Scene 1.07 - Mother’s Little Helper
EST: EXT. Firebase November - 04JUL1969 13:42G.
(PRIVATE MARS and PRIVATE ARES are at the end of a long, long single-file line toward the mess hall, facing left. PRIVATE ARES does a left-face, steps forward, does not salute. In his left hand, he holds his open canteen while standing at attention, facing the colonel and sergeant.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
You! Tighten-up that line! You three! Sick, lame and lazy! Make your buddy smile!
COLONEL STONE
Sergeant Major, are these the last two?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yessir! You heard ‘em! (Repeating it with as much vigor and volume as he said it when there were still five hundred troops left to take the pill:) No chow ‘til you take your medicine!
COLONEL STONE
Hmmm. Leniency? What's done is done, I suppose... (Muttering aloud to HAMMER:) "...mettre quelqu'un devant le fait accompli..." Hmmph. It seems they’ve saved the best for last. Hmmm. If it isn’t the infamous Private Ares. You know, Son, I've gotten more flak from your interview than I've heard compliments from mine. You more photogenic or what? What's the secret, huh? (ARES opens his mouth to answer.) That was rhetorical, Private. That was a facetious remark...
(Leans over, as if to sum it up. ARES looks on, suddenly a little nervous since there were a whole slew of words he never heard before just said by the colonel. Big words usually mean big trouble. The colonel continues:)
COLONEL STONE (Cont'd)
Top, remind me to get an autograph sometime.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Don’t eye-ball me, Private! Eyes-front!
COLONEL STONE
Open your mouth, Private.
(He does.)
COLONEL STONE
(He places the pink pill on PRIVATE ARES' tongue.) Swallow it. Open your mouth. Wider. Lift your tongue. Good. Now wash it down.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(In ARES’ face, before ARES even has a chance to drink:) Wash it down!
COLONEL STONE
Enough. Pour out the rest of your canteen in this bucket. Good. Private Ares, I want you to report to the command tent. First, take this bucket, go to the back of the mess hall. Dump the water out of the bucket behind the mess hall, then take the bucket back to the supply tent. Leave the bucket there. Leave it inside the supply tent. Then go to the command tent and wait outside, I'll have your dinner brought to you... I have a special assignment for you. You understand all of that?
PRIVATE ARES
Yessir!
COLONEL STONE
Fall-out, private.
(PRIVATE ARES comes to attention, picks up the bucket, takes two steps back, executes a sloppy and sploshy about-face and double-times around the mess hall, losing most of the water on the way.)
PRIVATE MARS
(Saluting, pretending to be strack:) Private Mars reporting as ordered, sir!
COLONEL STONE
(Without missing a beat, as if he expected it, SERGEANT HAMMER violently slaps PRIVATE MARS’ hand downward before it can properly execute the improper deployment of a proper military salute to an officer in the field. Lucid, and by rote, twisting the pronunciation of the private’s name into something nearly unintelligible:) Do NOT salute officers in the bush, Private Mars!
PRIVATE MARS
Aw, Top, I jus’ thought I was back on the block, that’s all. My bad.
(Yes, Dear Philologist, the phrase 'My bad' was coined right here by an army private in Viet Nam in 1969. It simply took many years for the term to "catch on" in the USA.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
(He is so much in PRIVATE MARS’ face while the private stands at attention, one wonders just how forward can one deploy a soldier when he’s forward of the front lines already?) Watch it. You watch it, Mars, or The Hammer’s gonna come down on you and putchoo in de hole... you don’t want to make a hole again, do you?
PRIVATE MARS
(No pause, he stands rigidly at attention, with no sarcasm and perfect military bearing. It remains throughout the scene.) No, First Sergeant, Private Mars does not wish to make another hole!
COLONEL STONE
Private Mars, I swear on the soul of my maternal grandmother that if you didn't have the highest kill-count in the division, I'd have you on permanent latrine duty or back in the rear, being my personal doormat at division H-Q. You've overstepped your boundaries countless times and you continually usurp my authority, even more than my own officers. This latest offense surely... it surely takes the cake. What's this I hear from the Sergeant Major about you taking our advance patrol past the line last night, is that true?
PRIVATE MARS
Yessir!
COLONEL STONE
Care to explain that, Private?
PRIVATE MARS
Well, sir... First, I went-back to meet the patrol.
COLONEL STONE
Went back?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, sir.
COLONEL STONE
Private Mars, just how far forward do we have you?
PRIVATE MARS
Sir, the private’s primary post is six clicks from the Song Chang River, in A-K Valley. Sir, the private’s post is currently unmanned, as a mandatory muster was ordered for the battalion at 13:00 and I don’t want to miss a mandatory muster cuz that would only move me two clicks forward again, sir.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Sotto:) We’ve only moved him up twice.
PRIVATE MARS
First Sergeant, Private Mars requests permission to speak.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Speak!
PRIVATE MARS
First Sergeant, the private has been moved forward of his primary post on three occasions, First Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
I stand corrected, three times. We pull him back half-a-click for every two confirmed kills -- I mean, that's more than fair, right?
PRIVATE MARS
(Holds from chest, the neck strap is Kiwi-black, yet unshiny:) It’s why I’ve purchased this camera, sir. I get proofs of 'em.
COLONEL STONE
I was going to ask you about that. There's this other feller I know who certainly isn’t camera-shy. Think you could take his picture if this... (Beat.) ...friend of mine was sharing your foxhole?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, sir! Private Mars would be grateful to have any companionship at his present duty-station, sir.
COLONEL STONE
That’s great. Ah, but first, I’d like you to explain something that's been kinda bugging me all morning. Just a little thing, you know, nothing alarming, nothing too major, but, you know, a little bird whispered something in my ear last night... Really Mars, it's been eating at me... I gotta know... (From casual to way-too-serious, almost livid:) Just a little thing like how a private somehow got one of my squads thinking they were going to take on the whole North Vietnamese Army all by themselves? Who led the patrol into a Viet Cong base camp? Who told them to retrieve this? (Produces a Viet Cong map completely outlining Operation Yellow Jacket.) Please, enlighten me.
PRIVATE MARS
It’s a long story, sir.
COLONEL STONE
(Immediate:) I've got time.
PRIVATE MARS
Well, the base camp was later, sir.
COLONEL STONE
Later?
PRIVATE MARS
Charlie was thick on our left flank, so we marched up-river. Found that on the way. Also saw a lime pit containing seven executed V-C officers and a beheaded local wearing a Narvis-Segille work uniform. It was really weird, sir.
COLONEL STONE
It just gets better, doesn’t it? Once past the perimeter, you marched my men up-river, away from the line, into one of Charlie's base camps.
PRIVATE MARS
No, sir. Kinda-like around it, really. They didn’t see us go by, sir. It was raining the other night.
COLONEL STONE
Don't I know it. Now where was Corporal Thresher when you decided to take my men into the Heart Of Darkness, Private Kurtz?
PRIVATE MARS
(Misses the reference.) I’m Private Mars, sir. I’ve been the acting squad leader for the advance squad since Corporal Thresher was wounded last week, sir.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Thresher got too far in front of a claymore! That’s what happens when you go where you’re not supposed to go, Mars! You get the business-end of our hardware! It reads “Front Toward Enemy” for a reason. You understand, Mars?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, First Sergeant!
COLONEL STONE
What about this rescue of Corporal King? Was he before or after infiltrating this phantom base camp?
PRIVATE MARS
The base camp was shore enough real, sir!
(SERGEANT HAMMER whispers to the colonel.)
COLONEL STONE
(To SERGEANT HAMMER, sotto:) Brigade M-I says it’s company work, made to look V-C. (Points at map, makes circles with finger:) S-2 says the entire camp could be a sham, I dunno... They say that when drawn-in-scale on the world atlas, these hatch marks on the border are angled markings that intersect at Langley. (To PRIVATE MARS:) Mars, You say Corporal King was being held near the same place where you got this map? On the bend of the river, here? Are you sure?
PRIVATE MARS
Yessir. We found him in a bamboo cage, half dunked in the river, sir, just down the hill from the lime pit.
COLONEL STONE
And you conducted an extraction -- a rescue -- without any orders or authorization to do so.
PRIVATE MARS
They were letting river rats eat him alive, and he had to sleep standing up. He was my battle-buddy back in Basic, sir. I couldn't let them torture him anymore. They were going to kill him. I- I had to.
COLONEL STONE
I decide what you have to do, Private Mars. You may get an Army Commendation Medal for rescuing a P-O-W, or I might slam you in a stockade for insubordination, I haven’t decided yet. For now, consider yourself verbally-reprimanded and lucky not to be on extra duty. No more sneaking around through enemy base-camps, you hear? This war has no room for heroes with a hard-on for suicide. I'm sure the King family greatly appreciates what you did for their boy, but any further actions that countermand my authority will make what Charlie did to Corporal King seem like a holiday compared to what I will do to you. Understood?
PRIVATE MARS
Yessir!
COLONEL STONE
You can take Private Ares to your position; ya need him?
PRIVATE MARS
Yessir. I’m stretched pretty thin up there.
COLONEL STONE
Very well. Open your mouth. Good. Now swallow the pill.
PRIVATE MARS
Sir, I heard these-
(SERGEANT HAMMER chambers and cocks a .45 and points it toward the temple of PRIVATE MARS. It seems he was hoping to do this.)
REVERSE ANGLE
ECU: Cocked .45
(The safety is OFF.)
REVERSE ANGLE
MS: Pistol at head
SERGEANT HAMMER
(With the immediacy of “Please, Dear God Above, please grant me an excuse to fire, I swear I won't miss!”) Swallow!
COLONEL STONE
Good. Now open your mouth. Lift your tongue, good. Wash it down. Pour your canteen onto the ground. (Before he does, lifts a cautionary, mentoring finger:) Not on me or the Sergeant Major, on the ground. (Like a second-grade teacher:) Good. Now, Private Mars, go to the command tent and meet with Private Ares. On the way, get some C-rats for the two of you from the mess-sergeant -- a day's worth, at least. You won't be back for supper. I want you two in position post-haste and to alert Top the second you see anything unusual. We're done here, Sergeant Major.
POV: COLONEL STONE watching PRIVATE MARS double-timing to the mess tent.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(During the previous line, after PRIVATE MARS swallows, properly clears his weapon and holsters it. He then proceeds to yell at the soldiers milling about:) Form up!
COLONEL STONE
Sergeant Major, you sure locked-his-heels. Tell me, what’s all this I hear about making your men dig holes?
(They watch as hundreds of men scurry into a formation near them -- MARS and ARES are absent, however.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Pause.) A reward system, sir. A little field R-N-R for exemplary behavior. It’s threatening to deprive them of all the fun and games that we all get to play every Summer when all you officers flock to the Saigon cathouses and leave all the work to us lowly enlisted folk and the rotsee butter bars. Can’t wait until this year’s; I've got my eye on a few of your cherries. Why, this time next month, you’ll be on holiday, sir.
COLONEL STONE
Cathouses and drinks aside, the officers’ summer camp is no holiday, Top. They got every O-3 and below from all divisions painting little rocks for the Lieutenant General’s aide. Last year he took a special liking to me and made me sit in a cage for two hours a day wearing a painted sheet and a mop-head wig and rag-bound feet -- making me, me, mind you, sing. I had to sing "To Know Him Is To Love Him" in Korean, no less. He called me the "Woods' Latrine Mascot" and made me drink Earl Grey tea brewed in some weird vase that looked like a bedpan -- And then there was- (Catches himself-) Look- You, you just don’t wanna know. (Pause.) Carry-on, Sergeant Major.
MUSIC: Echoey, faint whistling in the style of the Teddy Bears' To Know Him Is To Love Him
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. Top's Tent, 08AUG1968 13:13G
FLASHBACK SCENE
(First Sergeant’s tent, eleven months earlier. PRIVATE MARS is at parade-rest, hat held-in-hand. MARS has cleaner, newer battle fatigues, and sports a tighter afro. He's sure got the look: The just out-of high-school caterpillar mustache; the arrested-for-graffiti, Aquarian "Mars symbol" scar-tattoo on his forearm; six weeks of boot-camp scalp nicks, two weeks of infantry training bruises and of course, the greenhorn, thousand-inch stare of a bramble-breaking cherry. Also, we note that SERGEANT HAMMER'S hair is much, much less gray. Guys like ARES can gray a man over time. Guys like MARS can gray a man overnight.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
Private Mars.
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, First Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in trouble.
PRIVATE MARS
No First Sergeant, 'got caught painting a hippie mural on the back of Whitey's courthouse. Judge said join the Army or go to jail.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Mmmmm. You see, you’re new. You think you’re different than us. You think you’re better than us, more deserving than us, special. (Pause.) It doesn’t matter what you did, word just got to me that you did something that would make all of us look bad. That’s not good, is it?
PRIVATE MARS
No, First Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You were showing-off, getting careless. You put your needs ahead of the rest of us. You thought you were more important than the U-S Army. (Underlining top of his left pocket.) Read that: Uncle Sam Ain’t Released Me Yet. You know, thinking like you do, like you’re an individual, well, that kind of thinking can get one of us individually killed.
PRIVATE MARS
If I did something wrong, First Sergeant, I sure won’t do it again.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Well, you know, that’s the crux, ain’t it? It doesn’t matter if you dropped your weapon or if you cheated at poker. Why do you think our chaplain never has any problems with us? He’s got perfect Sunday attendance, and it isn’t even mandatory.
PRIVATE MARS
Well- the private does not know, First Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You see, it’s not a matter of what you did wrong, but that you did do wrong, and there was no preventive mechanism in place to ensure you would choose to do what was good for everyone. You shouldn’t have the ethical code or moral compass to only do right when you would get caught otherwise; you should do right because you know it’s right and conversely, not do wrong because you know it’s wrong. To single out a solitary act means you’re up to many wrongs, and that just ain’t right.
PRIVATE MARS
I was late for-
SERGEANT HAMMER
Did I give you permission to speak? (Pause.) I really like you, Mars. You might become the smartest and best man in my outfit if you don’t get the rest of us killed first. I see potential here. A way to turn some burn-out brother into a walking death machine. And you know, it’s my favorite time of year again. I’ve got the perfect way to get you on board with our way of thinking out here without you having to lose your cherry to a bullet.
CUT TO:
EXT. CAMP - DAY
(Shot of blazing sun, tilt down to troops in circular formation around PRIVATE MARS, kneeling, bare-chested, in the bright, noon-time sun and is using a pick to break-up the rocks before he can scrape a small amount out of the hole with his entrenching tool. He doesn’t speak, he only digs. If he stops for a break, after a few pants a private steps over to the hole and pours water on him from his canteen. This goes on until we only see sporadic shovelfuls of dirt flying from the foxhole. SERGEANT HAMMER lectures the men. SERGEANT HAMMER is in rapture, like he’s watching the best part of a movie and can’t contain himself. This must be why he joined the Army -- or certainly why he keeps re-enlisting.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
Dig, dig! They did this at Iwo Jima and it was sloppy! Intelligence reports that Charlie has made over two hundred miles of tunnels throughout the northern-third of the peninsula. It is suspected that seventeen miles of that number extend to within a click of our current position. The slants can dig in their sleep! We must be even better! To defeat the Viet Cong we must think beyond the Viet Cong. Let’s get in his head: What does he want? Why, unlike Private Mars, does he think he’s no more important than his collective, communist whole? (He looks at the hole, swishes mouth with canteen water, spits near PRIVATE MARS, but not on him.) How can he live in such an environment? First, he must dig. Oh yes, he must dig. Ladies, he’s gonna dig until I’m tired! The rest of you get rest and relaxation for the weekend! (Big cheers.) All but Mars, you’re dismissed!
DISSOLVE: The moon in phase, high in the dusky air. Tilt down to the same scene, after dinner. Some men are playing a late game of football.
(SERGEANT HAMMER hands PRIVATE MARS a tray of food. The other men are all in civilian clothes, smoking, partying and enjoying their newly-authorized R&R. It’s sprinkling kisses, no one is sober and everyone is laughing.)
EXT. CAMP - EVENING
SERGEANT HAMMER
At ease, Private Mars. I had the cook put extra everything on your plate. Eat it up. You’ll need the fuel for tomorrow.
PRIVATE MARS
(Standing in hole, the ground at chest level, being his table, he devours the meal:) Tomorrow, sir?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Don’t call me sir, I work for a living! (Shakes his head -- the privates they keep sending lately -- or is PRIVATE MARS just that way; knowing which waters to test and which shallows to avoid? He sits next to him, feet dangling into hole.) Mars, I want you to really have a fair chance at this. This hole is going to be your home for a while. I want to make sure you have enough time to make it big enough.
PRIVATE MARS
How big does it need to be, First Sergeant?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Well, take your time, as big as you want; it’s your cell. You have all weekend to dig it out. I’ve given the others a weekend pass for morale, welfare and recreation. You're new, you don't get any. Anyway, what kind of house you make on your own is your choice. But I’d say making a separate room from this latrine you just dug would be a good move.
PRIVATE MARS
I’m to stay down here alone?
SERGEANT HAMMER
You’ll have me to talk to. I need to get to know my privates better.
(See: Double Entendre, found in my appendix.)
PRIVATE MARS
I can’t-
SERGEANT HAMMER
You can’t what?
PRIVATE MARS
I can’t do this all by myself. The rocks just get heavier. I can’t.
SERGEANT HAMMER
There you go, saying what you can’t do. Go on, eat. I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you learn from the men who have done this before me. Talk to the engineers and have them write you up plans for... tools. Pulleys, levers, gears and springs. If you can build it with your own two hands, I’ll allow it. You want to build a shower that spits out beer, if I got it in the supply room, you got access to it. You want a tile floor for your latrine, you got it. No electricity, though. I don’t need power tools whining away in the night, giving away our position and giving me a headache. (Pause.) Yeah, this can be your little slice of paradise, and I’ll even allow you to build a pill-box mound with a window if you want to see daylight. I’ll tack on another day of R-N-R for the boys to let you really build it nice, and, using that little dirt pile you’ve got over there, I just want you to do one little thing for me.
PRIVATE MARS
What’s that?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Take a little time to make a few bricks out of that mound there and build a little monument to honor the unit, like we’ve been dead for a hundred years or something. Paint a mural on it, like you did at your courthouse back home...
PRIVATE MARS
Well, Top, that one said "Down With Whitey" but I miss-spelt Whitey and I shore got busted for it -- I- I don’t understand, Top.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Keep it simple. Like a tombstone, for your friends in the unit who love you, or at least say they love you.
PRIVATE MARS
Okay. No problem, First-Sergeant.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. Hole - Mid-Afternoon, Two Days Later.
(MARS is coating the crude brickpile of hastily-made bricks of uncut reeds and grass and dirt, making an oblong wall. He’s painted on top of a crude engraving an eagle with spread wings over skulls. If it was explained, you would know what everything is, like a fourth-grader’s fresco. Surprisingly, MARS has quite a natural talent with a brush -- wholly unrefined, though...)
SERGEANT HAMMER
Now that’s quite a monument, Private Mars. Is it really ready for inspection, or were those whispers I heard at Mass merely rumors stolen from lies?
PRIVATE MARS
No, I mean, yeah.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yeah?
PRIVATE MARS
I mean, yes, First-Sergeant. It's finally done. Just finished this one too. Careful, Top, that's still wet paint there.
SERGEANT HAMMER
At ease, Private. (Pause, he finally sees it.) Oh! That's our unit-crest on the mural there, that’s good. Yeah, real good!
PRIVATE MARS
Thank you, Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You might think this is a punishment, but it really isn’t. You’ve done amazing work, and look, you finished half-a day ahead of schedule. That calls for a drink. (Pulls-out a flask; drinks; offers to MARS. MARS drinks.) I can’t help but marvel at your tenacity. It must have taken your every waking hour to finish a room in such a short time. Have the men spoken to you yet?
PRIVATE MARS
Not a word, Top. No one will say anything to me; they say they will only answer questions concerning the construction of my palace.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Your palace?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes First-Sergeant, they call it the Taj Mahal.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Do they now? (Another swig.) Want to give me a tour of this palace of yours?
PRIVATE MARS
(Taking flask, drinks a double-swallow:) Yes, First-Sergeant.
(They walk around the back side of the mound and there is a quaint little iron gate with a padlock and a cowbell.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
Nice touch! The boys give you this?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes. They got it from a bombed-out Bhuddist Temple about a click from here. They even put the wreath on it.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Lead-on. Why does this floor tile have grooves?
PRIVATE MARS
Well, Sexton and the other engineers told me how to make this slanted ramp so that rainwater collects in my laundry tank. That’s why this upstairs porch has bricks with holes, so all the rain comes in and goes down the drain, which goes to here.
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Going in, impressed:) Plumbing? Very nice.
PRIVATE MARS
The living room: A deluxe latrine, mirror-backed candles, furniture, books and a radio.
SERGEANT HAMMER
I thought I said no electronics.
PRIVATE MARS
I know, Top, but Private Small says it’s from World War II, when there wasn’t anything modern like today, so it shouldn’t count. You even hafta use this crank to charge the battery, so it’s not like it’s really electric at all. I can get the Armed Forces Radio on channel Zulu Seven, and I hear song static and sometimes sounds like Charlie talkin’ on Romeo Four. I shore don't understand a lick of it, but from the sound of it, I swear, they're talking about us!
SERGEANT HAMMER
(Amused:) Fine. I’ll allow it if you hook it up with a line to our P-A system. I’ll send Private Faulkner down with a line. When you’re having a good time down here, I want to be sure the boys up above can hear it and have a good time as well. Plus, maybe one of them speaks a little Vietnamese and might tell us all what they're really saying.
PRIVATE MARS
Yeah! Yeah! I mean -- I think I’m beginning to think I understand what this punishment is all about, Top.
SERGEANT HAMMER
I told you, it’s not punishment, it’s a sanctuary. What do you think you got so figured out there?
PRIVATE MARS
Well, like it’s about how the guys kinda helped me out while I was making this place. They’d give me advice, you know, like, unit comra-dairee.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Well, that might be a part of it. Mind if I sit down?
PRIVATE ARES
We can sit in the smoke-house if you want.
SERGEANT HAMMER
There’s a smoke-house?
(A curtain is pulled and whalla! An arched entryway...)
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, Sergeant, it even has a terrarium where light can pour in half the day and I can barbecue all the duck I want because there’s a little smoke-stack that goes through the roof here and it goes out into the trees so as not to be seen by Charlie -- and it keeps all the bugs away, even the ants. Cool, huh?
SERGEANT HAMMER
An engineering marvel. That's why you were firing those bricks... Now that’s quite an achievement. (Pause.) I see you’re growing pot.
PRIVATE MARS
It’s my baby. Charlotte. She’s ready to bud, I couldn’t leave her back in the tent where the guys would smoke her all up. I can bake some of these lower buds into brownies with the chocolate I got in cool-storage and share brownies with the men if you want.
SERGEANT HAMMER
They’re plenty busy having fun. We’ll just smoke the pot ourselves, quietly, and we'll keep Charlotte our own little secret. (Pause.) That wasn’t a request, Private. (MARS produces a .45 caliber pistol. There is a flash of tension, and then, sudden realization. MARS blazes-up the bowl inside the hollowed-out pistol. They toke throughout. HAMMER bogarts a little, but it's certainly a bonding moment among the two enlisted soldiers of varied backgrounds.) Brownies, huh? You saying you have an oven?
PRIVATE MARS
A kiln, they say -- it's got this little slot under the woodstove. Gotta weeks’ worth of dried cowpatties at the back of the storeroom.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Storeroom? Just how many chambers are in this wondrous home? It’s a regular Parnassus in here!
PRIVATE MARS
I told you they call it my palace. Here’s the laundry tank; it’s got running brook, a pool of pebbles, and a little fountain. I do my transcendental meditations here. Sometimes it feels like I’m already back at home. If I plug-up the drain I get fresh water to bathe-in -- and if I slide open this rock, the heat under the stove heats the bath water all the way under the pebbles, cool huh?
SERGEANT HAMMER
This is truly amazing, Private Mars. You’ve made a hole fit for a king. Where does the water go?
PRIVATE MARS
I got these ‘lochs’ that tell time for me with a water clock that’s like the sundial in the Terrarium. First squad showed me that trick. Gravity creates a suction that pumps the latrine water and sludge back into the river at the side of the hill. Check it: No smell.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Well this all certainly shadows that brick tombstone out there, Private Mars. Frankly, when I saw that, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
PRIVATE MARS
That was just added last because you told me to do something with the dirt from that first day, so I did. It didn’t take too long to make. I can paint real fast. I did it over breakfast. Want some leftover French Crepes? They real good. I made lots extra. Want some?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Oh no, they’re for you. You’ve certainly earned this stay, Mars. I take it you’ve got enough food and water to last you for... a week?
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, Sergeant, I got a whole mess o’ food; nuff for two-or-three weeks when you thrown in them C-rats. I got some hard-cider brewin', too!
SERGEANT HAMMER
Good, good. I want you to relax and not worry about the war or anything for a while. Relax and enjoy your stay. Try to forget that it is confinement. If you need me, just ring that cowbell you got there -- I might bring a present or two of my own. (Tokes deeply.) Ring it day or night, I’ll be around anyway... with nothing better to do...
PRIVATE MARS
Sergeant-
SERGEANT HAMMER
Yes, Private Mars?
PRIVATE MARS
You seemed so tough at first, I thought you really didn’t like me. I- this hardly seems like punishment, being locked in here. Chillin’ with Charlotte, eating my fancy pancakes, getting drunk and stoned all day -- it don’t seem like I’m in trouble at all.
SERGEANT HAMMER
I told you, you're not in trouble, you're still cherry... Well, when you think you’ve figured it out, just tell me and if you’re right, we’ll fill it all in and it all will be over and we’ll go back to going on patrol and winning the war.
PRIVATE MARS
You mean the punishment is building it and not getting to use it?
SERGEANT HAMMER
No, no! Enjoy youself, take your time. Plus, you’ve got to have the right answer, right? I’m just saying if you really get too lonely for Charlie, let me know and we’ll cave in this little palace.
PRIVATE MARS
(Almost tokes, says:) Well, I don’t want to-
SERGEANT HAMMER
Mars, I told you already, you’re confined to quarters for one week and that ain’t changing. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll discuss it then. As you were.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. TAJ MAHAL, Front Porch
(The two sit on patio furniture, resting neatly in the grooved tiles. Sunset. A lady crooner in Vietnamese is singing something in the style of Our Day Will Come by Ruby And The Romantics. It lasts throughout the scene until it segues into the same chick moaning something in the style of To Know Him Is To Love Him by The Teddy Bears. [Eventually, HAMMER whistles along.] Ironically, miles away, COLONEL STONE is belting-out the same tune in Korean for a quirky, robe-wearing Brigadier General.)
SERGEANT HAMMER
Now, that. (Hits a fat joint, pockets one from a pile in the middle of the patio table. He sets down a half-full glass.) That’s some good lemonade. Truly the best in the bush, Mars.
PRIVATE MARS
(Offers tall bottle, half-empty.) Another shot of whiskey?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Absolutely. Would ya look at that sunset! Perfect.
PRIVATE MARS
The radio says it’s gonna rain.
SERGEANT HAMMER
The radio’s right. (Sniffs the smoke at the end of the roach and passes it.) I smell it. Plus, my formerly-airborne knees tell me it's gonna be one whopper of a thundercloud.
PRIVATE MARS
It's been so hot, I welcome it. (Toke. Pause.) How do you think the old mud-wall is gonna hold up in the rain?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Well, that’s just the real lesson, isn’t it? You can’t see it from here, can you? Mmm-mmm. Mars, you barbecue better than anybody I know. I’ve got to take a drumstick back with me. Mmmm! You sure missed your calling. I should have broken your cherry with some K-P duty. An’ anytime you ever wanna volunteer, that’s fine with me, just let me know. (Swallows MARS’ meat ... No, no, no ... He chews on MARS’ drumstick... No, uh, MARS’ fat, turkey leg. Eurgh! HAMMER swallows the last of his portion of a delectable dish of fattened poultry lovingly-prepared by MARS.) The mud-wall, huh? Aw, the unit’s tombstone is fine. The paint’s done wershed off of it, but you can still see the unit’s crest okay.
PRIVATE MARS
It was a test. A test for me. (Points to outside:) The unit crest.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You’re halfway out of here. This hole is truly marvelous, but what stays; what ever lasts? (Looks as if reading the tombstone through the wall and ceiling:) That little mud pile placard out back will be all there is to remind you about the men who helped you build this hole. This hole is your vanity, your indulgence. What keeps you in also keeps other things out. That brick-pile is a legacy; a symbol. Only when you thought of others did you think of the monument -- it’s a memorial of a hole: It’s all they’ll ever want to see; it’s for all they offered when asked to give freely, and it’s the only thanks that they’ll ever get.
PRIVATE MARS
I should have made something better out there. I should have spent more time on it.
SERGEANT HAMMER
You should do what reflects your understanding. You could have built the Washington Monument out there and lived in a rat-hole yourself, but you didn’t. There is no right answer, only your current perspective of what the right answer is.
PRIVATE MARS
Should I go back now? (Puts out roach, lights a cigarette:) Have I learned my lesson?
SERGEANT HAMMER
I’d say you’ve learned what’s important to think about. You’ve been livin’ in here, let’s see, two days. It’s been five days since I had you on the carpet. Okay. Five more days alone in here, and then you’re back with the unit and nothing bad goes on your record, okay?
PRIVATE MARS
Okay.
SERGEANT HAMMER
Good. (Lights a joint for the road, hands lighter back to PRIVATE MARS:) Consider your cherry popped. If anyone razzes you, tell me. As you were, Private.
(We follow SERGEANT HAMMER, who picks up a meaty drumstick of an extra-spicy, smoked, barbecue turkey on his way out of the hole. He locks the padlock, tokes, smiles, cheerily waves goodbye and casually walks around the mound. He begins to whistle along to the tune playing inside the palace and eventually all we hear is his whistling. HAMMER begins a leisurely stroll. Through the foliage, we briefly get a glimpse of the top of something round, like the top of a golden dome, like what seen on a state’s capital building, only more flattened. It’s painted and complete, but the shot doesn’t allow enough to see that it’s anything other than a structure of some sort. HAMMER continues happily walking along. Tormented noises and yelling can be heard; very faintly. SERGEANT HAMMER listens to the sounds pouring from the outdoor speakers and correctly whistles-along with the light oldies song faintly played all along -- expertly wired from PRIVATE MARS’ little, five-room hole under a terraced patio. It begins to softly rain. SERGEANT HAMMER gracefully walks the stone path that had been added recently, and descends an intricate, sprial, wooden stairway down a steep incline, toward a deep, deep quarry site, dug into the side of a hill, leaving a mound sloping downward from the ground level; a mound that presents a Mount-Rushmore-looking bamboo-mud-and-clay effigy of Commander-In-Chief Richard Nixon. Engraved on the wall along the two fire-escape-looking bamboo stairways decending from Dick’s double-chin, are, in decending order, the effigies of Secretary Melvin R. Laird, Chief Of Staff General Westmoreland and a host of other Army commissioned officers -- the entire chain of command, down to the company commanders. The narrow gallery-boardwalk descends to a wider, Pre-Columbian scene. Tormented noises and yelling can faintly be heard, a touch less faint than before. SERGEANT HAMMER stops to yell at the men from an awning, where COLONEL STONE’S stern likeness juts from the wall, high above the men below who are the source for the tormented noises. Two massive beams of wood planking carry a fly-wheel system, rigged from Dick’s nose and a long, bamboo, cigarette-holder that protrudes from Dick’s mouth. Dick’s carved eyes are manned, moving spot-lights that inspect the work-site and will instantly focus on anyone SERGEANT HAMMER points out. Otherwise, the muddy site looks more like an ancient South-American cliff dwelling than a U.S. Army encampment. As the camera zooms out to accommodate an establishing shot necessary to continue the scene without showing too much, we observe that at least five hundred of the men at the site are actively working on a final masterpiece; the last muddy monument to be inevitably washed-away over the course of the country’s rainy season --The men are digging, making bricks and lugging them to a one-hundred-foot pyramid that almost goes to half of the height of the mud-quarry, which is over half of the height of the foliage-covered hill. On the sides of the pyramid are also painted, elaborate carvings of the U.S. Army Seal, the unit’s battalion crest and a divisional crest. Another small, fifteen-foot high monument of a reclining sphinx is nearby, looking much-like the sphinx in Northern Africa, except it has a first-sergeant’s rank on the Egyptian head-gear and has SERGEANT HAMMER’S likeness on the face. Other senior-enlisted men’s likenesses adorn landmarks strewn about the site. Towering all but the hill itself and the incomplete pyramid is the only finished work: A fifty-foot tall, green-and-black-painted mud statue of PRIVATE MARS dressed as an Egyptian Pharaoh and showered in adornment, a statue fully-shown after SERGEANT HAMMER delivers the remainder of his line. As lightning flares above in the darkened sky we see that in a strange way, the unmoving eyes of PRIVATE MARS survey all. The statue is flanked by two other steep, wide, bamboo staircases for the workers stretching to and from the work-site. It is a literal hole in a draw, which could be easily filled. Higher-ranking sergeants act as overseers and yell from the scaffold-platforms of the narrow staircases. They verily echo the first-sergeant’s over-bearing sentiments. The non-commissioned officers know that the commissioned officers won’t be back for at least another week. It’s the time of the season for Summer Camp: The division officers’ annual, top-down command-briefing in that far-away city of Saigon. SERGEANT HAMMER needs no megaphone to be heard over the light-and-sappy music that thunders with ample amplification over the modern public address system in the deep, deep quarry. It’s raining buckets, everyone is sober and no one is laughing.)
SERGEANT HAMMER (Cont’d)
We’re burning daylight! Dig, dig! You! (Flicks his burning joint into the quarry. The mud-covered and anonymous private looks up from the mud, where he’s been making a mess of making bricks. He is careful not to touch the half-smoked joint beside him, even if it is the only lit cigarette he’s seen all day:) Yes, you, Private! You want to play in the mud, that’s fine, get your squad leader, he’ll show you how to make a brick! We got all day, ladies! You’ll be beggin’ me to go back to the bush! Work! (Throws drumstick bone, spitting out the last bite:) Dig! The Pharaoh has decreed that he will inspect the work in five days! Only five days left! Anyone caught slacking in their work will be put on additional duty! Work! Work for your Pharaoh! Work for the best of your unit, your leader, your God-made-flesh, the mighty Private Mars!
TILT UP
ECU: Anonymous private
POV: Ground-level view of towering Mars statue; lightning flashes.
ELS: Entire work site
(The first sergeant belts out maniacal and villainous laughter as lightning flashes and rain drenches the work site, making the work a two-step-forward, one-step-back process.)
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. TOP'S TENT - Later.
(PRIVATE MARS is at parade-rest in the first sergeant’s tent.)
PRIVATE MARS
No Sergeant, I do not need to go back into the hole! I don’t ever wanna go back there!
SERGEANT HAMMER
I was beginning to think you had as much fun filling it all in as I did. What did making the hole teach you?
PRIVATE MARS
We work together as a team, or not at all, First-Sergeant!
SERGEANT HAMMER
I’ve got my eye on you, Mars. You may just be corporal material after all.
PRIVATE MARS
Yes, Sergeant.
SERGEANT HAMMER
But not today. Dismissed. (PRIVATE MARS goes from a strack parade-rest to a posture of attention, does a perfect about-face and gets to the tent flap:) And Mars?
PRIVATE MARS
(Turns, at attention:) Top?
SERGEANT HAMMER
Don’t let the other guys razz you about being the Pharaoh. I give them a three-day pass to break in the new guy and they even screw that up. For that, they had a week of extra duty coming to them. All of them, and I got another list started already. Don’t get on that list. (Pause.) You understand? Now get outta here!
FTB