Scene 1.12 - Retreat
EST: INT. Company Mess Tent - Night.
(The rooster has lead the running men to the mess tent that we saw the exterior of in an earlier scene. We follow the three into the tent. No bodies are seen. There was a small fight here, though there is no human presence evident in the camp.)
PRIVATE MARS
I told you that rooster was smart!
PRIVATE ARES
If someone told me this, I wouldn’t believe it. How did the rooster know where our mess tent was?
PRIVATE MARS
I don’t know, he must be hungry. He’s going 'round back.
(Just behind the tent is an unconscious SERGEANT HAMMER, hanged, sitting up with a tent-flap rope around his neck with a Viet Cong soldier lying dead across his lap and the other end of the rope, pulling the tent rope taught in a death grip, away from SERGEANT HAMMER. The dead soldier had obviously been on the losing end of a long, hand-to-hand conflict with SERGEANT HAMMER, who, unconscious, is unable to free himself. The two revive him and cast off the dead body; freeing SERGEANT HAMMER from imminent death.)
PRIVATE ARES
Top! Sergeant, are you okay?
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Hardly able to speak, raspy:) Ares, Mars. Did I get him?
PRIVATE MARS
He’s dead, Top.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(His voice is raspy throughout, and although strong and emphasized, words are never yelled from him again:) Doggone kid snuck up on me. Get this rope from around my neck. Had to empty my whole clip into his friend over there, had to get this one with my bare hands. My forty-five’s wasted. (Chucks it.) You know, I think they’re hopped-up on something. (Well, not anymore. Back to the present moment:) What are you two doing here? You’re supposed to be back at division.
PRIVATE ARES
It took us a while to get this far.
(Gives SERGEANT HAMMER his own, loaded .45-caliber pistol and begins reloading his rifle.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Drinking from canteen, his voice altered -- it hurts a little to talk:) You see Perky and Menendez?
PRIVATE MARS
Perky and Menendez got waxed by a squad of Charlie. I think third squad got back. We should be all that’s left.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Holstering PRIVATE ARES’ weapon.) No, the Colonel and his driver are still out there.
THE PRIVATES
What!?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Except for the two of you -- the brigade’s all-back at division, wondering if we should pull-out of this sector altogether. I was waiting for the colonel to return from the factory to be sure.
PRIVATE MARS
The colonel’s at the factory? Is he insane?
SERGEANT HAMMER
You said it; I think he’s completely lost his mind. I told him not to go, but he wanted to secure some top-secret documents and wouldn’t let me go with him. He's got this cock-a-mane-ey theory about the rubber industry and the feds and-
PRIVATE ARES
The factory’s probably being overrun.
PRIVATE MARS
It's Saturday, there's nobody there. 'Cept Charlie, mebbe. We should go after him.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Now you’re talking crazy, Mars. If he doesn’t show in ten minutes, I’m listing him as M-I-A. It’s getting hairy around here, and if we don’t leave soon, we won’t have a way out.
(PRIVATE MARS starts sketching out a plan in the dirt. SERGEANT HAMMER looks on, intent and interested. ARES starts looking around, policing brass and moving the bodies.)
PRIVATE MARS
Sergeant, it’s a tactic they don’t expect, didn’t plan for and takes advantage of the fact that Colonel Stone knows the factory and they don’t.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Briefly glances upward.) I swear the gods have either blessed or cursed me in this war. And you, what do you got to say about this?
PRIVATE ARES
(Drops the body he was dragging inside:) Sergeant?
SERGEANT HAMMER
I swear they musta pulled the two of you from the same, unholy pit. Must have been something in the water that year. You boys think too much. The Army doesn’t pay you to think. (Erases MARS’ dirt schematic with the toe of his boot, MARS stands.) We need to get back to division.
PRIVATE MARS
We need to extract the colonel, sir. He is vital to our unit.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Clasps MARS’ shoulder, half-admonishing him, half-thanking him:) Mars, you’re a Carthaginian at heart, you really are. A true Satan. You’re Patton reincarnated, I think; and don’t call me sir.
PRIVATE ARES
Is this old C-3 being used for anything in particular?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yeah, we need to particularly blow this camp sky-high.
PRIVATE ARES
You’ve got way more than you need for that. You know, my primary M-O-S is demolition specialist. I can put a time-delay fuse on some of this stuff and cart it in a portable-
SERGEANT HAMMER
(To PRIVATE MARS, then PRIVATE ARES:) No, forget what I said; you’re not Satan, he is.
PRIVATE MARS
Let’s go get Colonel Stone, Top, it’s the right thing to do.
SERGEANT HAMMER
We have specific orders-
PRIVATE MARS
I’m sure Colonel Stone will be glad you chose to disobey them-
SERGEANT HAMMER
We could get ourselves killed-
PRIVATE ARES
(Testing a mercury switch without its housing:) Excuse me, Top, how is that even relevant?
PRIVATE MARS
Sure, we’re outnumbered, but like you say, so were the Spartans at, at Thermalopolis.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Thermopylae, bone-head!
MARS
Yeah. They kicked some serious tail there.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yes, and thank you for reminding me of the Military History lesson I gave you, but remember one thing: They all died there too.
PRIVATE ARES
Is that what’s stopping you? Think of the odds at Marathon-
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yes, and they all died there, as well, what else? We’ll get ourselves killed, what good is that?
PRIVATE ARES
You wouldn’t be arguing with us lowly privates unless you were thinking along the lines we are. Come on, Top, you know if anyone can do a rescue, we can.
PRIVATE MARS
(Smarter:) Yeah, we can conduct an extraction of the Colonel-
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Trumped:) Fine. But we go in my way. Get the colonel. That’s it.
PRIVATE MARS
Who’s his duty driver?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Falconbridge.
PRIVATE ARES
Tubby; he’s smart. He’ll stay alive.
PRIVATE MARS
Communication?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Nothing. I even insisted, but the colonel wouldn’t hear of it.
PRIVATE ARES
Well, I’m sure he did what he thought was necessary. Do we got a jeep?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Negative.
PRIVATE MARS
I suppose I got to carry the munitions.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You got it. Rank has its privileges. We’re gonna route-step the whole way.
PRIVATE ARES
Just remember I gotta carry the cream corn and pretzels, so I ain’t point.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Cream corn? Pretzels?
PRIVATE ARES
Well, we don’t want him eatin’ our weed-
SERGEANT HAMMER
Who?
PRIVATE MARS
Sherlock.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Who’s Sherlock?
(As if on cue, the rooster goes completely "loco" in the back of the tent. The men rush inside to see scattered food across the kitchen floor. The rooster is "freaking-out" -- caught between a stack of broken eggs and several emptied boxes of plucked chickens, finding no escape. Many containers are on the floor and the mess is everywhere. One thing can be said: The rooster is NOT having a good time. He knows, he knows, he knows...)
FTB