town) several times but were otherwise outstanding Marines. It wasn't too unusual to see PFCs who had served in Korea or CPLs who were WWII vets. These were men who you'd want by your side in combat. For some of us AGE is only a number.
MSgt. Coates (USMC Retired)
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The readiness crisis facing all the services has generated a host of solutions: more spare parts, more training, more technology, more pay, more money. We may be missing the forest for the trees, however, by ignoring far more serious problems--a lack of real leadership and a pervasive unwillingness to engage in debate about how U.S. military power is to be used.
On 29 September 1998, the Joint Chiefs of Staff told the U.S. Senate Armed Services Committee there were serious problems with readiness. Congress was shocked! The previous February, these same four-star flag and general officers--the heads of all the services of the U.S. armed services and their 1.4 million men and women--informed Congress that there were no readiness problems. To paraphrase their words, U.S. military forces were as capable as those that fought and won Desert Storm against Iraq in 1991.1
What happened to the U.S. military in these few months? Was it defeated in battle, struck by a plague, or hit by a natural disaster? Or is there a hard truth that declining readiness has been a problem for some time and continues to get worse? Even harder to swallow is the reason behind declining readiness--despite our spending seven times more than any potential opponent.2 It is based on intangibles that many Americans are uncomfortable dealing with--e.g., outdated leadership styles, training, education, and a lack of unit cohesion.
Oddly enough, the current information revolution has exposed the truth. If, during the last few months, the Chiefs of Staff and their aides hustled to find a few culprits behind the "leaks" to the press or to congressional leaders regarding declining readiness, they are going to be disappointed. There are just too many of them to punish. Thousands of middle- and junior-grade officers, NCOs, and troops from all the services have used the new electronic infiltration tool called e-mail, and exposed the denials of declining readiness by senior military leaders. These e-mail infiltrators bombarded not only their superiors (who did not appear to listen), but also their elected officials who, after initially ignoring their pleas, finally had to do something to reply to the flood. The foundation of this readiness tragedy is that it did not occur as a result of defeat on the battlefield--but rather because of the culture embedded in the military.3
During the hearings held by the Senate Armed Services Committee, several reasons for declining readiness were highlighted: lack of spare parts; lack of training time; old equipment wearing out and becoming harder to maintain; high operating tempos that stress out service members and their families; and a pay gap between civilian and military job earnings. Each of these problems reflected a lack of money. Nothing was said about leadership as the cause of declining readiness.4
The Senate Armed Services Committee's reaction to the startling testimony of the Joint Chiefs of Staff epitomizes the problems of the current officer culture, which is based on a tradition of 96 years of management science. Theoretically, this culture molds, shapes, and develops officers under the premise of selfless service. In reality, it advocates the advancement of the individual--for example, recruiting individuals by offering vital skills, frequently moving personnel among units to ensure career progression and equity, and promoting personnel rapidly. This "career management" is done at the expense of the organization, because of the lack of unit cohesion it creates in order to achieve short-term goals.
Our military culture, shaped by its current personnel system, also is based on 200 years of complex evolution and a desire to serve the needs of the individual while providing for an effective defense. Present theories of personnel management arose from the culture of management science introduced by Secretary of War Elihu Root at the beginning of this century. Conventional wisdom of this period held that personal awards through power, financial gain, and rapid promotion are more powerful than rewards from the shared effort of a community or professional enlightenment.5 More significant was the succeeding period. Here, the military was bound by the need to mobilize to fight World War III. Senior leaders such as George Marshall and Dwight Eisenhower gave significant testimony leading Congress to pass the Officer Personnel Act of 1947 (OPA 47).6 These two periods witnessed similar themes that still shape today's culture dramatically; both held that careerism was good and that the best would rise to the top. As a result, a conflict between the needs of the individual officer and the words "duty, honor, country" developed.
Yet senior officers continue to state that the U.S. military is effective, and that is the problem. We need to create effective personnel policies and not rely on technology in order to prepare the military for the battlefields of the 21st century. Of course, there are some brilliant men who already understand how to solve our readiness problems--if those who make the decisions would only listen.
The late retired Air Force Colonel John Boyd, one of our most creative military thinkers and theorists, was a self-taught mathematician and aeronautical engineer whose energy maneuverability theories of the 1950s and 1960s revolutionized the design of modern fighter aircraft. Boyd's most important insight was, "Machines don't fight wars, people do, and they use their minds."7 To understand which technologies work on the battlefield, for example, one first must understand how people think and act in the fog, fear, and chaos of combat. Only with such understanding is it possible to design technologies that serve the needs of the people involved. Boyd's focus on people has obvious application to the services' officer personnel systems. Just as technology must serve the service member in combat, so too must the military's structures for selecting, indoctrinating, assigning, and promoting officers serve the service member in combat. Only by understanding the needs and dynamics of the people who serve in a fighting unit is it possible to design a personnel system that advances the organization's combat objectives.
Today, the U.S. military's officer culture has strayed far afield from these common sense ideas. Technology now is an end in itself, not a means to an end. Joint Vision 2010 and similar service literature explicitly state that technology--especially highly complex, expensive technology--will revolutionize the conduct of war.8 Indeed, the notion that machines fight wars and that people are of secondary importance has become so deeply ingrained that the Department of Defense posters commemorating Armed Forces Day over the past four years glorified the nation's defense arsenal rather than the sacrifices of its service members. Even more troubling, the military's personnel system reinforces these misguided priorities and has created an officer culture that is ill-equipped to meet the challenges of the post-Cold War era.
The historical experiences of World War II and the Cold War--and their legacies of attrition-style warfare supported by mass mobilization that have shaped the current officer personnel system and its command structure--are no longer valid. In addition, the U.S. military's outdated personnel system and command structures are reinforced by, and have contributed to, its preoccupation with technology. The current structure actually militates against combat readiness and effectiveness. The military's future effectiveness does not depend upon a technologically driven revolution, but upon a true cultural revolution. The military's doctrine, education system, and the way it accesses, develops, and promotes officers must be revised to elevate military professionalism above competing political and economic concerns. Inevitably, this will require the realization of Boyd's vision and a shift in our leaders' focus from technology to the people who use technology to defend the national interest.
Why Our Officer Culture Is Harmful
Today's officer culture is the product of four overlapping generations: an early tradition of improvisation and the myth of the frontiersman; personnel policies derived from the Progressive Era at the turn of the 20th century; World Wars I and II; and the obsession with mobilization for World War III. These periods established trends that can be tied to the change in testimony by the service chiefs regarding deteriorating readiness from February to September 1998. The legacies of the first generation have allowed Americans to forget about their military's initial disasters owing to its unpreparedness. The next three generations saw the implementation of policies with good intentions, but these ended up creating unintended negative consequences. These policies include the up-or-out promotion system which is related to a subjective, highly inflated evaluation system. Together, these are used to determine promotions and selections by centralized boards of senior officers who make the decisions based on selection by exception, or by weeding out officers--sometimes on no more than a single negative mark in their service records. These practices also are related to personnel management policies derived from a management practice of trying to give everyone a "fair" chance at critical positions needed for promotion and selection. Finally, when combined with a bloated officer corps at the middle and upper levels, these factors force officers into a few key "jobs" such as command, Pentagon, and Joint Staff time, with little time to learn or gain experience. To the servicemen and women in units, squadrons, or on ships, the process resembles a revolving door. Officers are not allowed to make mistakes or rock the boat without paying for it at the next promotion board. The military has created entire generations of risk-averse officers who see intellectual challenges as threats to their career well-being.
The first generation, which began with the establishment of the Continental Army under George Washington, was shaped by two disparate influences: the aristocratic traditions of the British officer corps and the challenges of the American frontier experience. The continuation of the aristocratic model during the early national period has left the Army and the other services with traditions of anti-intellectualism and anti-professionalism, and a belief that Americans simply can improvise required armed forces during war-time. In addition, with Washington's and succeeding generations, officers' energies were channeled into the pursuit of career advancement. With very little to do during the duty day, and because they were recruited from a relatively broad social base, American officers took matters of rank and promotion seriously. A tradition began of identifying rank as the principal determinant of both status and financial well-being. This later would be labeled as careerism. Despite this, in the period between the Civil War and the Spanish-American War, professionalism began to take hold in the form of professional journals and the establishment of military schools.9
The second generation of American warfare began with Secretary of War Elihu Root's attempt to professionalize the Army following General Emory Upton's visit to Germany in 1876, and encompassed the Army's failure to mobilize effectively to fight the Spanish-American War in 1898. The age of Progressivism was sweeping the country. While younger officers embraced professional studies and education in military arts, the more senior officers were shaped largely by the theories of management science involving the bureaucratic organizational model and an education system that followed Cartesian methods of math, which follow a systematic approach to problem solving; i.e, if one simply follows a formula or checklist, the problem will be solved. When applied to the battlefield, Cartesian methods treat the enemy as a nonthinking entity and assume that well-served technology will overcome any opponent. The need to mobilize, train, and ship millions to Europe rapidly for World War I only tightened the second generation's grasp on linear solutions to nonlinear problems.10
The third generation, which began in World War I and continued through Vietnam, was characterized by an authoritarian and centralized command structure. With only a small peacetime officer corps--consisting of a few professionals who understood war--during the interwar period, there was no choice but to choose a top-down style of command in order to execute an attrition-style doctrine, enhanced by technology. The expansionist nature of the military created a doctrine that emphasized firepower. Attrition doctrine--with its industrial-age individual replacement system, supported by the vastness of American industrial might--was assimilated easily by the millions of amateurs the country began to train.11 After World War II, Chief of Staff George Marshall institutionalized the mobilization strategy by convincing Congress to pass OPA 47. The impact of OPA 47 is felt today with a bloated officer corps--in all the services--at the middle and upper grades; the up-or-out promotion system; and the all-or-nothing, 20-year retirement system. These three factors lie behind today's culture, which is characterized by a destructive competitive ethic, constant promotion anxiety, and officers who are risk-averse.12
But when these approaches led to failures in combat, officers did step forward to challenge and reform the culture. The fourth generation encompasses the military's dramatic reforms of the 1970s and 1980s--which affected almost every aspect of the military's operations except its officer personnel system. A new, more maneuver-oriented doctrine called AirLand Battle was adopted by both the Army and Air Force and actually aligned emerging technology with the way the United States fought. Education was improved, while the Army and Marine Corps strove vainly to make a unit-replacement system work within a larger individual personnel system. This dramatic move within the personnel bureaucracy sought to do what history has proven to be a combat multiplier--forming and keeping individuals and leaders together for years by rotating cohesive units in combat. Instead, the personnel system analysts destroyed these programs by applying tangible measures applicable to individuals--such as reenlistment rates and individual weapon qualification--to whole units. Measures that are quite effective in determining the worth of weapon systems failed in quantifying unit personnel systems.13
Ironically, the victories in Panama in 1989 and the Gulf in 1991, and the drawdown of the military afterwards, allowed the military to retain its old culture and diminish the effect of the reforms of the late 1970s and 1980s. While many senior leaders pointed to the downsizing of the early 1990s as a cause for increased careerism, downsizing actually exposed the larger problems that had been covered up because of the plentiful years under President Ronald Reagan. As a result, we have returned to our old friend technology as the solution to all problems.
Keeping the Past
Before Congress addresses readiness by throwing money at the problem, it must insist that the military first reform, reshape, and readjust its officer personnel system. The personnel bureaucracies in the services no doubt will oppose any diminution of its power. The effects of the officer personnel system, including its accession, promotion, and development subsystems, feed and shape the doctrine, acquisition, training, and education that build and maintain a war machine. It has produced a war machine with at least three interrelated consequences that weaken our military's responsiveness and its capacity to fight effectively.
First, it takes a long time for our military to prepare to fight. The United States either must rely on a strategy to buy time, such as using a coalition that is willing to hold and bleed an opponent for months or years (e.g., France and Britain in World War I, or the Soviet Union in World War II), or have an adversary give us an inordinate time to build up and train a force for action (e.g., Iraq before Desert Storm).14
Second, the prescribed preparation period is made longer and more turbulent by the use of a management-driven individual replacement system, rather than the more cohesive unit rotation system (where personnel are kept together and units replace units). This prevents the United States from applying low-cost, yet constant, political and military pressures in contingency situations with an ability to rotate cohesive units that are maintained at high readiness levels.15 Instead, units are stripped of individuals--sometimes from returning units--in order to fill deploying units to authorized levels.16
Finally, once this unwieldy bureaucratic mammoth actually goes to war, it employs a doctrine of centrally controlled firepower that would make World War I British General Douglas Haig and French General Robert Nivelle smile in vindication. The main thought behind U.S. operational art is to throw in the tonnage and push opponents back with a bloody, attrition-driven frontal attack (e.g., it took outside intervention by the Defense Secretary and National Security Advisor to get General Norman Schwartzkopf to plan a "left hook" into Kuwait, rather than a frontal assault up the Wadi al Batin--and still about half the Republican Guard escaped through the open back door).17 It is clear that even as it fights a new, attrition-driven conflict in the Balkans, the U.S. military remains very conservative in its thinking.
The Trend Continues
Our military is fueled by a culture that views argument directed toward higher command as disloyalty. Dr. Williamson Murray, a renowned military historian--in his article, "Military Culture Does Matter"--warns of the dangers inherent in a military culture that discourages free thought. Dr. Murray contends that any military "that remain[s] totally enmeshed in the day-to-day tasks of running [its] administrative business, that ignore[s] history and serious study, and that allows [itself] to believe [its] enemies will possess no asymmetric approaches [is], frankly, headed for defeat."18 Active and retired officers have called attention to the fact that the officer corps discourages academic debate about its decisions concerning doctrine, force structure, and personnel issues. In the foreword of Bob Leonard's book, The Principles of War for the Information Age, Major General Robert H. Scales Jr., Commandant of the U.S. Army War College, scolds the officer corps for its lack of debate. He writes, "Increasingly, our young army officers do not include themselves in the great doctrinal debates, nor are they challenged enough to investigate the principles which form the very basis of our profession." Leonard adds that, "The problem is that [debate] is not rigorous. It has yet to seriously challenge basic beliefs and gut-level issues. Military and civilian leaders are still in their comfort zone concerning the character of future war."19 With these points in mind, generals and civilian leaders should be asking what is causing this aversion to dialogue, and whether it is good for the U.S. military and the country.
Not surprisingly, we are seeing the results of this one-dimensional mindset demonstrated with the continuing air war against Serbia. Historians recall how similar attacks affected the morale strength of their targets in years past. The German V-2 missile attacks on Britain enraged the British. Saddam's scud attacks on Israel and Saudi Arabia enraged Americans. It is unclear at this point whether or not the bombing of Serbia has had any meaningful effect on the Serbians' willingness to resist. Because most of the so-called defense intellectuals do not understand war, the fear of even the smallest number of casualties limits the United States to poor strategic options. Is this because of a lack of confidence in the ability of men to do the job, and a greater faith in machines? If officers within the military--particularly senior officers--cannot debate among themselves, then how can they be expected to tell Congress the truth? If this trend continues, the use of e-mail remains the only way the truth will continue to rise from the ranks to disclose true readiness problems.20
Major Vandergriff currently is serving as assistant professor of military science at Duke University, Army ROTC.
1. Rick Maze, "Congress hears readiness woes," Army Times, 12 October 1998, p. 4.
2. This includes the United States and its NATO allies, and South Korea divided by a combined dollar value spent by rogue states as North Korea, Iraq, Iran, Libya, Syria, and possible opponents such as China and the Soviet Union.
3. This can be seen in a number of e-mails that Congressmen, journalists, prominent defense reformists, and senior officers receive. The author daily receives e-mail that concern readiness problems.
4. Discussions with Mr. Franklin "Chuck" Spinney on 8 October 1998. Mr. Spinney is a noted defense analyst who has compiled detailed and accurate data on the cost of the modernization program that is undermining readiness and costing the American taxpayer billions of dollars.
5. A number of works discuss the influence of management science on the officer corps: Andrew J. Bacevich, Jr. "Progressivism, Professionalism, and Reform," Parameters , March 1979, p. 4; Samual P. Hays, "Introduction," in Jerry Isrel, ed., Building the Organizational Society (New York, NY: The Free Press, 1971), p. 3; Jack C. Lane, The Armed Progressive (Novato, CA: Presido Press, 1978), p. 150; Paul Y. Hammond, Organizing for Defense: The American Defense Establishment in the Twentieth Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1961), p. 10; Russel F. Weigley, "Elihu Root Reforms and the Progressive Era," in William Geffen, ed., Command and Commanders in Modern War (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1971), p. 24.
6. U.S. Congress, Officer Personnel Act of 1947 (Congressional Record, 1st Session, July 1947), p. 289.
7. John Boyd, "A Discourse on Winning and Losing," unpublished briefing, August 1987, pp. 5-7. Discussions with Mr. Franklin Spinney.
8. Joint Warfighting Center, Concept for Future Joint Operations: Expanding JV 2010 Ideas (Fort Monroe, VA: U.S. Training and Doctrine Command, 1997), pp. 2 & 13.
9. Faris Kirkland, "The Gap Between Leadership Policy and Practice: A Historical Perspective," Parameters, September 1990, pp. 54-55. Discussions with Dr. Faris Kirkland, 12 April 1998. See also Edward M. Coffman, The Old Army: A Portrait of the American Army in Peacetime 1784-1898 (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 61-64, 194-198.
10. James H. Hays, The Evolution of Military Officer Personnel Management Policies: A Preliminary Study with Parallels from Industry (Washington, D.C.: RAND, 1978), pp. 105-114.
11. Kirkland, "The Gap Between Leadership . . . ," pp. 54-55.
12. William Hauser, "Restoring Military Professionalism," (Washington, D.C.: The Heritage Foundation, 1985), pp. 1-3.
13. William Hauser, "The Peacetime Army: Retrospect and Prospect," in Robin Higham and Carol Brandt, ed., The United States Army in Peacetime (Manhattan, KS: Military Affairs, 1975), p. 217. See also David McCormick, The Downsized Warrior: America's Army in Transition (New York: New York University Press, 1998), pp. 89-111.
14. Edward N. Luttwak, The Pentagon and the Art of War (New York, NY: Simon and Schuster, 1985), pp. 100-105, 188.
15. Based on discussions with Dr. Steven Canby.
16. Russell F. Weigley, "American Strategy from its Beginnings through the First World War," in Peter Paret, ed., Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986), pp. 439-441.
17. James F. Dunnigan, How to Make War (New York, NY: William Morrow and Company Inc., 1993), p. 584-585. See also James Burton, "Desert Storm: A Different Look," unpublished briefing, June 1995.
18. Williamson Murray, "Military Culture Does Matter," Foreign Policy Research Institute Wire (downloaded from the Internet), January 1999.
19. Robert Leonhard, The Principles of War in the Information Age (Novato, CA: Presido Press, 1998), pp. vii & xiv.
20. Chuck Spinney, "Email Common Sense (II): TacAir Readiness, Suppressing Email from the Troops, and the Widening Wedge of Mistrust," Chuck Spinney Comments (downloaded from the Internet), 6 Feb 1999.
I think the above Rand report, plus the additional reorts that I added, tells pretty much the whole story of up-or-out and its effects on our military since 1947. Of course, it (up-or-out) has some good points--evil always does. For me, it's the difference between Semper Fidelis, esprit de corps, gung-ho, loyalty, brotherhood, etc. (matter of fact, I consider the up-or-out thing to be anti- all of the above), AND corp (that's corporation, not to be confused w/Corps). Up-or-out is the way a corp (corporation) does things--cutthroat! It turns one individual against another in competition to prevail and eliminate the other. Maybe that's why so many can't even get the spelling of Corps straight anymore--Freudian slips.
In a corp (oration) it's hooray for me an fvck you, remember. I am reminded of, in 1952, as a PFC, an old M/Sgt correcting me on my mention of Semper Fi--he slapped his left hand over the chevrons on his right arm, bringing his right forearm and fist up in the classic Italian salute, saying, "I've got mine, buddy, how're YOU doing, fvck you!" Hence, my preference for using Semper Fidelis, over Semper Fi, to this day. Thanks, Top--much appreciated!
I printed out the Rand report--120 pages, not all of it that interesting, but historical--at least Rumsfeld shares my view of up-or-out. And the other two reports are as if they were written as a continuation of the happenings of 1947.
This has brought to light, for me, the whys/hows of some of the problems I have seen for a long time in the military due to this policy--our enemy within again. What a better military/Corps it would have been w/o the forced corporate attitude and lifestyle. The answers are always there, somewhere, if you look for them they are eventually found.
I wrote an article for the MC Gazette over ten years ago when I was still on active duty about this subject. Up or out, or "Competitive Selection" has been around far longer than just 1947. It goes back to the end of the 19th century when the military was faced with aging Civil War Officers who were given de facto life-time appointments as reward for federal service during the War. So there was a lot of deadwood then that the military failed to remove. So they thought up the idea of up or out. It helped alleviate some problems and even some noted Marine leaders said that without it, we would have had some tougher times in WWII in the Pacific, as we would have been stuck with sub standard Officers.
But the policy had a dark side. At the end of the 1800s, A Navy Captain named Caspar Goodrich said that competitive selection would destroy an Officer's love of the Service and would instead transform one's career into "a mad scramble for promotion." Over the last half century his words have proven true.
The problem today (although I am no longer in the Marines) stems from every time a bunch of officers gather all they talk about is their careers. Who got what assignment? Who got what promotion? Who got selected for School? etc etc etc. They rarely ever talk tactics, combat, Marine welfare, its always about careers. And who can blame them, their only incentive is to manage their year over year life in the Corps as a quest to make it (a) to retirement eligibility rank and (b)to maximize their grade and time in service. If they don't then they face being passed over and forced out of the service. Many successful career Marines don't understand that from a private sector standpoint, being a 30-35 year old former servicemember means you are a 30 year old with no skills. Or civilians say to the 45 year old retired MSgt or Major, "Hey, you have your pension!" Try getting a job to make up the difference in lost pay at age 45 in today's marketplace, in order to feed your kids.
It stands to reason that a Gunny or Major with 15 years of service (or less) has "proven" their worth to the Service and should, like a federal judge or college professor, be given some sort of tenure in the organization. If the Marine Corps says a Gunny is a professional, or a Major is a professional, then why not let them continue on for the next 15 years. Why not treat them professionally? Does your family doctor have to go in front of a "board" every three years to keep his license? Does he get forced out at age 45? Does the Parish Priest get forced out of the priesthood ig he doesn't get promoted to Bishop?
The answer has always been the fear that tenured Marines will become fat, lazy, and unaccountable. So what does this then say about the judgement of those who promoted them in the first place? What does it say about the culture of the Corps if you assume everyone will act that way? What a system of seniority would create is a culture not of careerism, but of dynamism. Marines would not be terrified that their COs will give them lukewarm reports, but instead would have some freedom from zero defects leaders who use the fitness report as a slegehammer. Plus, leaders would have to become true leaders, who would have to inspire their men, rather than hold them hostage with the performance evaluation system.
I retired Colonel once asked me, "do you think the Corps would be worse off if it accidently flipped the promotion list and all the Captians scheduled to be passed over for Major actually got promoted, or if it accidently flipped the promotion list and promoted all the Brigadier Generals to Major General who were slated to be passed over?" The answer, of course is the Corps would be crippled by promoting the wrong Captains, because we assume that ALL the Brigadier Generals are top notch. So his message was that the up or out policy at some level reaches a point of diminishing returns and actually causes more harm than good.
Lastly on this subject, Colin Powell mentioned that after he had successfully finished his first tour as a Lt., his Battalion Commnder called him in and told him that unless he did something really wrong, he could retire as a LtCol and spend the next 20 years in uniform. Now that was an era when the service still provided growth and opportunity, it was still expanding (i.e. post Korea, the Cold War, Vietnam, etc). Its not like that anymore. Money is tight and many a good Staff Sgt or Major wakes up having done everything the Corps asked of him and being told "you don't have any flaws in your record, no DUIs, no disciplinary activity, but you just didn't measure up, so pack your bags and make sure you pick up a copy of your GI and VA benefits on your way out."
Who knows maybe things will change...Can the Corp produce a Pete Ellis again?
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(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 67.76.216.242
From : George B. Clark <brasshat@surfglobal.net>
Sent : Tuesday, May 17, 2005 10:39 AM
To : <"Undisclosed-Recipient:, "@ms3.surfglobal.net>
Subject : NEW BOOK -- BY GBC
| | | Inbox
Friends,
My biography of "Hiking" Hiram I. Bearss has been published by McFarland & Company. It is an up-dated, expanded version, with 278 pages, maps, and many photos, notes, bibliography, index, and appendices. Priced at $35.00 plus shipping (from McFarland) at $4.00. You can purchase from them, or from me with inscription, if you like, at the same price but $3.00 postage.
I am very pleased with the job they have done with it. It has a very colorful softcover and the grade of paper is fine.
So, if you are interested, please let me know and I will order a copy for you. I will wait a week before ordering, so please let me know as soon as possible.
If there is anyone out there who doesn't know who Bearss is: let me explain.
Hiking Hiram was a character of the Old Marine Corps. From the Spanish-American War through WWI in France. He was awarded the Medal of Honor at Sohotan Cliffs, in the Philippines (where he was a member of the Waller party that crossed the island of Samar), he served extensively in the Caribbean, including Panama, Cuba, Haiti, and Santo Domingo. In France he commanded the 5th Marines, the 9th Infantry, and 3/9 which earned plaudits because of his training and discipline, Assistant Regimental commander of the 6th Marines at Belleau Wood. Then to command the 102d Infantry at St. Mihiel and the Marchville campaign, at which he was awarded a Distinguished Service Cross and many other decorations from France, Belgium, etc. Plus he commanded the 57th Infantry Brigade at the end of the war.
Diasabled out in 1919 he organized and then commanded the first Federal Guard at the Federal Reserve Bank, NYC. He was one hell of a Marine and even the Army loved/hated him. His pals were Butler, Wise, Porter, and even Pershing liked him.
He was from the fighting element of the Corps.
George Clark
(Login Dick Gaines) Forum Owner from IP address 67.76.216.242
This is a printer friendly version of an article from www.nashuatelegraph.com
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Back Article published Mar 27, 2005
Marine Corps needs to stand by its promises to �replacements�
Col. David Hackworth
Lt. Gen. John E. Sattler
Commanding General
1st Marine Expeditionary Force
Somewhere near Fallujah, Iraq
General,
Congratulations on your splendid Marines� retaking of Fallujah last November. The mission was accomplished in the proud tradition of Iwo Jima, the Chosin Reservoir and Hue City.
During the past four months, your force also cleaned the clocks of some of the baddest guys going in Anbar Province, one of the toughest killing fields in Iraq. I�m convinced that if other units mirror your performance and the American people hang in there, we�ll see light at the end of the Iraqi tunnel by the end of this decade.
But as you well know, armies are made up of extraordinary units, good units and a few sorry outfits that aren�t up to standards. It all depends on leadership. Good leadership means good units.
Regarding leadership in your command, I�ve recently received a sea bag full of letters from individual Marines and their families concerning a rash of injustices that violate everything the Corps stands for.
All those involved in this sordid mess are seasoned warriors who - when asked last year - volunteered from civilian life to rejoin the Corps as replacements from the Individual Ready Reserves. Read: They did not have to go. As a combat-veteran grunt Marine told me, �How could I say no?�
Last May, in one instance, 200 recently discharged Marines volunteered to re-enlist when asked, with the knowledge that they would be deployed to Iraq as �casualty replacements.� Those who qualified were promised promotions to sergeant.
A Marine�s mother says: �These brave Marines were all told verbally during the past nine months that they�d be promoted to sergeant. None of them has received his promotion, and they�ve been called by their battalion leaders as undeserving and not real Marines. . . . We are prepared to barrage all of their superior officers and our own congressmen and -women with all the facts and figures as soon as they get home.�
�My son is serving in the . . . battalion in Iraq. He completed his four years� service in the Corps and was honorably discharged, then after two years of re-establishing his civilian life, he volunteered to re-enlist for a one-year tour when his country asked him to serve to replace casualties in Iraq,� adds another Marine mother. According to the mother, her son explained: �My country called. It was my honor to serve once again.�
In a nutshell, the Marines who were promised a stripe were met instead with two-bit chicanery: Their test scores, which in the USA were more than high enough to merit promotions, were tampered with once they hit Iraq by unit old-timers who altered both the scores and date of rank in order to put the replacements at the end of the promotion line behind all the connected, regular good ol� boys who deployed with the unit. The volunteers were essentially made ineligible for those promised promotions.
As one parent puts it, �Many of the officers and NCOs apparently consider men they refer to as �temporary Marines� as unqualified for promotion because they take promotions from enlisted Marines.�
Every letter we�ve received expresses great shock at these machinations. A Marine Vietnam-vet father says, �I know what the system does to anyone who rats out the chain of command.�
The families are understandably furious and ready to blow the whistle, except for the fear of retaliation to their loved ones. But expect that to change the minute their nearest and dearest step off the plane.
Your public-affairs officer has been e-mailed chapter and verse by Roger Charles, president of Soldiers for the Truth, a retired Marine who has also passed the word to fellow Marine Beltway staffers and warns that SFTT will drop the hammer on your command if this injustice is not quickly corrected.
To treat these hero Marines like boots and to fiddle with their service records stinks. While this type of abuse isn�t happening across the board in your command, it�s widespread enough to hurt the morale of too many of your outstanding young Marines.
Hopefully you�ll form a task force ASAP to nail the perps and make sure the victims get their stripes.
Semper fi, and keep up the good work, Hack
� 2003, Telegraph Publishing Company, Nashua, New Hampshire
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The brief article below was written as research material for a Hollywood director who wanted to make a movie about 'Cowboys in Mexico.' Don't ask me why the first thing he wanted researched for his cowboy movie was the W.W.I Battle of Belleau Wood, but there you go, "It's a Magical Business."
BATTLE OF BELLEAU WOOD
The action at Belleau Wood took place half way through the third of Ludendorff's five 'War Winning' offensives in 1918, and as such may be viewed as the turning point of the whole campaign. In the Somme (#1, 03/21/18) and Lys (#2, 04/09/18) offensives the German troops remained optimistic and aggressive despite their eventual loss of momentum. However, after the Aisne offensive (#3, 05/27/18) things had changed. Neither the Noyon-Montdidier (#4, 06/09/18) or Champagne-Marne (#5,07/15/18) offensives were pressed with the same determination as the preceding three. In addition German intentions were telegraphed by numerous deserters who forewarned the French & Americans of impending attacks. German morale hadn't shattered, but it had been badly cracked. While it may be argued that this demoralization had a cumulative cause it is certain that Belleau Wood was the watershed.
On May 28, 1918 the U.S. Army's 1st, 2nd, & 3rd infantry Divisions moved up towards the 4-kilometer gap opened by the disintegrating French 43rd infantry division. In a series of local operations the 1st Division halted the advance of the German 18th Army. This was an event far more important than perceived at the time because the 1st Division was just a bunch of regular guys, and the 18th Army was composed of eastern front veterans and commanded by General Hutier. Hutier was an innovator who had developed so called 'Hutier Tactics' while fighting the Russians. Unfortunately Hutier didn't have a snappy sounding name and his techniques, later much refined, were renamed 'Blitzkrieg Tactics'.
On May 30 the 3rd Division halted the Germans at Chateau-Thierry, then counterattacked pushing them back over the Marne river.
On June 1 the 2nd Division (and here we finally get to the Marines) relieved the French XXI Corps taking up a position between Vaux and Belleau. The 4th brigade, consisting of the 5th Marines, 6th Marines & 6th Marine MG battalion, was deployed blocking the Paris-Metz Highway. Then, for reasons I can't figure, the 3rd (Army) Brigade was split in half, with its 23rd Regiment on the Marines left and the 9th Regiment on their right. Were the Marines more heavily armed than their army counterparts, less heavily armed? Were the most steady troops placed in the center? Or was deployment just dictated by order of march?
Anyway, at dawn on June 2 the German 28th Division came rolling down the highway straight towards the center of the Marine position, and was stopped dead. German survivors used a variety of adjectives to describe the unpleasant experience of Marine marksmanship. It wasn't really much of a contest, although it seemed a close run thing back at US headquarters because French aviators kept reporting that they saw "American troops falling back". The Germans gave it another go on June 4-5, then took up a defensive posture themselves. The key to their position was northeast of the highway, Belleau Wood.
The 1st bat. 5th Marines began the attack on the morning of June 6 by moving against hill 142, which provided the Germans with enfilading fire against troops approaching the wood from the west. The marines were hampered by the flat terrain they had to cross, the well aimed & massive enemy machine gun fire, and the fact that the attack was being coordinated by the local French headquarters.
General Jean Degoutte had been unable to provide any but the most general maps. His intelligence staff had evaluated the enemy positions as "Occupe de force reduite" (Lightly
held). And his staff seemed to have misplaced the French regiment selected to join in the attack, so the marines had to go it alone. To add insult to injury Degoutte recommended that the Americans attack in four waves, taking care to keep their ranks well dressed. These 'counter productive' tactics were no longer used by the French army, not because its officers didn't have faith in them, but because the enlisted men refused to follow them. The hill was taken by noon, but not without high casualties. Some companies lost 50%, with officer casualties reaching 90%.
After their brilliant success at hill 142, remember this is World War I, the marines began the attack on the actual wood. The 2nd Bat. 5th Marines and the 2nd & 3rd Bat. 6th Marines advanced, in four neat waves, towards the tree line. Waiting for them in the forest gloom were two battalions of the 461st Imperial Infantry.
At this point it might be a good idea to reflect on the nature of the geographical feature known as Belleau Wood. Descriptions differ, but they all stress that the wood was a random collection of; rocks, trees, big rocks, lots of unpleasant underbrush, and even bigger rocks. It was also dim, sometimes dark, even in daytime. This means that it was not the bright, open, birds-singing, flowers-blooming, sort of woodland suburbanites conjure up when thinking about a wood. It was a nasty, cluttered, wild place. Also, Belleau Wood hadn't been on the front line long enough to have been changed by constant shelling. (By 1918 most veterans of the western front thought of a forest/wood as a muddy patch with blackened tree stumps, as opposed to an open field which was a muddy patch with no blackened tree stumps.)
As the action developed the Germans committed two more 'reserve' battalions (I don't know whether these were regulars brought up from reserve, or battalions composed of reservists),
then unleashed terrifyingly accurate artillery support. The 5th Marine attack stalled on the left flank in front of the wood. Trapped in the wheat fields the marines desperately sought the smallest gully or ditch for cover. In the center the 3rd Bat. 6th Marines made it to the tree line, but that was about all. However, on the right the 2nd Bat. 6th Marines punched through and seized the town of Bouresches just to the rear of the Belleau Wood position. They then turned north into the wood, and started to roll up the German line.
The marines lacked the equipment deemed 'necessary' for close quarters fighting (trench mortars, etc.) and made do with just Springfields, bayonets, Chauchat automatic rifles, and
Hotchkiss machine guns. They were even short on hand grenades. Despite these disadvantages they had seized two thirds of the wood by dusk. The position was consolidated on June 7, with the marines digging a series of shallow rifle pits because there wasn't enough time for full trenches. Someone ridiculed the size and depth of these positions by calling them 'foxholes' and the name entered the American vocabulary.
The Germans tried a local counterattack on June 8, but the marines were back on the offensive June 9. By nightfall on June 12 marines had reached the northern tip of the wood. Now
they turned to move east. On June 13 the German High Command decided to quit subtlety, and saturated the entire position with mustard gas. Then they started jamming most of their IV
Army Corps into the meat grinder. By this point many of the marine battalions were down to one-third strength and the brigade was pulled out for a rest on June 16. They were replaced by the US 7th infantry which, after repeated IV Corps attacks, ceased to be a functioning combat unit and had to be replace with the only available substitute - the depleted Marine Brigade. By June 23 the marines were back on the attack, and on June 26, 1918 it was announced, "Woods now USMarine Corps entirely."
When it was all over the US had suffered 4,000 casualties, or 55% of all troops engaged (both Army & Marines). The Germans had lost 9,500 men with more than 1,600 prisoners, and coined a new term 'Devil Dogs' to describe the much feared marines. As I've mentioned above Ludendorff had two more offensives up his sleeve, but he'd lost his momentum. For the German army it was all downhill from here.
PERSONALITIES
Of all the individuals involved at Belleau Wood General Jean Degoutte is perhaps the most easily dealt with. The action for which he is most remembered was probably his best of
the whole campaign. After it was all over and the dust had settled it was he who announced, "Henceforth in all official papers, Belleau Wood shall bear the name 'Bois de la Brigade de
Marine.'"
While not directly involved at Belleau Wood, Field Marshal Foch is responsible for the most famous, and often repeated, remark made about US troops before that action. After
glumly reviewing depressing situation maps, or reading unsettling dispatches on repeated German advances he would turn to his subordinates and say, "Where are the Americans... And what are they doing?"
The most famous marine quote of the battle was officially attributed to the Colonel of the 5th Marines, Wendell "Whispering Buck" Neville (seems that "WB" had a voice that was a tad loud & some of his men conjectured that could communicate with GHQ without the use of a field telephone). Anyway, shortly before the battle Col. Neville met with the general of the shattered French 43rd Division. The general admitted that he didn't know where most of his men were, but suggested that the Americans attack east towards Belleau Wood. His staff looked embarrassed, coughed, shuffled their feet, then recommended that it might be wiser if the Americans just joined in the retreat. Neville is supposed to have glowered at them and roared, "Retreat, hell. We just got here."
The remark became very popular and was eventually claimed by around a dozen other individuals. Interestingly enough Col. Neville credited it to Captain Lloyd Williams (no nickname) commanding the 51st Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. Williams' unit was moving east when a note arrived from a major in the 49th Chasseurs a Pied. It read, "Retreat, the Germans are coming." Williams looked at the note then uttered the famous line.
Not to be outdone Major Thomas Holcomb, commanding 2nd Battalion 6th Marines, also made a contribution to the legend of the Corps. Seems that while his men were trouncing the German's June 2 attack on the Paris-Metz Highway French aviators kept reporting that they saw "the American line falling back". Eventually this 'information' reached the commander of the Marine Brigade, General James G. Harbord who was quite naturally concerned. However, Harbord was an army brigadier who had only recently been put in charge of the marines. Not wanting to cause friction he delayed and delayed, hoping to hear better news. Eventually he telephoned Holcomb to ask about the rumor. Holcomb replied flatly, "When I do my running, it will be in the opposite direction."
General Harbord seems to have been a well-meaning guy. Originally Pershing's Chief of Staff he was much concerned about 'his' marines. Early in the battle, alarmed by the high casualties amongst officers, he officially ordered junior officers to take better care of themselves.
During the unsuccessful attack on the west edge of the wood Gunnery Sergeant Daniel Daly, who had served at Peking and Hati, encouraged his pinned platoon forward with the words,
"Come on, you sons of bitches. Do you want to live forever?" This is strangely ironic for a sergeant fighting the Germans, because it's also a famous Prussian military quote. Frederick
the Great often encouraged his grenadiers into one last bayonet charge with the words, "Come on, you rascals. Do you want to live forever?" I guess Sergeant Daly changed it to make it more meaningful for a marine audience.
The marine's atypical behavior frequently saved them in dangerous situations. While his battalion was assaulting Hill 142 Sergeant Charles Hoffman noticed five Germans crawling
forward to set up machine guns in enfilade on the flank. Not knowing what else to do, he charged them with the bayonet. The Germans didn't have any bayonets of their own, and couldn't get the machine guns set up in time. Hoffman killed two of them and the other three ran away, leaving all their equipment behind.
The capture of Bouresches, the key event in the battle, was never actually part of the official plan. It was after all behind the woods, which were the main target. But it seemed like a good idea to Captain Donald F. Duncan when he saw the rest of his battalion pinned down at the wood's edge. Duncan was killed in the assault, but his successor, Lieutenant James F. Robertson, led the surviving 50% of the company into the town. When he left for reinforcements his successor Lieutenant Clifton B. Cates (a Tennessee law graduate) realized that the town was being defended by only 21 marines.
The Germans sealed off the town with an artillery barrage. But while Cates desperately hung on Sergeant Major John H. Quick, winner of the Medal of Honor in Cuba, drove a Ford truck
back and forth through the rain of shells bringing up cases of badly needed hand grenades.
By June 23 German morale was crumbling, although the marines didn't quite realize it. Corporal Joseph Rendell, a replacement who didn't participate in the earlier fighting, said, "We got around the woods pretty fast. The Germans were almost too willing to surrender." It was during this final assault that a marine runner, Private Leonard, got lost and fell into a German machine gun pit. Trying to bluff his way out of trouble he described the, "several regiments of reinforcements that are preparing to sweep Belleau Wood and you Germans off the map." A nervous German NCO asked him, "Will you take us as prisoners, then?" Leonard gratefully obliged.
To my mind the most interesting character at Belleau Wood was war correspondent Floyd Gibbons. Previous to the battle Gibbons had filed a skeleton report with the Paris censor in
which he mentioned that he was with the Marine Brigade at Belleau Wood. It was strictly against regulations to mention unit names or numbers, but maybe he thought he was being general enough. Later he advanced with the 5th Battalion and was, like the marines, pinned down in the wheat field. It was he who first quoted Sergeant Daly. Accounts of his severe eye wound became garbled and by the time the news reached Paris he was reported dead in action. The Paris censor, a close buddy of Gibbons', published his 'last' report immediately as a tribute to his supposedly dead friend. The US papers picked up on the story and splashed it all over the headlines suggesting that the evil Hun was being beaten with, "the Help of God and a Few Marines." The American public was jubilant, the US Navy was amused, the US Army was furious at having been outflanked on the PR front, and Pershing would never forgive or forget. When he received a second brigade of marines and it was suggested that the two brigades might be formed into their own division Pershing immediately wrote to the US Secretary of War stating, "While Marines are splendid troops, their use as a separate division is inadvisable."
ANALYSIS
Why did we beat the pants off them? Basically, because we were better than they were, but what does that mean. First of all the marines had a real chip on their shoulder because, well
because they were a few marines adrift in a sea of US Army units. They knew they were better than 'ordinary' infantry and by God they were going to prove it.
If the Marine Brigade was more aggressive than the US Army in general, all American troops were more aggressive than their European counterparts, who had lost their edge over the four grueling years of trench warfare since 1914. The German infantryman was described as "well disciplined, but quietly bitter." Also the creation of independent Stormtrooper Battalions further weakened the fighting ability of average German infantry units. The High Command was constantly sifting out the best men to use as 'Stosstruppen' replacements.
American infantry had a considerable edge over their opponents with respect to basic training. The average German recruit got six weeks training, and then it was off to the hell of trench warfare. US recruits received six months training. The Germans, as well as the British and French, concentrated on trench warfare; digging, filling sandbags, shoring up redoubts, stringing barbed wire, keeping your head down, etc. Marksmanship was viewed as largely superfluous. Take the British army as an example. In 1914 a divisional champion might make 35 aimed shots per minute. In 1916 it was down to 12. By 1918 a 'crack' marksman was doing well to squeeze off 10 aimed shots per minute, whereas an 'average' American trooper shot somewhere around 20 per minute.
Pershing's theory of infantry training was radically different from that of the Europeans. He felt that since the object of every 'Big Push' was to break through the enemy line, into the open country beyond, that his men should know how to fight across open country. Consequently all US troops were trained in; aimed fire, all around security, rapid maneuver, and the bypassing of strong points. In other words, Stormtrooper training. The average German just wasn't as good at fighting in a 'trenchless' environment. At one point, after Belleau Wood, a marine runner looked over a German unit deployed in open terrain (i.e. not a formal trench line) and commented, "This looks easy - they do not seem to have much art."
Marines had an added advantage over their army brethren, although GHQ didn't originally see it as such. All of their previous combat experience had been in small unit actions in 'trenchless' environments. British observers described it as 'Red Indian style fighting'. The terrain at Belleau Wood was perfect for this kind of combat. When Ludendorff commented that the Marine Brigade "may even be reckoned as a storm troop" he was not paying a compliment. It was simply an accurate description. Think back on any paintings you've seen about Belleau Wood. The heroically posed marines are all either blasting away with their Springfields, or rushing forward with fixed bayonets. On the other hand the German defenders are; dying, surrendering, or frequently staring intently in the wrong direction - their position having been neatly outflanked.
With regard to firepower, once again, US units had an advantage over the Germans. German infantry divisions had 54 heavy machine guns, the Americans had 168. German divisions
had 144 light machine guns (or automatic rifles), the Americans had 768. Americans liked the Browning automatic rifle, really liked the Lewis gun, but because of supply shortages frequently had to make do with the inferior French Chauterlaut.
Finally, there's the matter of unit size. It wasn't just because US troops were enthusiastic that British and French generals wanted Americans to lead their attacks. US divisions were just plain bigger than those of the Europeans. (The British tended to refer to American units as "husky".) There were two reasons for this. First European divisions were 'triangular', three regiments/brigades each. American divisions were 'square', they had four regiments. Secondly, US units went into combat at full strength, sometimes over strength. German divisions averaged 12,000 men, American divisions weighed in at 28,000. The French were so impressed by the sheer size of US units that they officially treated American brigade commanders like division commanders. This is understandable when one realizes that a US brigade never sank below 7,500 strong while a 1918 French division averaged around 3,500 men.
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The Bengal Club
Who is the Marine Corps' ace of aces: Joe Foss or Gregory "Pappy" Boyington? The answer would seem crystal clear. As executive officer of VMF-121, Foss became America's top gun in January 1943 by downing his 26th Japanese aircraft at Guadalcanal. he held the title until May 1944, when P-47 ace Bob Johnson notched his 27th kill against the Luftwaffe. But on V-J Day, 17 months later, no Marine had equaled Foss' score.
In 1945, Boyington returned from captivity claiming two unwitnessed kills on his last mission; they were credited without verification. Even so, why did the Marines recognize Pappy Boyington as its leading ace? And, despite all logic, why does the Corps do so today?
BY THE NUMBERS
In 1942, after expulsion from the Flying Tigers, Boyington requested and was granted readmission to the Marines, and his dossier reflected his claim of six aerial victories in China. Boyington's assertion became official-to the Marine Corps. To the American Volunteer Group, which paid a bonus for every confirmed victory, he shot down only two Japanese planes. That fact was confirmed when Flying Tiger records were published in 1986. The Marines were unimpressed. They insisted that Boyington's score was 28, including 22 in USMC service. Nor did they take notice when the American Fighter Aces Association published Boyington's total score as 24.
The problem is as much semantic as it is numerical. Who is "the top Marine ace"? If, logically, it is the pilot with the most victories in Marine Corps service, then clearly it is Joe Foss and has been since 1943. Is it the Marine with the most career victories? In 1945, that was Boyington, with 28. But after publication of the AVG records, it was still Foss-26 to 24. Says one Marine veteran, "I may not know much, but I know that 22 and 24 are less than 26."
Other Marines felt that Foss deserved better treatment from his Corps. One was Maj. Gen. Marion Carl, a legendary aviator and the Marines' seventh-ranking ace. After Boyington's death in 1988, Carl approached the History and Museums Division to seek acknowledgment of Foss as the Corps' ace of aces. His efforts were rebuffed on the grounds that "We don't speak ill of the dead."
Therein lay the problem. The Marine Corps chose to personalize the matter. But Carl and many others feel that acknowledging the incontestable fact that Foss outscored Boyington would not be an insult to Boyington. It would simply reflect the facts.
PASSING THE BUCK
Shortly after Foss' death in January 2003, many of his admirers wrote to the assistant commandant, Gen. William L. Nyland, who had spoken at Foss' memorial service. They urged Nyland to amend the record. Instead, he passed the ball back to the History and Museums Division.
The chief historian, Charles Melson, wrote, "Records are most uncertain during the period when pilots were busiest fighting the enemy." He added, "To challenge retroactively the decisions of the Marine Corps leadership of that period concerning the validity of these scores could serve to inflict unnecessary emotional stress on the families of those heroes who sacrificed so much for their corps and country."
Neither contention stands scrutiny. First, nobody contests that air combat is the province of confusion. But that's irrelevant. What matters is what the Corps did administratively after the chocks were kicked into place. second, the concern of emotional distress is nonexistent. Boyington biographer Bruce Gamble notes, "Pappy's relatives never said a word about his score being revised. It just didn't come up." Furthermore, the U.S. Air Force, with vastly more victories than the Marines, has frequently changed the record in the interest of accuracy. For instance, all USAAF WW II fighter scores were re-examined in Historical Study 85, including the controversial claims from the 1943 Yamamoto mission. Obviously, if the "blue suiters" can undertake a reassessment, so can the leathernecks.
Apart from what Marion Carl called "an institutional inability to admit a long-standing error," intraservice politics also figures. The Marine Corps is about riflemen; aviation exists to support the infantry, and there has never been an aviator commandant. Shooting down enemy airplanes does little for the "grunts" (never mind that airplanes can sink amphibious shipping), and "the ground" has always run the Corps. The History and Museums Division takes orders from Headquarters, which demonstrates no interest in an aviation controversy, or, apparently, in the facts.
The Marine motto is Semper fldelis: always faithful. Joe Foss remained faithful to his Corps throughout his life, even after it refused him a permanent commission because of a bureaucratic error. Almost 60 years later, it's high time that the Corps demonstrates loyalty to Joe Foss and to the history he represents.
To help, you may write the assistant commandant: Gen. William L. Nyland, USMC, 2 Navy Annex, Washington, D.C. 20380.
Copyright Air Age Publishing Jun 2003
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Col. David H. Hackworth, 1930-2005: Legendary U.S. Army Guerrilla Fighter, Champion of the Ordinary Soldier
The Estate of Col. David H. Hackworth
Col. David H. Hackworth, the United States Army's legendary, highly decorated guerrilla fighter and lifelong champion of the doughboy and dogface, groundpounder and grunt, died Wednesday in Mexico. He was 74 years old. The cause of death was a form of cancer now appearing with increasing frequency among Vietnam veterans exposed to the defoliants called Agents Orange and Blue.
Col. Hackworth spent more than half a century on the country's hottest battlefields, first as a soldier, then as a writer, war correspondent and sharp-eyed critic of the Military Industrial Complex and ticket-punching generals he dismissed as Perfumed Princes. He preferred the combat style of World War II and Korean War heroes like James Gavin and Matthew Ridgeway and, during Vietnam, of Hank "The Gunfighter" Emerson and Hal Moore. General Moore, the author of "We Were Soldiers Once and Young," called him "the Patton of Vietnam" and General Creighton Abrams, the last American commander in that disastrous war, described him as "the best battalion commander I ever saw in the United States Army."
Col. Hackworth's battlefield exploits put him on the line of American military heroes squarely next to Sgt. York and Audie Murphy. The novelist Ward Just, who knew him for forty years, described him as "the genuine article, a soldier's soldier, a connoisseur of combat." At 14, as World War II was sputtering out, he lied about his age to join the Merchant Marine, and at 15 he enlisted in the U.S. Army. Over the next 26 years he spent fully seven in combat. He was put in for the Medal of Honor three times; the last application is currently under review at the Pentagon. He was twice awarded the Army's second highest honor for valor, the Distinguished Service Cross, along with 10 Silver Stars and 8 Bronze Stars. When asked about his many awards, he always said he was proudest of his 8 Purple Hearts and his Combat Infantryman's Badge.
A reputation won on the battlefield made it impossible to dismiss him when he went on the attack later as a critic of careerism and incompetence in the military high command. In 1971, he appeared in the field on ABC's Issue and Answers to say Vietnam "is a bad war...it can't be won. We need to get out." He also predicted that Saigon would fall to the North Vietnamese within four years, a prediction that turned out to be far more accurate than anything the Joint Chiefs of Staff were telling President Nixon or that the President was telling the American people.
With almost five years in country, Col. Hackworth was the only senior officer to sound off about the Vietnam War. After the interview, he retired from the Army and moved to Australia.
"He was perhaps the finest soldier of his generation," observed the novelist and war correspondent Nicholas Proffit, who described Col. Hackworth's combat autobiography About Face, a national best-seller, as "a passionate cry from the heart of a man who never stopped loving the Army, even when it stopped loving him back."
Having risen from private by way of a battlefield commission in Korea, where he became the Army's youngest captain, to Vietnam, where he served as its youngest bird colonel, he never stood on rank.
From the beginning his life was a soldier's story. He was born on Armistice Day, now Veteran's Day, in 1930. His parents both died before he was a year old and the Army ultimately stood in for the family he never had. His grandmother, who rescued him from an orphanage, raised him on tales of the American Revolution and the Old West and the ethos of the Great Depression. After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he got his first military training shining shoes at a base in Santa Monica, where the soldiers, adopting him as mascot, had a tailor cut him a pint-sized uniform. "At age 10 I knew my destiny," he said. "Nothing would be better than to be a soldier."
He always credited his success in battle to the training he received from the tough school of non-coms who won World War II, hard-bitten, hard-drinking, hard-fighting sergeants who drilled into him the basics of an infantryman's life: sweat in training cut down on blood shed in battle; there was nothing wrong with being out all night so long as you were present for roll call at 5:00 a.m., on your feet and in shape to run five miles before breakfast in combat boots.
In Korea, where he won his first Silver Star and Purple Heart before he was old enough to vote, he started his combat career in what he later called a "kill a commie for mommie" frame of mind. He was among the first volunteers for Korea and later for Vietnam, where he perfected his skill. "He understood the atmosphere of violence," Ward Just observed. "That meant he knew how to keep his head, to think in danger's midst. In battle the worst thing is paralysis. He mastered his own fear and learned how to kill. He led by example, and his men followed."
Just met him in the ruins of a base camp in the Central Highlands in 1966, where he was a major commanding a battalion of the 101st Airborne. "He was compact, with forearms the size of hams. His uniform was filthy and his use of obscenity was truly inventive." What struck the journalist most forcefully was "his enthusiasm, his magnetism, his exuberance, his invincible cheerfulness."
To young officers in Vietnam and long afterwards, he presented an unforgettable profile in courage. "Everyone called him Hack," recalled Dennis Foley, a military historian and novelist who first saw him in action with the 1st Battalion of the 327th Infantry in 1965. "He was referred to by his radio call sign of 'Steel Six.' He was tough, demanding and boyish all at the same time, stocky with a slightly leathered complexion. His light hair and deep tan made it hard for us to tell how old he was. He wore jungle fatigue trousers, shower shoes, a green T-shirt and a Rolex watch. In the corner of his mouth was a large and foul smelling cigar. As we entered the tent, he was bent over a field table looking at a map overlay and drinking a bottle of San Miguel beer."
With Gen. S.L.A. "Slam" Marshall, he surveyed the war's early mayhem and compiled the Army's experience into The Vietnam Primer, a bible on a style of unconventional counter-guerrilla tactics he called "out gee-ing the G." His finest moment came when he applied these tactics, taking the hopeless 4/39 Infantry Battalion in the Mekong Delta, turning it into the legendary Hardcore Battalion. The men of the demoralized outfit saw him at first as a crazy "lifer" out to get them killed. For a time they even put a price on his head and waited for the first grunt to frag him.
Within 10 weeks, the fiery young combat leader had so transformed the 4/39 that it was routing main force enemy units. He led from the front, at one point getting out on the strut of a helicopter, landing on top of an enemy position and hauling to safety the point elements of a company pinned down and facing certain death. Thirty years later, the grateful enlisted men and young officers of the 4/39, now grown old, are still urging the Pentagon to award him the Medal of Honor for this action. So far, the Army has refused.
On leaving the Army, Col. Hackworth retired to a farm on the Australian Gold Coast near Brisbane. He became a business entrepreneur, making a small fortune in real estate, then expanding a highly popular restaurant called Scaramouche. As a leading spokesman for Australia's anti-nuclear movement he was presented the United Nations Medal for Peace.
As About Face was becoming a best seller, he returned to the United States to marry Eilhys England, his one great love, who became his business and writing partner. He became a powerful voice for military reform. From 1990 to 1996, as Newsweek Magazine's Contributing editor for defense, he covered the first Gulf War as well as peacekeeping battles in Somalia, the Balkans, Korea and Haiti. He captured this experience in Hazardous Duty, a volume of war dispatches. Among his many awards as a journalist was the George Washington Honor Medal for excellence in communications. He also wrote a novel, Price of Honor, about the snares of Vietnam, Somalia and the Military Industrial Complex. His last book, Steel My Soldiers' Hearts, was a tribute to the men of the Hardcore Battalion.
He was a regular guest on national radio and TV shows and a regular contributor to magazines including People, Parade, Men's Journal, Self, Playboy, Maxim and Modern Maturity. His column, Defending America, has appeared weekly in newspapers across the country and on the website of Soldiers For The Truth (http://www.sftt.org), a rallying point for military reform. He and Ms. England have been the driving force behind the organization, which defends the interests of ordinary soldiers while upholding Hack's conviction that "nuke-the-pukes" solutions no longer work in an age of terror that demands "a streamlined, hard-hitting force for the twenty-first century."
"Hack never lost his focus," said Roger Charles, president of Soldiers for the Truth. "That focus was on the young kids that our country sends to bleed and die on our behalf. Everything he did in his retirement was to try to give them a better chance to win and to come home. That's one hell of a legacy."
Over the final years of Col. Hackworth's life, his wife Eilhys fought beside him during his gallant battle against bladder cancer, which now appears with sinister regularity among Vietnam veterans exposed to Agent Blue. At one point he considered dropping their syndicated column, only to make an abrupt about face, saying, "Writing with you is the only thing that keeps me alive." The last words he said to his doctor were "If I die, tell Eilhys I was grateful for every moment she brought me, every extra moment I got to spend with her. Tell her my greatest achievement is the love the two of us shared."
Col. Hackworth is survived by Ms. England, one step-daughter and two step-grandchildren, and four children and four grandchildren from two earlier marriages. At a date to be announced, he will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors.
Soldiers For The Truth is now working on legal action to compel the Pentagon to recognize Agent Blue alongside the better known Agent Orange as a killer and to help veterans exposed to it during the Vietnam War. Memorial contributions can be sent to Soldiers For The Truth either by internet (http://www.sftt.org) or by mail to, PO Box 54365, Irving, California, 92619-4365.
Source: The Estate of Col. David H. Hackworth
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Goodbye Hackworth; We'll Miss You
Major Jim Miles (Ret.), SAL Commentary
On May 4, 2005 Col. David Hackworth US Army Ret. lost his final battle to cancer in Mexico. He was 74-years-old.
Hack, as he liked to be called, was a victim of Agents Orange and Blue, defoilants used during the Vietnam War.
Hackworth spent 5 years in Vietnam and most of it in the field, "Bush" we called it a nickname for the jungle. As a result his exposure to these
killer agents was high.
Any veteran of the Vietnam War who spent a great deal of time in the field, including myself, is at risk of having some form of cancer lurking in their body as a result of Agents Orange and Blue. Best advice is to get regular checkups.
Old Hack was a tough one. At 14, as World War II was coming to a close, he lied about his age and joined the Merchant Marine. A year later he enlisted in the US Army.
In Korea he won his first Slver Star and Purple Heart and a battlefield
commssion before he was elgible to vote.
I wrote an article on Hack a couple of months ago that criticized him for his relentless attacks on America's military brass and his claim as the most highly decorated soldier alive today. I also took him to task for being an anti-war activist in Australia where he lived for 20 years after retiring from the Army.
However, I was dead wrong on writing that he didn't have the Distinguished Service Cross (DSC), the Army's second highest honor for valor. He was twice awarded the DSC and was put in for the Medal of Honor three times; the last recommendation is still under review at the Pentagon. I'm sorry Hack for not being more diligent in my research.
I had written that I first Hack during my third tour in Vietnam. We had
separate commands in the Delta region IV Corps along the Cambodian border. We were both battling the local VC and the NVA who were coming across the border in ever increasing numbers. Unfortunately, due to America's no-win policy we weren't allowed to go across the border after them
I was attending a commanders conference in Can Tho listening to old MG McGowan huffing and puffing and rasing hell about how we had to "take the fight to the enemy" when Hack walked in late. As he tiptoed in the back trying not to be noticed, he accidently kicked one of those old hard plastic coffee cups sitting on the floor sending it clattering loudly across the floor. General Mac looked up and for a couple of seconds you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone turned and saw a very red faced Hack standing in the back of the room. The General said, "well Hackworth I'm glad you were able to make it."
I was sitting in the back row so I could get the hell out of there when the conference was over and Hack slid in beside of me and whispered,"I'm LTC Hackworth." And that's how I met old Hack.
He told me that my ranger outfit was going to be put under his command. I told him it was news to me and muttered under my breath " not if I can help it." It never happened and we went our separate ways killing as many of the enemy as we could before we were ordered to retreat from the battlefield.
Unlike Hack I never blamed the military for the no-win policy. It was the liberal, socialist bastards in the US Congress and the anti-war, anti-military creeps who didn't think there was anything worth fighting for. As a result the commies are still running the show in Vietnam and a pint-sized, mad dictator is raising hell in North Korea.
It wasn't and still isn't the "Perfumed Princes," as Hack called them. that are to be blamed for shortcomings in the military, it's mainly those in the US Congress and the "peacecreep" bureaucrats buried in the bowels of the government, especially the Pentagon.
Sure, there are a few generals and admirals that don't measure up, but the vast majority of military brass are outstanding leaders. If allowed to do their jobs they'll fight to win - not loose as was the policy in Korea and Vietnam. From Grenada to Panama to Desert Storm, Afghanistan and Iraq the generals are leading the troops to victory - not defeat. Gen. Richard Myers doesn' t strike me as being namby pamby, nor does his replacement, General Pace, a decorated Marine.
Reqardless, with three recommendations for the MOH, two DSCs, 10 Silver Stars and eight Purple Hearts and a dufflebag full of other medals Hack earned the right to voice his opinion about what he saw as problems with the top military brass and leaders in the Pentagon. He sure as hell stirred the pot and got the attention of the Pentagon.
I didn't agree with a lot of what he said, but he damn sure earned the right to sound off.
I offer, along with his comrades in arms and a grateful nation for his 26
years of dedicated service to his country, a final salute to one of America's greatest warriors. Rest in peace good and faithful servant you did your duty well.
(Editor's note: Major Jim Miles is retired US Army Special Forces.)
*
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FROM HERE TO ETERNITY
Screenplay
by
Daniel Taradash
(Second Draft - 8/29/1952)
USE FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY
FADE IN:
EXT. QUADRANGLE - DAY
LONG SHOT
The quadrangle of Army buildings is quiet and deserted. A
broken-down taxi drives in at one corner and slowly makes its
way around the quadrangle. SUPERIMPOSED over shot is the
legend:
HAWAII, 1941
SIX MONTHS BEFORE
PEARL HARBOR
The taxi pulls up across the street from camera. A soldier
gets out, pulls two heavily loaded barracks bags after him.
He pays the driver, hoists the bags to his back, moves toward
camera. The taxi drives away slowly. The soldier walks toward
steps leading to a low building. He is PREWITT (called "PREW"
for short), 22 years old, well-built, good-looking. He wears
an enlisted man's uniform and on the sleeves are marks where
chevrons have been removed. He pauses, looks up over the
door. CAMERA PANS UP to sign which reads: ORDERLY ROOM - G
COMPANY, 219TH REGIMENT.
MEDIUM SHOT
A small thin soldier in an undershirt and fatigue pants backs
out of the screen door and into shot. He is wielding a frayed
broom. This is PRIVATE ANGELO MAGGIO. He is violent and funny
and sour and friendly. He sees Prewitt's legs but not his
face, speaks as he sweeps a cloud of dust off the porch.
MAGGID
Fine way to pass the time. Good for
the mind.
PREW
Hello, Maggio.
Maggio turns and stares at Prew, astonished.
MAGGIO
Prew...?
PREW
(nods)
I transferred out of Fort Shatter.
Maggio notices the marks on the sleeves where the stripes
have been removed. Prew follows his glance.
MAGGIO
You quit the Bugle Corps...?
2.
Prew nods. Maggio jerks his head toward the sign.
MAGGIO
To here...?
PREW
(shrugs)
That's what the orders say.
MAGGIO
You made a bad mistake. This outfit
they can give back to Custer.
Prew smiles slightly, starts toward door.
MAGGIO
The Captain ain't in yet.
Prew puts down his barracks bags.
PREY
I'll look around.
MAGGIO
(smiles for first time)
Maybe we borrow some money from a
twenty per cent man and take a real
trip to town some night.
PHEW
Maybe.
TRUCKING SHOT ALONG COMPANY STREET
Prew walks slowly down the raised porch alongside the street.
He takes the mouthpiece of a bugle from his pocket, jiggles
it idly, a habit of his. He comes to the Dayroom, glances
through the screen door, goes in.
INT. DAYROOM - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
The Dayroom has a pool table, ping-pong table, a radio, etc.
Moth-eaten, upholstered chairs line both walls. The place is
empty as Prew enters. He looks around casually, sees the pool
table in an alcove. He moves over to it, puts the bugle
mouthpiece in his pocket, picks a cue from the rack on the
wall. He switches on the light, chalks the cue.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT
The triangle of balls is already racked on the table. Prew
addresses the cue ball, shoots and breaks the rack solidly.
He watches the balls hurry around the table.
3.
WARDEN'S VOICE (O. S.)
Whatre you think you're doing!?
Why ain't you out in the field with
the Compny? Whats your name?
The voice is brawling, brash, vigorous. Prew turns slowly.
CAMERA ANGLE WIDENS to INCLUDE FIRST SERGEANT MILTON WARDEN,
almost at Prew's elbow. He is thirty-four, big and powerful,
has a neatly-trimmed moustache.
PREW
Prewitt. Transfer from Shafter.
WARDEN
Yeah. I heard about you.
PREW
I heard about you, too, Warden.
WARDEN
Well, put up that cue and come
along. This here's a rifle outfit,
Prewitt. You ain't suppose to enjoy
yourself before sundown. The Man's
very particlar about little things
like that.
Warden goes out of the Dayroom. Prew puts up the cue and
follows him.
EXT. COMPANY STREET
TRUCKING SHOT
as Prew and Warden walk along the porch, Warden a few paces
ahead. They go into the Orderly Room.
INT. ORDERLY ROOM - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
as Prew and Warden enter. Maggio is sweeping the room.
MAZZIOLI, a bespectacled, intellectual-looking Private First
Class, is at the clerk's desk, opening it, taking out papers,
etc. Prew sits on a bench as Warden goes over to Mazzioli.
WARDEN
Mazzioli! Grant went to the
hospital yesterday. Did you make up
his sick record? Did you make a
note for the morning report?!
You're the Compny Clerk. The lousy
Sickbook is your job!
4.
MAZZIOLI
Those medics didn't get the
Sickbook back till late yesterday --
I'll tend to it right now --
WARDEN
Thanks. I already done it for you.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Maggio has swept his way over to Prew. He stops sweeping now,
stares at the other man as if still incredulous.
MAGGIO
But you the beat bugler they got
over at Shatter. You probly the
best on this whole Rock.
In b.g., Warden has turned from Mazzioli and is looking at
Prew. Prew looks back coolly, answers Maggio thoughtfully.
PREW
That's true.
Maggio wags his head, bends over to pick up wastepaper
basket.
MAGGIO
Well, friend, I feel for you. But
from my position I can't quite
reach you.
WARDEN
Ten-sh-HUT!
Prewitt, Mazzioli and Maggio spring to attention. The screen
door bangs and CAPTAIN DANA HOLMES enters shot. He wears
cavalry boots and spurs. He is about forty, unsure of
himself, therefore always too certain with his men. He nods
pleasantly.
HOLMES
At ease. Good morning, men.
Anything special this morning,
Sergeant Warden? I've only a few
minutes.
WARDEN
New man here, sir.
HOLMES
Oh, yes. Bring him in.
5.
Holmes goes into his office. Warden jerks his thumb toward
the door. Prewitt goes into the office. Warden follows him.
INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY
Holmes is seated at his desk as Prewitt and Warden enter. A
placard on it reads: CAPTAIN HOLMES. A smaller desk nearby
has a placard' reading: 1ST SERGEANT WARDEN. Warden seats
himself at this desk. On the walls are framed photographs of
prizefighters as well as one of a large golden trophy. On
Holmes' desk is a small framed photograph of a very
attractive blonde woman. Prewitt comes to attention in front
of Holmes' desk.
PREWITT
Sir, Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt
reporting to the Compny Commander
as ordered.
HOLMES
At ease.
(takes papers out of
drawer, glances through
them)
They sent your service record
over... Twenty-two years of age...
born in Kentucky... enlisted first
at Fort Myer, Virginia... Bugle
Corps... re-enlisted for overseas
duty... Fort Shafter... First
Bugler...
(benignly)
Prewitt, I always make it a policy
to talk to my new men. It's
important for an officer and his
men to understand each other. Now I
have a fine smooth-running outfit.
ANGLE FEATURING WARDEN
Holmes cannot see Warden who is grinning at Prewitt with
unholy glee.
HOLMES
Plenty of room for advancement for
a man who knows how to soldier. But
he's got to show me he's got it on
the ball. I don't know what you've
been used to in the Bugle Corps,
but in my outfit we run it by the
book. What kind of trouble were you
in over there?
6.
PREW
No trouble, sir.
HOLMES
What made you transfer out, then?
PREW
It's a personal matter, air.
HOLMES
Oh. I see...
He studies Prew for a moment, sees Warden on the edge of his
chair, watching hawk-like.
HOLMES
Something you wanted to ask,
Sergeant?
WARDEN
(explodes suddenly)
Who? Me? Whv, yes, air. You had
Corpral's stripes in the Bugle
Corps, Prewitt. You took a bust to
buck Private to transfer to an
Infantry Compny. Why? Because you
like to hike?
PREW
I dint have no trouble if that's
what you mean.
WARDED
(grins suddenly)
Or was it just because you couldn't
stand to bugle?
PREW
It was a personal matter.
WARDEN
That's up to the Compny Commander's
discretion to decide.
PREW
(looks straight at Warden)
All right. I was First Bugler at
Shafter for two years. The topkick
had a friend who transferred in
from the states. Next day he made
him First Bugler over me.
7.
WARDEN
And you asked out on account of
that!?
PREY
Maybe I just ain't sensible... But
that's the reason.
WARDEN
(snorts)
His feelings were hurt! Kids they
send us now!
Warden swings his chair around, absorbs himself in work at
his desk as if the Prew situation is too absurd to concern
himself with. Holmes speaks blandly, winningly.
HOLMES
I've got a mighty sour Company
Bugler here... but I suppose you
wouldn't want that job.
PREY
No, air.
HOLMES
(smiles)
Well, we'll get your stripes back
for you, maybe an extra one for
good measure. You know why you were
sent over here when you requested
transfer?
PREW
No, sir.
HOLDS
I pulled a few strings. I'm the
Regimental Boxing Coach, Prewitt. I
saw your fight with Connors in the
Bowl year before last. With any
luck you should have won it. I
thought for a while, in the second
round, you were going to knock him
out.
PREW
(tense)
Thank you, sir.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT HOLMES
8.
(MORE)
HOLMES
(bitterly)
My Regiment got beaten last year in
the finals, as you know.
(savage insistence)
But I mean to win this year. And I
will. All I've needed was a top
middleweight.
(waves at pictures)
Next year I'll hang your picture up
there with the others, my boy.
MEDIUM SHOT FEATURING PREW
PREW
I'm sorry, air. But I quit
fighting.
HOLMES.
Quit fighting? When? What for?
PREW
I just stopped, sir... After --
Maybe you heard about what
happened...
HOLMEB
You mean that fallow you hurt --
the one that went blind?
CLOSE SHOT PREW
Prew's lips are drawn tight. He nods almost imperceptibly.
MEDIUM SHOT
During this shot Maggio can be seen in b.g. through door to
Orderly Room. He pretends to be sweeping, but stops now and
then to listen.
HOLMES
Yes, it's too bad about that. I can
understand how you feel. But those
things happen in this game. A man
has got to accept that possibility
when he fights.
PREW
That's why I decided I would quit,
sir.
HOLMES
(less warmly)
But on the other hand, look at
9.
HOLMES(cont'd)
it this way. What if all fighters
felt like that?
PREW
They don't.
HOLMES
Would you have us disband our
fighting program because one man
got hurt?
PREW
No, sir. I dint say --
HOLMES
You might as well say stop war
because one man got killed. Our
fighting program is the best morale
builder we have off here away from
home.
PREW
I don't want it disbanded, sir.
(doggedly)
But I don't see why any man should
fight unless he wants to.
HOLMES
It looks to me like you're trying
to acquire a reputation as a lone
wolf, Prewitt. You should know that
in the Army it's not the individual
that counts. If a man wants to get
ahead he has certain
responsibilities to fulfill that go
beyond the regulations. It might
look as though I were a free agent,
but I'm not. Nobody is.
Holmes waits hopefully for a moment, then realizes Prew is
not going to respond further. He stands. Prew snaps to
attention.
HOLMES
Maybe you'll change your mind. In
the meantime just don't make any
mistakes in my outfit.
(to Warden)
I've got to go into town. Is there
anything else for me today,
Sergeant?
10.
(MORE)
WARDEN
(holds up papers)
Yea, sir! The Compny Pond Report's
got to be made out. It's due
tomorrow --
HOLMES
You make it out. Is that all?
WARDEN
(holds up more papers)
No, sir!
HOLMES
Well, whatever it is, you fix it.
If there's anything that has to go
in this afternoon, sign my name. I
won't be back.
He goes out, crossing Warden's desk and knocking a wire
basket filled with papers on the floor. In a moment, the
sound of the screen door slamming is heard. Warden picks up
the papers.
WARDEN
He'd strangle on his own spit if I
weren't here to swab out his throat
for him.
(to Prew)
Come on. I'll show you the Supply
Room.
Warden goes out to Orderly Room, Prew following.
INT. ORDERLY ROOM - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
as Prew and Warden enter and walk through. Maggio bobs his
head approvingly at Prew.
EXT. COMPANY STREET - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN AND PREW
as they come out of the Orderly Room. Prew hoists his
barracks bags to his shoulders, balancing them delicately.
CAMERA TRUCKS with him and Warden as they walk down the
porch.
WARDEN
(one of his unexpected
intense bursts)
Know what you did just now?
11.
WARDEN(cont'd)
(MORE)
When you turned down Dynanite
Holmes' boxing squad? You put your
head in a noose. Things are soft
for a boxer in his Compny.
Otherwise, you better know how to
soljer.
PHEW
I can soljer with any man.
WARDEN
This ain't the Bugle Corps -- this
is straight duty.
PREW
I'll take my chances.
A convertible, top down, drives by and pulls up outside the
Orderly Room. KAREN HOLMES, a tall, lean blonde woman, gets
out. Her skirt hikes up a little as she goes up the stairs to
the Orderly Room. Warden and Prew stop walking and watch her.
Karen stops, glances at Warden momentarily, then goes into
the Orderly Room.
WARDEN
Since when is this place gettin to
be the Royal Hawaiian?
PREW
Who's she?
WARDEN
His wife. Captain Holmes'.
They resume walking.
WARDEN
You'll fight, Prewitt. You'll fight
because Captain Holmes got a bee in
his hat he needs a winnin team to
make Mayor. And if you don't do it
for him you'll do it for me. I only
been in this outfit eight months
myself but I learned one thing. My
job is to keep him happy. The more
he's happy the less he bothers me
and the better I run his Compny. So
we know where we stand, don't we,
kid?
PREW
I know where I stand. I don't
believe that's the only way a man
can get along.
12.
PREW(cont'd)
A man's got to make up his own mind
and go his own way. It he don't,
he's nothin...
WARDEN
Maybe back in the days of the
pioneers a man could go his own
way. But not in our time, kid.
Today you got to play ball. You got
to divide it all by two.
They have reached a Dutch door, top half open. A sign over it
reads: SUPPLY ROOM.
MEDIUM SHOT SHOOTING INTO SUPPLY ROOM
SUPPLY SERGEANT LEVA is eating a candy bar with one hand and
leisurely typing up a form with the other. He is a foolishlooking
man, about thirty-five.
WARDEN
Lava! Can't I once walk by this
Supply Room and find you workin
with both hands!
LEVA
(comes up to door)
I can't do no better on what you
people pay me.
WARDEN
Draw some supplies for this man.
(to Prew)
That's G Compny barracks over
there. Get rid of your bags and
come back here, and Leva'll find
you a cart to lug your stuff over
in. Save you makin four five trips.
PREW
(surprised, pleased)
Okay.
WARDEN
I just hate to see energy wasted.
Any kind. Besides, you'll be needin
yours.
Prew walks off, toting the barracks bags. The bang of the
Orderly Room door is heard and Lava and Warden look in that
direction.
LONG SHOT KAREN HOLMES FROM WARDEN AND LEVA'S ANGLE
as she walks along porch toward them. She is at a
considerable distance. Karen is about thirty. She wears a
13.
sweater and skirt. She is aware the men are studying her.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN AND LEVA
watching Karen. Leva leans over the counter.
LEVA
Her and them sweaters.
LONG SHOT KAREN FROM WARDEN AND LEVA'S POV
as she continues toward them. As much as a man can make out,
she is probably not wearing a brassiere. Warden's and Lava's
voices, loud at first, get softer and softer the nearer Karen
gets to camera. At end of the shot, as she is only a few
yards away, they are practically whispering.
WARDEN'S VOICE
Army women... They're cold,
they got no more warmth than a
diamond. There's no pleasure in
them...
LEVA'S VOICE
Yeah, but this one knows the
score... Like I been tellin you.
WARDEN'S VOICE
(sarcastic)
Is that right?
LEVA'S VOICE
Okay, not around here. But I was
back at Fort Bliss with Holmes.
When they was married only a year
or two. I heard plenty about the
lady then. Plenty.
WARDEN'S VOICE
You heard.
LEVA'S VOICE
Okay, never me. But a lot of them.
I know some of the Use she played
'around with, don't tell me.
WARDEN'S VOICE
I ain't tellin you. You're tellin
me.
Karen stops, a few paces from camera.
KAREN
Good morning, Sergeant.
MEDIUM SHOT
14.
Lava watches, listens avidly but discreetly in b.g. During
the dialogue, Karen seems irritated by Warden, who looks at
her coolly, appraisingly, physically.
KAREN
I'm looking for my husband.
WARDEN
Captain Holmes just went in town,
ma'am.
KAREN
Oh. Of course, He was to have left
some things for me.
(stumbles slightly)
That he was to have purchased. Do
you know anything about them?
WARDEN
No, ma'am, I don't. Is there
anythin I can do for you?
KAREN.
No, thanks, Sergeant.
She makes slight move to go, pauses.
KAREN
He's been telling me quite a bit
about you lately. My husband. He
says you're very efficient.
WARDEN
Yes, ma'am.
KAREN
What is it that makes you so
efficient, Sergeant?
WARDEN
I couldn't help it if I was born
smart, ma'am.
Karen laughs suddenly, loudly.
KAREN
I love that. Well, good-bye,
Sergeant.
Karen turns and walks back up the porch toward her car.
Warden and Leva watch her. When she is out of earshot Leva
speaks.
15.
(MORE)
LEVA
But man, she sure is one, ain't
she?
WARDEN
One what?
LEVA
One woman.
WARDEN
(unconvincingly)
I've seen better.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KAREN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT 22 Karen, in a negligee, is seated at a dressing
table, brushing her hair -- steadily, gracefully, enjoying
the sensual pleasure of it. Karen is a woman of moods and
tempers, spontaneous, quick to impulse. A car is heard
pulling up in the driveway, the motor stopping. Karen's brush
strokes become faster, rougher. The front door is heard
opening and Holmes' voice calling, "Karen." She does not
answer. Holmes enters. He seems to have had a few drinks.
Through the following, Karen continues brushing her hair.
HOLMES
I'm sorry I'm so late. And about
dinner, I --
KAREN
It doesn't matter.
HOLMES
-- I got tied up with General
Slater. Bumped into him at the
Officers' Club.
KAREN
Yes? What did the General have to
say?
HOLMES
Success, he said. Success in war,
success in peacetime... And not a
word about my promotion... There
are times I think the Old Man's
just waiting to ship me down...
(slumps into chair)
I've had a bad day all around...
16.
HOLMES(cont'd)
started right off this morning...
trouble with a new man...
KAREN
If you'd spend less time buttering
Generals and more time with your
Company, maybe you'd get that
promotion.
HOLDS
The Company takes care of itself.
Or my Topkick takes care of it.
KAREN
I went over there this morning
looking for you.
HOLMES
(flustered)
I had some business to attend to in
town. During the afternoon.
KAREN
(unemotionally)
From the way you look I gather your
business wasn't too successful.
HOLMES
Now what does that mean?
KAREN
Dana. Give me credit for a few
brains.
HOLMES
How many, times do I have to tell
you I haven't any other women
before you'll believe me?
CLOSE SHOT KAREN SHOOTING INTO MIRROR ON DRESSING TABLE
Karen laughs sharply, loudly, then stops suddenly as she
looks at herself in the mirror, sees the repugnance in her
face. She puts down the hairbrush, picks up a long comb.
HOLMES VOICE
If it were so, don't you think I'd
admit it? The way things are
between us now? What right have you
to always be accusing me?
KAREN
What right?
TWO SHOT
17.
They are both tense now. Holmes is out of the chair and
pacing. Karen combs her hair spasmodically.
HOLMES
That again. How long will it be, I
wonder, before I'm allowed to live
that down? After eight years, how
many times do I have to tell you It
Was An Accident?
KAREN
That makes it all right, I suppose!
HOLMES
I didn't say that. I know what it's
done to you, but --
KAREN
You know I hate to talk about it!
He moves over to her.
HOLM ES
How many times do I have to tell
you I'm sorry, about that? How many
times that I had no way of knowing -
He puts his hands on her shoulders. Karen shakes away, rises,
faces him.
KAREN
You had a way of knowing, Dana. I
want to go to bed. Please get out
of my bedroom.
Holmes looks at her sullenly, then exits to adjoining room,
closing the door behind him. There is a moment of silence,
then a sharp snap as Karen breaks the comb in two.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. DAYROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN
The room is fairly well filled with soldiers. The click of
pool balls is heard over shot. Warden is reading a
newspaper.. A column heading, conspicuous in shot, reads:
JAPS ADVANCE IN CHINA. Warden drops the paper on his lap,
looks toward pool table, squinting thoughtfully.
FULL SHOT AT POOL TABLE
Maggio, Prew and CHIEF CHOATE, a Corporal, are playing pool.
Choate is a full Choctaw Indian, a man of great bulk and
tolerance. He speaks in a tremendously deep bass voice. The
18.
table on one side is surrounded by the prizefighters of G
Company. They are IRE GALOVITCH, an ape-like, bent-kneed man
weighing about two twenty, with a widow's peak almost to his
eyebrows; BALDY DHOM, chunky and tough, his head as bald as
an orange; TURP THORNHILL, a stringy, chinless Mississipian;
HENDERSON, a tall, hard Texan; CHAMP WILSON, wiry and goodlooking.
They are all Sergeants except Wilson, who is a
Corporal. The men have been heckling Prew and are watching
with cold belligerence. Choate, bending over his cue, shoots
and misses.
CHOATE
I'm coldern a Idaho winter tonight.
Prew shoots, makes a brilliant shot.
MAGGIO
Man, what I would not give to have
this character in the corner
poolroom in my home town: I'd dress
him up on overhalls and a straw hat
and put a grass in his teeth, and I
would make a whole mint of ghelt
off him!
Choate laughs deeply. Prew sizes up a new shot.
WILSON
We'd of won last year if we had a
good middleweight. You box as good
as you used to over at Shatter
we're a cinch this year.
Prew doesn't respond. He bends over his cue again.
THORNHILL
You ain't forget the Division
champs get ten day furloughs, did
you, son? Ey?
GALOVITCH
You no talk now, Prewitt. But out
in field with us you sing different
song. An don't think you are tough
guy. Quickest way to stockade is
being tough
guy.
HENDERSON
You heard him. Better think it
over.
19.
MAGGIO
Lissen, it's his right not to fight
if he don't want. Without bein
kicked around. Now, we playin pool.
Whyn't you take off?
DHOM
You want a busted head, Maggio?
MAGGIO
(seriously)
No.
DHOM
Then keep your big nose out
altogether.
(turns back to Prew)
Trainin season starts next week --
Prew has been growing more and more agitated, as much by an
inner turmoil as by the men. His control snaps suddenly.
PREW
I told you I quit fightin! I'm
through! An that's all she wrote:
You guys want to put the screws on,
go ahead. I can take anything you
hand out!
DHOM
Okay, Prewitt. No halts barred.
The five men move off, file out of the Dayroom.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
His paper still on his lap. He has been watching. He wears a
faint smile of respect.
MEDIUM SHOT PHEW, MAGGIO, CHOATE
Prew chalks his cue, hands trembling, turns to Maggio.
PREW
Thanks.
MAGGIO
I just hate to see a good man get
it in the gut.
20.
CHOATE
You might as well get use to it,
kid. You probly be seein it often
before you die.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND CHOATE
In b.g. a few of the men are moving to and from the latrine
but most of them are in their bunks. Over shot the sound of a
bugle blowing Tattoo is heard. Lights are being extinguished
in various parts of the room. Prew and Choate are lying on
adjoining bunks, smoking. Choate's voice is almost linked to
his last speech of preceding scene.
CHO ATE
... oh, sure, we got a few bad noncoms
and we got Dynamite Holmes for
a Captain. But I been around twenty
years in this Army. They even up.
In b. g. Warden and SERGEANT PETE (POP) KARELSEN come through
from the latrine. The latter is a grizzled, crumbled dogface,
about fifty.
CHOATE
Take A Compny. They got the best
Compny Commander I ever saw. But
their Topkick -- he ain't no
Warden.
Warden stops beside Prew and Karelsen moves on, going in to a
small room off the main squadroom. Warden's big, powerful
body is covered only by a towel around his loins. He smiles
at Prew.
WARDEN
Hello, kid. Everythin nice and
comfy?
PREW
Never better.
WARDEN
'at's the lull before the storm,
kid. Set yourself.
He moves off, goes into the room he shares with Karelsen.
21.
PREW
What's the deal with him, anyway? I
can't figure him.
The lights are almost all off and activity in the room has
ended.
CHOATE
The Warden? He's a wild man. He was
in the 15th when they seen their
action in the Settlement in
Shanghai. I heard about it down in
the Philippes even. He got himself
a DSC and a Purple Heart out of it
but you'd never know it if I dint
tell you. This next war comes,
Warden'll be right in there,
standin up on the skyline, trio to
get himself killed, but nothing
will ever touch him. He'll come
through maddern, wildern, craziern
ever. All I know is he's the best
soljer I ever saw...
The lights are all out now and the room is in darkness.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. ROAD - DAY
TRUCKING SHOT PLATOON OF MEN
carrying rifles, marching at attention. Prew is FEATURED in
shot; a light smile of pleasure as he moves along. Choate,
bringing up the rear, is singing the Regimental Marching Song
in a wonderful basso. Dhom marches on one side of the
platoon, Galovitch on the other. Dhom calls out the "huts."
CLOSE SHOT FEET OF MEN MARCHING
They are in perfect unison.
CLOSE TRUCKING SHOT PREW
DHOM'S VOICE
Prewitt! Get in step, Prewitt!
Prew frowns slightly. He hops once, changing stride, realizes
he is now out of step.
GALOVITCHS VOICE
Prewitt! Dis a drill, not picnic!
Get in step!
22.
Prew hops again, changing step. He marches along. Dhom's
voice commands "Platoon -- Halt!" Prew and men around him
come to halt.
MEDIUM SHOT PLATOON
DHOM
Prewitt! Step out!
Prew steps to the front, still smiling faintly.
DHOM
You march like a drunk gooney bird!
Corpral Paluso! Take this man to
the track. Send him 'round seven
laps double-time rifle at high
port!
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CINDER TRACK - DAY
Prew running around track, his rifle at high port. He wears a
slightly contemptuous smile. CORPORAL PALUSO sits on the
grass infield watching him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FIELD - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT THE PLATOON
kneeling over their rifles, laid out on shelter halves. Prew
is FEATURED in shot. His shirt is wet and he is sweating
heavily, as if he has just come from the run around the
track. Henderson stands in front of the group, instructing.
HENDERSON
-- rifle's your beat friend. In
case them weapons jams in combat
could mean life or death. You got
to know 'em inside out. Now I want
you to strip them weapons and put
it together again.
(holds up stop watch)
Go!
The men start taking their rifles apart as fast as they can.
Henderson walks around watching them.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND MAGGIO
stripping rifles. Prew is efficient and brilliantly fast,
Maggio fumbling and slow. Maggio keeps looking over at Prew,
admiring his speed.
23.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
as he strips the rifle. (This mechanical operation should be
interesting to audiences; a good man can field strip the
weapon in thirty or forty seconds.) Prew finishes the job and
CAMERA MOVES to CLOSE on shelter half where all the parts are
laid out.
HENDERSON'S VOICE
'at's fair time. Now lemma see you
put it together.
Prew's hands start to work over rifle parts, putting them
together.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FIELD - DAY
CLOSE SHOT THE RIFLE
in Prew's hands, assembled, CAMERA PULLS BACK as Prew stands
up, holding the weapon. The rest of the men are still working
over their rifles, Maggio is staring up at Prew in awe.
Henderson grabs the rifle from Prew, turns his back to him,
pretending to squint along barrel.
CLOSE SHOT HENDERSON
looking along barrel. SHOT FEATURES his thumb as he flips the
rear sight to one side. Henderson turns around and ANGLE
WIDENS to include Prew. He throws the rifle at Prew, who
catches it, staggering back.
HENDERSON
Your rear sight's way off! You'd be
fifty feet off your target at three
hundred yards!
(to others, mockingly)
That's what comes when a soljer
don't know how to assemble a
rifle.
(to Prew)
You better get down to the track
and carry it around a few times.
Maybe thatll teach you...
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CINDER TRACK - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT PREW
running around track to sun, rifle held before him. The smile
is fainter but still there.
DISSOLVE TO:
24.
EXT. FIELD - DAY
GROUP SHOT BAYONET PRACTICE
The platoon is divided into teams of two. Thornhill is the
instructor. This is actual hand-to-hand training. Prew wields
his rifle, bayonet fixed, in expert thrusts. Maggio is
fighting in next lane. Thornhill walks behind Prew, trips him
quickly as he passes. Prew falls off balance. His opponent
smashes his rifle against Prews, knocks it to the ground.
Prew whirls on Thornhill in protest.
THORNHILL
Wide open, ey, Prewitt? Maybe seven
lapsll teach you to watch
yourself...
Maggio, wielding his rifle madly, yells over.
MAGGIO
Hey, I saw that -- I saw what you
pulled --
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CINDER TRACK - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND MAGGIO
toiling around track together, holding rifles.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. COMPANY STREET - DAY
TRUCKING SHOT OUTSIDE SUPPLY ROOM
Maggio and Prew trudge wearily along the porch, rifles on
shoulders. Their sweaty uniforms are plastered to their
bodies.
MAGGIO
I use to think a shipping clerk was
a dog's life.
(sighs, shakes head)
What I would not give to be back in
Gimbel's basement!
As they come up to the Supply Room, Warden, neat and cool, is
leaning on the counter. He steps aside to let them pass,
beams at Prew.
WARDEN
Chow's almost over, men. Better
hurry up and wash. less of course
you'd rather go in the way you are.
25.
(MORE)
Maggio gives Warden a dirty look. Prew's expression is
noncommittal. They carry their rifles into the Supply Room.
Leva comes up to the door as Warden turns to go back to the
Orderly Room. As he does, Karen's convertible comes down the
street. Warden stops, watches it.
LONG SHOT FROM WARDEN'S POV
as Karen drives by, turning her head slightly toward Warden.
There is the vaguest trace of i smile.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT FEATURING WARDEN
as he turns to watch the departing car.
LEVA
I'm tellin you, Top, she's trouble.
You better keep your mind off what
you're thinkin.
CAMERA MOVES TO CLOSE SHOT
of Warden, still looking after the car, thinking.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN AND HOLMES
It is a gloomy, rainy day and the lights are on in the
office. Warden is at his desk, working. Holmes is buckling on
his trench coat. He wears a happy smile.
HOLMES
I won't be back in time to take
Retreat.
(winks at Warden)
Or Reveille either, probably.
WARDEN
Yes, sir.
HOLMES
(strides back and forth;
jovially)
All work and no play, Sergeant. All
you do is sit around sweating over
this paper and that. There are
other things in this world beside
work.
Warden carries some official papers to Holmes' desk.
HOLMES
(bending over, tying
shoelace)
26.
HOLMES(cont'd)
You ought to get out more yourself,
Warden.
Warden is looking directly at the picture of Karen on Holmes'
desk.
WARDEN
I've been considering it.
He turns aside as Holmes straightens up.
HOLMES
Well, I'm going.
He claps Warden on the back fraternally.
HOLMES
I'm leaving it in your care,
Sergeant.
WARDEN
It'll be here when you get back.
Holmes goes out. Warden turns back to Holmes' desk. He is
still holding the papers in one hand. He looks at Karen's
picture, picks it up with his other hand, squints at it,
considering the chances very, very carefully.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BACK PORCH OF HOLMES' HOUSE - DAY
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
standing on the open porch, in the rain. He wears a GI
raincoat. He is squinting at the door with the same
expression he used looking at Karen's picture. He takes a
deep breath as if he were going off a high diving board, then
knocks briskly. A shadow moves across the room behind the
curtains. Then Karen opens the door. She is in shorts and a
blouse.
KAREN
Oh. If it isn't Sergeant Warden.
You better step inside or you'll
get wet.
Warden opens the screen door and jumps in past the water
running off the eaves.
INT. SMALL PANTRY OFF KITCHEN - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
as Warden jumps in. He takes off his rain hat.
27.
WARDEN
I am wet.
KAREN
If you're looking for my husband,
he isn't here.
WARDEN
(taking the long chance)
And if I'm not looking for him?
KAREN
(unsmiling)
He still isn't here. If that does
you any good.
WARDEN
(quickly)
Well, I'm looking for him. Do you
know where he is?
KAREN
I haven't the slightest idea.
Perhaps he's in town. I guess it
was in town the way you put it,
wasn't it? Or perhaps he's at the
Club. Having a drink.
WARDEN
(fishes in his pocket,
brings out papers)
I got some papers it's important
for him to sign. Today.
KAREN
(turns)
I'll try phoning him at the Club
for you.
WARDEN
I never like to disturb a man
drinking.
KAREN
(turns back)
What is it you want, Sergeant?
WARDEN
I could use a drink myself right
now. Bad. Anyway, I got a faint
suspicion the Captain's in town.
Ain't you going to ask me in?
28.
Karen finally smiles, faintly. She goes into the kitchen,
leaving the door open. Warden follows her.
INT. KITCHEN HOLMES HOUSE - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
The kitchen is small and undistinguished. Karen takes a
whisky bottle from a cabinet, pours a straight, stiff drink,
puts it on the sink. Warden puts the papers down and drinks.
Karen sits on a high kitchen stool.
KAREN
Youre taking an awful chance, you
know. My maid is liable to be home
any time.
WARDEN
No she won't. Thursday's her day
off.
He takes off his raincoat, drops it on a chair.
KAREN
You think of everything, don't you,
Sergeant?
WARDEN
I try. In my position you have to.
KAREN
(goes to sink, picks up
the papers)
Are these really important?
WARDEN
Yes. But not important they get
signed today. Tomorrow's okay.
Karen suddenly, deliberately, rips the papers in half. Then
she tears them into bits and throws them into the
wastebasket. Warden appreciates the gesture, relaxes for the
first time. He grins widely.
WARDEN
I got carbons of those back at the
office. So it won't be much work to
fix them up.
Warden's control has begun to affect Karen's now. She is
losing her poise.
29.
KAREN
That's what I like about you,
Sergeant. You have confidence. It's
also what I dislike about you.
WARDEN
It's not confidence. It's honesty.
KAREN
Honesty? How did you acquire such
an old-fashioned virtue?
WARDEN
I figgered out one day it was the
shortest distance between two
points.
KAREN
Well, he's clever as well as
virile.
WARDEN
No -- it's just that I hate to see
a beautiful woman goin all to
waste.
He moves close to Karen, is on the verge of embracing her.
Greatly tempted but greatly disturbed, she turns away. During
next she pours herself a drink, the bottle shaking in her
hand. Her tone is no longer brittle. It is bitter.
KAREN
Waste, did you say? Now that's a
subject I might tell you something
about. There's we. And then there's
waste. Positive and negative. The
negative is sometimes more
interesting... more evil. For
example -- what about the house
without a child? Tell me your
thoughts, Sergeant.
WARDEN
You're going to cry.
KAREN
Not if I can help it.
WARDEN
Please don't cry... I can't stand
to see somebody cry.
30.
Karen turns to face him as he picks up his raincoat, is about
to put it on.
KAREN
What are you doing?
WARDEN
I'm leaving. Isn't that what you
want?
KAREN
(slowly)
I don't know, Sergeant. To be
honest, I don't know.
They stare squarely at each other, both puzzled and a little
afraid of their emotions. This is something neither had
counted on.
WARDEN
I know a beach near Diamond Head.
Nobody ever goes there. The cars on
the highway pass above and they
never know it's there. You feel
like you used to feel when you were
a kid, hiding by yourself in a
cave, watching the others hunting
you.
Karen turns, goes to the sink, puts the whisky bottle back in
the cabinet.
KAREN
Maybe... why not?
WARDEN
How about Payday?
Karen is trying hard to regain her glassy composure. She is
unsmiling again.
KAREN
You don't have to spend money on
me, Sergeant.
WARDEN
I just like to have some on me when
I take out a woman. Can you get
away?
KAREN
Maybe.
31.
(MORE)
Warden grins as he puts on his raincoat. He goes to the door
to the pantry, pauses there.
WARDEN
I'll be in Kuhio Park. Say, nine
o'clock. Payday.
Karen leans back against the sink, watches him go out to the
pantry. A moment later the sound of the door is heard as he
leaves the house. She turns on the faucet, starts to rinse,
the glasses they have used. Suddenly she turns the faucet on
full force, watches it pound into the sink.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. QUADRANGLE - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT HOLMES GALOVITCH THORNHILL WILSON DHOM HENDERSON
The men are grouped around Holmes. He is pressing hard to
pretend equanimity. The Sergeants appear somewhat baffled but
determined.
HOLMES
-- this man Prewitts been here
over a month now. I expected you
mend have him around before this.
HENDERSON
We've been runnin him pretty hard.
But he don't faze.
HOLMES
Maybe he needs a good dose of The
Treatment.
The men react to the phrase; The Treatment is obviously
reserved for very special, intractable cases. They consider
it silently for a moment or two.
GALOVITCH
A double dose needs him to be
given.
THORNHILL
(nods)
The Treatmentll bring that puppy
boy around...
HOLMES
You understand. I don't want
any rough stuff.
32.
HOLMES(cont'd)
But we all know good athletes make
good leaders. And good leaders --
The music of the forthcoming MONTAGE drowns Holmes' words as
he continues.
DISSOLVE TO:
EFFECT MONTAGE
The MONTAGE consists of a continuous stream of SUPERIMPOSURES
depicting Prew's growing humiliation and exhaustion at the
hands of the non-corns. Mingling with the background shots
are VARIOUS ANGLES of CLOSEUPS of Prew. As the speed of the
sequence increases, the stubborn smile on his face gives way
to hurt, bitterness, anger... Over shots we occasionally hear
stray shouts of the non-corns as they belabor Prew, but for
the most part these and other dialogue are obliterated by
MUSIC. The MONTAGE can be selected and created from the
following:
FLASHES ADDITIONAL ANGLES OF PRECEDING TRAINING SEQUENCES
FLASHES ADDITIONAL TRAINING SITUATIONS -- E.G. FIRING RANGE,
PATROL EXERCISES, GRENADE PRACTICE (IF NEEDED)
in all of which Prew excels.
FLASHES GALOVITCH WILSON DHOM THORNHILL HENDERSON
riding Prew, mocking him, grinning at him, thumbing him to
the track, etc. FEATURED is Galovitch, who takes particular
Joy in baiting Prew.
FLASHES PREW
running around track, staggering despite a tremendous effort
not to show his fatigue.
OBSTACLE COURSE
with the platoon going through, crouched low, live ammunition
spattering around them. Prew, nearest camera, is lower than
any man in the line. Over shot we hear a snatch of Wilson's
Voice yelling at Prew to get lower.
CLOSE FLASH WILSON AND PREW
Wilson bawling Prew out, thumbing him to one side of obstacle
course.
FLASHES PREW
chinning himself on bar setup near obstacle course; he is
near physical exhaustion.
OBSTACLE COURSE PREW
going through alone, on his belly in deep mud.
CLOSEUP PREW (CULMINATION OF SUPERIMPOSED CLOSEUPS AND END OF
MONTAGE)
33.
coming HEAD-ON into camera as he bellies through the mud of
the obstacle course. Snatch of mingled voices of non-coms
yelling "Keep it downs", Get that nose in the mud!, etc.
Prew is utterly spent. His face drops into the mud, which
splatters up, obscuring the screen.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
CLOSE SHOT SWIRLING DISHWATER IN SINK
MEDIUM SHOT PREW
bent over the sink, scraping, washing and rinsing cooking
pans and mixing basins. He hangs the soap bucket on the hot
faucet and turns it on full force. As he does, PRIVATE
WILLARD, a fat, whining cook, dumps an additional huge pile
of pans before him. Prew looks at them ruefully. Willard says
something to him with a "hustle up" gesture. The faucet
drowns the words.
MEDIUM SHOT ANOTHER PART OF KITCHEN PREW AT SINK IN B.G.
Men are working in the steady, helpless motion of the KP.
Waiters swing in and out of the entrances leading to the mess
halls, carrying large trays.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT SERGEANT STARK
The Mesa Sergeant, a tall, gaunt man, surveys the scene
possessively. Maggio, Dining Room Orderly today, wearing a
soiled white coat, flashes by to the mess hall, almost
dropping his loaded tray in his haste.
MEDIUM SHOT PRIVATE TREADWELL
A slow, lazy, heavy man, peeling potatoes. There is a large
kettle filled with dirty water in front of him in which the
potatoes are floating. Treadwell stabs at one with a long
fork, misses it. He stabs again, almost in slow motion,
misses again. He sees Stark glowering over him.
TREADWELL
Ah+m suppose to be a automatic
rifle man, not a spud-cutter.
STARK
(disgustedly)
Rifle man, huh? All somebodyd have
to do would be holler war at you
and it'd be over the hill and far
away.
Stark walks off.
34.
(MORE)
TREADWELL
... they just give me my chance
they'll see...
He is surprised and pleased as he spears a potato this time.
He raises it triumphantly like a caught fish.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND WILLARD
The faucet is still on and we cannot hear what Willard says
as he dumps more pans before Prew. However, he is obviously
complaining that Prew is slow. Prew, sweating and angry,
barks something back at him and turns the faucet off.
PREW
No cook ever used that many panel
Not even for an officers, banquet,
ladies invited! Want me to grow
couple more arms?!
Stark, always alert to trouble, comes into shot. Willard sees
him and speaks with whining dignity, for Stark's benefit.
WILLARD
All I ask is that you keep the pans
washed up so they're clean when I
need them. In order that I am
allowed to cook the kind of food
required for men who work hard all
day and who need good nourishing
food to get their nourishment.
STARK
Hole up 'at noise. This mans hot
as a forty-five shootin downhill.
WILLARD
(terribly injured)
How you think I can do my job if
the Mess Sergeant takes sides with
a goldbricking KP? What do you
think I am?
STARK
I think you're a fat cook who can't
cook.
As Willard retires, Maggio pours through from the mass hall.
Screaming joyously, he shoves two empty platters in front of
him.
MAGGIO
Comin through! Comin through! Me
and my table waiters!
35.
MAGGIO(cont'd)
We workin our tail off. They runnin
us to death. Hot stuff! Comin
through hot stuff one side!
Nobody pays any attention but Prew, who smiles at him. Maggio
winks back.
MAGGIO
Hello, Prew! Bettern being threwn
in jail, ain't it?
Maggio passes camera, leaving the shot and disclosing Warden,
who has entered from the mess hall in his wake. He carries a
dish of eggs and sausage and is leaning against a pastry
table. He is grinning lovingly toward Prew. He strolls over
to Prew. He eats through following. The smile never leaves
his face, broadens as the scene progresses.
WARDEN
You look awful tard, kid.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
working over the sink.
WARDEN'S VOICE
How do you like straight duty?.
Life in a rifle compny, eh?
Prew stops working, turns toward Warden.
PREW
What makes you think I mind it?
MEDIUM SHOT FEATURING KP'S, STARK, MAGGIO, WILLARD, TREADWELL
as something electric transmits itself and they all stop what
they are doing to look over toward Prew and Warden.
WARDEN
I didn't say you minded it, kid. I
just said you looked tard. Drawn to
a fine edge.
PREW
(smiles back)
I don't mind it, Top. Its a great
life, this. I find a pearl, I'll
cut you in. Fifty-fifty, If you
hadn't put me here, I wouldn't have
had no chance to find it.
TWO SHOT WARDEN AND PREW
36.
WARDEN
Well, well, there's a man for you.
I'll see if I can fix you up with a
lot more since you like it so much.
How you like the garbage detail?
PREW
Thanks, Top, I've had it. You give
it to me Tuesday. Remember?
WARDEN
(nods, as if just
remembering)
Well, then, how 'bout street
cleaning detail?
PREW
That, too. Yesterday.
WARDEN
(nods)
You got a better memory than me.
Guess the best thing to do is leave
you right in the kitchen a while,
huh?
He pretends to turn away, then stops, turns back.
WARDEN
Course if you was an ath-a-leet you
wouldn't have to pull KP. Or any
fatigue duty for that matter...
PREW
(not smiling now)
If you think you can push me into
fightin, Warden, you're wrong. Not
you and Dynamite and The Treatment.
I'm twice the man you are. If you
dint have them stripes I'd take you
out on the green and beat you to a
pulp.
WARDEN
(smile growing bigger)
Don't let the stripes worry you,
kid. I can always take my shirt
off. Take it off right now.
PREW
You'd like that. You could get me a
year in the Stockade for that one,
couldn't you?
37.
CLOSE SHOT PREW'S HAND
closing around a heavy mug in the sink.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW AND WARDEN
Warden looking at Prew's hand. Warden's grin broadens with
something more than sarcasm. He is 'impressed and pleased by
Prew's honest anger.
WARDEN
Don't throw it, Prewitt. It might
break on my head. And that would
cost you one thin dime next Payday.
Warden deliberately turns his back and walks off. Prew looks
after him. CAMERA MOVES IN to FEATURE his hand on the mug. He
grasps it tighter, then lets it fall back into the soapy
water,
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. QUADRANGLE - DAY
CLOSE SHOT PRIVATE FRIDAY CLARK
He is blowing the bugle, sounding Pay Call. The rays of a
blinding sun flash on its shiny surface.
INT. MESS HALL - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
The bugle is heard over shot. A line of spruced-up men
stretches through the mess hall. A blanket is spread over a
table and behind it sits Holmes, flanked by Warden and
Mazzioli. In front of Holmes is a pile of greenbacks and a
cigar box filled with silver. He is paying out the man at the
head of the line.
HOLMES
-- and just see you don't drink all
this up in one place.
The man smiles, appreciating the whimsy, salutes, moves off.
WARDEN
Prewitt.
Prew, next in line, steps up to the table.
PREW
Robert E. Lee, RA 345071.
He is crisp, sharp, expressionless. He holds out his hands
for fingernail inspection.
38.
Holmes looks them over, then up at the perfect knot in his
tie. He stares at Prew as if trying to fathom him.
HOLMES
Have you given any thought to the
boxing team recently, Prewitt?
PREW
(tonelessly)
I feel the same way, sir.
Holmes hands clench. He seems about to fly into a rage when
he senses a motion at his side. He turns to see Warden
looking straight at him. Warden's face has the same
meaningfully expressionless look as Prews. Holmes wilts
before it, turns to Mazzioli.
HOLMES
What's this man's pay?
MAZZIOLI
(reading from Payroll)
Private Prewitt, thirty dollars
base pay. Deductions-laundry,
insurance, PX checks.
CAMERA MOVES IN to CLOSE SHOT of Holmes# hands laying money
out on blanket.
MAZZIOLI'S VOICE
Total due twelve dollars thirty
cents.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. RIVER STREET, HONOLULU - NIGHT
FULL SHOT
Payday night. A gay, noisy jamboree. Soldiers, mostly in
civilian clothes, and uniformed sailors swarm down the
street. Taxi drivers arguing with their fares as they pull up
at bars. Filipinos padding in twos and threes.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT AT ENTRANCE
Maggio and Prew, dressed in slacks and Aloha shirts, stand in
front of what looks like a renovated residence. They give
evidence of having already accomplished a little substantial
drinking. The sound of loud piano playing is heard from
within. A sign over the door reads: NEW CONGRESS CLUB - SOFT
DRINKS - DANCING - RECREATION - MEMBERS ONLY. The door opens
39.
and MRS. KIPFER stands at the threshold. She is a
sophisticated-looking woman with upswept hair, wears an
evening gown with a corsage of orchids. The piano music,
louder with the opening of the door, continues through all of
the following. The pianist is hammering out "I Don't Want To
Set The World On Fire" (or a similar hit of 1941).
MAGGIO
Greetings, Mrs. Kipfer.
MRS. KIPPER
(cordially)
Why, it's Angelo Maggio.
He barges past her through the door. Mrs. Kipfer frowns and
follows him. Prew shrugs and goes in after her.
INT. VESTIBULE NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
as Prew enters behind Mrs. Kipfer. The vestibule has an old
South feeling of mustiness and respectability. Maggio is
handing some bills to ANNETTE, a young, brash-looking girl,
who sits behind a reception desk.
MAGGIO
Okay... so there y'are. Dues all
paid up. Who ya got playin the
piana -- a hippo?
MRS. KIPPER
Angelo, I dont believe I've met
your friend. And you know how I
hate to find you boys in this
condition...
MAGGIO
There. You see. Any time women see
a soldier, think he's drunk. Why?
You know why?
PREW
Because he is.
MRS. KIPPER
Heavy drinking simply doesn't mix
with the entertainment business.
Every respectable place must
consider its future.
PREW
Mrs. Kipfer, ma'am, I give you my
solemn word your future will be
safe with us.
40.
Maggio nods vigorously in agreement, then pushes through the
heavy curtains which separate the vestibule from the room
beyond. Mrs. Kipfer looks after him a little unhappily.
MRS. KIPPER
Angelo is one of my favorites.
Annette, dear, take care of this
gentleman, will you, please?
Mrs. Kipfer exits through the curtains. Annette takes a card
from file, picks up pen.
ANNETTE
It'll be eight bucks, Babyface.
Four for initiation fee, four for
April dues.
PREW
Say, what do I get for it?
ANNETTE
(rattling it off)
Members are entitled to all
privileges of the club which
includes dancing, snack bar, soft
drink bar, and gentlemanly
relaxation with the opposite gender
so long as they are gentlemen and
no hard liquor is permitted.
(takes a breath)
Got it?
Prew grins, digs in his pocket for money.
PREW
I got it.
INT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - LARGE CLUB ROOM - NIGHT
FULL SHOT
Several rooms branch off from this main one. There are about
a dozen soldiers in civilian clothes -- and about a dozen
hostesses. Several couples are dancing. The man at the piano
is banging away, his music clashing cacophonically with a
jukebox record from an adjoining room. CAMERA PANS as Mrs.
Kipfer moves to and fro encouraging the men to enjoy
themselves. The New Congress is a sort of primitive U.S.O., a
place of well-worn merriment. It is not a house of
prostitution but the girls look available for goosing... all
but one we see at the end of the PAN. She sits alone on a
couch. This is LORENE. There is an innocent, child-like look
about her. Her hair is done demurely in a circular roll low
on her neck. She is about twenty-four. She is reading a
41.
magazine, untouched by the din around her.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT SERGEANT "FATSO" JUDSON
pounding the piano as if he is trying to knock the keys out.
He has an enormous head and a hogshead chest. He resembles
Porky Pig. His dead eyes look like two beads of caviar spaced
far apart on a great white plate.
MEDIUM SHOT NEAR CURTAINS TO VESTIBULE
Maggio is attempting some serious dancing with SANDRA, a very
tall girl. Fatso's furious tempo and tune keep drowning the
langorous tango coming from the jukebox. Maggio keeps
switching his style as he tries to get out of the range of
the piano but cannot. He is very annoyed. He and Sandra dance
out of shot, as Prew and Annette enter from the vestibule.
CAMERA PANS them to a trio of girls on a couch.
ANNETTE
... Girls, heres some new poison.
This is Billy and Jean and Nancy.
The girls smile, ad-lib hellos. Prew is looking over the
girls' heads at someone in rear of room out of shot.
MEDIUM SHOT LORENE FROM PREW'S POV
As if she senses someone is staring at her, she looks up from
the magazine, smiles serenely across the room.
MEDIUM SHOT FEATURING PREW AND ANNETTE
as she reacts sourly to Prew's reaction to Lorene. He seems
transfixed.
ANNETTE
Don't tell me the Princess is your
style.
Annette takes his arm, moves him toward two quite goodlooking
girls talking to a soldier.
ANNETTE
Meet Suzanne and Roxanne.
The girls greet him heartily but Prew is looking back over
his shoulder at Lorene. Annette plucks his sleeve with
haughty disdain.
ANNETTE
Much as I adore your company, you
must allow me to tear myself away.
I see a few friends at the door.
(snaps)
Also I can see I will be of no use
to you much.
42.
She walks off. The other girls resume talking to the soldier.
Prew continues to gaze across the room.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT LORENE
smiling back. Her head tilts up slowly as if someone is
coming toward her. Prew comes into shot and stands before
her, tongue-tied. She pats the couch. Her voice is lowpitched,
poised.
LORENE
Would you like to sit down?
PREW
(sitting)
Oh... sure.
LORENE
I'm Lorene.
PREW
(enchanted by the name)
Lorene...
LORENE
I haven't seen you in here before.
Prew gestures with the membership card.
PREW
I dint know about this place till
now. A friend of mine brought me.
We're stationed at Schofield.
LORENE
Oh. Somehow I didn't think you were
a soldier.
PREW
(bridles a bit)
Well, I am. And I'm in for the
whole ride. I'm a thirty-year man.
LORENE
I suppose it's different when a
fellow is going to make a career of
it.
PREW
There ain't anythin wrong with a
soljer that ain't wrong with
everyone else.
Lorene smiles her fatal smile at Prew's seriousness.
43.
LORENE
I like you just the same. I liked
you the minute I saw Annette
bringing you in.
PREW
(melts)
Me, too. I mean when I came in. I
saw you over here --
There is a commotion across the room. A group of man and
girls are surrounding the piano. Fatso has stopped playing
and a shouting argument is going on between him and Maggio.
Prew looks over, concerned.
FATSO'S VOICE
I'll play loud as I want, ya little
Wop!
A babble of voices drowns out Maggio's reply.
PREW
Friend of mine.
(rises)
You wait right here for me, will
ya?
LORENE
(smiles sweetly)
Surely.
MEDIUM SHOT AT PIANO
where two men are holding Fatso and three girls are
restraining Maggio. The others are amused by the quarrel, but
Fatso and Maggio are deadly serious.
MAGGIO
Mess with me, Fatstuff, I'll pull
you apart!
FATSO
You're the kind of character I eat
for breakfast, ya little --
Maggio breaks away from the girls and rushes toward Patso but
Prew, stepping through the group, grabs him. Mrs. Kipfer
bustles into the melee.
MRS. KIPFER
Now, you gentlemen know I will not
have any of this sort of thing.
44.
MAGGIO
Shut up, you Wop, he says to me!
FATSO
Little Mussolini here tryin to tell
me what way to play the piano.
MAGGIO
Yeah, my ear drums fit to bust
already with that noise!
MRS. KIPFER
You man can simply leave if you're
not going to behave yourselves.
PREW
Come on, Angelo, come on --
MAGGIO
-- Ony my friends can call me Wop --
MEDIUM SHOT AT SIDE OF ROOM
where Prew hauls Maggio away from the piano.
SOLDIER
(has been watching)
You know who that guy is, buddy?
MAGGIO
Sure, I know who he is. Whadda I
care?
PREW
Who is he?
SOLDIER
Fatso Judson. Sergeant of the Guard
at the Post Stockade.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT FATSO JUDSON
settling down at the piano again. He glances over in
direction of Maggio with a mean smile. Then he starts to
hammer the keys viciously.
MEDIUM SHOT MAGGIO PEW SOLDIER
as the music starts, Maggio stiffens, turns as if to go back.
Prew holds tight, to his arm.
SOLDIER
-- Im tellin you, leave him be.
Nets danger. I seen him nearly
murder a guy once. He likes it.
45.
Sandra comes over, disengages Prew's arm from Maggio's, puts
her own around him.
SANDRA
All right, bully boy, now you won
the war, let's dance.
MAGGIO
(beginning to quiet down)
First I got to calm my nerves. Come
on with me to a phone booth or some
thin.
(slaps himself on belly)
Where I will unveil this fifth of
whisky I got under this loose
flowing sports shirt.
He and Sandra start off toward an adjoining room. Prew
smiles, turns back toward Lorene. The smile fades.
MEDIUM SHOT FROM PREWS POV
Lorene is looking at another soldier, on the couch beside
her, with her rapt, innocent expression.
TRACKING SHOT PREW
as he crosses room to Lorene, hurt and disappointed. CAMERA
HOLDS on MEDIUM SHOT as he comes up to her and the soldier, a
talkative man named BILL.
BILL
-- you go along as fast as forty
miles per through that surf and
your balance has got to be letter
perfect.
PREW
Hey, I thought you were gonna wait.
LORENE
(looks up, smiles)
Bill here was telling me about
surfboarding.
BILL
Hello, friend.
LORENE
(pats couch)
Sit down and just listen. He
describes it thrillingly.
Prew sits down, disgruntled. Bill notes his expression.
46.
BILL
You know anything about
surfboarding?
PREW
No. Nothing. Not a thing.
BILL
You must be stationed inland then.
I'm at DeRussey so I get lots of
chances.
PREW
Yeah? But then we got mountains.
You know anything about mountain
climbing?
BILL
A little bit. Are you a mountain
climber?
PREW
No. You know anything about flying
an airplane?
Lorene is frowning now.
BILL
I've had a few lessons.
PREW
Well, I can't fly either. What
do you know about deep sea diving?
LORENE
Do you want to move into another
room, Bill?
BILL
Sure. The air in here seems to have
gotten very smelly, hasn't it?
PREW
Yeah, I noticed that, too --
BILL
Listen, fellow --
LORENE
Shall we go, then?
47.
She and Bill rise. She smiles tremulously at him as she takes
his arm and they start off. She throws a severe glance over
her shoulder at Prew.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW
He settles lower in the couch, the picture of frustration and
hopelessness. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights
it.
EXT. KUHIO PARK - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT PARK BENCH
Karen sits on the bench, her ankles crosses primly, very ill
at ease. There is Payday activity here also; amorous
strolling couples; men in ones and twos looking for pickups.
Several unattached men pass Karen, ogle her. She is about to
get up and leave when Warden comes into shot, stands over
her. His civilian suit is neat and well-cut. Both are
strained, awkward, antagonistic. Now that the step has been
taken they are not at all sure it was a clever one.
KAREN
Why, hello. I didn't think you were
coming.
WARDEN
Why not? I'm not late.
KAREN
No, I guess you're not. But then I
came a little early. I must have
been overanxious. You weren't
overanxious though, were you? You
got here right on the dot.
WARDEN
Maybe I'd of been early too only I
stopped to get a drink.
KAREN
You certainly chose a savory spot
for our meeting.
WARDEN
Would you rather it'd been the
cocktail lounge of the Royal?
KAREN
No, but I've had five chances to be
picked up in the last few minutes.
48.
WARDEN
(sits beside her on the
bench)
That's par for the course around
here.
KAREN
Well, I don't care for it. I never
went in much for back-alley loving.
WARDEN
Didnt you?
KAREN
You probably think I'm a tramp,
don't you?
WARDEN
What makes you think I'd think
that?
KAREN
Don't try to be gallant, Sergeant.
If you think this is a mistake,
come right out and say so.
WARDEN
(outrage)
Listen, what started all this,
anyway? Why'm I shakin inside like
a school kid out with teacher!
Where'd I come up with a yen for of
all things the Compny Commander's
wife! And her actin like Lady
Astor's horse all because I only
got here on time!
Warden's burst shatters the tension. Karen breaks into
laughter. After a moment, Warden joins in.
KAREN
On the other hand, I've got a
bathing suit under my dress.
WARDEN
Funny. I got one in a U-Drive-It
parked around the corner.
He takes her hand. They rise and walk away, backs to camera.
They merge with the other couples in the little park.
INT. LARGE CLUB ROOM - NEW CONGRESS - NIGHT
49.
MEDIUM SHOT COUCH
Fatso's piano music o.s. Prew is slumped on the couch. He
stubs out the cigarette, which is almost burnt down. He sees
someone coming toward him, slowly raises his eyes. Lorene
comes into shot, looks down at him.
PREW
How's the surfboard rider?
LORENE
That was a terrible way to have
acted. What you did.
PREW
I was jealous.
LORENE
(laughs)
You're a funny one.
PREW
What do you dames want? To take
the heart out of a man and tie it
up in barbed wire?
LORENE
(angry because she really
likes Prew)
Now, look here, what do you think
Mrs. Kipfer pays us for? We're
hired to be nice to all the boys.
They're all alike. Is it so
important?
PREW
(stands; urgently)
Yes, it's important. Maybe we seem
all alike but none of us is ever
all alike.
(pause)
All right, I'm sorry about before.
LORENE
(touched by his outburst)
That piano is about to drive me out
of my mind. Let's go up to Mrs.
Kipfer's suite and sit there. She
lets us use it sometimes... for
somebody special.
PREW
Are you mad?
50.
LORENE
No, I'm not mad.
PREW
Because if you're still mad I'd
just rather we called the whole
thing off.
LORENE
(takes his arm)
You certainly are a funny one.
They walk away from camera, merging with the others in-the
room.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. OCEAN AND BEACH - NIGHT
FULL SHOT WAVE
sweeping over camera, spray flying.
MEDIUM SHOT ON BEACH
A tiny beach set among rocks. The pale sand glows in the
moonlight. Warden, in a bathing suit, is lighting a fire
about ten yards from the water's edge. Karen is just stepping
out of her dress; her bathing suit is underneath. A couple of
GI blankets near the fire. Her teeth are beginning to chatter
in the chill of the night air; she raises her arms to the sky
longingly, happily.
KAREN
I hope the ocean's ice cold. I hope
I freeze in a solid chunk.
WARDEN
(sudden, intense laugh)
Just so long's you melt afterwards.
KAREN
I love the way you laugh.
He stands, moves to her. She laughs, turns and runs into the
water. He runs after her.
FULL SHOT WAVE
near shore, as Karen dives into it. Warden follows her. The
wave washes over them.
INT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - MRS. KIPFER'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
51.
MEDIUM SHOT DIVAN
CAMERA ANGLED so we see only back of the divan. We hear soft
chuckles from Prew and Lorene o.s., then silence for several
moments. CAMERA MOVES as we hear a few more low, intimate
laughs, then Prew and Lorene are disclosed on the couch,
their heads close together as if they have just kissed
pleasantly but not passionately. Mrs. Kipfer's living room is
on the order of the vestibule; it, too, has a faded lavender
feeling. A door leading to another room is half open in b.g.
A door leading to a hall is closed. Prew's arm is around
Lorene's shoulder; he is very relaxed, regards her with
something like wonder. Lorene is mellower, too, making no
effort now to be "the Princess." She speaks as if resuming a
conversation.
LORENE
... I enlisted, too. I came out
here on my own. To get away from my
home town. In Oregon.
PREW
How come?
LORENE
I had a boy friend. I was a
waitress. He was from the richest
family in town. He just married the
girl suitable for his position.
After three years of going around
with me.
(pause)
It's a pretty story, isn't it?
Maybe they could make a movie of
it.
PREW
They did. Ten thousand of them.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Lorene smiles.
LORENE
So I left and went to Seattle, as a
waitress. And I met a girl just
back from Hawaii. She said she'd
made a lot of money working for
Mrs. Kipfer. I caught the first
boat. I've been here a year and two
months.
PREW
You like it much?
52.
LORENE
Oh, I don't like it. But I don't
mind it. Anyway, I won't be here
forever.
PREW
No. Sure not. I mean, why should
you?
LORENE
I have it all figured out. In
another year I'll be back home,
with a pile of bills big enough to
choke a steer. And then I will be
all set for life --
There is a sound at the door and they turn towards it.
MEDIUM SHOT DOOR TO HALL
as it opens slowly and a disembodied arm pokes through, its
hand gripping the neck of a whisky bottle. After a moment,
Maggio's head follows the arm through the door. He is
grinning like an amateur conspirator.
MAGGIO
I dint hear no sounds of combat. So
I figgered maybe you'd like a
drink.
THREE SHOT
as Maggio comes into the room.
MAGGIO
Or otherwise old Sandra would of
drank it all by herself. She's a
fine girl. But she drinks like a
fish.
There are glasses on a cupboard near the divan. Maggio sets
three of them up, starts to pour whisky into them.
LORENE
No, thanks. I never drink much.
Maggio stops short of the third glass. He takes a big gulp
from the first.
LORENE
I think it' a a weakness.
MAGGIO
(another gulp)
I grant you that.
53.
LORENE
And I don't like weakness.
(to Prew) )
Do you?
PREW
No. I don't like weakness.
(rises, takes a drink)
But I like to drink.
He comes back to the divan.
LORENE
With you it's not a weakness. With
you it's more like a virtue.
MAGGIO
That sounds like a very profound
remark. Maybe that's why I don't
get it.
LORENE
(snuggles to Prew)
Well, it's so.
MAGGIO
Hey! What you gonna do, marry this
guy? Way you grinnin at him you
look like his wife!
PREW
Get outa here!
MAGGIO
(picks up bottle)
Okay. Back to old long-legged
Sandra. I love 'em tall. Acres and
acres.
He goes out, closing door behind him. Suddenly the door opens
again and Maggio pops back in. He puts the whisky bottle on a
table next to the door.
MAGGIO
Enjoy yourself, pizon. You need it
more than me. You be back with The
Treatment tomorrow.
He pops out again, the door closing after him. Prew's gaiety
dims with the reference to The Treatment. Lorene sees this.
Prew rises, goes to whisky bottle.
54.
(MORE)
PREW
That was nice before. The way you
snuggled up. In front of him.
LORENE
What's he mean, The Treatment?
Prew doesn't answer. He pours a drink, gulps it.
LORENE
What did he mean?
PREW
Some of the guys puttin me over the
jumps because I won't fight.
LORENE
Fight?
PREW
On the boxing team. I don't want to
fight! I don't want to talk about
it! I don't want to think about it.
And they make me think about it.
Every day.
He drops down on the divan beside her.
PREW
It's a personal thing...
His dread of telling the tale crumbles before his
overwhelming need to tell it, to have someone understand.
PREW
Over at Port Shafter... I used to
fight... Middleweight. I was pretty
good. I used to work out with Dixie
Wells. He was a light-heavy, but he
was fast... And good. He loved
boxing. He was gonna come out of
the Army and go right into the
upper brackets... People on the
Outside had their eye on him.
(rises, paces)
Dixie didn't want, to use the six
ounce gloves this time. And we
neither of us wore headgear,
anyway. I was set flat on my feet
when I caught Dixie wide with this
no more than ordinary solid cross.
Dixie just happened to be standing
solid, too.
55.
PREW(cont'd)
(sits on chair)
From the way he fell I knew. Dead
weight, square on his face. He dint
roll over. He was in a coma a week.
Then he finally came out of it. The
only thing was that he was blind...
(rises, paces)
I went up to the hospital to see
him. Twice. Then I couldn't go
back. We got to talking about
fighting the second time. And Dixie
cried... Seein tears comin out of
those eyes that couldn't see...
There are tears on Prew's face. He turns away from Lorene.
ANOTHER ANGLE SHOOTING FROM BEHIND PREW
Lorene, very moved, goes to him, stands behind him, puts her
hand on his shoulder. Prew does not turn but his hand grasps
hers. CAMERA MOVES TO CLOSE SHOT of the hands.
EXT. OCEAN AND BEACH - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT NEAR SHORE
A wave sweeps by camera, Karen and Warden riding it into
shore. CAMERA PANS with them as they walk out of the water,
hand in hand. They stop at edge, as if by a mutual impulse.
He swings her to him and kisses her.
CLOSEUP
as they kiss. The embrace is impassioned. When their lips
separate, their arms remain around each other, holding tight
to something they find is more than sex alone.
EXTREME CLOSEUP
as Karen and Warden kiss again, a tenderness in him not seen
before and which he normally takes great pains to hide.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT
as their lips separate again.
KAREN
Nobody ever kissed me that way...
not really...
They are both disquieted by the quality of their reactions to
the kisses. The jump to banter is a quick defense.
WARDEN
Nobody?
CAMERA MOVES WITH them as they walk to the fire. Karen smiles
at him.
56.
KAREN
No. Nobody.
WARDEN
Not even one? Out of all the many
men you've been kissed by?
KAREN
Well, that will take some figuring.
How many men do you think thereve
been?
CAMERA HOLDS as they sit, beside the fire. Karen wraps one of
the blankets around her.
WARDEN
I wouldn't know. Can't you even
make me a rough estimate?
KAREN
Not without an adding machine. Do
you have your adding machine with
you?
WARDEN
No, I forgot to bring it.
KAREN
Then I guess you won't find out,
will you?
WARDEN
Maybe I already know.
The defense has given way and there is no mirth in the
questions and answers now.
KAREN
What's the matter? What are you
hinting at?
WARDEN
Why? Is there something to hint at?
KAREN
I don't know. Maybe a lot. Or maybe
you just think there's a lot.
WARDEN
Maybe I do. Maybe there's been a
long line of beach parties --
57.
KAREN
You must be crazy -- !
WARDEN
Am I? Listen, baby, maybe not here.
But what about when you and Holmes
were at Fort Bliss?
Karen flings off the blankets, snatches her dress, stands up,
raging. She speaks as she pulls the dress over her head,
wriggles into it.
KAREN
I had to go and forget you were a
man -- with the same rotten filthy
mind the rest of them have. For a
minute I had to convince myself you
were different --
WARDEN
Only it's true, ain't it?
KAREN
Yes, it's true! A part of it, some
small part of whatever sewage
you've been listening to. Some day
perhaps you'll get all the story.
WARDEN
(yaps up)
All what story?
KAREN
You're getting to sound so much
like a typical male. So you just
sweat it out like a typical male.
She starts toward the rocks at the end of the beach, walking
fast, then almost running. Warden runs after her.
MEDIUM SHOT BEACH NEAR PATH UP ROCKS
as Warden catches up with Karen. He grasps her arm roughly,
hauls her down onto the sand. He stares at her bitterly,
waiting f or her to speak.
KAREN
All right. I've never told it to
anyone before. But I think now is
the time. I'll tell you the whole
bloody messy thing. You can take it
back to the barracks with you.
58.
She speaks rapidly, pouring it out in bursts. For much of the
story her face is in shadow, as if a cloud is passing across
the moon.
KAREN
I'd been married to Captain Dana E.
Holmes two years. Only he was a
First Lieutenant then. Back at Fort
Bliss. We lived right on a little
lake where we could fish and swim
and be alone, our 'dream
cottage'... I'm sure you must be
able to picture it. It was off on a
back road, four miles from the
highway. Two miles from a neighbor
and a telephone....
(pauses, then rushes on)
I hadn't been married long when
I knew my husband was stepping
out on me. But -- you get used
to that. Your mother tells you
that it's life, that i t happens
to a lot of women. Of course,
she doesn't tell you until after
it happens.
ANOTHER ANGLE FEATURING WARDEN
reacting with fury toward Holmes, compassion for Karen.
KAREN
Then, by that time, you're
pregnant. And at least you've
something else to hope for. I think
I was almost happy that night the
pains began. Even though they were
weeks too early, a whole month too
early. I remember Dana was putting
on that dapper silk gabardine
uniform he used to wear. He was
going to an officer's 'seminar.' He
was kidding me about false labor. I
didn't think it was humorous. I
told him to get home early, to
bring the doctor with him. He
smiled tenderly and told me about
the psychic reactions of women to
pregnancy. But never fear, he'd be
back early. And maybe he would
have... if the 'seminar' hadn't
been with the hat-check girl in one
of the night clubs.
59.
WARDEN
Listen.
TWO SHOT
KAREN
He was only a little drunk when he
came in... at five a.m. He looked
alarmed when he saw me. I guess it
was because of my screams. I was
lying there on the floor, you see --
No, don't say anything. I'm not
finished yet. Of course, the baby
was dead. It was a boy. But they
worked over me at the hospital and
fixed me up fine. They even took my
appendix out, too. They threw that
in free. It was all fine.
WARDEN
Listen. Listen. Please.
KAREN
And, of course, one more thing no
more children. Do you know what
that means? You're not a woman.
You're not anything. You're a
gutted shell... Sure, I went out
with some of the men after that. A
few months of it. I'd been made
dirty and I wanted to be clean. You
can see that, can't you?... Anyway,
I got my revenge on Dana. I kept on
living with him.
WARDEN
The hateful, miserable --
KAREN
You hunt so hungrily for love...
love, if you can find it, you
think, might give things meaning
again.
WARDEN
Listens Listen to me --
KAREN
All right. I'm listening.
Warden shakes his head, inarticulate with his rage and love.
Karen moves closer to him.
60.
KAREN
I know. Until I met you I didn't
think it was possible, either.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. DAYROOM - NIGHT
PAN SHOT AROUND ROOM
Over shot soft strumming guitars and two voices singing a
quiet blues. There are scattered groups,about fifteen men in
all -- playing pool, ping-pong, reading, writing letters,
talking. CAMERA REACHES PRIVATE SAL ANDERSON and Friday
Clark, playing the guitars and singing. Clark plays only
passably, but Anderson is highly accomplished, effortlessly
sounding off chord progressions in diminished minors. Friday,
the bugler, is about twenty-four, with shy, trusting eyes.
Anderson is the same age, also quiet, non-aggressive. CAMERA
CONTINUES PANNING, PASSES a soldier reading a newspaper who
shakes his head and mutters, "... ain't it terrible about Lou
Gehrig dyin...", then MOVES IN to HOLD on a group at a window
seat, bulling. Prew is stretched out wearily, looks as if
he's been through another recent dose of The Treatment.
Maggio perches in the frame of the window like an aggressive
robin. Treadwell slouches at the end of the seat. Pete
Karelsen is in a chair nearby, reading a magazine.
TREADWELL
... Ah'm in the Army because Ah can
live better on the Inside than on
the Outside.
PREW
It ain't the reason I'm in.
MAGGIO
Now he's gonna give us that snow
about bein a Thirty-Year Man again.
PREW
That's right. Look at Karelsen
there. Only seven years more for
rockin chair money.
Karelsen hears his name, looks over.
MEDIUM SHOT KARELSEN
CAMERA AT ANGLE so we see he's reading a full-page
advertisement featuring a girl in a revealing negligee. He is
feeling sorry for him;elf.
61.
(MORE)
KARELSEN
The Profession wears you down,
though, young man. Down thin like a
knife what's been honed and honed.
All that good steel just rubbed
away...
He turns back sadly to study the figure of the girl.
MEDIUM SHOT FEATURING ANDERSON AND CLARK OTHERS IN B.G.
Anderson peels off a flourish as he and Clark end their song.
TREADWELL
Man, that's blues! Where'd you drag
that one up Prom?
ANDERSON
(bashfully)
Oh, just stumbled on it.
He strums aimlessly again. Prew and Treadwell come over to
listen, prop themselves on chairs. During following, several
others stroll over and a soldier writing at a desk nearby
stops, turns to listen.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
warmed by the friendliness of the music and the moment.
PREW
They got Truckdrivers Blues...
Sharecroppers Blues...
Bricklayers Blues... We oughta
have a Soljers Blues...
MEDIUM SHOT GROUP
as Anderson repeats a theme he has happened on. It has a
haunting melody.
CLARK
Hey, look... I betcha we could make
one out of what you just played. Do
that again.
Anderson repeats the melody.
ANDERSON
I could bring it down to a third
line major ending... Regular twelve
bars blues.
TREADWELL
I bet I got two hundred blues
records back home.
62.
TREADWELL(cont'd)
But there ain't one could touch
that. And that includes Saint
Louis. And it could be ours...
The men wear pleased smiles, delighted by the idea of
possessing something quite rare and truly their own. Prew
flips his cigarette into a can.
PREW
I got it. We call it the Reenlistment
Blues!
There is a chorus of approval.
PREW
Lookit, w e could start it with the
guy getting discharged.
(reaches over to desk)
Hey, fella, can I use this?
The soldier at the desk nods, and Prew takes his pencil and
paper. He writes down the words of the song as they are
composed during following.
PREW
How's this? 'Got paid out on
Monday... Not a dog soljer no
more... They gimme all that
money....'
He stops, stuck. Anderson plays the melody and Prew sings the
words to this point. Friday Clark chimes in suddenly.
CLARK
'They gimme all that money... So
much my pockets is sore...'
They laugh. Anderson sings. Prew writes furiously.
ANDERSON
'More dough than I can use. Reenlistment
Blues...'
ANGLE
Anderson plays a series of chords, then repeats the last two
lines as the whole group joins in.
GROUP
'More dough than I can use. Reenlistment
Blues...'
DISSOLVE TO:
63.
INT. GYMNASIUM - DAY
FULL SHOT
Raucous, hammering music sweeps away the melancholy blues. On
the floor of the gym Dhom is punching the bag. In a corner of
the raised ring Ike Galovitch is skipping rope. In the center
of the ring Thornhill and Henderson are sparring. Holmes
hovers beside them, issuing instructions in a strident voice.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW
He is in fatigue clothes, on his knees, scrubbing the floor.
There is an expression of stubborn hate on his face. Above
his head in the shot are Galovitch's feet jumping the rope.
In b.g. of shot is Wilson, seated near ring.
GALOVITCHS VOICE
Some day you get sense in your dumb
head, Prewitt, you be up here
instead down there!
A fine spray of spit accompanies the words and showers over
Prew but he keeps about his work.
WILSON
Still makin out you like it, huh?
MEDIUM SHOT IN RING
There are two water buckets near Galovitch. He skips near one
of them, kicks it. The bucket falls on its side and dirty
water spills over the ring and down onto Prew.
GALOVITCH
Clean up dis mess, Prewitt!
Prew gets to his feet. Galovitch resumes skipping rope.
GALOVITCH
And look a life, hurry it up. You
on fatigue detail, not vacation.
Prew climbs into the ring, gets on his knees, starts to swab
up the canvas. He is nearly finished when Galovitch
"accidentally" kicks over the second bucket.
GALOVITCH
Clean up, Prewitt!
Prew suddenly stands, no longer able to contain his rage. He
throws his sponge and scrubbing brush on the ring floor.
PREW
Clean it up yourself!
64.
GALOVITCH
How? What!
PREW
You heard me -- rub your own nose
in it a while!
GALOVITCH
What!
Prew starts out of the ring. Holmes intercepts him.
HOLMES
What's the matter with you,
Prewitt? You know better than to
talk back to a non-commissioned
officer.
PREW
Yes, sir. But I have never liked
being spit at, sir. Even by a noncommissioned
officer.
HOLMES
I think you owe Sergeant Galovitch
an apology.
PREW
(recklessly)
I don't think I owe him no apology.
In fact, I think one's owed to me.
HOLMES
(furious)
Sergeant Galovitch, take this man
to the barracks and have him roll a
full field pack, extra shoes,
helmet and all, and then take a
bicycle and hike him up to Kole-
Kole Pass and back. And see that he
hikes all the way. And when he gets
back, bring him to me.
GALOVITCH
Yes, Sirr.
Prew climbs out of the ring, Galovitch following him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ROAD - DAY
LONG SHOT
65.
Par below in the shot are Prew, hiking, and Galovitch, riding
behind him on the bicycle. The dirt road is steep and the sun
pours down, steaming hot.
MOVING SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
Prew is hunched under the seventy-pound pack as he plods
along. He is sweat-soaked, puffing, dog-weary. Galovitch's
bicycle is just behind him; he runs the wheels up on Prew's
heels.
GALOVITCH
Move along. You not half way yet.
Three more miles to top.
A jeep rounds a curve a couple of hundred yards above and
moves down the road. It slows its speed and pulls up when it
nears Prew and Galovitch.
MEDIUM SHOT
The jeep is driven by an enlisted man. Sitting next to him is
MAJOR GENERAL SLATER. Galovitch hops off the bike and he and
Prew snap to attention. General Slater leans out of the
vehicle. He seems puzzled and interested by the odd sight of
the two men.
GENERAL SLATER
At ease. Wherere you men headed?
GALOVITCH
Top of pass, Sir. This man
insubordinate. The Captain is
teaching him lesson.
GENERAL SLATER
(frowns)
What's your outfit, Sergeant?
GALOVITCH
Company G, 219th, Sir.
The General, still frowning slightly, nods. He signals his
driver to move on. The jeep starts down the road. Galovitch
gets on his bicycle. Prew starts hiking again.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
Prew and Galovitch are standing in front of the Captain's
desk. Prew is at attention, the heavy pack on his back; his
face is drawn and tired; his clothes are plastered to him. He
has regained his old expressionless look. Warden has swung
his chair around and is surveying the scene. Holmes looks
66.
Prew up and down, half-smiles.
HOLMES
I take it you're ready to apologize
to Sergeant Galovitch now.
PREW
No, sir, I'm not.
Holmes' face sets; he jerks his head toward the window.
HOLMES
Take him back up there again,
Galovitch. He hasn't had enough
yet.
GALOVITCH
(nods unhappily, sick of
bicycling)
Yes, air.
Prew about-faces and goes out. Galovitch follows.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT FEATURING WARDEN HOLMES IN B.G.
Warden watches Prew go out, then looks toward Holmes whose
back is to him. Disgust is reflected on his face.
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN AND HOLMES
Holmes slams his fist on his desk.
HOLMES
1 know that kind of man! Hes an
againster. A bitter-ender. You
can't be decent to a man like that.
You have to tame him, like an
animal!
(to Warden)
Warden, I want you to prepare court
martial papers. Insubordination and
insolence to an officer.
WARDEN
Yes, sir.
Warden swings around to his own desk. He thinks for several
moments, tries to sound quite casual.
WARDEN
Too bad you got to lose a
middleweight like that...
HOLMES
Why? Do you see any other way of
breaking him?
67.
WARDEN
I don't know... But even if he only
gets three months, he'll still be
in the Stockade when the boxing
finals come up.
He looks over at Holmes, sees him scowling, weakening.
WARDEN
How about just giving him a good
stiff Compny punishment for now?
Holmes ponders the situation unhappily, rubs his hand over
his face,. shakes his head as if the whole thing is too much
for him.
HOLMES
All right, all right. But throw the
book at him.
WARDEN
(pleased but impassive)
Yes, sir.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. WARDEN'S ROOM OFF SQUAD ROCK - NIGHT
CLOSE SHOT WARDEN SHOOTING INTO SMALL MIRROR
He is trimming his moustache.
WARDEN
I'm sick of it! They ain't got no
right to keep breakin it off in
that kid! Sooner later Holmes is
going to hound him right into the
Stockade!
CAMERA PULLS BACK, REVEALING Karelsen across the room,
undressing tiredly, achingly. Warden is sharp and blustering,
using Karelsen as an escape valve. During following he goes
to his footlocker, opens it, takes out whisky bottle, drinks.
WARDEN
I'm through! I'm turnin in my
stripes. I mean it, Pete. I could
transfer out tomorrow. In Grade --
get that? To half a dozen Compnys
in this Regmint!
68.
KARELSEN
Oh, sure. I could be Chief of
Staff, too, except I can't stand
leaving all my old buddies.
Karelsen is naked now except for a bath towel knotted around
his middle. He slips his feet into Japanese-style, wooden
clogs, starts slowly for the door.
WARDEN
Where you going, Little Sir Echo?
KARELSEN
To take my stinkin shower, if the
First Sergeant's got no objections.
Where'd you think? To the movies in
this towel?
WARDEN
(grins)
Hurry up. Let's go over to Choy's
for some beer and tear up all the
tables and chairs.
KARELSEN
(smiles, moves faster)
Okay, Okay.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. CHOY'S - NIGHT
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT OLD CHOY
An aged Chinese, at least seventy-five, OLD CHOY has a long
white beard and wears a black skull cap and an embroidered
robe. He is motionless, surveying the pandemonium which we
hear over shot: the sounds of men laughing, talking and
shouting blend with jukebox music blasting Chattanooga, Choo
Choo. YOUNG CHOP, Old Choy's son, passes; he is thirty, whiteaproned,
bustling, Americanized. CAMERA PANS WITH him,
DISCLOSING the small beer-house; it has unpainted cement
walls and a cement floor; the only thing that might be called
decorative is the jukebox. The place is crowded with men from
Schofield, a raucous assemblage; everyone is drinking beer
and the smoke hangs in thick layers. At a table near the door
sit Prew, Maggio, Clark, Anderson, Treadwell and Mazzioli. At
a corner table behind a forest of beer bottles and cans are
Warden, Stark, Karelsen and Chief Choate.
GROUP SHOT WARDEN'S TABLE
69.
(MORE)
STARK
... China's the place. Your money's
worth ten, twelves times as much.
I'm gunna ship over soon as my
time's up in this pineapple Army.
KARELSEN
(pinching beer off his
nose)
The Canal Zone for me. This girl
down there. She was a planter's
daughter, see. She lived a very
sheltered life. A very moral young
lady, Milt. I took her out to a
high class dinner and then dancing.
It was a great shock to her to
learn about life. But she took it
well. She got to like me very much
after that.
WARDEN
The last time I heard it you told
it different.
KARELSEN
Well, what did you expect? I was in
a different mood, then.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW'S TABLE
Maggio, Anderson and Treadwell are comparing snapshots from
home, spreading them out on the table. Mazzioli is talking to
Prew with great earnestness.
MAZZIOLI
... it's in regulations. You've got
a right to complain. You've got a
right to take your case to the
Inspector General. Any soldier has,
even a plain dogface.
PREW
I know it. I'm not complainin to
nobody. They ain't goin to get the
satisfaction of seein me squirm.
Clark begins to play the bugle softly along with the jukebox
music, noodling an uninspired obligato.
MAGGIO
(pointing to pictures)
... believe it nor not, this is one
soljer who's got a family -- look,
fifteen of 'em.
70.
MAGGIO(cont'd)
See that old man with the
handlebars?
(proudly)
Mr. Maggio is my father.
MAZZIOLI
Listen, Prew. I guess I ought not
to tell you but --. Warden hasn't
had you on KP much lately, has he?
PREW
Only my reglar turn.
MAZZIOLI
Well -- I was working in the
Orderly Room this afternoon and I
heard the Captain telling Warden
you're to pull KP every weekend
from now on. You know what that
means -- you can' t even go into
town --
PREW
Whadda they want? They done
everything, now they look me in
a box! What else they gonna try?
Clark hits a sour note an the bugle.
PREW
(savagely)
When you gonna learn to play a
bugle!?
In overwhelming, uncontrollable protest, Prew slaps the bugle
away from Clark's mouth. In one motion he wipes the
mouthpiece on his sleeve, raises it to his lips and blows his
own wild, violent obligato to the jukebox music.
FULL SHOT CHOY'S
as Prew plays on, the bugle's pure tone pealing through the
room. Everyone puts down his beer, stops talking and turns
toward Prew.
CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
reacting. He frowns, moved by the cry behind the music.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW'S TABLE FEATURING MAGGIO
as he watches and listens, an exultation for his friend
nakedly revealed on his face.
ANOTHER ANGLE PREW'S TABLE FEATURING PREW
Hitting an almost impossibly high note, he stops as suddenly
as he has begun. He has played perhaps fifteen seconds in
71.
all. He puts the bugle down on the table, embarrassed now,
the violence gone, some of the wrath unloaded.
MEDIUM SHOT AT DOOR
The room is quiet for several moments, except for the
continuing jukebox music, which sounds pale and thin now.
Fatso Judson strolls in, stands at the door. Some of the men
see him, but no one greets him. Fatso threads his way between
tables as the room slowly begins to return to normal and the
men turn back to their beer.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW'S TABLE
as Fatso passes. He stops, leans over Anderson's shoulder to
look at the snapshots on the table. He points to one picture,
a pretty young girl of about fifteen, posing Hollywoodishly
in a bathing suit, cracks his knuckles loudly.
FATSO
Who's that? Who's that dame?
MAGGIO
(impassively)
My sister.
Fatso whistles. He picks up the photograph, stares at it,
whistles again.
FATSO
Whoever! Say, she's a real good
piece of whistle bait! I'd sure
like to get my mitts around her.
He laughs complacently at his own wit, tosses the picture on
the table, starts to move on, Maggio rises, picks up the
heavy wooden stool he's been sitting on and smashes it down
on Fatso's head with all his strength,
ANOTHER ANGLE
as again the laughing and shouting in the room stops
abruptly. Fatso reels a little with the terrible blow but
does not go down.
FATSO
Why, holy -- I You hit met You hit
me!
MAGGIO
(calmly)
You bet your life.
(raises stool)
And about to do it again.
72.
FATSO
(still blinking from the
blow)
What?! But what for? That's no way
to fight!
(reaches hand to head,
brings away blood)
Why, you dirty yellow sneaking --
Wop! You yellow little Wop! If
that's the way you want to play!
With his last sentence, Fatso whips out a knife and snaps
open the blade. The blade is at least five inches long. It
glints evilly as he raises it. There is a concerted whisking
intake of breath from the room. Murder is clear on Fat sots
face.
MEDIUM SHOT NEAR PREW'S TABLE (EXCLUDING WARDEN)
Maggio, holding the stool high, backs up a few feet as Fatso
advances toward him. Men sprawl away from them.
SOLDIER'S VOICE
Hey, it you want to fight, fight
with fists. Take it outsides
There is a murmur of agreement from the crowd. A couple of
men are about to rise. Fatso whirls toward them.
FATSO
I'm gonna cut this little Wops
heart out. Anybody steps in here, I
give it to him first.
MEDIUM SHOT OLD CHOY AND YOUNG CHOY
side by side. Old Choy watches, immobile, his slit eyes
almost closed. Young Choy is shaking with fright.
MEDIUM SHOT FATSO AND MAGGIO
Fatso turns toward Maggio, who circles back around the table
as the other stalks him.
MAGGIO
(scared but brave; shouts)
I'm gunna de-brain ya, Fatso!
One step closer an I'm gunna kill
ya!
Fatso has his knife poised at his shoulder, ready to strike.
Warden comes into shot suddenly. He brandishes a beer bottle
wildly, looks like an avenging spirit of authority.
73.
WARDEN
Nobody's gunna do nothin! Anybody's
killin anybody around here, it'll
be me!
Warden snatches another beer bottle from a table, now has one
in each hand. He steps between Fatso and Maggio.
FATSO
Look outs here, Warden. This a
private affair.
WARDEN
No it ain't! This man's in my
Compny an I'm responsible for him.
And you ain't makin two weeks extra
paper work for me by killin him.
Nor him you. Put that knife down!
He smashes the neck off one of the beer bottles, points the
wagged edge at Fatso, roars:
WARDEN
Put it down!
Fatso slowly lowers the knife to his waist, but keeps it
pointed towards Maggio and Warden. Warden deliberately turns
his back to Fatso, spits his words at Maggio.
WARDEN
Killer! You unweaned punk& Come on,
you want some killing, come on!
(whirls on Fatso)
Come on, barrelbelly. Ain't you
comin?
Neither Fatso nor Maggio moves.
WARDEN
(with mammoth contempt)
Killers! Youll get plenty of
killing, all right. More than you
got the stomach for. You'll be in a
war one of these days. When you
feel that lead from a sniper's
rifle hit you between the eyes,
come and tell me how you like it.
Killers!
(turns to Maggio)
Now put down that chair.
Maggio puts down the stool. Warden turns to Fatso.
74.
WARDEN
Throw that knife on the floor.
Fatso drops the knife. It clatters on the floor. There is
another audible whoosh of breath from the room.
WARDEN
Almost scared there wasn't anybody
going to stop you for a minute,
weren't you?
(finally lowers his voice)
Is there any other little things
you punks'd like me to take care of
for you?
He drops the beer bottles on a nearby table, strides to his
own table. The room settles back, still hushed. Warden has
broken the mood of certain death, but Fatso, still facing
Maggio, bites off his words with sadistic, ominous venom.
FATSO
Tough monkey. Hard sister. Guys
like you get to the Stockade sooner
later. One day you walk in there
I'll be waitin. I'll show you a
coupla things.
He walks away, drops into a stool at the counter.
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN'S TABLE
Warden stands beside the table, watching. He seems satisfied
as Fatso moves away from Maggio. Still standing, he raises
his half-filled bottle of beer, drinks.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW'S TABLE
Maggio drops onto the stool, sidles it over to the table. He
half-whispers to Prew.
MAGGIO
I made a mistake I guess, but I
don't see how I could of done
anything else, after that big stoop
said a thing like that.
Prew leans over and picks the knife off the floor.
PHEW
I'll tell you your mistake. You
didn't hit him hard enough to put
him out.
75.
MAGGIO
I hit him hard as I could. His head
must be solid ivory.
In b.g. Warden puts down the beer bottle and stalks towards
the door. Maggio and Prew turn to watch him pass.
MAGGIO
Anyway, I'm glad he stopped it.
He's a good man, you know it?
As if on impulse, Prew rises and follows Warden out.
EXT. CHOYS - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
as Prew carves out. Choy's is on a wide road across from the
entrance to the Post. Prew looks around for Warden, sees him
off to one side. CAMERA MOVES WITH Prew as he goes over to
him.
CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
leaning against the building, undergoing a delayed reaction
to the fierce moment in Choy's. He is white-faced, sweating
heavily. He looks as if he's going to be sick.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
astonished yet appreciative that under Warden's confidence
and control in Choy's there has been a human frailty.
PREW
... That was a near thing.
WARDEN
... Yeah.
Prew holds out Fatso's knife. Warden is beginning to get
control of himself; he manages a weak smile.
WARDEN
You keep it, kid. Keep it for a
souvenir.
Prew puts the knife in his pocket. They stare at one another
a few moments, each inarticulate, each wanting to express
some deep emotion of respect.
WARDEN
You ain't enjoying life much, are
you, kid?
76.
PREW
(thin smile)
They can kill you but they can't
eat you, Top.
Warden studies Prew thoughtfully. Prew turns to go back into
Choy's.
WARDEN
Prewitt.
Prew stops, turns back.
WARDEN
Could you stand a weekend pass?
Prew stares at him for a second, incredulously, unable to
find his voice.
PREW
I thought --
WARDEN
You thought what, kid?
PREW
How about Dynamite?
WARDEN
Leave Dynamite to me. He signs most
anything I put in front of him
thout readies it.
Though Prew is overjoyed he is somehow unable to say
"thanks"; Warden grins broadly at him.
WARDEN
I hear you gone dippy over some
dame you met at the New Congress
Club.
He slaps Prew on the shoulder roughly.
WARDEN
Whatd you say her name was?
FREW
Lorene...
WARDEN
Pretty name.
77.
Warden walks off across the street. Prew stares after him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WAIKIKI BEACH - DAY
CLOSE SHOT PREW AND LORENE
Lorene is covering Prew with sand and has him almost
completely buried. Only his face remains uncovered. He is
griming up at her. She seems thoughtful.
PREW
... Lorene...
She throws a towel over his face. He chuckles under it.
LORENE
My names Alma.
The chuckle from under the towel dies.
LORENE
Alma Schmidt...
There is a sound as of strangling from under the towel.
LORENE
Mrs. Kipfer picked Lorene out of a
perfume ad. She thought it sounded
French...
Lorene whisks the towel away. Prew's face is comic in its
surprise and chagrin.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. COCKTAIL LOUNGE - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT AT BAR ALMA AND PREW
(NOTE: From this point on "ALMA" will be used instead of
"LORENE.")
A fashionable Waikiki night spot. An orchestra in b.g, is
playing "Someone's Rocking My Dream Boat." Alma and Prew are
seated at the bar. She is dressed modestly and becomingly,
might well be taken as a society girl. Prew is wearing a
civilian suit; he looks bound and choked in it.
PREW
Alma...
She smiles ruefully, realizes her real name has rubbed off
some of the enchantment.
78.
(MORE)
PREW
No, honest, I like it. Alma's a --
swell name. It was great you gettin
away today.
ALMA
I told Mrs. Kipfer I was sick. But
I bet she doesn't believe it,
PREW
There's no tellin when I'll get
into town next. The Warden gave me
a break this time. But Holmes and
those others, they got me on the
edge. I just about went off the
deep end the other day.
ALMA
You must hate the Army.
PREW
Hate the Army...?
ALMA
Sure. Look what it's doing to you.
PREW
It's not the Army that's doing it.
It's Man. I love the Army.
ALMA
Love it? Well, it sure doesn't love
you in return.
PREW
When you love something it doesn't
mean they got to love you in
return.
ALMA
Yes, but a person can stand just so
much from something --
PREW
No! A man loves a thing, he's gotta
be grateful.
(pauses, gropes for
thoughts)
I left home when I was seventeen.
Both my folks was dead, then. I
bummed around. I got all sorts of
jobs. I rode the rods.
79.
PREW(cont'd)
I landed in jails. I didn't belong
nowhere. Until I entered the
Profession.
She frowns, not understanding the last word.
PREW
The Army. I enlisted at Fort Myer
and I learned how to box and I
learned how to play a bugle. I
never had much call for the boxing -
- but if it weren't for the Army
I'd never of learned how to play a
bugle.
ALMA
A bugle?
Prew nods. He takes the mouthpiece out of his pocket, shows
it to her.
PREW
This is the mouthpiece I used to
play a Taps at Arlington.
Alma takes the mouthpiece, looks it over, seems unimpressed.
PREW
(as if saying "I was
elected President")
They picked me to play a Taps -- at
Arlington Cemetery.
She still looks dubious, hands the mouthpiece back. He tries
desperately to communicate.
PREW
Look. Think. You ever think how
strange a tree would look to one
who had never lived upon the earth?
Well, somehow that's how I feel
when I play a bugle...
There is a boisterous shouting nearby.
MAGGIO'S VOICE
Hello, citizen! I told ya I'd meet
ya, dint I?
They turn and ANGLE WIDENS to INCLUDE Maggio, who has just
come up to the bar. He is in uniform. Prew is pleased to see
him but also alarmed; there is something near-desperate under
Maggio's drunkenness.
80.
PREW
How'd you get a pass?
MAGGIO
I dint get no pass. I just took
off. I meant to bring a girl with
me but --
PREW
You better get your tail back to
the Post. Right away.
Maggio shakes his head violently in the negative.
MAGGIO
I'm out for the night. I got a
bellyfull. A nail, Prew. A stinkin
nail. I'm thirsty for a nail.
Prew gives him a cigarette. Maggio hops on an empty bar stool
a few places removed from Prew and Alma.
MAGGIO
Climb up on my shoulders, Prew. You
can see everythin from up here.
(to Bartender)
A beer. A BEER!
MEDIUM SHOT AT SIDE OF ROOM TWO MPs
watching Maggio, attracted by his voice and behavior.
MEDIUM SHOT AT BAR FEATURING MAGGIO
Maggio talks across others at the bar to Prew and Alma.
MAGGIO
I been in a crap game in the
latrine. I win twenty bucks.
PREW
How much did you lose?
MAGGIO
Lose? Oh, lose. I lost twenty-seven
bucks.
(dejectedly)
That's why I ain't got no girl.
A tray on the bar contains olives, nuts and pretzels. Maggio
snatches up two olives, shakes them in his fist beside his
ear.
81.
(MORE)
MAGGIO
COMIN OUT! THE TERROR OF GIMBEL'S
BASEMENT! COMIN OUT! SEV-EN! SEVEN!
SEV-EN!
(rolls the olives out on
bar)
Snake eyes.
MEDIUM SHOT BARTENDER SEVERAL OTHERS AT BAR
laughing.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW AND ALMA
Prew is increasingly concerned for Maggio.
ALMA
You like him, don't you?
PREW
(nods)
He's such a comical little guy and
yet somehow he makes me always want
to cry while I'm laughin at him.
MEDIUM SHOT AT BAR FEATURING MAGGIO
finishing a long gulp of beer. He puts glass down on the bar,
hard.
MAGGIO
The Royal Hawaiians jist around
the corner. That's where them movie
stars stay. Rita Hayworth and Joan
Blondell and Maureen O'Hara... You
look like a movie star, Lorene...
yes, you do... How long 'fore we
get in the war, Prew?
PREW
I don't know. Maybe we won't get
in.
MAGGIO
Thas what you say.
He jumps off the bar stool suddenly, tears off his tie.
MAGGIO
Hot in here.
He throws tie on the bar, The Bartender starts to protest.
MAGGIO
Swimming It's a great night for
swimmin.
82.
MAGGIO(cont'd)
(kicks off shoes)
Goin swimmin with a movie star...
He is unbuttoning his shirt as he abruptly dashes away,
People around are laughing at him again.
MEDIUM SHOT ALMA AND PREW
as Prew watches Maggio rush out. He sees something else o.s,
which worries him.
LONG SHOT FROM PREWS POV
The two MPs cross toward direction Maggio has taken. They are
obviously going after him.
MEDIUM SHOT ALMA AND PREW
Alma follows Prew's troubled look.
ALMA
You better go look out for him,
Prew glances at her gratefully, then slips off his stool. He
picks up Maggio's tie and shoes and hurries out after him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ROYAL HAWAIIAN GROUNDS - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
Tall pale royal palms contrast with thick dark plants and
bushes. An ornamental lamppost alongside a walking path a
little distance away. Prew comes into shot cautiously,
carrying Maggio's tie and shoes. He moves quickly, bends
over. CAMERA PANS AND MOVES IN and we see it is Maggio's
shirt and trousers which Prew has discovered on the ground.
He looks at them wryly, picks them up, moves on.
ANGLE PREW IN F.G. AND LAMPPOST WITH BENCH NEAR IT IN B.G.
Prew, carrying Maggio's clothes, stops as he sees what looks
like a shadow lying across the bench.
PREW
(calls softly)
Is that you, Angelo?
The shadow does not move. Prew approaches the bench.
MEDIUM SHOT MAGGIO AND PREW
Maggio is stretched out on the bench, seems to be sleeping
blissfully. He is clothed only in his shorts. Despite
himself, Prew smiles. He shakes the reclining figure.
PREW
Maggio, you nut. Get up. Wake up.
83.
Maggio mumbles without opening his eyes or moving.
MAGGIO
I'm sorry, sir. I won't do it
again. Just don't lock me up, sir.
Honest, I won't.
PREW
Here's your clothes.
He throws the clothes on Maggio.
MAGGIO
(opens his eyes)
Well, give 'em back to the Indians.
The Indians need clothes. All they
wear is G strings.
PREW
Boy, are you drunk!
MAGGIO
... maybe a movie star comes outs
the hotel right now and picks us up
and takes us back to the States in
her private plane... and installs
us in her private swimming pool --
Prew pulls Maggio off the bench and starts to drag him across
the path away from the light.
MAGGIO
(yells)
Take it easy, Prew. You scrapin my
tail on the sandy sidewalk.
PREW
You'll get worse than that scraped -
- Listen!
The ominous sound of leggins brushing each other is heard,
not far away. Prew looks off.
LONG SHOT THROUGH BUSHES
The two MPs are on the street just outside the grounds. They
are still looking for Maggio, somewhat aimlessly now.
MEDIUM SHOT MAGGIO AND PREW
Prew whispers to Maggio as he pulls him to his feet.
PREW
Come on before you're in trouble --
84.
Maggio pushes him away.
MAGGIO
Stop it!
PREW
Shut up!
MAGGIO
I'm sick of its Can't a man get
drunk? Can't a man do nothin? Can't
a man put his lousy hands in his
lousy pockets on a lousy street? A
man gotta be hounded every minute
of his life? I ain't gain to take
its I ain't no cowards I ain't
yellows I ain't no bums I ain't no
scum! MPs! MPs! COME AND GET US!
HERE WE IS!
PREW
(aghast)
Now you done it.
MEDIUM SHOT END OF PATH NEAR STREET
The two MPs came running onto the path, spot Maggio and Prew
about thirty yards away.
MEDIUM SHOT PEW AND MAGGIO
Maggio picks up his shoes, suddenly whips away from Prew and
runs toward the MPs.
ANOTHER ANGLE NEAR MPs
as they stop, surprised. Maggio is shouting, "Can't a man do
nothin?!" as he hurls first one shoe, then the other,
directly at the MPs. One MP is hit in the shoulder, staggers
back. Maggio dashes between him and the second MP, but the
latter reaches out and grabs him. Maggio wrenches loose but
instead of running, suddenly wades in, arms swinging wildly.
In a moment, he is hanging crab-like on the man's back. The
first MP charges Maggio. Maggio grabs the second MP's club
and hits the first MP over the head.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW
Horrified, he starts toward the fracas.
MEDIUM SHOT MAGGIO AND MPs IN F.G. PREW IN B.G.
The second MP has managed to get out from under Maggio. He
smashes his fist into Maggio's face as the latter continues
to wield the club. Maggio sees Prew coming toward them.
85.
MAGGIO
Get back! I'm handlin this! Take
off!
The first MP starts to intercept Prew. Maggio tackles him
around the knees and brings him to the ground.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT SECOND MP
Club gone, his partner on the ground, the second UP fishes
for his pistol, tugs to get it from the holster.
MAGGIO'S VOICE
This ain't your affair! Keep out of
this!
MEDIUM SHOT PREW IN F.G. MPs AND MAGGIO IN B.G.
Prew sees the second MP raise his pistol, point it toward
him. CAMERA PANS WITH him as he turns quickly and dives
headlong into bushes nearby.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
CAMERA MOVES WITH him close to ground as he knees and elbows
his way along deep into the bushes. He stops, breathing hard.
The sound of the MPs fighting with Maggio can be heard, the
ugly sound of fists and the uglier sound of clubs smashing
bone and flesh.
MAGGIO'S VOICE
(screaming, crazed)
Come on. Is that the best you can
do? I bet you eat Wheaties, don't
you? Come on... You can't even
knock me out -- no matter --
Maggio's voice stops suddenly. CAMERA MOVES TO CLOSEUP of
Prew on the ground, his face contorted. The voices of the MPs
are heard now, panting.
FIRST MP'S VOICE
I wonder what was wrong with this
guy. He must be same kind of
madman.
SECOND MP'S VOICE
Come on, let"s get him into a
wagon.
A convulsive sob escapes Prew as his head drops in the dirt.
DISSOLVE TO:
86.
(MORE)
INT. ORDERLY ROOM- DAY
MEDIUM SHOT PEEN WARDEN MAZZIOLI
Warden is pinning some notices on a bulletin board. Prew sits
on the bench against the wall, miserable, elbows on knees,
chin in hand. There is a quiet tenseness in the room. Warden
looks over at Prew, turns back to the bulletin board.
Mazzioli gets up from his desk, wanders aimlessly to a
window. The screen door slams and Leva enters, eating a candy
bar.
LEVA
Any word on Maggio's Court Martial?
MAZZIOLI
It's on right now. At Headquarters.
Lava sits on the bench beside Prew, shakes his head.
LEVA
He'll get the Stockade sure.
The others tense at the word "Stockade," glare at Leva as if
he had no right to mention it. Their fear of the place, now
that it is imminent even for another soldier, is shown on
their faces. There is a long pause.
MAZZIOLI
Maybe he won't get it. All he did
was get drunk and run wild. That's
a soldier's nature. It's almost his
sacred duty once in a while.
There is another pause. Warden barks suddenly, fiercely, at
Leva.
WARDEN
What you hangin around here for?
LEVA
Can't a man rest himself for a min--
WARDEN
What man? I can't stand to see
people restin themselves. I'm
eccentric. If you ain't got no work
maybe I can scare you up some.
Mumbling, Leva rises and goes out. Warden goes over to Prew.
WARDEN
Whyn't you go on over to the Day
Room, shoot a little pool?
87.
WARDEN(cont'd)
I'll let you know when the word
comes through.
Prew looks up, nods, rises. He is half-way to the door when
the phone at the Clerk's desk rings. Prew turns. Mazzioli
stares at the phone as if afraid to touch it. Warden goes
over, answers.
WARDEN
(on phone)
Compny G, First Sergeant Warden
speaking... Yes, sir... Yes, sir, I
will... I'll have his things in
order... Yes, sir.
Warden puts down phone. He looks at the waiting men.
WARDEN
He got it. Six months.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BARRACKS - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
Prew and a group of G Company men, including Sergeants Dhom,
Thornhill and Henderson, are on the steps and porch as a
Reconnaissance car pulls up and halts.
CLOSE SHOT RECONNAISSANCE CAR
Maggio sits between the driver and another MP, both armed.
(NOTE: These are not the same MPs with whom he fought.) The G
Company men cluster around the car, ad-libbing greetings,
kidding Maggio, bucking him up. Even the Sergeants join in
this; nobody likes to see a man on his way to the Stockade.
MAGGIO
Hello, men! Who's got the beer?
DRIVER
Shut up!
MAGGIO
Okay, Brownie. Whatever you say.
ANOTHER ANGLE
as the Driver gets out of the car and goes to pick up
Maggio's stacked barracks bag on the porch. Prew moves up
close to Maggio.
PREW
I'm sorry, Angelo. It's my fault. I
shoulda --
88.
MAGGIO
You crazy. You --
PREW
I shoulda stopped you somehow --
MAGGIO
It was all my party. Don't worry
about it.
(pronounces "e" as in
"the")
Anyhow, I'm gunna e-scape. If
Gimbel's basement couldn't hold me,
neither can no lousy Stockade.
SECOND MP
You heard him say SHUT UP!
MAGGIO
(smiles at the men)
I'm a prisoner. And prisoners ain't
allowed to talk. They allowed to
breathe though. If they good, that
is.
During last speech the Driver returns, dumps the barracks bag
in the car, and gets in. The motor starts. The men shout goodbyes.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
heartsick as he looks at Maggio.
MEDIUM SHOT
as the Recon pulls out and Maggio's last hearty shout drifts
back.
MAGGIO'S VOICE
... e-scape to Mexico and become a
cowboy!...
WIPE TO:
EXT. STOCKADE GATE- DAY
SHOT
as the Reconnaissance car drives through the chain-mesh gate.
In the distance is the Stockade, a building that looks
something like a country schoolhouse. Music sweeps up as the
gate clangs shut.
WIPE TO:
89.
EXT. STOCKADE YARD - DAY
LONG SHOT
Maggio walking across the yard flanked by the tall MPs. He
looks around as if surveying the chances of escape. Music
rises.
WIPE TO:
EXT. STOCKADE BUILDING - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
as the MPs march Maggio up to a door and gesture him to enter
alone. He goes in.
INT. OFFICE OF SERGEANT OF THE GUARD - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
CAMERA SHOOTS from behind a man seated at a desk. Prominent
in shot is a wicked-looking chopped-off hoe handle lying on
the desk. Maggio enters, recognizes the man. He walks, up to
the desk, his face set in defiance. Music is rising in a
fearful crescendo. CAMERA PANS just enough to REVEAL desk
sign reading: "SERGEANT OF THE GUARD." The man stands up and
the music stops abruptly.
ANOTHER ANGLE
REVEALING Fatso Judson as the man, on his face the same
murderous expression as at Choy's. He cracks his fingers.
FATSO
Tough monkey.
CLOSE SHOT MAGGIO
his eyes following a movement of Fatsos hand.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT FATSO
Eyes on Maggio, his hand gropes on the desk.
FATSO
Hard sister.
CLOSE SHOT FATSO'S HAND
as it finds and tightens around the hoe handle. The music
sweeps in abruptly.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CLEARING IN VALLEY - DAY (TWILIGHT)
CLOSE SHOT FLASH A POKER BEING DRIVEN INTO FIRE
Music of preceding shot segues into an ancient, savage
Hawaiian chant which continues through following.
90.
CLOSE SHOT FLASH LONG-PRONGED FORK BEING DRIVEN INTO BELLY OF
WHOLE ROAST PIG
CLOSE SHOT FLASH LANG-BLADED CARVING KNIFE SLICING ROAST BEEF
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT STEAM RISING FROM BETWEEN HOT STONES OF
FIRE
FULL SHOT LUAU
Shot covers the continuation of all the above activity. This
is a native luau - definitely not for tourists. Shot includes
long ditches, heated by red-hot stones and lined with layers
of banana leaves, containing pig, chicken, rock crabs,
fish... Pots of native stew... Bowls of exotic fruit... Peels
of raw cane... Working over the food are the natives, many of
the men stripped to the waist, the women arrayed in colorful
Hawaiian costumes.
LONG SHOT THROUGH BONFIRE HULA DANCERS
A group of male dancers swaying with the insistent beat of a
group of old Hawaiian instruments. This is far removed from
the night club Hula. This is a thing of swift, agile
angularity, primitive and powerful.
PAN SHOT SPECTATORS THROUGH BONFIRE
At end of PAN, CAMERA REVEALS Warden and Karen in the group.
They are the only whites in the group.
CLOSE SHOT KAREN
her face lit by the flames. She watches the dancing
breathlessly.
FLASHES TINY TOM TOM NOSE FLUTE GROUP OF MUSICIANS
The native instruments playing a thin, weird melody.
MEDIUM SHOT HULA DANCERS
The men laugh and grin as they dance, taunt and tease
somebody o.s.
MEDIUM SHOT SPECTATORS
They shout and laugh and squeal with delight as they watch.
It is Warden the dancers are teasing. Several of the dancers
break out of the group, dance over to Warden, continue to
prod him, apparently urging him to join them.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
protesting, joining in the laughter. Suddenly he kicks off
his shoes, rolls his slacks up to his knees. He snatches a
gardenia from the hair of a pretty Hawaiian girl next to him,
sticks it over his ear, jumps into the firelight and dances
with the others. The music comes up louder and faster as the
spectators and dancers roar.
91.
GROUP SHOT DANCERS AND WARDEN
They are all laughing as they dance, but as Warden moves with
them it is apparent he is as good as any of them.
MEDIUM SHOT SPECTATORS
nodding, pointing at Warden, their hilarious laughter fading
to delighted smiles.
CLOSE SHOT KAREN
astonished and thrilled at Warden's ability.
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN
His laughter now also diminished to a happy grin as he
dances. In all he dances about thirty seconds. Then he breaks
out of the group and runs over to Karen.
GROUP SHOT FEATURING KAREN AND WARDEN
as the spectators and dancers shout their applause. Warden
comes up to Karen and puts the gardenia in her hair. Karen is
glowing, tingling.
KAREN
You just love to shock people,
don't you?! Where on earth did you
learn to dance like that?
WARDEN
(panting happily)
Believe it or not -- Chicago,
Illinois.
She flings her arms around him passionately. The onlookers
howl with approval and merriment. Between Karen and Warden
and camera, an enormously fat Hawaiian woman pours water on
the stones in one of the trench-ovens. A cloud of steam
rises, hiding them.
EXT. CLIFF ROAD - DAY (TWILIGHT)
LANG SHOT VALLEY
SHOOTING DOWN a thousand feet into Palolo Valley. Bonfires
and smoke rising from the floor of the valley.
The thinnest carry of the ancient Hawaiian music. CAMERA PANS
from precipice and INCLUDES Prew and Alma as they trudge into
shot, climbing up the steep cliff road.
TRACKING SHOT PREW AND ALMA
holding hands as they walk.
92.
PREW
-- If I dint get to see you once in
a while The Treatment would've
cracked me long ago.
Alma, fairly winded from the climb, smiles but doesn't
answer.
PREW
We could have taken a cab. Except I
ain't got cab fare.
ALMA
It's just around the bend.
CAMERA HOLDS as they walk on around a bend in the road.
EXT. ALMA'S HOUSE
MEDIUM SHOT
The small house is perched precariously on the very edge of
the cliff. Alma and Prew come around the bend, come up to the
door, Prew marvelling at the house.
ALMA
This other girl and I were lucky to
rent it.
(proudly)
It's a very fashionable district.
She hands Prew her key. As he is unlocking the door:
ALMA
I'll get an extra one made for you.
Prew swings open the door and they go in.
INT. ALMA'S HOUSE LIVING ROOM - DAY (TWILIGHT)
FULL SHOT
Prew stops on the threshold, stares at the room in happy
amazement. It is large, smartly furnished. In the rear, glass
doors lead to a porch. One of the panelled walls is filled
with bookshelves, floor to ceiling. The bookshelves are
filled with books. A hearty feminine voice calls "Hi!" from
the kitchen, and as Prew and Alma come into the room,
GORGETTE enters from the kitchen. She is a very tall, very
gay, good-looking girl.
ALMA
This is Gorgette, my roommate.
Gorgette, this is Prew. I told you
about him.
93.
GORGETTE
Don't mind me. I'm going out in a
little while.
Prew grins, can't keep his eyes off the astonishing books.
Gorgette follows his glance.
GORGETTE
I belong to the Book of the Month
Club. I always take every book.
That way I get all the dividends.
She giggles and goes off to the bedroom.
PREW
She'll be great for Maggio when he
gets out of the Stockade. He'll be
crazy about her because she's so
tall.
Alma smiles, presses him into a chair.
ALMA
Now you just get comfortable and
I'll make you a Martini and see
what's to cook for dinner.
She starts oft to kitchen.
PREW
Hey.
She turns.
PREW
This is just like bein married,
ain't it?
ALMA
(over her shoulder as she
exits to kitchen)
It's better.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CLEARING IN VALLEY - NIGHT
FULL SHOT
SHOOTING through smoke rising from one of the trench-ovens.
As it clears we see the enormous Hawaiian woman and one or
two others cleaning up and putting out the remnants of the
fires. The merrymakers and dancers have gone; the luau is
over. In b.g., quite alone, are Warden and Karen, sitting on
94.
the trunk of a fallen palm tree.
MEDIUM SHOT KAREN AND WARDEN
The abandoned gaiety of the earlier scene gone. They survey
the emptiness. The fat Hawaiian woman comes near, rakes ashes
over one of the dying fires. She speaks to Warden in
Hawaiian. He answers her in the native tongue. The fat woman
stares, shrugs, goes off.
KAREN
What did she say?
WARDEN
She said it's over -- time to go
home --
KAREN
Home... A beach, a car, a park...
Warden puts his arm around her tenderly.
WARDEN
It'll work out...
KAREN
It can't go on like this much
longer, Milt.
WARDEN
I know.
He rises, paces a moment.
WARDEN
If there were only a way! Your
lovin husbandd probly give you the
divorce. But even if he didn't know
what for, he'd never let me
transfer.
KAREN
(bucking up courage;
quietly)
There is a way. I've been thinking
about it.
Warden looks at her apprehensively.
KAREN
You've got to become an officer.
WARDEN
What!
95.
(MORE)
KAREN
You're eligible for the extension
course that came in with the draft.
When you get your commission they'd
ship you back to the States -- new
officers aren't kept at posts where
they've been enlisted men. Then --
WARDEN
You sure made a thorough study of
it.
KAREN
Then I could divorce Dana and
follow you and marry you.
WARDEN
An officer! Ive always hated
officers.
KAREN
That's a fine, intelligent point
of view. Suppose I said I've always
hated Sergeants. That would make a
lot of sense, wouldn't it?
CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
He sits, thinks it over unhappily.
WARDEN
Okay, suppose I did it. -- And
don't think it's a cinch -- the
exams are tough. Then you'd be
getting your divorce here while I'm
in the States. We'd be apart maybe
six months! We'll probly be in the
war by then --
TWO SHOT
KAREN
You can't be certain of that --
WARDEN
(snorts)
Put it down on your calendar. On
October twenty-third, 1941, Milt
Warden told you we'd be in the war
in less than a year.
KAREN
(flaring)
Why don't you tell the truth?
96.
KAREN(cont'd)
You just don't want the
responsibility. You're probably not
even in love with me --
WARDEN
You're crazy! I wish I wasn't in
love with you. Maybe could enjoy
life again.
KAREN
I don't know what's happened to you
-- you were honest at first --
WARDEN
At first! You were tough and solid
as a rock -- and now you're a
whining crybaby --
He stops abruptly.
KAREN
And so they were married and lived
unhappily ever after.
They are silent for several moments.
WARDEN
I've never been so miserable in my
life as I have since I met you.
KAREN
Neither have I.
WARDEN
(cheerlessly)
I wouldn't trade a minute of it.
KAREN
(cheerlessly)
Neither would I.
Warden rises and paces again. Suddenly he stops, turns, looks
down at Karen, speaks in the same gloomy tone.
WARDEN
I'll probably make the lousiest
officer they ever saw in this Army.
A happy smile creeps over Karen's face. Despite himself, he
begins to smile also.
97.
KAREN
(fervently)
You'll make a fine officer. A
remarkable officer.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PORCH OF ALMA'S HOUSE - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
The porch is at the rear of the house, leading off from the
living room. It is on the very edge of the cliff. Prew and
Alma are dancing to the music of a portable victrola. It is
playing "Why Don't We Do This More Often?" A table still
contains the dinner plates. Prew's expression holds the
wonder of a child at a magic show. He misses a step,
stumbles.
PREW
I never caught on to dancing much.
ALMA
You're a very good dancer.
The record ends and Alma goes to change it. CAMERA FOLLOWS
Prew to the edge of the porch as he looks out over the view.
LONG SHOT VIEW PROM PREW'S POV
A magnificent panorama -- strings of lights in the valley and
across on St. Louis Heights -- in the far distance the neon
of Waikiki.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW
working with his thoughts, afraid to broach them. He lights a
cigarette, his fingers trembling.
PREW
I been wanting to tell you a long
time now --
(deep breath)
I love you.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT ALMA
looking through records for a new choice. She speaks quite
conversationally, as if offered a pleasant compliment.
ALMA
That's nice. Because I love you,
too.
She puts on a record -- "It All Comes Back To Me Now." It
plays throughout the sequence.
98.
TWO SHOT
as Alma comes over to Prew.
PREW
I mean it. I need you.
ALMA
(as before)
I'm glad. Because I need you, too.
PREW
(recklessly)
A thirty-year man is movin all
over, goin all the time. Up to now
I never thought a thirty-year man
had any business to think of gettin
married.
She stares at him, amazed, a touch angry.
ALMA
You're a funny one, little Prew
boy.
PREW
(hurt)
Yeah. Must be the altitude.
ALMA
A very funny one that I cannot
figure out.
PREW
Why's it funny if a guy wants to
marry you?
ALMA
Because I'm a girl you met at the
New Congress Club! And that's about
two steps up from the pavement.
PREW
Okay -- I'm a private no class
dogface soljer. And the way most
civilians look at it, that's two
steps up from no thin.
There is a silence. Alma is honestly distraught.
ALMA
Oh, Prew, Prew, I thought we were
happy: Why do you want to spoil
things?
99.
PREW
Lissen, I ain't think in of now.
But I got a plan cookin in my head.
You want to go back to the States
in a year. Well, you could stretch
it some, make it two years. And I
could swing a Sergeant's stripes --
If I were a non-com the Armyd let
me pick my duty when I re-enlist.
(lost in the picture of
it)
And there's some posts back in the
States -- like Jefferson Barracks --
The married noncoms rate solid
brick houses... with lawns with newcut
grass and walks with big old
oak trees...
ALMA
Now I know you've lost your mind!
How do you expect to become a
Sergeant under this Captain Holmes
of yours? It's all you can do to
keep out of the Stockade!
CLOSE SHOT PREW
PREW
I could fight.
TWO SHOT
PREW
It I go out for boxin he'd send me
to non-com school. The Regimental
Championship is next month. I bet I
could win the middleweight even
without training. I used to be
pretty good I could do it.
Alma is deeply moved. She speaks gravely, sincerely, not at
all immodestly.
ALMA
No. I don't think you should give
in to The Treatment... even to
marry me.
PREW
Thisd be worth it.
100.
(MORE)
ALMA
(almost desperately)
Prew -- it's true we love each
other now. But back in America, it
might be different... We might not
even want each other...
PREW
Okay. But that ain't the real
reason.
ALMA
All right. It's not.
PREW
What's the real reason you won't
marry me?
ALMA
I won't marry you because I don't
want to be the wife of a soldier.
PREW
Well, that's the top I could ever
do for you --
ALMA
Because nobody's going to stop
me from my plan. Nobody. Nothing.
Because want to be proper.
PREW
Proper?
ALMA
(impassioned)
Yes, proper. Respectable. Secure.
In a year I'll have enough money
saved. I'm going back to my home
town in Oregon and I'm going to
build a new home for my mother and
myself and join the country club
and take up golf. And then I'll
meet the proper, man with the
proper position. And I'll be a
proper wife who can keep a proper
home and raise proper children. And
I will be happy because when you
are proper you are safe.
PREW
(bitterly disappointed but
admiring)
101.
PREW(cont'd)
You got guts, Alma. I hope you pull
it off.
The victrola record ends. Alma turns away from Prew and goes
to the victrola. Now that shots had her say with such
certainty, she deflates. Except for the fact that she looks
like a girl who never cries, she looks as if she might cry.
She lifts the record off the turntable.
ALMA
But I do mean it when I say I need
you. Because I'm lonely. Sometimes
I'm dreadfully lonely... You think
I'm lying, don't you?
PREW
No. Nobody ever lies about being
lonely...
Alma puts the same record on again. Prew looks out over the
beautiful view.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN:
INT. KITCHEN HOLMES HOUSE - DAY
CLOSE SHOT HOLMES
HOLMES
-- I've known about it for a long
time! I've sensed it. And I'm not
going to ignore it any longer! I
want to know where you met him and
just who he is.
MEDIUM SHOT HOLMES AND KAREN
at breakfast in a nook off the kitchen. Holmes is a mixture
of petulance, anger and frustration. He doesn't touch his
food, but occasionally takes a sip of coffee.
KAREN
I'm afraid I'm not going to tell
you.
HOLMES
You can't keep a thing like this
hidden&
KAREN
I'm not going to hide anything. I'm
just not going to tell you.
102.
She applies herself to her food, anxious to drop the matter.
HOLMES
One thing I know. I know it's a
civilian. You'd be too discreet to
pick an Army man.
KAREN
I don't think it's any of your
business who he is.
HOLMES
It is my business! I'm your
husband! What do you think a
scandal would do to my chances for
a promotion? So if you're thinking
of a divorce, you can forget it!
Karen stiffens. She struggles to maintain her selfpossession.
She manages it, keeps outwardly calm through the
scene.
HOLMES
Now -- how does it feel to know
you'll have to live with a horror
like me the rest of your life?
KAREN
Not very nice. But then there's the
compensation of knowing you'll have
to live with me the rest of your
life.
Her attitude makes Holmes progressively sorrier for himself.
CAMERA MOVES with him as during following he rises, goes to
stove, pours himself another cup of coffee. He spills a
little and the liquid sizzles on the burner.
HOLMES
You don't know how a man feels
about a thing like this. It breaks
a man all up -- inside.
KAREN
(dryly)
I gander why men feel so
differently about it than women.
HOLMES
It's -- it's just not the same.
CAMERA MOVES with him as he returns to the table, decides to
try another tack.
103.
HOLMES
Why do you think I've done all I
have...?
KAREN
Done all what?
HOLMES
Tried to be a Company Commander
when I hate it, worked my fool head
off with this miserable boxing
squad, tagged after the General
whenever I could.
KAREN
I don't know. Why?
HOLMES
Why, for you and for me. For our
home, that's why.
KAREN
(dryly)
I always thought you did it because
you wanted to get ahead.
She finishes the last of her food, stands.
KAREN
It's a lovely day out. I think Ill
go for a walk.
Holmes catches her wrist, stops her.
HOLDS
Im willing to forgive you. Tell me
who he is. Make a clean breast of
it. And I'll forgive you.
KAREN
I wonder which is hurt more -- your
pride or your curiosity?
She disengages her wrist.
KAREN
(coolly)
When I'm ready to ask you for a
divorce we can discuss it again.
She goes to door to pantry, pauses there.
104.
KAREN
(maternally)
And do eat your breakfast, Dana.
It's getting cold.
She goes out to pantry. We hear the sound of the door to rear
porch opening and closing.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT HOLMES
wretched, completely at a loss. He stares into space, then
looks down at his food, picks up a fork and ruefully begins
to eat.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BARRACKS - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT LAWN
Prew, on hands and knees, is on a weeding detail with three
other men, one of them Sal Anderson. Another is PRIVATE NAIR,
a tousle-headed, sentimental man we have not seen before.
Sergeant Thornhill, in charge of the detail, lolls on the
ground, his head propped against a tree, reading a comic
book. Prew works his way over to Nair.
PREW
You just get out of the Stockade?
NAIR
(nods)
It was rugged, sam. But I kept my
mouth shut and watched my step and
I wasn't in no trouble.
PREW
You see Maggio?
Nair nods, tells his tale in half-humorous, half-reverent
fashion.
NAIR
Fatsos workin him over with a hoe
handle. Places where it won't show
mostly. You know, the back and the
chest. The kidneys. Once in a while
in the face. Know what Maggio does
when that happens? Spits in Fatso's
eye.
(chuckles)
Oh, he's a hot one. Ain't he a hot
one?
105.
PREW
He's a good boy.
NAIR
Course, he throws up a little blood
now and then. And he passes out a
lot. But Fatso sure ain't reportin
none of that. So there's no way
they goin to find out.
PREW
Why don't he go to the C.O.?
NAIR
We tried to get him to. But he
won't peep. He says he got a lot
more scalp to lose first. That boy
is about the hardest artery in the
hospital.
(with great sentiment)
But he's got a heart just like a
great big baby.
Prew's face has been growing in fury. He pulls up a clump of
sod, throws it down with all his might.
PREW
You think hes gonna be all right?
NAIR
Your guess is worth mine, sam.
Maybe he's crackin a little at that
-- cause after Fatso put him in the
Hole -- that's what they call
solitary -- a couple times he began
talkin about how hes gonna escape.
He said to tell you hell
look you up one of these nights.
A shadow falls across the grass in front of Prew.
SHOT GALOVITCH FROM PREW'S POV
CAMERA SHOOTING UP from near the ground, the ANGLE
EXAGGERATING Galavitch's ungainly, ape-like figure. He looks
down at Prew, full of venom.
GALOVITCH
Still on knees, eh, Prewitt? Well,
boxing finals next month. December
f if teen. You s till got time help
us make champions.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW FROM GALOVITCHE'S POV
106.
Prew is at the breaking point. Controlling himself, he weeds
around Galovitch's shadow. It moves in front of Prew again.
GALOVITCH'S VOICE
Are proud dis Compny to be or not?
Bites de hand dat feeds it der
shoot dogs for. Infortunately, ony
dogs day are allowed to shoot, not
men.
MEDIUM SHOT GROUP
The other men have stopped weeding, are looking over at Prew
and Galovitch. Thornhill, in b.g., puts down the comic book
and comes over to them during following.
PREW
Get outa my way, Ike. I ain't gonna
move around you again.
GALOVITCH
You need better lesson than up to
now. Maybe I give to you myself.
Maybe right now.
He steps on Prew's hand. As Prew jerks away from the heavy
shoe Galovitch hauls him up by his fatigue shirt. Thornhill
steps between them.
THORNHILL
(to Galovitch)
Ey, leave him alone. es in my
detail --
Prew shoves Thornhill aside, cold decision in his eyes. He
starts unbuttoning his shirt.
PREW
(to Galovitch)
All right. It's gonna be your way.
Galovitch rips off his shirt, bursting some of the buttons as
he does. Stripped to the waist, his whole appearance seems to
change; he looks as he did in the ring, a hard-muscled prize
fighter.
THORNHILL
Ey, wait a minute, you guys -- !
Prew is barely able to get out of his shirt before Galovitch
charges him.
VARIOUS ANGLES PREW AND GALOVITCH AND SPECTATORS
During following men run from across the quadrangle and from
out of the barracks to watch the affair, form a circle around
107.
the fighters. Prew is a skillful boxer, moving around
Galovitch quickly and cleverly. Galovitch is more lumbering
but not awkward. His heavy blows stagger Prew several times.
Prew drives his attack at his opponent's body. He never
throws a punch at the other's head.
NAIR
The head, Prew! Hit him in the
head!
The other men around shout similar advice.
CLOSE SHOT GALOVITCH
puzzled by Prew's concentration on his body and by the shouts
of the men. He seems to be wondering if Prew is pulling a
trick.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
A fear, not born of cowardice, is reflected on Prew's face as
he sets himself, stares at Galovitch. He seems haunted by the
memory of Dixie Wells.
CLOSEUP GALOVITCH'S EYES
CLOSEUP PREW
flinching without being hit. He seems mesmerized by the
other's eyes.
CLOSEUP GALOVITCH'S EYES
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
fighting. Galovitch draws blood from a cut over Prew's eye.
He is getting the better of the battle. In b.g. Thornhill
breaks out of the crowd and runs across the quadrangle.
MEDIUM SHOT BALDY DHOM AND SPECTATOR
SPECTATOR
I don't get it -- Why don't Prew go
for the head?
DHOM
He blinded a guy once. Must be
scairt of the same thing.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
as Galovitch batters Prew back against the crowd. A right to
the temple sends him to his knees. He shakes his head a
moment, gets up and goes into a clinch.
LONG SHOT BARRACKS WINDOWS ON UPPER FLOORS
The windows are crowded with men watching the fight.
108.
INT. SQUAD ROOM - DAY
LONG SHOT OUT WINDOW To FRONT OF BARRACKS
SHOOTING OVER heads of men watching, out to Prew and
Galovitch on the ground. Dispassionate, professional ad-libs
from the men: why does Prew continue his attack to the body
only, a good little man and a good big man, etc.
INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY
SHOT WARDEN AND HOLMES FEATURING WARDEN
Warden is at his desk filling out an application blank.
Holmes is glancing over his shoulder..
INSERT: OFFICER EXTENSION COURSE APPLICATION BLANK
Warden's hand in shot filling out answers to sex, age, race,
etc.
HOLMES VOICE
Ill be glad to recommend you,
Warden. You've got service,
experience, grade. You'll make an
excellent officer.
BACK TO SCENE:
Holmes waits for thanks.
WARDEN
(after hesitating)
Thank you, sir.
The screen door in the Orderly Room bangs. Thornhill runs
into the office, breathless. He comes to a shaking attention
as he sees Holmes.
HOLMES
At ease, Sergeant. What's the
matter?
THORNHILL
They fightin on the green, sir!
Galovitch and Prewitt.
THORNHILL
Ike looks like e goin to murder
him, sir.
A pleased look crosses Holmes face. Warden jumps up, starts
for door. Holmes catches his arm.
109.
HOLMES
There's no rush. Ill take care of
it.
Holmes goes out. Thornhill follows, turns at the door.
THORNHILL
Ain't you want to see it, First?
WARDEN
(shouts suddenly)
No! I ain't want to see it! Nor you
either! Get out of here!
Thornhill goes. The screen door in the Orderly Room bangs.
Warden walks to his desk, stares down at the application
form, picks it up. He carries it over to Holmes' desk. He
looks at the picture of Karen on the desk.
CLOSE SHOT PHOTOGRAPH OF KAREN
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
He stares at the picture, then looks at the application
blank. Then he looks down at the chevrons on his arm. He rubs
his hand over the chevrons gently, fondly. He looks at the
application blank again very thoughtfully.
EXT. BARRACKS - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH ON LAWN
A continuation of the fight. Prew is tiring, his face is cut
and bleeding and there is a welt under one eye. Galovitch is
unmarked but grunting now from Prew's constant jabs at his
stomach. He seems perplexed, as before, by his opponent+s
tactics.
MEDIUM SHOT SPECTATORS
FEATURING the non-"ath-a-leets" of G Company, including
Anderson, Clark and Treadwell. Ad-libbed shouts of In the
face, Prew! In the face!
ANOTHER ANGLE
FEATURING the "ath-a-loots," including Dhom, Wilson and
Henderson. They are watching quietly, nodding with approval
as Prew feints, then darts several punches into Galovitch's
ribs, It almost seems as if they are admiring Prew's courage,
inwardly rooting for him. Holmes enters the group, Thornhill
tagging after him. Holmes stops and watches the fight. There
is a look of satisfaction on his face.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
The fight continuing.
110.
ANOTHER ANGLE
near rear of crowd. An officer, walking across the lawn, is
attracted by the noise. He steps into the crowd. This is
COLONEL WILLIAMS. He wears the insignia of the Inspector
General's Department. He watches the fight, is about to step
through to break it up when he sees Holmes. He stops, watches
Holmes reactions.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
Prew, backed up against the crowd, trips over somebody's
feet. He falls without being hit. Galovitch kicks at him and
Prew rolls away. The crowd murmurs angrily. Sergeant Stark
steps out into the open circle, faces Galovitch.
STARK
This aint no rassle, Ike. You got
to fight this man fair.
Approving shouts from the crowd. Stark steps back. Ike waits
for Prew to get up.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW
looking up at Galovitch.
CLOSEUP GALOVITCH SHOOTING UP FROM PREW'S POV
CLOSEUP GALOVITCHS EYES
CLOSEUP PREW
His eyes narrow, harden as if his inner struggle has been
resolved.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
Prew gets to his feet. As Galovitch comes to him, Prew feints
for the stomach, then throws a hard right to Galovitch's
face. It hits him flush on the nose. Blood spurts. The crowd
roars.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Galovitch, surprised and hurt, throws up his hands. Prew
drives both fists to his solar plexus. Galovitch drops his
guard. Prew smashes him in the face and Adam's apple.
Galovitch falls to his knees, hawking and choking.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND GALOVITCH
The whole nature of the fight has changed. Galovitch, hurt
and reeling, rushes Prew, bull-like, head down, defense wide
open. Prew dodges easily, slamming hard with rights and lefts
to the head.
MEDIUM SHOT
Holmes, seeing Prew is now clearly in command, steps out of
the crowd and up to the two fighters.
111.
HOLMES
(severely)
All right. Let's cut it.
There is a look of relief on the faces of both Galovitch and
Prew as they stop fighting.
HOLMES
What started this?
GALOVITCH
(puffing)
Prewitt talk back to non-com.
Refuse order I give him, start
fight. I teach him lesson.
A laugh from the crowd.
HOLMES
You won't disobey any more orders
in my Company, Prewitt. Warden
saved you from a court martial once
but he won't this time --
Anderson steps into the circle.
ANDERSON
Sir -- I'm sorry, sir but Private
Prewitts not to blame for this.
Sergeant Galovitch started it.
Holmes reacts, momentarily at a loss. He turns to Thornhill.
HOLMES
(meaningfully)
Thornhill, you're in charge of this
detail. How about it?
Thornhill steps into the circle, nods toward Anderson.
THORNHILL
es right, sir.
(points to Galovitch)
e begun it. Prewitt done nothin.
From the crowd step Sergeants Dhom, Wilson and Henderson.
They face Holmes and Galovitch implacably.
HENDERSON
No, sir, this wasn't Prewitt's
fault.
112.
DHOM
That's right, sir. Everybody knows
Galovitch started it.
Wilson nods. There is a murmur of agreement from the crowd.
Holmes looks at his fighters, rocked by this betrayal. They
stare back at him.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT COLONEL WILLIAMS
Still near the rear of the crowd, he watches the scene with
much interest.
MEDIUM SHOT
Holmes pulls himself together, turns to the crowd.
HOLMES
That's all. Break it off. Let's get
back to our jobs.
(to Prew and Galovitch;
weakly)
I'm giving you two a break. I'll
ignore this.
He walks off. He does not see Colonel Williams. Galovitch
moves off toward the barracks. Wilson, Henderson and
Thornhill remain grouped around Prew.
PREW
You guys figure this means I'm
steppin into a ring, you're wrong.
EMERSON
It's your show, kid. Run it the way
you want.
WILSON
You better put same iodine on them
cuts.
DHOM
Yeah. An come over to Choy's
tonight. We buy you a beer.
The non-coms walk off, Prew stares after them.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CHOYS - NIGHT
LONG SHOT ACROSS ROAD PREW CLARK ANDERSON
Sounds of gaiety from the beerhouse mingle with the mournful
twang of guitars being played by Clark and Anderson. CAMERA
MOVES SLOWLY toward the trio until the beerhouse noises are
113.
low. The men are surrounded by many empty beer bottles.
PREW, CLARK AND ANDERSON
(singing softly)
Woke up sick on Thursday
Feelin like my head took a dare
Looked down at my trousers
All my pockets was bare
That girl sure was bad news
Re-enlistment Blues...
The guitars finish the stanza with a flourish as CAMERA HOLDS
on MEDIUM SHOT. The men chuckle.
CLARK
Some day Im goin back to Scranton
and play it for my folks. And tell
em it wan composed in the Hawaiian
Islands! Clear across the Pacific
Ocean!
PREW
(finishes long swig of
beer)
Hey, Friday.
CLARK
Yeah?
PREW
Why you called Friday?
CLARK
Don't know. I was borned on
Wednesday.
(plucks guitar, sings)
Went back around on Friday
Asked for a free glass of beer...
The three laugh, sing in unison.
PREW, CLARK AND ANDERSON
My friends had disappeared
Barman said, Take off, no credit
here...
MEDIUM SHOT NEAR ENTRANCE TO CHOY'S
The music from across the road almost lost in the laughter
and shouts from the beerhouse. Warden comes out, wobbles a
bit. He has One On. He cups his hand over his ear, straining
to hear the singing. He stumbles into Choate, coming along
the sidewalk.
114.
CHOATE
Top, you sure plastered.
WARDEN
(mustering dignity)
I am off duty. Off duty if I want
to get plastered --
But Choate has gone into Choy's. CAMERA RETREATS with Warden
as he wanders to the road, still trying to locate the
singing. Half-way across the road he unceremoniously sits
down, crosses his knees Buddha-wise. Here the singing is more
audible. He listens contentedly.
MEDIUM SHOT PREW ANDERSON CLARK
PREW, ANDERSON AND CLARK
(singing)
Ain't no time to lose Re-enlistment
Blues...
Anderson, as usual, finishes the stanza with a brilliant
display on the guitar. Prew stands up. In the glow of a
streetlight his face shows the marks of his battle with
Galovitch. He wobbles and we realize he, too, really Has One
On.
ANDERSON
Where you go in?
PREW
Back to Choy's. Get nother drink.
The guitars and singing continues in b.g. through following.
CAMERA PANS with Prew as he weaves to the road.
MEDIUM SHOT MIDDLE OF ROAD
as Prew crosses. He can see the seated figure but the light
from the street is too dim to identify it.
WARDEN'S VOICE
(booms)
Halt!
Prew stops automatically.
WARDEN'S VOICE
Who goes there?
PREW
A friend.
115.
WARDEN'S VOICE
Advance, friend, and be reconized.
Prew moves closer, CAMERA WITH him, until he recognizes
Warden.
WARDEN
(roaring, laughing)
Quiet! At ease! Fall out! Right
dress! bout face! Hit the track!
Garbage Detail! Latrine Detail! Dis
a drill, not picnic! Hello, kid.
Whatever you doin out all by
yourself?
PREW
I'm goin to get a drink.
WARDEN
Siddown. I got a bottle.
He pulls a bottle of whisky from his field jacket, holds it
up to Prew. Prew takes the bottle and drinks. Then he sits
down in the road as matter-of-factly as did Warden. He gives
the bottle back to Warden.
WARDEN
I hand it to you, kid. They called
off The Treatment this afternoon.
When you beat up Ike. I never heard
of no soljer before ever lickin The
Treatment...
(drinks; then holds out
bottle)
Here, old buddy. Have a lil drink.
Prew drinks.
WARDEN
This is a terrible crummy life, you
know it?
PREW
Miserble. Perfeckly miserble.
WARDEN
What if a truck or somethin was to
come along and run over us?
PREW
Awful. Awful. We'd be dead,
wouldn't we?
116.
WARDEN
(nods vehemently)
An nobody to even mourn. You better
not sit here any more. You better
get up and move over to the side of
the road.
PREW
What about you? You got more to
live for than me. You got to take
care of your Compny.
WARDEN
I'm old. Don't matter if I die. But
your life's ahead of you. You get
up.
PREW
No, sir. Never deserted a friend in
need. I'll stay to the bitter end.
WARDEN
(shakes head stubbornly)
We'll stay together.
They square their shoulders heroically.
WARDEN
(as if to an invisible
firing squad)
No blindfold. Save it to wipe your
nose on, you skunk.
PREW
Amen.
Each takes a drink.
WARDEN
Prew, I got the biggest troubles in
the whole world.
PREW
The whole world?
WARDEN
(nods)
Take love. Did you personally ever
see any of this love?
Prew nods gravely.
117.
WARDEN
You'll unerstan, then... This girl,
see, she wants me to become.
PREW
Become what?
WARDEN
(after long hesitation)
An officer. Can you see me as an
officer?
PREW
Sure I can see it. You'd make a
good officer.
WARDEN
You both can see moren I can. You
know what, Prew? I'm scared become
an officer.
PREW
You ain't scared of nothin, Warden.
WARDEN
Yes, I am. I tell myself diffrnt
but it's a fack. Whered I be
as an officer? How could I handle
him? That's the one thing I'm
scared of... be an officer in the
U.S. Army.
(hastily)
Army of the U.S.
PREW
A man should be what he can do.
Warden nods solemnly as if Prew has uttered a great truth.
They pass the bottle once more.
WARDEN
How's your girl? Wha'st that name
again?
PREW
(hesitates)
Lorene.
WARDEN
Oh, yeah, I remember. Lorene.
Beautiful name.
118.
Warden claps Prew on the shoulder as if he is a lifelong
friend. They smile. They look as if they are sharing a great
secret, a secret known to them alone in the world. The
mournful guitars and singing comes over a little louder.
ANOTHER ANGLE
The headlights of a jeep descend upon Warden and Prew. Then
the vehicle skids into the shot with a screeching of brakes,
comes to a halt directly in front of the men. Warden and Prew
look at the car calmly, don't move. The headlights are
blazing on them. Stark hops out from the driver's seat,
furious.
STARK
Whatsa matter with you, you crazy,
dumb screwballs?! You tryin to get
killed?!
WARDEN
What you doin with that jeep,
Sergeant Stark?
STARK
I borrowed it. I'm goin to town.
What you doin in the middle of the
road?
The music of the guitars has stopped. There is a strange
whine now, far in the distance, not identifiable. It grows
during following.
WARDEN
My friend Prew and I sittin here
discussin the weather.
STARK
Your friend, huh?
PREW
You beard me. I said my buddy
Warden. My good friend Warden that
you better not run over is what I
said.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
WARDEN
(assuming anger)
Don't you know you got to look out
for this man. Get him off the road
before you run him over. He's the
best stinkin soljer in the Compny.
119.
STARK
You both must be plumb nuts.
PREW
You heard me. Get this man to some
safety. Why, he's the best stinkin
soljer in the Compny.
STARK
I guess Im the one whos nuts.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT MAGGIO
as he stumbles around the side of the jeep directly into the
blaze of the headlights. There are scars, new and healing on
Maggio's face. One of his ears is cauliflowered, enough to
give him the lopsided ribald look of a punchy. A couple of
teeth are missing. Weirdly outlined in the glare, he is a
nightmare figure, an apparition. The whine in the distance is
identifiable now. It is the siren of the Stockade.
MAGGIO
... figgered you might be at
Choy's...
GROUP SHOT
The men gape at Maggio, unable to accept the shock of his
appearance. Then Prew and Warden jump up and catch him as he
is about to fall. The drunkenness drains out of them. Stark
watches in bewilderment.
MAGGIO
(spewing words out)
... done it like I said... escape...
e-scape like I figgered...
Under a tarp inna back of a truck
from the Motor Pool they rode me
right out just like I figgered like
I said... Ony the tailgate came
down 'bout a mile back... an I fell
inns road...
(giggles)
... shoulda seen me bounce... musta
broke somethin...
(clutches Prew's shirt)
Prew... lissen...
PREW
Angelo...
Warden steps back as Prew holds Maggio. During following
Anderson and Clark come over, watch pop-eyed.
120.
MAGGIO
Fatso... Fatso done it to me...
yestiday he did it for keeps... He
likes to whack me in the gut with a
hoe handle an then he asks that
hurt? and then I spit at him...
Ony yestiday he done it ten times
runnin an somethin bust... you
know, like they was a fish swiminin
aroun inside you...
PREW
(to others)
Come on, let's get him to the
hospital.
Maggio grasps him tighter. He is crying now.
MAGGIO
Prew... they gonna send you to the
Stockade...?
PREW
No, Angelo --
TWO SHOT MAGGIO AND PREW
MAGGIO
(pleading)
Should they do, watch out for
Fatso! You gotta make like it's a
game... He'll try to crack you but
you ain't gonna crack... Hes gonna
see you but hell never see you
saw... n when he puts you in the
Hole you just lay there n be
still... ats the ony way -- be
still... n remember things... but
not people. Not people! Things like
nature... woods you been in...
trees is awys good...
He goes limp in Prew's arms, slides to the road.
GROUP SHOT
Warden bends over Maggio. The others watch, scared.
CLOSE SHOT PREW
staring down at Maggio.
GROUP SHOT
Warden looks up.
121.
WARDEN
He's dead.
CLARK
Dead? But he was here just a minute
ago.
Prew bends over, picks up Maggio, holds him in his arms
gently, unbelieving.
STARK
Fatsos lucky. They'll figure he
got killed fallin out of that
truck.
PREW
He ain't dead.
CAMERA MOVES AHEAD of Prew as he carries Maggio to the jeep,
the others following. He lifts Maggio into the rear of,the
jeep. Warden puts his hand on Prew's arm.
WARDEN
Hes dead, Prew.
Prew stares at Maggio, lying in the jeep. Stark gets into the
front of the jeep.
STARK
I'll take him, Prew.
He starts the motor. Prew leans over, moves Maggio's body a
little.
PREW
(to Stark)
See his head don't bump.
The jeep drives off.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BARRACKS AREA - NIGHT
LONG SHOT
Framed beautifully in the moonlight, the Quadrangle and
Barracks area look like a college campus. Silence. No
movement.
LONG SHOT ANOTHER ANGLE
A figure can be seen far in b.g, at the Bugler's post beside
the megaphone. Another figure stands near him. The silence
continues, then is broken by the sound of the bugle beginning
122.
Taps. The first note is incredibly clear and loud and
certain. It is held longer than most Buglers hold it. The
second note is daringly short, abrupt. The last note of the
first phrase rises, peals out, heartfelt. Two men come into
the shot, smoking. They stop, turn toward the Bugler, listen
attentively. One of them flips away his cigarette. The Taps
continues through the following.
INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
FULL SHOT
Most of the men turn in their beds toward the sound of the
bugle. Some prop up on their elbows.
CLOSE SHOT CHOATE
as he listens. A look of mingled longing and satisfaction.
CLOSE SHOT LEVA
listening. A strange look of pride.
CLOSE SHOT MAZZIOLI
listening, his face also betraying emotions normally
concealed.
MEDIUM SHOT TREADWELL AND ANDERSON
listening. Their bunks are next to each other.
TREADWELL
(a reverent whisper)
I bet you it's Prewitt...
EXT. PORCH ON BARRACKS - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
Three men come out of the barracks, lean over the porch rail,
listening. Their faces are thoughtful, sad.
INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN
The office lit only by a light over his desk. He is working
late, a sheaf of papers spread out before him. He listens to
the bugle call, moved, sorrowful. He snaps off the light,
listens in the darkness.
EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW
at the Bugler's post. He is finishing the last phrases, full
and wonderful. Behind him stands Friday Clark, motionless.
The final note quivers to silence. Prew swings the megaphone
for the repeat. Then the repeat begins, the clear proud notes
reverberating across the silent quadrangle.
123.
INT. WARDEN'S ROOM OFF SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT KARELSEN
lying on his back in his bunk, arms clasped behind his head.
He listens, his gnarled face the picture of the old soldier.
He breathes heavily as if he is hearing his own requiem and
epitaph.
EXT. PORCH ON BARRACKS - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
There are eight or nine men here now, listening.
CLOSE SHOTS DHOM HENDERSON THORNHILL
There is a choked kinship on all the faces.
INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
FULL SHOT
More men are propped on their elbows, their heads turned
toward the Bugler. The dim figure of Treadwell can be seen,
at a window now.
TREADWELL
(almost inaudible whisper)
... I told you it was Prewitt...
EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT
CLOSE SHOT PREW
continuing the Taps. There are tears in his eyes now.
EXT. BARRACKS STEPS - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
A half dozen men are sitting on the steps, listening, among
them Stark and Wilson. Stark shakes his head sadly.
EXT. COMPANY STREET - NIGHT
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
listening now on the porch alongside the street.
EXT. BARRACKS AREA - NIGHT
LONG SHOT
Several groups of two and three scattered about. They are
standing in no particular places, as if they have been
walking and stopped suddenly. They are all looking toward the
Bugler.
124.
INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT ANDERSON
as the Taps repeat is drawing to a close. He is lying on his
side, turned toward the Bugler, a look of serenity, of peace
on his face. His eyes close as he falls asleep.
EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT PREW
coming to the end of the Taps. CAMERA MOVES IN to a CLOSEUP.
Prew's face is wet with tears. His lips are pinched and red.
He blows the final notes.
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW AND CLARK
Prew lowers the bugle slowly and lets the megaphone rest in
its swivel. He withdraws the mouthpiece, puts it in his
pocket. He hands the bugle to Clark. Clark looks at the
instrument as if it has become hallowed. Prew walks off into
the darkness.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT
TRACKING SHOT
CAMERA MOVES along street, passing a lone pedestrian. It
MOVES TOWARD the sign NEW CONGRESS CLUB, HOLDS beside an open
window through which is heard the sound of harsh piano
playing; the pounding style and lack of shading are clearly
Fatso Judson's. CAMERA PANS AND INCLUDES Prew, leaning
against the building. He is watching the entrance to the Club
patiently. There is relentless hatred on his face. The music
stops. Prew does not move.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT AT ENTRANCE
Hearty male laughter from within. The door opens and Fatso
and a couple of sailors cane out. They are about to start
down the street.
PREW'S VOICE
Hello, Fatso.
Fatso looks around in direction of voice. CAMERA PANS,
DISCLOSES Prew, still leaning against the building. Fatso
squints, not recognizing him.
125.
FATSO
You want me?
PREW
Yeah, Fatso.
Fatso takes a couple of steps toward Prew, squints again.
FATSO
I don't like that nickname. You
want to see me about somethin?
PREW
Yeah. Let's step around the corner
here where we can talk.
Prew's voice is so toneless as to be ominous.
FATSO
(grins)
Okay. Good night, gents.
The sailors go off. Fatso walks into the darkness of an alley
next to the building. Prew follows.
EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND FATSO
Just enough light from the street lamp to illuminate about
ten feet into the alley.
FATSO
Okay. You sore about somethin?
PREW
No. I just don't like the way you
play the piano.
Fatso throws back his head and laughs loudly.
PREW
You know Maggio?
FATSO
The little Wop? The one who bust
out of the Stockade? Sure. He was a
real tough monkey. But crazy, see?
PREW
You killed him.
FATSO
Did I? If I did, he ask for it.
126.
PREW
I hear they're gonna court martial
you, Fatso. But before the Army
gets you, I want a piece of you
myself.
There is the snick of a blade snapping open as Fatso pulls a
knife. He moves toward Prew, who steps swiftly to one side.
PREW
I kinds thought you'd try that.
There is the same sound as Prew pulls a knife from his
pocket, snaps it open, holds it out flat in his hand, showing
it to Fatso.
PREW
This here's the one you pulled on
Maggio once. Reconize it?
Fatso darts at Prew, knife raised. Prew moves back, but Fatso
is on him and they both roll to one side along the building.
The movement throws them deep into the shadows.
ANOTHER ANGLE SHOOTING INTO THE SHADOWS
The two figures feint and dart. There is the occasional
silver flash of the knives as light hits them. The men go
deeper into the shadows, are all but lost to view. There is a
startled, pained cry. Then one of the figures falls to his
knees and starts to crawl toward camera.
CLOSE SHOT SHOOTING NEAR GROUND
as the figure comes directly to camera, REVEALING the
anguished face of Fatso. It slowly turns, is upside down in
the frame.
MEDIUM SHOT
Fatso is on his back, his stomach gushing bloods his eyes
already glazing. Prew staggers into the light now. His left
side has two vicious cuts; he is bleeding badly. He stares
down at Fatso, who manages a small, reproving voice.
FATSO
You've killed me. Why'd you want to
kill me?
Prew backs away from Fatso, turns, staggers down the alley
away from camera.
WIPE TO:
127.
EXT. CLIFF ROAD - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT
Prew comes toward camera, laboriously struggling up the road.
His side is hemorrhaging steadily, his shirt and trousers
blood-soaked. He stops close to camera. He wads his
handkerchief, sticks it inside his shirt near the knife
wound. He smiles wearily, crookedly.
PREW
(mumbles to himself)
Gonna have an awful bad scar
there...
He lights a cigarette, his fingers shaking. The flame from
the match illuminates his left wrist. There is a deep scar on
it. It seems to fascinate Prew as he stares at it, rubs his
fingers across it.
PREW
... scars...
He turns, moves on up the road; CAMERA MOVES CLOSE behind
him, as if overhearing his thoughts which come over on sound
track.
PREWS VOICE (O.S.)
... got that one fallin off the
barn back home... gashed it on a
spike... Dad laughed... Dead now...
Uncle John+s dead, too...
Prew moves away from camera out of shot.
WIPE TO:
EXT. CLIFF ROAD - NIGHT
TRACKING SHOT ANOTHER SECTION OF THE ROAD
CAMERA FOLLOWS Prew, as he keeps in shadows, moves slowly up
the cliff. He is in much pain now. His hand rubs across his
face; his fingers linger on his forehead near his eye.
PREWS VOICE (O.S.)
... that cut over the eye... in the
ring at Myer... wouldnt let em
stop it... knocked the guy out...
sixth round...
CAMERA LOSES Prew again as he stumbles into shadows.
WIPE TO:
128.
EXT. CLIFF ROAD - NIGHT
TRACKING SHOT SITE OF PREVIOUS PREW-ALMA SCENE
CAMERA FOLLOWS Prew, who is now fighting hard to keep his
feet. His hand is pressed tight to his side.
PREW'S VOICE (O.S.)
... ten stitch gash in the hip...
workin in the gym attic... fell
through the skylight... where was
that?... so many scars... so many
years... where they all gone to
anyway...?
He moves on around bend in road out of shot.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ALMA'S HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT ALMA AND GORGETTE
The radio is blaring the "Hut Sut Song." Alma is crocheting.
Gorgette is reading. CAMERA SHOOTS across them to the front
door. The doorknob moves slowly, the door opens. Prew falls
into the room and pitches to the floor.
ALMA
Prew --
She rushes to him, bends over him. Gorgette runs to the
radio, turns it off.
CLOSE SHOT ALMA
Her face agonized as she leans over Prew.
ALMA
Prew!
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT ALMA AND PREW
He pushes himself up on one elbow, seems pleased by her
stricken expression. He manages a smile.
PREW
(weakly)
Don't worry... Ain't gonna die.
They savin me for better things...
Gorgette kneels into shot. Prew's smile becomes silly as he
turns his head to her.
129.
(MORE)
PREW
... just came up to borrow a good
book.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. GENERAL'S OFFICE - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT GENERAL SLATER COLONEL WILLIAMS HOLMES
The American flag, the General's flag and the Division flag
are the only colorful elements in a rather severe office.
Colonel Williams is reading from a typed report.
COLONEL WILLIAMS
--- In addition to inefficiency
in administering his command and
neglect of duty, Captain Holmes has
been guilty of indefensible cruelty
to the aforesaid Private Prewitt.
This extended to instigating and
encouraging wholly unauthorized and
discreditable tactics to force the
soldier to join the inter-regiment
boxing team. These findings are the
result of personal investigation by
the Inspector General and are
corroborated by numerous members of
G Company.
Colonel Williams puts his report on the General's desk.
Holmes face reflects a weary resignation as if underneath he
has really expected something like this for a long time. He
makes no move to speak. The General is angry clear through.
GENERAL SLATER
I'm waiting for your reply to this.
HOLMES
I haven't any, sir... The charges --
are true.
GENERAL SLATER
Holmes, the first thing I ever
learned in the Army was that an
officer takes care of his men. It
seems to be the first thing you
forgot. It's monstrous to think of
anybody like you in command of
troops. And believe me, you won't
be for long. My only regret is that
we have to keep you in uniform
until a court martial is concluded.
130.
GENERAL SLATER(cont'd)
In the meantime, of course, I'm
relieving you of your present
duties.
He indicates the meeting is over. Holmes rises, is about to
leave, pauses.
HOLMES
If there were any way to avoid a
court martial, sir. Any way...
The General frowns, is unresponsive. Holmes looks to Colonel
Williams helplessly.
COLONEL WILLIAMS
There is one alternative,
General... if you're so disposed. A
resignation for the good of the
service under AR 600-275.
GENERAL SLATER
(thinks a moment)
I'll give you a chance you don't
deserve, Holmes. Write a letter of
resignation and have it on my desk
this afternoon. Ill consider
accepting it. Only because as far
as I'm concerned, the quicker
you're out of the Army the better
for everybody. Especially the Army.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KAREN'S BEDROOM - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT KAREN AND HOLMES
He confronts her, waving a sheet of stationery. His voice is
strangled, almost hysterical.
HOLMES
--- that's right, it's a letter of
resignations I'm through! I've
already been relieved! So you can
begin packing. We're sailing for
the States next week!
She shakes her head, not wanting to believe; she takes the
letter out of his hand, starts to read it. She stops after a
sentence or two. Her hand falls to her side. Holmes sits on
the bed heavily. The bluster bleeds out of him. He shakes his
head, emotionally bewildered. For perhaps the first time in
his life he is nakedly honest.
131.
(MORE)
HOLMES
Where has it gone, Karen? What
happened to it? The gay, cheerful
life we were going to have, you and
I...? What happened to me...? The
proud, dashing officer was going to
be. The leader of men?... I've
known all along how the men felt
about me. They despised me...
What's happened? I don't remember
losing anything... Where has it all
gone?
MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT KAREN
reacting; she is surprised, a little afraid of her own
emotion. The outcry, so lost, so despairing, moves her. She
is sorry for him.
MEDIUM SHOT HOLMES AND KAREN
HOLMES
Karen -- you're coming back with
me, aren't you...?
Trembling, Karen puts the letter on the dressing table.
Abruptly, she runs out of the room.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. CAPTAINS OFFICE - DAY
CLOSE SHOT DESK
FEATURING placard reading LIEUTENANT ROSS. We hear Ross'
first few words over this, then CAMERA PULLS BACK to MEDIUM
SHOT. Ross is forceful, clean-cut, gives the impression of
toughness but fairness. As he talks he takes down the
photographs of prize fighters and prize fighting from the
wall. Watching and listening are Sergeants Dhom, Thornhill,
Henderson, Leva, Stark and Karelsen and Corporal Wilson. Ross
is such a complete switch from Holmes that the men are almost
unnerved by him. But a definite respect is reflected in their
expressions. Warden, beside his desk, shares this.
ROSS
-- I don't intend to have a sloppy
outfit. I don't intend to have a
goldbrick outfit. I don't intend to
have a soft soap outfit. I've
called you noncoms in because
you're the backbone of any Company.
132.
ROSS(cont'd)
From now on you'll have to prove
you're entitled to have those
stripes here. And not in the boxing
ring.
He bands the pictures to Leva.
ROSS
Get rid of these, Sergeant.
LEVA
Yes, sir.
ROSS
That's all I have to say. If you've
any questions, speak up.
Nobody speaks.
ROSS
Dismissed.
The men troop out, passing camera. As last man leaves, CAMERA
IS ON Warden. He is looking at Ross with considerable
approval, even admiration. He resumes a more normal
expression as Ross turns toward him.
WARDEN
One non-com was missing, sir.
Sergeant Galovitch.
ROSS
I know. Private Galovitch is in the
kitchen.
WARDEN
In the kitchen?
ROSS
As of now, hes an assistant cook.
I busted him. On a blanket charge
of inefficiency. What are you
grinning at?
WARDEN
(grinning)
I think the Company Commander made
a wise decision, sir.
The phone rings. Warden goes to his desk, answers.
133.
(MORE)
WARDEN
(into phone)
Compny G, First Sergeant Warden
speaking.
Karen's voice is heard on the phone; we cannot understand
what she is saying, but a flood of words pours through. With
Ross looking on, Warden is embarrassed.
WARDEN
(into phone)
Yes... Yes, I know...
(glances over toward Ross)
Yes, the - uh - parcel has already
arrived... Yes... What?...
(grim now)
No. No, we'll have to talk about it
soon. Right away. I - I don't
know...
Ross perceives Warden's distress. He starts toward the door.
Warden nods gratefully. Ross smiles, leaves the room.
WARDEN
(into phone)
Lissen, I'll get away somehow,
tonight. I'll meet you in Kuhio
Park. At eight... Right....
He puts down the receiver. He stares at the desk. Then he
slowly pulls out the top drawer. The Officers Application
Blank is lying on top of a pile of other papers. He takes it
out, looks at it somberly. CAMERA MOVES IN to an INSERT of
the Application. We see Warden's answers to sex, age, race,
etc. CAMERA MOVES DOWN the page to the place for the
signature of the applicant. It is unsigned.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. KUHIO PARK - NIGHT
LONG SHOT
In b.g. Warden, in uniform, and Karen are sitting on the same
bench as in their first meeting in the park. We cannot hear
what they are saying at first. CAMERA MOVES IN past a few
pedestrians and HOLDS on a MEDIUM SHOT. There is a defeated,
tired look about them, as if they have been talking for a
long time to no avail.
KAREN
... I guess I felt it that night I
asked you to become an officer.
When you didn't say yes right away.
134.
KAREN(cont'd)
I guess I knew deep down you
wouldn't do it. But --
(a hint of tears)
It seemed such a simple plan for
us...
WARDEN
I wanted to -- I tried -- but I
couldn't...
He runs his hand through his hair. He seems to be groping
inside himself for some way to explain.
WARDEN
Lissen -- there's a kid in our
outfit named Prewitt... Robert E.
Lee Prewitt... He came in from the
States about a year ago. I thought
he was a fresh punk at first...
until I got to know him a little.
He's AWOL right now -- probly in
some kind of real trouble -- he
ain't the kind to go AWOL
otherwise. Anyway, I keep
remembering somethin he said to me
the first day he came in. He said a
man has got to go his own way... if
he don't, he's nothin... I'm an
Enlisted Man. I'm a First Sergeant.
Milt Warden. Once I cross that line
and tried to be an officer, I'm
somebody I don't know. A stranger.
And a man has got to be what he
is...
KAREN
I guess that's the trouble with
Dana... He's always tried to be
something he isn't. Poor Dana... I
don't think he ever needed me until
now.
(shaken herself out of it)
Well, here we are saying goodbye.
And talking about two other people.
WARDEN
We're not saying good-bye -- we'll
figger out a way for you to stay
here --
KAREN
I'm going back with him, Milt.
There's something in being needed.
It isn't love. But it's something.
135.
WARDEN
(desperately)
Lissen, two people who love each
other just don't stop loving each
other! Nothin and nobody is goin to
break us up l 1111 transfer out
somehow and get back to the States.
Maybe it'll take a little time but
Ill do it!
KAREN
(smiles)
That sounds like Milt Warden, all
right.
He bends toward her to kiss her. She presses him back.
KAREN
No, Milt. I don't want to kiss you
any more. I just want to remember
you. And you to remember me.
WARDEN
Put it down. Put it down that on
December 6th, 1941, Milton Anthony
Warden told you hed remember
you...
CAMERA PULLS BACK, PASSES a few pedestrians, Warden and Karen
remaining in b.g. of shot. They begin to talk again, quietly,
undemonstratively. We are too far away now to hear what they
are saying.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ALMA'S HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
MEDIUM SHOT PREW AND ALMA
Alma is reading a newspaper in b.g. Prew is disheveled and
slovenly, needs a shave badly. His face is lined with pain.
He is drunk from several days of steady drinking, stone
drunk, as if in a trance. He wears crumpled civilian clothes.
He is at a table laboriously writing out the Re-enlistment
Blues. He finishes writing a stanza and sings softly.
PREW
Slep in the park that Sunday
Seen all the folks gain to church
Your belly feel so empty
When you're left in the lurch --
Alma looks up from the paper.
136.
(MORE)
ALMA
Here it is -- they're putting it on
an inside page already.
(reads)
... still no clue in the fatal
stabbing of Staff Sergeant James R.
Judson...
Prew, who has stopped singing but not turned his head,
resumes the song.
PREW
Dog soljers don't own pews
Re-enlistment Blues...
ALMA
(annoyed)
Did you hear me? Are you listening
or not?
Prew nods blankly. He rises slowly and walks across the room
toward Alma. But his eyes are fixed on a whisky bottle on a
table beside her. He moves stiffly, favoring his side, his
face contorted. He picks up the bottle, pours himself a
drink.
ALMA
(coldly)
Are you trying to set a new worlds
record?
CLOSE SHOT PREW
He smiles faintly, holds the glass high.
PREW
Yeah... To the memory of Robert E.
Lee Prewitt, Holder of the New
World's Record...
TWO SHOT PREW AND ALMA
ALMA
I want to know what you plan to do.
PREW
Plan to do? When?
ALMA
Any time. Now. Tomorrow. Next week.
PREW
Lessee...
(counts on fingers)
137.
PREW(cont'd)
... One... two... three... four...
Four days I'm AWOL, ain't I?
(picks up paper, looks at
date)
... this is December sixth, ain't
it...?
ALMA
(half-tirade, half-wail)
It's December sixth and you're so
drunk you're wall-eyed. And all
you've done since you fell in here
is drink and drink and drink and
try to remember that old song of
yours. And I want to know what
you're going to do!
Prew looks at her, hurt. He moves back to his table,
mumbling.
PREW
... might ship out on a tramp and
go to Mexico and be a cowboy...
ALMA
Oh, be sensible!
Prew sits at the table again, continues to mumble.
PREW
... I'm goin back to the Compny...
soon's my side heals... Goin back
under my own power... Goin into the
Ordrly Room 'n' say hello, Warden,
Private Prewitt reportin...
ALMA
(breaking)
Oh, Prew! Prew! Why did you have to
do it? Why did you have to kill
that man?
Prew shakes his head sadly as if he doesn't know the answer.
He picks up the paper he has been writing on, sings softly,
testing the last couple of lines affectionately.
PREW
Recruitin crews give me the blues
Old Re-enlistment Blues...
DISSOLVE TO:
138.
INT. MESS HALL - DAY
FULL SHOT
CAMERA FEATURES clock on wall reading 7:52. About half the
Company is at breakfast. There is considerable laughter and
horseplay. Near the kitchen a dozen men are in the chow line.
MEDIUM SHOT
FEATURING Warden at the NCO table. He rises, carries his
plate with him towards the chow line. A sudden, deep-toned,
earthquake-like blast shudders through the room. The cups on
the tables rattle. Warden stops, cocks his head. The men stop
eating, look at each other.
ANDERSON
(to the room)
Must be dynamitin down to Wheeler
Field.
CHOATE
Them engineers mighty ambitious
Sunday mornin before eight o'clock.
The men resume eating. Warden moves a couple of steps toward
the chow line when the second blast hits. It is much heavier
and fuller.
CLOSE SHOT WARDEN
He has a hunch about this now. He reaches out to put his
plate down, holding it very carefully in both hands. However,
he doesn't bother to see if there is anything under it. The
plate falls and crashes on the floor a fraction of a second
before the third groundswell of blast shakes the room.
EXT. COMPANY STREET - DAY
FULL SHOT NEAR MESS HALL
A man sprints toward the mess hall, yelling to right and left
at the top of his lungs. As he approaches camera we see it is
Mazzioli.
MAZZIOLI
The Japsre bombing Wheeler Field!
It's the Japs! They're bombing
Wheeler Field! The Japs! It's the
Japs! I saw the red circles on the
wings!
LONG SHOT SHOOTING UP CIRCLES ON UNDERSIDE OF MOVING PLANE
The roar of the plane over shot.
MOVING SHOT SHOOTING DOWN FROM JAP PLANE PAST PILOT
The figure of Mazzioli gets closer and closer as the plane
139.
dives toward him, machine guns spitting.
MEDIUM SHOT MAZZIOLI
as the Jap plane flashes by close above him. The stones in
the pavement pop up. Mazzioli flops on the street. The plane
zooms.
FULL SHOT MESS HALL
as the men rush out. In the front ranks are Warden, Karelsen,
Stark and Choate, Choate carries his half-filled plate in one
hand, a mug of coffee in the other. The men stretch their
necks, following the plane. Then they look back up the
street, CAMERA PANNING. Far in b.g, a column of black
mushrooming to the sky. Warden dashes to Mazzioli. CAMERA
MOVES IN to a CLOSE SHOT as Warden bends over him, hoists him
to a sitting position. He is extremely gentle. Mazzioli's
knee is laid open and is bleeding freely. Warden whips out a
handkerchief and starts to apply a tourniquet.
MEDIUM SHOT
Some of the men continue to crane at the sky. A few pick up
metal links from the Jap bullets.
NAIR
Say! Thisll make me a good
souvenir! A bullet from a Jap
plane!
WARDEN
This ain't jawbone! This is for
record. Theme real bullets that guy
was usin. Get inside -- all of ya!
Warden gets Mazzioli to his feet, turns to first man in group
surrounding them. It is Anderson.
WARDEN
Help him over to the hospital.
Anderson starts Mazzioli down the street.
LONG SHOT SHOOTING UP TO SKY
A pair of planes are diving toward the street.
WARDENS VOICE
GET INSIDE!
MEDIUM SHOT
The men rush for cover, all except Choate who is left alone
in shot. He takes a big bite of his sausage and eggs, hastily
downs a swig of coffee. Then he throws the plate and cup into
the street and dives for cover as the terrifyingly loud noise
of the Jap planes indicates they are directly overhead.
140.
INT. DAY ROOM - DAY
FULL SHOT
The men are pouring in from the Company street, all shouting
at once. Warden pushes his way through them and jumps up on
the pool table. His big voice booms.
WARDEN
All right, all right, you men!
Quiet down! Quiet down! It's only a
war. Ain't you ever been in a war
before?
The men begin to quiet down, look to Warden respectfully.
Through the scene the heavy earth shudders are felt and heard
as bombs hit in the far distance. Also the sound of the
strafing planes.
WARDEN
We're gonna organize a fire
umbrella defense. I want the noncoms
to get BARs and ammunition
from the Supply Room and get up on
the roof. Henderson, you're in
charge of the loading detail. Get
movin!
The non-coms push out the door.
TREADWELL
Hey, what about me? I been waitin
all my life to git to shoot a BAR
at somethin!
WARDEN
Okay. It's your life.
Treadwell hurries after the non-coms.
WARDEN
The rest of you guys - the CQ will
unlock the rifle racks. Every man
get his rifle and go to his bunk
and stay there. And I mean stay
there! I'm making each squad leader
responsible to keep his men inside.
If you have to use a rifle butt to
do it, that's okay, too.
There are shouts of protest. The men are over the first shock
now and beginning to get angry, anxious for action.
141.
WARDEN
You heard me! This ain't no
maneuvers. You go runnin around
outside you'll get your ears shot
off. You want to be heroes, you'll
get plenty chances later. You'll
probly have Japs in your laps
before night.
SOLDIER
What if they bomb us?
WARDEN
You hear a bomb comin, you're free
to take off for the brush. But
don't worry -- the Japsll probly
drop all their bombs on Pearl
Harbor and Hickam. They ain't gonna
waste em on us. So let's can the
chatter. We're wastin time. Squad
leaders, get em upstairs!
Squad leaders begin to herd their men out. Warden jumps off
the pool table. Stark and Karelsen come up to him.
STARK
What you want me to do, First? I
got a hangover, but I can still --
WARDEN
You stick in the kitchen and make a
big pot of coffee. No -- make a
barrel of coffee.
KARELSEN
I think I could get one of them
Japs with a machine gun, Milt.
We'll put the tripod over a
chimney. And hold her down by the
legs.
WARDEN
Whatever you say, Pete.
They smile at each other affectionately, then push into the
crowd leaving the Day Room.
EXT. SUPPLY ROOM - DAY
MEDIUM SHOT
The non-coma are arguing violently with Leva at the door to
the Supply Room. Jap planes are loud overhead.
142.
LEVA
I don't care. I can't issue any
live ammunition without a signed
order from an officer.
HENDERSON
But there ain't no officers yet,
you jerk! Lieutenant Ross lives off
the post.
LEVA
(folds arms)
I'm sorry fellows. Lieutenant Ross
give me them orders himself. No
signed order, no ammo. And that's
all they are to it.
Warden hurries up to the group.
DHOM
He won't let us have no ammo, Top!
CHOATE
Ha
