Scene 1.08 - Foxhole Blues
EST: EXT. Jungle - Sunset.
FADE IN
ELS: An expanse of grassland in South Vietnam.
(Throughout the shot sequence, the soldiers' foxhole is visible, and the two soldiers are looking down their rifle barrels and are heavily camoflauged. If one was to watch the sequences over and over, one would be sure to spot the two. For the untrained eye, however, they are invisible. Immediately noticable in the shot from the onset is this intermittent glint at the center of the screen. Something highly-reflective and small is twirling and twinkling in the wind, suspended from a tree and it seems to catch the setting sun's rays and reflect them back into the camera's eye on cue. CHARLIE, wearing a uniform of rags, low-crawls from the bottom of the screen toward the glimmering object. His head is obscured by a wicker hat resembling an upside-down wok. It is smaller and thicker than those traditionally worn by the Chinese and Koreans. CHARLIE'S dirty and camoflaged weapon is strapped across his back and he pauses every few moments or so, unsure. He looks around, and seeing nothing, continues slowly moving toward the glimmering object. Here's all the warning you're gonna get -- it's a war story -- things are gonna get gory from here...)
LS: CHARLIE getting closer to the tree as the sun begins to set and the light temperature begins to change.
MCU: Zooming-in from behind CHARLIE, we see him slowly get up upon a knee, and he looks around. He slowly reaches for a small piece of metal suspended from a branch above, blowing in the breeze and glimmering sunlight.
ECU: We see it's a P-38, one of those two-piece can openers that come with U.S. military C-rations tied to a thread from a field sewing-kit and dangling from a small branch. The soldier's hand nearly touches it.
CU: We see the back of the hat explode in a mess of wicker, bone and blood as the report of a rifle sounds.
NOTE FOR LATER: Unlimited kills are not described, and may be placed so long as ARES and MARS triumph uninjured. No limit.
CUT TO: PRIVATE ARES and PRIVATE MARS in foxhole.
(The two laugh and PRIVATE ARES lifts his head from his scope of his M-14 and playfully socks PRIVATE MARS.)
PRIVATE MARS
Aw man, he went for it!
PRIVATE ARES
(Beaming:) Yep. I told you... That's how you kill Charlie with a P-38.
PRIVATE MARS
(Using a telescopic lens, he takes picture of the body with camera from his firing position.) Man, that is the coolest thing I've seen all week. I thought that it was just a shaggy-dog story. I always figured it was a load of bull; I ain' never tried it. I figured Charlie’d be smarter than that, damn! That's somethin'. I'm gonna have to try it now. Man, that guy's brains went everywhere. (Goes back to eating his rations.) Good shot, man.
PRIVATE ARES
Hey, when I first heard it, I thought it was a crock, but hey, there’s the proof. Just like fishin' or hunting coons back at home.
PRIVATE MARS
Coons?
PRIVATE ARES
(Innocent.) Yeah, raccoons. They're always eatin' our trash, and they get plenty big.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh. Man, I really never thought that would work. That's somethin'. Real cool.
PRIVATE ARES
It baits 'em good. Once Charlie sees somethin' shiny, he can't resist checking-it-out. When he sees what it is, he can't resist goin’ for it. Think about it; Charlie’s gotta open his cans with rocks.
PRIVATE MARS
Man, I bet that gets old real fast.
PRIVATE ARES
Yeah, I bet it does.
(PRIVATE ARES opens another can. Like everyone else in the Army, with a fresh can-opener issued in every C-ration, he’s got P-38s out the wazoo. A rooster crows once in the distance. Only PRIVATE MARS takes notice. He goes to his position and levels his rifle outward in a direction away from the hanging P-38; far right.)
PRIVATE MARS
Why they got you way out here for anyway? I thought you were with C company.
PRIVATE ARES
I am. I musta ticked-off the Colonel somethin' fierce.
PRIVATE MARS
You ain't lyin' cuz they only send you out here if'n they don't wanna ever see you again. Whatja do?
PRIVATE ARES
Nuthun! Colonel’s just mad because the camera guys put me on the T-V more ‘an him. I can't help it if I'm younger and better lookin’.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh, that was you? Hey, I heard you said you like it here. What kind of-
(The rooster crows again, louder. PRIVATE MARS looks through his M-16's firing sight.)
PRIVATE ARES
Yeah, I do like it here. You want my cream corn? It looks about as green and nasty as the peanut butter.
PRIVATE MARS
Nah, save that for the rooster.
PRIVATE ARES
Rooster? What rooster?
(The rooster gives a cock-a-doodle-doo and PRIVATE MARS pauses, sees movement, swiftly moves his barrel an inch to the left and begins firing his weapon. Pause. He moves the barrel to the right and fires-off a few more rounds. A blood-curdling scream of a young man is heard in the distance. The man in the bush screams again and is suddenly silent.)
PRIVATE MARS
(Ducks-down, joins a shocked PRIVATE ARES and stays quiet, although he is breathing just as fast as PRIVATE ARES:) Missed the head shot, don't even think I got center-mass. Gotta check. First, I’m gonna have a cigarette. (Pause, his hands are shaking too much to light a match. PRIVATE ARES lights a match for him and we notice his hands are shaking, too. PRIVATE ARES lights up as well.) See -- there's a rooster out-there, giving away Charlie's position freely -- and I mean freely. Lately, I've been feedin' him and I call him Sherlock, like that detective I saw in the movies. I mean that chicken knows things no chicken back at home ever had a clue about. Nothing like in my auntie's coop; I mean that bird's something else. You see, Sherlock knows that Charlie wants to put him in a pot, or somethin’ much-worse -- he just knows it. (Thinks about a few past incidents for a second or two, tilts his head.) I tell you, that rooster's SMART. I've seen it do things that- (The rooster crows again. PRIVATE MARS checks his weapon and peers over the edge of the foxhole. He changes the lens of his camera from telephoto to wide-angle.) See, Sherlock knows the difference between us and Charlie. He knows Charlie wants to kill him and he knows we want to kill Charlie so he knows if he helps us, he gets a can of cream-corn. Or better, sunflower-seeds; and best-of-all: No more Charlie.
(PRIVATE MARS takes the cream corn from PRIVATE ARES, furtively walks out to the area where the rooster was crowing and sets down the can. The rooster comes out clucking and begins eating as PRIVATE MARS goes deeper into the bush and fires his weapon several times. A short-lived shout is heard from the victim before the final shot. He brazenly jumps back into the foxhole, speaking much louder.)
PRIVATE MARS (Cont'd)
Stupid kid was tryin' to play dead. I knew I'd just wounded him. (He pats his camera, begins to rewind the film and reload the camera.) That makes twelve, time to reload. He was a V-C recruit, like the one you got. Just a kid. They just keep getting younger.
PRIVATE ARES
(Picking his teeth, using back of dog tags as a mirror:) Well, they ain’t getting any older now, are they?
PRIVATE MARS
(Feels pack; he's out.) Can I bum a square? (Pause, snaps case closed. He’s quick.) Thanks, bro. He musta been humpin’ with yours in the gulley, they musta got lost or something; they ain nuthin' out here but bugs.
PRIVATE ARES
Well, they’re back with their comrades now.
PRIVATE MARS
And I got my head-shot. Think about it. Just two more and we’re back inside the outer-perimeter. (Takes long drag.) Twenny more an’ we get back to the rear with the gear.
PRIVATE ARES
Then what?
PRIVATE MARS
Then we start working for the trip home.
PRIVATE ARES
Oh man, that’s gotta be in the thousands. We’d need to wax a division for that.
PRIVATE MARS
We ain’t got nuthin’ else to do. Believe me, I’m keepin’ track, so don’t worry. Now what were we really talkin' about?
STARLIGHT
(The last glimmers of sunlight leave the horizon. It’s those twilight minutes. The rooster lightly clucks in the distance.)
PRIVATE ARES
Why the Colonel's got it out for me.
PRIVATE MARS
Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Officers don't hold grudges long -- too many other guys to pick on.
PRIVATE ARES
I hope so. I had it pretty good. I was seeing my girl every night. Now, who knows?
PRIVATE MARS
Women? Tsk, that's another story. Don't tick them off. They'll bring up something you did years ago just because they've got nothing else to be mad at you for. You married?
PRIVATE ARES
I'm engaged.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh. Well, why didn't you marry her before you got here? You'd be getting paid twice as much.
PRIVATE ARES
No, I met her here; she’s Vietnamese.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh. That's all right, there's a lotta pretty girls here. Do you love her?
PRIVATE ARES
Oh yes. She makes me feel so important. And she only speaks her good English aroun’ me, ain't that cool?
(A strange, long cluck is heard from the rooster. It hesitantly goes back to gently clucking.)
PRIVATE MARS
Yeah, man, real cool. (He looks into sight of his rifle.) What's her name?
PRIVATE ARES
Her name's Shoni. Soon to be Mrs. Shoni Ares.
PRIVATE MARS
So when's the lucky day?
ARTIFICIAL LIGHTING RESUMES
(The rooster stops clucking.)
PRIVATE ARES
Well, she hasn't said yes yet, but I know she will sooner or later. She loves me.
PRIVATE MARS
(He looks back at him, without moving his rifle.) Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure 'bout that?
PRIVATE ARES
She still charges the other guys. She stopped charging me over two weeks ago and-
PRIVATE MARS
She's a prostitute?
PRIVATE ARES
Well, I guess they all are over here. Until they get married. Local custom or something.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh. Anyway, keep in mind what I said.
PRIVATE ARES
About what? What didja say about what?
PRIVATE MARS
About women. Don't tick 'em off. Remember what they say about a woman scorned.
PRIVATE ARES
What they say?
PRIVATE MARS
Shh! Hear that?
PRIVATE ARES
(He gets up.) Hear what?
PRIVATE MARS
That's what I mean. I ain't hearin' nuthin'.
PRIVATE ARES
(He levels his rifle outward.) So you gonna tell me?
PRIVATE MARS
Tell you what?
PRIVATE ARES
What they say about women?
PRIVATE MARS
(Sotto:) Brother, I've got nothing to say about women except that when you see them being all nice and sweet, run the other way, because it's like the calm before the storm.
PRIVATE ARES
(Looks through scope, scans right and left, looking for movement.) Kinda like right now.
PRIVATE MARS
Yeah. Like now; though I wish you hadn't said that. Something's shore up.
PRIVATE ARES
Maybe it's nothing.
PRIVATE MARS
(Raspy:) It's Charlie, I can feel it.
PRIVATE ARES
What are we gonna do?
PRIVATE MARS
(He slowly looks about.) Wait it out.
PRIVATE ARES
Wanna smoke some grass?
PRIVATE MARS
Was that a question? Use light discipline, though. It's gettin' dark. Real dark.
PRIVATE ARES
(Blazing joint in cupped hand, passes it.) My stomach's been queasy since I took those vitamin pills.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh, I know, I'll probably get the runs by mornin’. And them pills; them ain’t no vitamins. Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear from command. Them ain’t vitamins. They for Ho-Chi-Minh Ball-Rot. (No reaction.) They for V-D.
PRIVATE ARES
V-D? I'm practically a married man; I don't need no pills for V-D.
PRIVATE MARS
Maybe not, but the Army thinks you do. Why you think they made all the fuss, having the Colonel there to supervise it all? There's gotta be at least a dozen brothels within twenny miles of here. Here, sorry to bogart.
PRIVATE ARES
(Hits it.) Seventeen. Yeah, but I wish the Colonel hadn't been such a jerk. I was just bein' honest. He didn't hafta take it out on me.
PRIVATE MARS
Who else they got to take it out on? Man, the officers will do that to you every time. They take it out on all of us. (Pause.) You know, Stone's lucky he made it past major.
PRIVATE ARES
Are you talkin’ about what I think you’re talkin’ about?
PRIVATE MARS
Hey, I wasn’t here; I was still in high-school back then. Jefferson Davis High, Montgomery, Alabama, first graduating class of '68. I got an alibi, my name's back there on the plaque. I had nothin’ to do with it.
PRIVATE ARES
You are talkin’ about what I think you're talkin’ about. You're talking about Lieutenant Fragg.
PRIVATE MARS
That wasn't his name, just what they call him now. Don't let the officers hear you talkin’ about it.
PRIVATE ARES
I won't. What do you know?
PRIVATE MARS
Well, there was this really green second loo-ee picked from the rot-see cherry tree. And the story ain’ really about the L-T, it’s about this corporal in his platoon. His name was Calderelli, and I guess he was part of the Sicilian Mafia or something before he joined-up. They sent him in to take a hill, and Colonel Stone was only a major back then. Didja know Stone got two promotions in one year? I didn't think they could do that. Anyway, he-
(He suddenly jumps up to his position, rifle level. PRIVATE ARES drops the joint and does the same. The bugs, the birds, everything stops.)
PRIVATE ARES
What is it?
PRIVATE MARS
(Raspy:) It got all quiet again. I don’t like it.
PRIVATE ARES
(Also raspy:) Yeah, and the bugs ain't flyin' around no more.
PRIVATE MARS
Charlie's up to something.
PRIVATE ARES
Think they're out there?
PRIVATE MARS
Oh, they're out there. They're close. And they're gettin' closer.
PRIVATE ARES
You're paranoid. I don't see nothing in my scope. Nothing.
PRIVATE MARS
Paranoia; mebbe. Got any more grass?
PRIVATE ARES
Loads; I get it real cheap at the firebase. I got connections.
PRIVATE MARS
Oh yeah? I hear you C-company dogs get all the good dope.
PRIVATE ARES
We share our supply tent with Division H-Q. You think we'd let them leave us out?
PRIVATE MARS
Should I roll it while you keep watch?
PRIVATE ARES
Got another rolled already.
PRIVATE MARS
Brother, you're a saint.
PRIVATE ARES
(Sparks it in cupped hand; chuckling:) Yeah, just don't tell nobody.
FTB