Story of G. I. Joe

	Over the title of the picture come the words of a song:
	"I've gone away for to stay a little while but I'm coming back -- 
	I'm coming back if it be one-thousand miles."
	The BIVOUAC in the desert fades in. Dawn is just beginning 
	to break over the distant hills. The chill and half-dark of 
	the night is still on the scene. But now there's a great 
	sense of stir and activity. There is a grinding roar of 
	motors as troop trucks, jeeps and armored cars maneuver 
	about, taking on their loads of men and artillery and 
	uncoiling to form a thin snake of a line that is just 
	beginning to head off across the desert floor to the 
	distant hills to the right. A Sergeant is supervising.  
	Next the view weaving through the movement of the convoy, 
	discloses some of its action: Trucks loaded with men and 
	supplies grind past as they swing into line; a jeep 
	jouncing down the line like a shepherd dog; men on the 
	double-quick run toward trucks that are loading up while 
	still waiting their turn in line. Then we see the TROOP 
	TRUCK as several GI's pile into it and move to the fore. 
	Foremost is Gawky, with a pup still cuddled in his arms. 
	Behind him pile in several other GI's, among them Murphy, 
	Lopez, Mew, Dondaro. As they do so, Lieutenant Walker, a 
	raw-boned, business-like fellow of twenty-six, strides 
	into the scene from the right. Gawky's pup, in its 
	exuberance, lets out a yip. Without breaking his stride 
	Walker scans the truck and heads toward Gawky, the view 
	moving in.
			(with a sharp, between-the
			-teeth whistle at Gawky)
		Hey you--! Hey you! Get that pooch out
 		of there. Whataya want to do, get him 
			(Gawky looks up, disturbed; 
			he hesitates for a moment.) 
		Awright! Awright! Quit stalling!
	He goes on, not waiting to see whether his order will be 
	carried out; he knows it will.
		All right, all right, you heard the 
	We get a close moving view of the GI's and the PUP. 
	Reluctantly, hungrily, Gawky passes the pup on to the next 
	man, who now silently passes it on to Murphy, who hands it 
	on to another GI, who then nudges Mew, whose back is turned. 
	Mew, having missed Walker's order, delightedly receives the 
	dog and starts to pet it. The man beside him nudges him and 
	gestures "out." Mew's face falls; he pulls the pup apart 
	from a button the mutt's playfully begun to chew and 
	reluctantly hands him on to the next man, who silently 
	passes him down the line. As the hands of each man leave 
	the dog, there's a lingering reluctance in their gesture, 
	as if the very warmth and furry softness of the little 
	animal body gave them a sense of something they knew they'd 
	never find again in this arid desert -- something they'd 
	want to cling to.

		Ah, you poor little fella, you're 
		going to freeze out there.
	Dondaro, receiving the pup at the end of the truck, hasn't 
	got the heart to toss it away. For a moment he doesn't know 
	what to do. Suddenly he drops it to someone off the truck.
	The view moving and stopping on Ernie, who had approached 
	the truck a moment before, we see him lugging his bedroll 
	and duffle bag. Somewhat startled, Ernie holds the pup and 
	looks up just as the view widens to include Walker coming 
	into the scene.

		What do you want me to do with it?

	We then see the BACK of the TRUCK, the view featuring WALKER 
	and ERNIE -- with the GI's in the background. Walker is 
	about to order Ernie to get rid of the mutt, but at the same 
	instant he catches a glimpse of the GI's, their eyes all 
	hungrily directed at the pup in Ernie's arms. His eyes shift 
	away. A little smile plays about his lips. He seizes on 
	Ernie's armband as an excuse to countermand his order 
	without seeming to do so.
		Correspondent, huh? Well, you want 
		to get up to the front, don't you? 
			(Over his shoulder) 
		Here, make room for this man.
	Remembering Walker's former order, Ernie starts to set the 
	pup down, but Walker intercepts him.
		Well, get in, get in! Make it snappy!
	For an instant the two men's eyes meet. A flash of 
	understanding passes between them. Walker briskly 
	turns and walks away -- "the cop who wasn't there."
			(going off toward 
			his seat in front)
		All right, let's get moving.
	Ernie quickly starts to scramble up the truck, pup in one 
	arm, bedroll and duffle-bag dragged behind him with the 
	other. He hands the pup on to Dondaro, who quickly passes 
	it on and cheerfully gives Ernie a lift.

	... [text missing]
	For a brief instant Ernie looks resentfully at Dondaro. This 
	is the second time this guy's called him "Pop." But he grins 
	as he sees, in a close, moving view the pup being passed 
	back from hand to hand on its way to Gawky. The rhythm of 
	the camera movement has a quicker, more joyous tempo this 
	time. The view stops on Gawky as he finally gets the pup. 
	Gawky, in his delight, quickly reaches in his pocket for a 
	can of C rations, and he holds it out to the pup. The pup 
	sniffs it and growls at it. -- The boys' laughter is free, 
	easy, exuberant now. The tension is broken. All's well 
	with the world. They and Gawky have their pup back.
	We get a close view of the TRUCK WHEEL. It spins in the sand 
	as the motor is heard starting. Perhaps that yelp of delight 
	that comes over the scene is from the pup -- or perhaps it's 
	just the truck wheel biting into the sand and starting 
	forward. Next, the view moves up slightly as the truck spins 
	around, bringing the rear of the truck into focus and we see 
	Ernie, still being hauled onto the truck by the seat of his 
	pants. Then as the truck moves on and off into the desert 
	the scene dissolves to a long moving view of the convoy 
	rolling along a desert road. It's mid-day and the sun beats 
	down on the GI's.
	Inside the TROOP TRUCK: Ernie is seated next to Dondaro. 
	Opposite and alongside are the rest of the gang. Although 
	his presence is accepted he's still outside their tight 
	little clique. He listens with amused interest to their 
	jabber. The boys are keyed up, not tense -- but full of the 
	fizz and vinegar of young healthy animals confined in a 
	small space on their way to "the big game."
		Got a cigarette? 

	Ernie reaches into his pocket and hands Dondaro a pack. 
	Dondaro takes one and without thinking twice, passes the 
	pack along to the rest of the boys. Ernie watches the 
	progress of the pack around the truck.
		Hey, Gawky, what're you going to 
		call that purp? Betty Gordon?
	Gawky grins as everyone laughs. Their spirits have risen 
			(calling down the line)
		Lay off the Gawk. He's my territory.
	ERNIE and DONDARO are seen closely.
		Who's Betty Gordon?
			(shaking his head; 
			laughing amiably)
		Ah, the kid's been waiting for a 
		letter from her ever since we left 
		the States.
	Warnicki leans over and returns Ernie's pack. It's empty. 
	He looks at it wryly. Dondaro notices it.
			(with a nod toward 
			the boys)
		Chain smokers. 
		Guess you're getting off at the first 
		airbase, ain't you, Pop?
			(ironically; with a 
			touch of bitterness)
		Correspondent, ain't you? The fliers 
		are the guys you guys always write 
		about. The Hollywood heroes. We're 
		just the mugs along for the ride, 
		that's all. Just for the ride. 
			(He looks across.) 
		Ask Wingless. He'll tell you.
	The view widens to include the others.
		Yeah? Just one plane and you're all 
		dead ducks. Just one plane and 
	Almost simultaneously with his voice, a sharp screech of 
	brakes is heard. The boys lurch forward. Several 
	automatically look up as if expecting a plane.
		All right, men. This is a break -- 
	And we see the rear of the truck as the boys, Ernie among 
	them, scramble off the truck. Walker comes toward Ernie.
		How far up you going, Mr. -- Mr. ...
		Pyle. End of the line. If it's okay 
		with you.
			(starting on)
			(Then, suddenly turning) 
		Pyle? You say Pyle? 
			(Ernie nods.) 
		Say, aren't you the guy that runs 
		that column about week-end trips or 

		Mostly -- or something --
			(Nodding toward the boys) 
		Pretty good-looking outfit you got.
		We're not an outfit yet!
			(Glancing at his watch) 
		Maybe by this time tomorrow we will 
		be. Say, come to think of it, my old 
		man reads your column. He thinks it's 

	Ernie looks up quickly at him. The sharp piping of whistles 
	are heard all down the road.
		Well, I'll be darned! 

		All right, men -- let's get going--

	The DESERT dissolves in at night: First we get a close view 
	of the RADIOMAN on the JEEP. He is sitting hunched up, 
	blanket around his shoulders, phones pressed to his ears, 
	listening to the radio. A smile comes to his face as if he 
	were hearing something delightful. Grinning, he removes the 
	earphones, snaps on the loudspeaker so that the soft, 
	rhythmic strains of a popular band orchestra can be heard.
		Hey, fellas, get a load of this -- 
		Artie Shaw --
	The view moves to the right, disclosing in a medium long 
	shot a convoy bivouacked for the night. Scores of pup tents, 
	interspersed with trucks, jeeps, armored cars, are spread 
	irregularly across the bright moonlit desert. In the 
	distance only mountains and sky are visible.
	As the music softly floats across the night, the view moves 
	in closer, weaving past tents, revealing the various 
	activities of the men preparatory to "blanket drill." Many 
	have their heads sticking out of the tents. Others are 
	reclining in various stages of relaxation.
	The camera comes to a halt on a pair of enormous feet, 
	sticking out of a tent flap. Their owner evidently is too 
	big for the normal sized tent. The view moves along the wall 
	of the tent to the front flap, which is open. The GI's head 
	extends beyond that too. He keeps staring at the star-
	studded sky.
				AD LIBS 
		Out of this world. Solid Jack--
	Looking into the tent we see Murphy in the foreground. 
	Within, a thin, medium-sized youngster, his bunk mate, is 
	huddling with the cold, for the tent flap is open. This is 
	Charley Mew, an Ohio farm boy, a child of neglect, naive and 
			(not really complaining) 
		Gee whiz, Murph -- I wish you weren't 
		so long -- it's sort of cold out here 
		in the open.
			(without turning)
		I'll cut my legs off.
			(almost apologetically)
		No, geez, you don't need to do 
		that ... 
			(Then; something 
			on his mind) 
		I hear we're getting into the real 
		business tomorrow.
		Well, so far as I'm concerned, they 
		can deal me out.
		The infantry ain't so worse--

			(cutting in; tersely)
		Look, this is a modern war, ain't 
		it? I'm a modern  guy -- the modern 
		age is up in the air. That's where I 
		belong. Not down here.

		They only washed you out because 
		you're too big. It ain't your fault.

		I'll cut my legs off. 

		Me, me, me.
	Inside another TENT: In the tent are Lopez and Sgt. Warnicki. 
	Lopez is obviously of Mexican extraction; Warnicki, a 
	muscular ex-coal miner. He is stolidly polishing his 
	tommy-gun. The music comes over.
		What do you think I ought to bring 
		Maria and the little fellow when I 
		go back?
	Warnicki looks up abruptly from his gun polishing.
		When you go home! 
			(Grimly, he sets about 
			polishing his gun again.) 
		If, and when, you mean.
	The gun catches a glint of the moonlight; Lopez catches a 
	glint of his meaning and nods solemnly.
	From another angle, the view favoring GAWKY. We see the mutt 
	licking Gawky's face. He grins down at it.
		If you had to sneak something out of 
		that village, why'n't you bring 
		something in skirts--
	Gawky is about to speak, but Dondaro shushes him as a long 
	silvery trumpet note arrows softly into the night sky.
		Sh--! Listen--don't interrupt the 
			(In ecstasy) 
		Murder-- !
	The announcer's voice is now heard coming over the radio 
	jeep. It is a husky, feminine, seductive voice. The radioman 
	listens delightedly.
		This is Berlin playing the jive 
		music of Artie Shaw--
		That's our Sally--
		Nothing sweeter 'n hotter in the 
		world, is there ... Remind you of 
		Rosalind, Sylvia, Phyllis, Nancy, 
		Mary, Ellen, Daisy .... yes, you bet 
		it does ... summer nights ... the 
		juke-box down the road ... cokes, 
		double malts ... a girl's soft 
		laughter in the moonlight.... 
		Tomorrow, you boys of the 18th 
		Infantry will meet our armies for 
		the first time ... the armies that 
		have beaten the world -- the French, 
		the British, the Russians -- What 
		chance do you stand--
			(reacting to her 
		Sez you -- Bring 'em on --
	The view moves past the faces of the soldiers as they listen.
		Why not be sensible -- be sensible 
		and surrender!
			(ad lib) 
		Oh, yeah!
		Be my guests in Germany. Dance with 
		our lovely girls -- They know how to 
		entertain nice young men like you.
			(calling out)
		Save one for me, sister, I'll be 
		right there.
		What a voice -- what a bedroom -- 
		what a --

	He clucks.
		I will now sing Germany's latest hit, 
		with lyrics written especially for 
		my nice handsome American friends. 
			(Now heard singing.) 
		Light for me a cigarette 
		In that small café where we met. 
		Let me feel your finger tips, 
		Linda, Linda, on my lips. 
		Where two lovers used to be 
		Are these echoes waiting for me, 
		And do you still wait for me too, 
		As Linda, my love, I wait for you.
	The view focusses on DONDARO and others in scattered tents.
		There's a piece of furniture I'd 
		like to push around.
		Turn that radio off.
	The radio is instantly clicked off. In the ensuing silence 
	some of the GI's quickly pull back into their tents. And we 
	see the group fairly closely, the view favoring Lopez as he 
	picks up his guitar.
			(as he strums) 
		It was Nazi music. Now it's mine -- 
		our first German prisoner.
	We get a long view of the mountains, sky and desert. And 
	over it comes Lopez soft strumming of "Lili Marlene" as if 
	the melody haunted the scene. The view moves slowly away 
	from the landscape to the bivouac, passing a lone sentry 
	pacing up and down, then resting for a moment on Dondaro, 
	his feet out of the tent. He hums as he gazes dreamily at 
	the sky. A little beyond him is Gawky, fast asleep, a smile 
	on his grimy face as the mutt snuggles its muzzle under his 
			(after humming some more)
		Pst -- hey, Pop! 
			(Ernie turns instinctively, 
			though resentfully at this 
			designation; but Dondaro 
			continues brashly:) 
		Why wasn't you born a beautiful dame? 
			(Then, as an afterthought) 
		Or even an ugly one.
	Ernie, half grinning a little uncomfortably, a little 
	nervously, doesn't quite know how to take it.
			(ad lib)
		Hey, why don't you guys pipe down?
		Awright! Awright! 
			(And we see him closely 
			as he turns over, gazing 
			at the sky.) 
		Tonight, boys -- tonight, I dream in 
	We get a fairly close view of Ernie, still cold and 
	uncomfortable, lying on the ground for the first time as 
	the scene slowly dissolves to a CURVE of ROAD. The convoy of 
	trucks is still moving forward. The vehicles go past the 
	camera at short intervals. The truck carrying Ernie swings 
	into view. Bill Walker and the driver can be seen in the cab. 
	As the van of the truck bounces by, the view moves with it a 
	little way. It is nearing sundown and the boys aren't quite 
	as full of fizz and vinegar as they were at high noon and 
	it's hot.
	Inside the TROOP TRUCK: The view favors the Air Guard who is 
	stolidly chewing gum as he keeps his eye on the sky. 
	Warnicki looks up to him.
		Hey, how much further we got to go?
		About twenty miles.
	The view slowly pulls back to include the others.
		How far?
		Twenty miles. Then you get out and 
		walk another ten -- you know, to get 
		the stiffness out of you.
		Where we going? China?
	Several sudden dull thud-thuds from the distance interrupt 
	him. They're repeated. Everyone grows still -- look at each 

		Hey -- that's ours -- 105's --
		Theirs -- 88's--

	They all grow tense. The artillery fires again. They all 
	look off toward the horizon, following which there is a 
	distant view of the HORIZON; With the darkening hills 
	illumined by flashes of artillery fire. Then we again see 
	the group, the view favoring the AIR GUARD.
		Thought you said twenty miles--

		That's what I said -- twenty miles--
	Suddenly without warning, he pounds the cab-roof with his 
	rifle butt. There is a shriek of brakes and the men are 
	half-thrown off their feet as the truck stops. Whistles and 
	cries are heard. The men are half petrified.
	Inside the CAB: There is a pounding on the roof. Walker has 
	already jumped on the seat and is opening the cab skylight. 
	The driver is hunched over the wheel, face down.
	We get a fairly close view of the TRUCK as an explosion 
	shakes it. The men scramble over its sides and we next see 
	the HIGHWAY at a low angle, with the men jumping forward and 
	out of sight, as other, closer explosions shake the earth.
	A close view of the TRUCK discloses WALKER firing at the 
	diving but still distant Stuka. He is alone, utterly 
	In a series of "flashes" we see the various GI's hitting the 
	dirt: Dondaro and Newman; Warnicki and Spencer; Mew alone; 
	Lopez and Murph; Ernie, near Gawky who is hugging his dog 
	close. We just get a glimpse of Gawky as he picks up the 
	dog and runs for the ditch. There is the splatter of the 
	machine gun and the terrifying whine of the Stuka as it 
	dives closer.
	WALKER, seen closely, is firing away at the fast approaching 
	Stuka. As the plane's engine swoops down, reaching its most 
	unbearable pitch, Walker swings around, firing at the plane. 
	His face is gutted, hard, perspiring. The sound of the Stuka 
	We see WARNICKI and SPENCER on their knees:
			(looking, bewildered, 
			up at the sky) 
		I -- I didn't even see him.
	We see DONDARO getting to his feet. Then as he suddenly 
	realizes he's alive, his face lights up with the exhilarated 
	exultance of survival. He laughs a little hysterically and 
	looks around. The view widens as several of the others 
	gather. They look at each other for a moment, unable to 
	speak with joy at having come through their baptism of fire 
		Hey -- what'd I tell you guys about 
		the Air Corps.
		They stink!
		Look at 'em scram!
		The yella bellies!
	Dondaro stands there giving the Italian elbow business. They 
	all start toward the truck. Dondaro turns around looking for 
	Gawky. They all look around and in the expressions on their 
	faces we know what they see off scene. There is a moment's 
	still tableau. Lt. Walker comes into the scene with the dog 
	under his arm -- he hands the pooch to Warnicki.
		Okay, fellas -- in the truck -- in 
		the truck.  
			(As they slowly start 
			climbing in -- softly)
		The medics will take care of him.
			(Harsh again) 
		Come on, get movin', get movin'.
	Ernie comes. He and Walker exchange looks.
		First dead's always the worst.
			(without conviction)
		I suppose so.
	Walker walks away. Ernie looks after him with a deep 
	understanding. We then see the TRUCK as Ernie climbs into it 
	and it starts off. Ernie takes his place between Mew and 
	Dondaro. The men are saddened, silent, gazing in the 
	direction of Gawky, and we next see GAWKY lying in the 
	distance against the background of a burning truck, and a 
	lone medic making his way toward the figure on the ground. 
	A little gust of wind is blowing sand toward the body.
	The scene cuts back to the GROUP on the truck.
		Guess he won't never get that letter 
		from that Gordon dame now.
			(spitting; harshly)
		That makes 'em even. She won't get 
		no more from him neither.
	Silence -- except for the spaced thud of shells in the 
	distance. Ernie looks around at the men, and we see that 
	they are subdued, quiet, tense. The dusk deepens. The burst 
	of shells comes closer, louder. Then we get a close view of 
		What was Gawky's last name?
	The scene dissolves to a long view of a DETRUCKING POINT at 
	gray dawn. A steady, bone-chilling rain comes down as the 
	trucks disgorge their men. Jumping off from the rear of one 
	of the trucks into the splashing mud, our boys form up into 
	the lines off scene. Walker is standing by the truck.  
	Continued thud of shells throughout -- much closer now. 
	Shivering, he takes his place in line. He's followed by Mew, 
	then Warnicki and the pup, then Ernie. Ernie looks like a 
	wet cat. As he piles off, Walker turns to him.
		Well, Mr. Pyle -- this is the end of 
		the line. We're liable to run into a 
		little trouble from here on. We've 
		got a couple of jeeps going back--
			(hesitating for a moment, 
			fully aware of the others 
			waiting for his reply)
		Do you mind if I go all the way?
			(after a brief pause)
		Well, it's your funeral--
	Ernie falls into line, as we hear shouts of "All right, fall 
	in" and "Is this trip necessary?"
	There is a close moving view of the men in files moving up, 
	past the rain drenched trucks, as one soldier declares "Here 
	we're getting amphibious." Dondaro and Warnicki exchange a 
	glance of jocular respect in Ernie's direction. The thunder 
	of the guns momentarily grows louder. The men's glances 
	stray upward. Their expressions turn grim as they look -- 
	toward the HILLS which flare up with a spasm of artillery 
	This dissolves to a picture of GI BOOTS in the RAIN picking 
	up wads of muck as they slog on through the mud. The view 
	moves up to the bowed heads of Mew and Dondaro. The rain 
	falls with constant, steady penetration.
			(half-looking about)
		Hey, where's the little guy?
		What d'ya mean, Pop. Ernie.
		Ernie's a little way back--
	They turn and look over their shoulders, and we next see -- 
	plugging his way up the incline -- a small, drenched figure, 
	falling slowly but steadily behind, despite his effort to 
	keep up. The scene then cuts back to DONDARO and MEW 
	shaking their heads as they plow on.
		He's over thirty-eight. He don't 
		need to be here.
		Be here! He can even go home!
	But there is a wry respect in their tone. The artillery fire 
	comes closer as they slog on, and the scene dissolves to a 
	long view of the TROOPS marching endlessly in the rain. They 
	are more tired and their tempo is slower now. The company 
	commander is seen in the background.
		Okay, men. Fall out and take a break.
	We see DONDARO, MURPHY, MEW and ERNIE slump to the ground 
	This cuts to a close view of a GI's HEAD and SHOULDERS. 
	Forked around his neck is heavy machine-gun tripod. As he 
	staggers to the side of the road it is as if he were 
	undergoing some medieval torture. Sweat pours down his 
	deep-lined, unshaven face as he removes the tripod and 
	wearily sinks in the mud with it.
	This cuts to a long view of the BOYS. They are seated and 
	lying in various postures of complete exhaustion. The same 
	company commander rises in the foreground as a runner comes 
	up to him.
			(in a matter-of-fact tone)
		Okay, men, let's get going.
	As they all start to rise, JOE, the eternal soldier, meekly 
	takes up the tripod, slings it over his neck, pulls himself 
	up and slogs on.
	The scene dissolves to a view of the MARCHING TROOPS: then 
	to ERNIE as he drags himself up to a stone on the side of 
	the road and sits down! He's pooped. Despite the cold rain, 
	he takes his helmet off and wipes the perspiration from his 
	brow. He looks over his shoulder and waves the gang on. The 
	angle widens, keeping ERNIE in the fore. Quite a distance 
	off now, Walker's company is heading up through a defile. A 
	couple of the boys turn and wave back to Ernie before they 
	disappear around a bend.

	ERNIE, seen closely, reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. 
	Wet-fingered, he finally gets a cigarette out and then vainly 
	tries to light a match in the rain. After some effort, he 
	gets the precious flame lit and is bringing it up to the 
	bedraggled cigarette when the water pouring down from his 
	helmet drenches everything. He dashes the limp cigarette to 
	the ground. There is the sound of troops moving off. Ernie 
	turns and, in a fairly long view, as seen from his angle we 
	see: coming up the narrow road another line of troops 
	approaching Ernie and going in a direction at right angles 
	to that taken by Walker's company. They too are mud-caked, 
	weary looking, but with a certain cockiness about them. 
	They call out jauntily as they pass Ernie. -- One of the 
	men falls slightly out of line.
		How about getting my name in the 
		paper? Harry Fletcher, Ashtabula, 
		Sure. What'll I say?
	The angle widens to include the SOLDIER as he moves on.
			(yelling back)
		... Anything, just so the folks back 
		home see my name in the paper ...
	And now another soldier calls out to him.
		Hey, Ernie. Tell Cleveland, Joe 
		McCloskey is winning the war -- 
	We get a close view of ERNIE as he watches the soldiers 
	moving on.
		Winning the war single-handed -- Joe
 		McCloskey who mixed sodas in the 
		corner drugstore and Harry Fletcher 
		who just hung out his law shingle -- 
		Danny Goodman who checked your oil 
		in the summer and studied medicine 
		in the fall, and here they are, 
		facing a deadly enemy in a strange 
		and far away land. This is their 
		baptism of fire -- with chaos -- in 
		defiance -- Going up the brink of 
		death in the night time -- puzzled 
		-- afraid -- each boy faced the 
		worst moment of his life -- alone 
		-- It was a battle without let-up 
		-- and it was going against us. 

	He wipes his face thoughtfully and then gets up to join the 
	line as the scene fades out.

	The interior of a FARMHOUSE fades in. It is dusk. The old 
	battered farmhouse has been converted into a command post. 
	Lieutenant Strobel, his face strained to the point beyond 
	exhaustion, is at the phone which has been set up on a box. 
	On the wall behind him is a torn field map; Sergeant Fleers 
	near it. Several men lie huddled in sleep in the shadows of 
	the room. Lt. Wilson sits slumped on a box. Dusk is rapidly
	falling and there is a chill and spiritual darkness about 
	the scene which is sensed more in the weariness of the men's 
	faces, bodies, and dust and sweat-clotted uniforms, than in 
	the failing light. It is that final weariness which men can
	endure while they still move, talk when they have to, or 
	even fight again when they must. Continuous sound of gun 
	fire is heard throughout.
			(half-asleep at the phone)
		Two days ago we were doing fine ... 
		going to kick the ... 'n' parade 
		into ... parade into .... 

	Dozes off without finishing. Suddenly he jerks awake and 
	grabs the phone.
			(into the phone; 
		First Battalion ... First Battalion.
	He looks a bit bewildered as he hears no reply -- and hangs up.

			(smiling wanly)
		Keep hearing it all the time.... 
		Try to reach Walker again ... See 
		how he's ... Strobel to Walker. Over. 

	A burst of shell fire blots out his words.

	From another angle, which includes the DOOR, we see Ernie as 
	he enters, battered and worn. He limps over to Sgt. Fleers, 
	who is marking his map with the aid of a flashlight.
		Shut that door!
		Sorry. How we doin'?
			(after a pause; morosely)
		It's not so good.... Got us "zeroed" 
		in with artillery on two sides. They 
		can fan a fly's tail in mid-flight 
		if it's dumb enough to show....
	A terrific explosion bursts directly overhead. The two men 
	instinctively dive to the floor. -- We see the two men on 
	the FLOOR as they are about to rise, but before they can do 
	so, a second explosion shakes the house. Fleers looks over 
	at Ernie.

			(a little angrily)
		You're a correspondent. What in hell 
		d'ya want to get up so close for?
	Ernie is a little apologetic at his lack of good sense.
		You got me!
	They start to rise shakily, the angle widening.
		If I was out there and I wasn't 
		scared -- I'd get scared now ...
	Suddenly there's a burst of gun fire, flatter and nearer 
	than the shell fire.
		Sending in their heavies.
			(limping over)
		Lousy Krauts. Sneak out, fire a few 
		rounds at our lighter stuff and then 
		chase back to cover....
	Fleers glances at the map, the view moving in.
		Only thing between us and them is 
		Walker's gang.
		Not many men.
			(pointing to the 
			spot on the road)
		Yeah -- it's a lucky thing them Huns 
		don't know it -- yet.
			(into the phone)
		First battalion ... Right. ... 
		Withdraw Somers position to Hill 
	Fleers does so. His new pencil mark makes a definite dent in 
	the right flank.
		Strobel to Walker. Strobel to Walker. 
		Over ... Can't seem to reach Walker ...
	The three men exchange silent glances. They turn away. The 
	phone rings.
			(answering it)
		First Battalion ... D company. Yes, 
		sir. ... I see ... No, sir, Colonel 
		Hunt hasn't got back yet from his 
		reconnaissance ... He ...
			(cutting in)
		Who is it, Ralph?
	The angle widens revealing Colonel Hunt standing in the 
	doorway. A PFC closes the door behind him. Hunt's tired 
	old-young face, lean as shell splinters, is rowelled with 
		Captain Horton, sir. Reporting four 
		of his mortars knocked out. He's 
		pretty badly shot up.
	All stare at Hunt. After a moment he makes his decision.
		Tell him to pull back to Hill 148 
		and dig in.
		Right, sir. 
			(Over the radio) 
		D Company. Hello. ... D Company. 
		Hello ... 
			(His voice frantic) 
		They don't answer, Colonel ...
		Keep trying. 

		Right, sir.
	Silence -- the significance of Horton's sudden silence sinks 
	in. Hunt stares singly at the men in the room. They stare 
	back at him through the half-light.  When he comes to Ernie, 
	he pauses.
			(quietly explaining)
		Correspondent ... Hello ... 


			(still trying to 
			make contact)
		Hello -- hello.
	Hunt just looks at Ernie and then goes over to the map, 
	swaying slightly from exhaustion as he goes.
	We see the men grouped around the map, the view favoring 
	HUNT. The men have gathered around Hunt. He closes his eyes 
	for a moment and then opens them.
		Both flanks are gone. Our center's 
		weak. We're just spread too thin ... 
		They threw us in to try to bluff and 
		hold them. The lousy Krauts are 
		beginning to find out ...
	The men listen; the shadows in their exhausted faces 
	are deepened by the flashlight held under them.
		They're pouring more and more 
		strength through the pass. Yeah, and 
		despite all the fairy stories, a good 
		green man can't beat a seasoned, 
		crafty veteran -- especially when the 
		veterans get thrown together.

		Benson's through, sir -- they knocked 
		him out when they came through the 
			(his lips pressing 
			together; shrugging)
		Well, there it is. All we got in 
		front of us is Robert's and Walker's 
		outfits. A little more than a 
		company. They're not enough to hold 
		the Jerries back.... But if the 
		infantry sticks it out -- 
		-- we will too.

	He looks around for any contrary opinions. There are none. 
	The men move silently away. Lang comes in from the next 

		There's some hot coffee and beans on 
		the fire, sir ...
		No, thanks.
		I could use some.

	He looks inquiringly at Hunt. Hunt sinks to a box without 
	replying. There is a shell burst close by. The men hunch 
	within themselves. The building trembles and subsides.
		Me, too.
			(trying the phone)
		D Company -- hello, hello. -- They 
		don't answer, Colonel.
	They follow Lang toward a side doorway, following which we 
	see them flashlight their way down a narrow passageway 
	toward the kitchen. Two more shells burst just overhead. The 
	passageway is too narrow for them to do anything but huddle 
	against the wall until the trembling building subsides.
		He's beginning to split the plate.
	The view moves with them down a stairway leading to the 
	kitchen on the ground level. Next we see them in the KITCHEN 
	moving across to the stove and being forced to step across a 
	young girl's legs as they go ... Then we see the GIRL from 
	Ernie's angle. Only a slight trembling of her body and a 
	tighter gripping of her chair reveal any reaction. Her eyes 
	still remain fixed into space. There is the sound of the 
	door opening.
	The scene cuts back to the main room of the farmhouse, the 
	officers' dugout, where COLONEL HUNT is seated in the 
	foreground. The door opens. Hunt looks up. Walker enters the 
	room and comes toward him. Walker's unshaven face is gaunt 
	with weariness; his uniform gray with caked mud.
		How's it going, Walker?
			(his voice deadly tired)
		Oh -- we're holding out okay, sir 
		... Our phone went dead ... Captain 
		Roberts sent me up to see if there 
		was any -- any change in plans -- or 
		-- or what ... well, if there was--
	Hunt glances over to Strobel, who is listening intently at 
	the phone. Strobel shakes his head.
			(to Walker)
		No. No change -- yet -- Better 
		stick around for a while.
	Walker turns away, the scene moving with him as he goes 
	wearily toward a box. Ernie, preceded by Lang, comes out of 
	the passageway. Ernie and Walker stare at each other for a 
	moment, their eyes expressive of all their thoughts. Behind 
	them, in the shadows, Fleers and Wilson return to the room. 
	Suddenly, as Walker sinks to a box, all sound of gun fire 
	ceases outside.
	A deadly and ominous silence falls over the room. The men 
	lift their heads, straining their eyes, their bodies tense. 
	The silence is sharply cut by the jangle of the phone.
		Day to Hunt ... Day to Hunt ... 
		Over ...
			(who has lifted 
			the phone)
		Hunt to Day. Over.
		Withdraw tank positions -- Zebra 87. 
		Zebra 87. Over and out.
	Hunt's lips tighten. There's a brief pause. Then he speaks:
		Fleers -- put all these papers in 
		the fireplace. --
		Burn 'em, sir?
	A wider angle shows everyone tensely watching Hunt, waiting 
	for his decision. Hunt's face mirrors his brief hope that he 
	can still hold.
		Not yet.
	Fleers quickly goes about the business of gathering up the 
	company documents lying on boxes near Strobel, taking them 
	to a small fireplace at the right. Suddenly the sound of 
	shell fire starts again in the distance. And as suddenly the 
	door bursts open and a worn and bloody soldier staggers into 
	the room. Several flashlights turn on him as the view 
	swiftly moves in to him. It is Warnicki, bleeding profusely 
	from a cheek wound, his eyes glazed, his tongue thick with 
			(panting; thickly)
		Lieutenant Walker -- Lieutenant 
			(who is at is side)
		What is it, Sergeant?
	In his shocked state Warnicki doesn't recognize him. He 
	starts moving on.
		Lieutenant Walker ... Got to see 
		Lieutenant Walker ...
	Walker holds him, turns him around. The others gather around.
		Here I am, Warnicki!
		Never saw anything like it. Never 
		saw anything like it in my life.
	A faint look of recognition flickers in Warnicki's dazed 
	eyes. He tries to talk, but his tongue is too thick with 
			(soothingly; his voice 
			surprisingly soft)
		Take it easy. Easy -- boy -- 
		easy. ....
	Someone -- Lang -- comes up with a drink.  Warnicki gulps 
	it; seems to revive -- recognizes Walker's friendly face for 
	the first time. He begins to talk, his lips still 
		Th-their heavy t-tanks overran our 
		position -- p-point blank! Point 
		blank, sir ... had to get out ... 
		had to get out. Got some of the men 
		behind the hill. Did the best I 
		could, sir ... did the best I could.
	The men are seen closely, the view favoring HUNT, as he 
	watches Warnicki's agonized face and hears his words.
		Fleers, burn the papers ...

	An officer at his side starts to protest.
			(a little sharply)
		This'll be the first time I ever 
		ordered any outfit out of anywhere. 
		I wonder when we're going to start 
		winning this war. 

	He turns to the others, the angle widening. The flames of 
	the company papers cast an eerie dancing light over the 
		Strobel, notify the company 
		commanders we're pulling out. 
		We'll save what we can for another 
		day. All right, men, on your feet.
		Strobel to Day. ... Come in. Over.
		Day to Strobel. Over.
		Scram ... Scram. ... Over and out.
	Hunt starts toward the door, followed by the various 
	officers and men, the view moving with them to the door.
			(to Ernie, nodding 
			toward a "sleeping" man)
		Come on ... he's dead.
	The view "holds" on the door, as the men hurry, limping 
	grimly into the night. The dancing flame of the burning 
	papers is reflected on the door as the scene fades out.
	A rocky landscape fades in. There is a long view of the 
	countryside as soldiers are winding over a hill and coming 
	forward. Then we see ERNIE seated at a typewriter in the 
	foreground. As he types, he is seen drinking coffee from a 
	flask and soaking his feet in a helmet filled with water.
			(as he types)
		American boys -- beaten -- beaten 
		badly. One of the few times in our 
		history. It was a bitter and 
		humiliating experience, and Joe 
		McCloskey was wondering what the 
		folks back home in Cleveland were 
		thinking of him now; -- As we look 
		back on that first defeat and the 
		bloody victories that followed we 
		realize that only battle experience 
		can make a combat soldier. Killing 
		is a rough business -- men live 
		rough and talk tough. -- Jimmie 
		O'Brien -- 1918 -- State ...
	We see a GI standing near Ernie, looking over his shoulder.
		Hi, Ernie, thanks for putting my 
		name in the paper -- I believe I'll 
		get a commission--

		Selling what?
		Me and my buddy -- E-l-b-r-i-g-h-t ...
		That was cute the way he told the 
		Best outfit in the whole army.
			(continuing to type)
		On a dull day you can always get a 
		fight in the Army by arguing which 
		is the best outfit. In a year I've 
		been to a lot of places and learned 
		to love a lot of men. One special 
		place in my heart was with the boys 
		I'd started with. Everybody else had 
		a company and I felt I had one too 
		-- Company C -- 18th Infantry. And I 
		was wondering about Wingless Murphy, 
		Sergeant Warnicki and Lt. Bill 
		Walker and a funny little mutt named 
	The scene dissolves, showing the BOOTS OF GIS ON A DUSTY 
	ROAD. The boots, hard and encrusted, look as though they've 
	been slogging over three of the five continents and are well 
	on their way over the next two. Tagging along with them, 
	like a lean, gray-dusted veteran, is Ayrab, the company pup. 
	As the swirls of dust rise, the view moves up and reveals 
	Dondaro and Murphy. They look tough, whiskery, hard-shelled 
	-- and weary as they march on.
		Hey, Dondaro ... What town do we 
		take today?
		San Raviolo.
		Didn't we take that one yesterday?
		Naw, that was San Something Elsio.
	They walk on for a few moments.
			(coming over the scene)
		Hadn't seen 'em in a long time -- 
		now I set out to find 'em. They'd 
		been through a lot by now -- Conquest 
		of Sicily -- murderous landings in 
		Salerno -- hammering down the long 
		hard road to Rome....
	We now see a STEEP HILL as our men slog up a few steps, 
	reaching a level spot. Walker climbs into view.
		All right, men. Fall out. Chow up. 

	The men flop wearily to the ground.
			(as he stretches out)
		You know after this war is over I'm 
		gonna get me a map and find out 
		where I've been.

	Mew, nearby, glances off and grins. He nods across the road, 
	whereupon the view moves slightly to include a windmill 
	standing in a field. It bears the manufacturer's sign: 
	"Meline Company, Illinois."
	The GI's on the GROUND are startled by a loud, but distant 
	reverberation which shatters the otherwise peaceful scene. 
	Spencer, who has been dozing, wakes up, alarmed. As the boys 
	sink back and relax again, we hear the noise of trucks 
	grinding up the hill, immediately followed by a cry of "Mail 
	Call." Spencer and the others instantly come awake and run 
	off in the direction of the cry, and we next see them 
	gathered around the jeep waiting for their mail. The jeep is 
	one of several other supply trucks that are still coming up 
	and parking. As the lucky ones get their letters, they go 
	off by themselves to read them. -- As the view moves past 
	them it stops at the various boys. One kisses his letter 
	surreptitiously; another frowns; a third, Dondaro, laughs 
	aloud. As he continues to read, the camera moves on past 
	Lopez whose smile-wreathed face nods, "Si, si, si," as he 
	reads, then pauses on Mew who seems puzzled as he turns an 
	official looking paper over.
		Hey, what's this?
			(looking over)
		Your insurance form. What's the 
		matter with you -- You forgot to put 
		in the beneficiary's name.
		What's that?
		Anybody whose name you put in there 
		gets the 10,000 semoleos.
			(a little taken aback)
		Anybody whose name I put there 
		gets ...

		Yeah. And you'd better put it in 
		before the next shindig, bub, or 
		there won't be no dough. Stick your 
		old lady's name down and you're okay.
		I ain't got no--
		Your old man, then.
			(As Mew shakes his head) 
		Ain't you got no relatives?
	Mew grins and again shakes his head.
			(a little impatiently)
		Well, stick anybody's name down. You 
		don't wanna let all that dough go to 
	He goes, leaving Mew grinning like a potential millionaire.
	But suddenly a worried look appears on Mew's face. Whom 
	shall he put down? Here he has all this bounty to dispense 
	but-- Suddenly his face lights up. He starts to put a name 
	down -- then changes his mind. He's in a quandary. He looks 
	around and suddenly spots Warnicki. His face lights up as he 
	hurries over to him.
		Hey, Sarge -- what do you know! 
		Yesterday I ain't worth a plugged 
		nickel, today I can throw ten 
		thousand bucks away just like that.
	But Warnicki has his own little problems. He's holding a 
	large flat cardboard package and he doesn't know what to 
	make of it. He keeps turning it over. Ayrab keeps leaping 
	around him, thinking the package is something for him.
			(suddenly caught by 
			Warnicki's package; 
		What've you got there? Somethin' to 
		I dunno.
		Well, open it. How're you gonna find 
		out unless you open it?

		That's an idea.

	His dirty, claw-like hands rip the wrapping off and it's 
	wrapped better than an onion. Warnicki finally reaches the 
	bottom layer, revealing -- a phonograph disc. He quickly 
	reads its label and his grizzled pug's face lights up.
		It's from the old lady! Look what 
		she done. She had the kid's voice 
		put on a record. Junior's voice. He 
		couldn't even say ma-ma when I left.
			(delighted for him)
		Geez. Let's listen to it.

		Who's got a phonograph around here?
		Maybe they got one in the next town.
		Yeah! What are we waiting for! Let's 
		get going!
	As he whirls off with no other thought than getting to the 
	next Italian town as quickly as possible, there is a sudden 
	shriek of brakes near him. He almost drops the record. -- A 
	jeep has nearly run Warnicki down. Warnicki turns in sudden 
	murderous anger. His expression has swiftly changed. There's 
	really a killer in his expression.
			(starting toward 
			the jeep; humorlessly) 
		Why don't you look where you're 
		going you--
	We now get a close view of the jeep and its occupants: the 
	driver and Ernie. Ernie looking haggard, worn, combat-
	strained, starts to smile, but suddenly he becomes anxious 
	as this murderous looking animal in khaki bears down on him.
		Get outa that jeep'n I'll beat your 
		brains out--
			(Suddenly he stops.) 
		Hey, it's Ernie! It's the little guy!

	Ernie relaxes. It was a bad moment. But he doesn't have a 
	chance to savor his relief, for others have come crowding 
		It's Pyle.
	Ernie beaming, shakes hands on all sides. 

			(ad libbing)
		Seen any dames?
		What's been keeping ya? 
		Good to see you, Ernie.
		Been saving sugar for you, Ernie.
		At last I met Ernie Pyle, now I can 
		write the old man and he can relax.
		Here we go again. Every time you 
		show up there's a big battle. That's 
		the way it was in Tunisia. You 
		better check your dog tags, boys. 
		You know something -- my old man 
		says I look like you!
		Yeah, that's me. I go around 
		starting wars. A guy's gotta make a 
		living. Gotta have something to 
		write about. Good to see you boys 
	At this point, Walker appears, bringing the expected news.
		On your feet men, we're pulling 
			(seeing Walker, who 
			is a Captain now)
		Hi, Bill.
		Hi, Ernie. 

	The sergeant's voice rings out -- and is echoed down the 
	line. The GI's slouch off, obeying the whistle. Ernie gets 
	out of the car, and we see him with Walker.
			(grinning; with a glance 
			at Walker's bars)
		Well, I see you've been going up in 
		the world -- congratulations.
			(glancing at 
			his shoulders)
		Oh, these. Thanks. 
			(with a grim smile) 
		You know that's because I survived 
		longer than the other Looey's, I 
		guess. Okay, Sergeant. Move 'em out!
	Ernie and Walker start moving down the line as the sergeant's 
	whistle blows again.
		How are you, Wingless. How's the Air 
		'Fraid the Buddy system's got me.
		Me too. 
			(Ernie glances off toward 
			the men; grinning, to 
		Well, you got an outfit now?
		You bet your life we're an outfit.
	Ernie again looks off toward the men, and we see, from his 
	and Walker's angle, the GI's slogging down the road. There 
	is something about their slouching stride, their cold, 
	intent, impersonal movements, the way they carry their 
	rifles, the slant of their shoulders that characterizes 
	them, sets them apart.
		They look tough.
		They are tough ... 
			(quietly; grimly) 
		They're killers.
	Something in Walker's tone makes Ernie look up. He looks 
	directly ahead. The reverberation of heavy shelling comes 
	from the not too distant right. Walker looks off, his lips 
		And they'd better be.
	Ernie glances up at Walker. His face too is grave, as the 
	two slog on and disappear. The scene dissolves to a BATTERED 
	SIGNPOST, with GI's marching in the foreground. The Signpost 
	Roma		188 Km. 
	Cassino		 19 Km.
	San Vittorio	  3 Km.
	We see a long view of SAN VITTORIO under heavy artillery 
	bombardment, then a SAN VITTORIO STREET. Slam-banging 
	furiously through the battle-clouded piazza, an Anti-Tank 
	37 swings into action against a shell-spitting pillbox 
	blocking its way. With workmanlike precision the five-man 
	team blasts shell after shell at the pill-box ... in the 
	background a pack of wild dogs run howling through the 
	street ... (Throughout the following sequence of street 
	fighting, there is the continuous rat-tat of machine-gun 
	fire, ping of sniper bullets and the blast and boom of 
	BEFORE A THEATER: A Bazooka team dives through enemy fire to 
	the protection of some rubble. They wham away at a shell-
	torn, sniper-infested theater. As they inch forward the rear 
	man is hit by machine-gun fire. Glancing back only 
	momentarily, the front man carries on alone amid the 
	machine-gun fire from the theater....
	A NARROW STREET: A tank plows through a narrow street 
	blasting at the houses on either side. Its sides seem to 
	swell with each shell burst. Half-exposed, the Tank Guide 
	blazes away in a circular fire. Now coming into the clear, 
	guns ablaze, the tank sprints across an avenue, nimbly 
	crunches up the steps of a public building and smashes 
	through its walls -- and continues on ...
	A SHELL-TORN STREET: A squad of GI's whirl around the corner 
	in the background only to be pinned down by a rain of 
	machine-gun fire from a rooftop in the foreground. They 
	swiftly dive behind some rubble on the ground. One of the 
	GI's (Murph) in the rear, slinks off to the right.
	A CORNER BUILDING: Pressed against the walls, Murph comes 
	around the corner of the building in an almost careless 
	We get a close view of MURPH unpinning a grenade. He hurls 
	it with an over-hand motion to the roof-top above him. And 
	waits -- with an almost comically meditative patience. There 
	is a blast above him. Smoke and powder billows out of the 
	smashed window. Murph kicks open the door and peers in. He 
	pops out again, his mud-caked face split in a grin as he 
	holds up three fingers.
	We see ERNIE peering out cautiously from behind some rubble 
	in the direction of the street fighting. He's evidently 
	making up his mind to dash across the street. Bullets 
	spatter all about. Suddenly there's a lull -- and he chances 
	it. -- As he darts across, doubled over, several rifle shots 
	ping at him. He reaches a wall, from behind which Walker is 
	covering him, firing with cold precision at the sniper.
	We get a close view of ERNIE and WALKER: Ernie is panting 
	and sweating. 

		When you're in the Infantry -- 
		there's no way to reach a ripe old 
	Several bullets splinter the brick above them. Walker 
	swiftly fires back. The enemy is silenced.
			(his eyes glinting)
		I'm gonna build me a highway to 
		Berlin over them ...
	The rattle of machine-gun fire cuts his words. This is 
	immediately followed by a cry of "Medic! Medic!"
	From another angle we see Mew and Spencer hiding behind some 
	rubble. With them is a Medic who has just finished bandaging 
	a wounded GI. The cry of "Medic!" comes over. The Medic 
	exchanges a short swift glance with Mew and grimly crawls 
	off in the direction of the cry. Suddenly Spencer raises his 
	rifle upward.
	Next we see Dondaro, sweating and breathing hard, breaking 
	into a small cafe where there is a sudden scream. He is 
	about to shoot when he sees a young, disheveled, frightened, 
	but obviously handsome, woman backing away in a corner.
			(almost to himself)
		The Promised Land. 
			(Grinning softly) 
		Hiya, babe--
	As he approaches, she backs away slightly. Her look of 
	fright has disappeared; her lips part in a soft, sultry 
	smile. They are both breathing hard, their eyes fastened to 
	each other. The war outside has vanished, has been 
	forgotten completely -- if anything, enhancing and adding 
	excitement to their meeting.
			(in Italian, softly) 
		My bones told me all the time you 
		were waiting right here for me, 
			(her eyes suddenly 
			widening with a new 
			delight; in Italian)
		You -- Americano--! You speak 
		beautiful Italian--!
			(as he moves closer 
			to her; in Italian)
		Yes, from Brooklyn ... gift to 
		Italian womanhood. The liaison 
		officer. Your long lost cousin.
			(delighted with 
			his Italian)
		Bello! Bello! You speak my language!
	His hand strays to her hip.
			(half Italian, 
			half English)
		Listen, Rainbow, even if I was dumb, 
		I'd still speak your language. Si?
	Her eyes glance sidelong down at his hand and then back at 
	With a throaty little laugh, she slips excitingly away from 
	him to behind the counter. He swiftly follows her. Suddenly 
	they look at each other and words are superfluous. He grabs 
	and kisses her fiercely -- pouring all his hunger, 
	loneliness, anguish, dreams in that kiss. She yields, 
	returning his kiss with the same intense hunger. As he bends 
	her back, their figures are hidden by the counter. The view 
	holds on the hall -- shattered shelves with broken wine 
	bottles. The beat and throb of the battle outside comes 
	Machine gun fire suddenly rakes the wall, sending down a 
	shower of glass. But still they don't come up for air. 
	Suddenly there's a burst of nearby shellfire, shaking the 
	house. Dondaro lifts his head, dazed. He slowly seems to 
	remember where he is, what's going on outside. He shivers as 
	if pulling himself together.

		There's that ... 
			(another shell burst) 
		... war again. Sounds like they're 
		paging me--
	He releases her and hurries toward the spot where he dropped 
	his rifle. Amelia, trembling, clings to him.
			(in Italian)
		Oh -- no! Don't go!
			(in English; 
			half tempted)
		Honest, Rainbow, this hurts me more 
		than it does you--
	He kisses her again; quickly this time -- and picks up his 
			(in English)
		I'll be back, don't worry--

	He starts toward the door.
			(shaking her 
			head; in Italian)
		I don't understand what you mean--
			(Stopping; with a 
			grin; in Italian)
		When I get back -- you'll understand -- 
			(in English)
		-- okay, okay --
			(He gestures; 
			in Italian.) 
		You wait here. Si?
	She nods with a little laugh.
			(in broken English)
		Okay -- Okay.
	As Dondaro hurries toward the door, he turns. Amelia smiles, 
	and nods eagerly. Dondaro opens the door. The sound of 
	battle grows louder. Grinning, he pauses only long enough to 
	note the number "29" on the door, and ducks into the battle-
	riddled street.
	The TOWN SQUARE: In the foreground, Warnicki, Walker and 
	Rogers, grimly move down the rubble-strewn square seeking 
	out snipers. Suddenly Rogers, bringing up the rear, steps on 
	a hidden mine. There's a terrific explosion. Warnicki and 
	Walker flatten out.
	As the shower of rocks and smoke subsides, they look back. 
	Rogers has completely disappeared from the face of the earth. 
	Their lips frame soundless curses. Grimly they start forward 
	again, only to be suddenly pinned down by a sharp hail of 
	bullets from the right. Swiftly they dive behind some rubble 
	and peer in the direction of a half-ruined church diagonally 
	across the street.
		Where's our platoon?
		Up the street.
		Looks like this one's on us.
		Okay. I'll cover you.
	The CHURCH BELFRY comes into view and we see a pair of 
	German snipers firing down at Warnicki and Walker from the 
	windows, following which WARNICKI and WALKER are seen firing 
	back futilely.
		Let's go to church, Warnicki.
		Okay. Wait a minute.
	Walker nods and keeps firing as Warnicki quickly unloosens a 
	smoke-grenade from his belt. The two men act in accord, as a 
	team, without words. Warnicki removes his carefully 
	blanketed record and lays it in a little cache amidst the 
			(patting it as he 
			might a child)
		You stay there, Junior. Papa'll be 
		right back.
	He hurls the grenade into the street. -- We see the STREET 
	as it is instantly filled with obscuring smoke. Warnicki and 
	Walker dive into it. A frantic spray of bullets from the 
	church seeks them out. -- Through the thinning smoke, 
	Warnicki and Walker, uninjured, are revealed tensely 
	flattened against the wall. Walker is about to dash into the
	church. But Warnicki checks him. He loosens another grenade 
	and hurls it through the door. Again smoke blots out the 
	scene; again the excited searching spray of tommy-gun fire.
	Inside the CHURCH: Smoke still fills the scene. But the 
	sound of the gunfire is strangely different. It echoes and 
	re-echoes eerily through the cavernous building. Suddenly it 
	ceases. The scene is filled with a deathly stillness as the 
	last echo dies away. As the smoke thins we see Warnicki and 
	Walker hidden behind a pile of rubble. They listen tensely. 
	They scarcely dare breathe as they peer about cautiously.
	There is not a sound, not a movement in the half-demolished 
	church. A single fading ray of sunlight shoots down through 
	the torn roof. The rest is in massive shadows. The statue of 
	an angel stands like a ghost in the half-light. Before the 
	altar lies a heap of rubble. The stillness is filled with an 
	awesome terror; death may spit instantly from any shadowed 
	niche or crevice.
			(barely audible)
			(Suddenly he shouts 
			out a taunting insult.)  
		Lousy Kraut schwein!
	As the shout echoes and re-echoes against the walls, from 
	somewhere an other shout comes over.
		Americanische Schiese!
	The shouts and the echoes intermingle in weird and 
	bewildering reverberations. Walker, ready to shoot, doesn't. 
	The echoes are too bewildering. Warnicki grimly realizes 
	something must be done to get the snipers to disclose their 
	position. Silently he gestures his intent to draw the 
	German's fire by dashing across to a pillar toward the 
	alter. As he does so, Walker is to cover him. Walker nods. 
	Warnicki tensely sets himself.
	We get a wider angle of the CHURCH, with Warnicki and Walker 
	in the foreground. As Warnicki with a cry of "Lousy Kraut 
	Swine!" exposes himself by swiftly diving across from the 
	rubble heap to the pillar, a shot rings out. Shot and cry 
	We see WALKER swiftly firing toward the gallery, and then 
	the GALLERY as a sniper tumbles forward, following which 
	the view widens to disclose Warnicki, hidden behind the 
	pillar, indicating he's all right. They grin at each other. 
	They are breathing hard with the tension. Walker lifts his 
	fingers indicating "That was one, but there are two." He 
	gestures it's his turn now to try Warnicki's trick. Warnicki 
	grins and bows his acquiescence.
	We get a close moving view of WALKER as he dives with a cry 
	toward another rubble heap near the altar -- But there is no 
	revealing shot. Warnicki tensed to fire, looks puzzled. He 
	looks across at Walker. They look troubled, let down. Where 
	is that other German? Warnicki shouts again. But only his 
	own voice echoes through the church. Stillness again. A more 
	ominous stillness.
	Slowly a rifle barrel appears between the wings of the 
	STATUE OF THE ANGEL, aiming downward. -- WARNICKI swiftly 
	fires at the angel, and we see it, then, toppling with the 
	sniper. Warnicki and Walker rise from their places with 
	audible sighs of relief.
		It's a funny place to be killing men 
		in, isn't it?
	And on these words Walker goes toward the sniper near the 
	angel, while Warnicki, in his simple gratitude, picks his 
	way over the rubble to the altar.
	Through a narrow break in the debris -- a perfect sightline 
	for a sniper -- Warnicki can be seen kneeling to cross 
	himself in devotion. A shot rings out. -- Simultaneous with 
	the shot, Warnicki bows his head. The bullet pierces through 
	the top of the helmet, missing his skull by the fraction of 
	an inch, caused by his bowing.
	Thereupon the scene tilts upward past Warnicki to the belfry. 
	Warnicki swiftly swings around. He fires at a sniper exposed 
	in the belfry. He hits him. The sniper staggers and grabs at 
	the bell-rope to steady himself. The bell begins to toll -- 
	slowly, with a death-like knell. Warnicki and Walker drill 
	steel at the swaying body, until the German's grasp loosens 
	and his body plunges downward. As he falls, his plunge gives 
	momentum to the swinging bell, and its rhythm accelerates 
	into a joyous, triumphant ring, echoing and re-echoing 
	through the church as the scene fades out.
	A WINDOW fades in; the sound of the church bell still 
	ringing over the scene. An old, wrinkled woman timidly peers 
	out from behind the battle-scarred, shattered window. She 
	looks uncertainly up and down the street. Evidently 
	reassured, she sticks a small American flag in a corner of 
	the window, a broad smile wrinkling her face. -- Fresh 
	American troops pour across the PIAZZA. Several ambulances 
	of the Surgical Unit drive by. Old Italian villagers with 
	children and bundles trudge back wearily but happily, to 
	their homes. In the foreground -- the engineers have begun 
	to repair the shattered bridge. -- Outside the CITY HALL, a 
	vociferous crowd is angrily milling around the shattered 
	doorway. They drag out a rat-faced civilian from his hiding 
	place. They shower him with blows, cursing: "Fascista Manure 
	Traittore!" as he coweringly runs their outraged gauntlet. 
	Several MP's enter the scene and take the Fascist in tow.
		Okay, guys! We'll handle him from 
		here on!
	As the MP's drag him off, the villagers still spit and hurl 
	their curses in the traitor's face.
	We next see a STREET CORNER where GI's are distributing hot 
	soup and bread from a food truck to a long line of women, 
	children and old men. The children gulp their food down 
	without chewing, as if they had never eaten before. Grins 
	gradually suffuse their faces as the hot food begins to 
	take effect.  One little girl looks up at the ladling GI.
	Cries of "Viva Americano, Viva Americano" are heard.
	A STREET INTERSECTION comes into view. A double file of 
	German prisoners, guarded by GI's, come down a side street. 
	Some are still a surly, arrogant-looking lot. Others are 
	beaten to a point of cretinism. A couple of Signal Corps 
	cameramen run up and take pictures of them. -- The view 
	swings sharply toward a side street where several returned 
	villagers are poring over the rubble in the middle of the 
	street. -- A MIDDLE-AGED COUPLE stands forlornly looking at 
	the wreckage of a shop. The man holds a child in his arms; 
	beside the woman stands a little ragged girl -- obviously 
	their children. There is a black armband around the man's 
	sleeve. -- Tears fill their eyes as they view the wreckage 
	of their life's work. He looks up at the ruined building. 
	They all follow his gaze, and we see American flags 
	appearing in many windows -- Smiling through their tears, 
	the little group enters their wrecked shop and starts to 
	straighten it up. -- Then we see ANOTHER STREET as the fresh 
	GI's march down, a bunch of children tagging after them, 
	brashly importuning.
		Americano cigarette! Gimme!
	One, a ragged boy in a GI barracks bag with name, serial 
	number, etc., imprinted across the seat, is particularly 
		Gimme Americano cigarette! Gimme.
		Cigarettes are no good for children 
		-- go away -- go away.
		Gimme! Gimme! Me Americano!
		Sure. Your name's GI Joe, ain't it.
		Si, Si! Me. GI Joe! 
			(As the GI laughs) 
		Cigarette! Cigarette!
			(reaching into 
			his pocket)
		Cigarettes no bono for kids.
	He throws the child a small package, and the boy expertly 
	catches it. It's a bar of chocolate. The boy bites into it 
	and grins. Then he runs after the GI; and in the distance we 
	see him take the GI's hand and go off skipping as the scene 
	dissolves to the OUTSKIRTS of the TOWN. Lying around in 
	various stages of exhaustion, on both sides of a tree-lined 
	road, are our GI's. Dondaro has taken off a mud-caked shoe 
	and is examining his arch. Nearby Ernie is washing an extra 
	pair of socks in his tin helmet. Warnicki is lying back on 
	his equipment staring at the sky, a wisp of grass between 
	his teeth, Ayrab at his feet. Mew keeps polishing his rifle; 
	Murph is yawning. -- Dondaro lets out a groan.
		If this war don't kill me first, my 
		feet will.
			(with a jaw-cracking yawn)
		Me, I feel like forty-five.
	Ernie wrings out his hose.
		I feel like I was too. And I damn 
		near am.
		How old are you? 

		I'm twenty-six. If I knew I'd live 
		to be forty-three I wouldn't have a 
		worry in the world.
		Oh, yes you would.  
			(He empties his helmet.) 
		You'd be just like me. Worrying 
		whether you'd ever get to be 

	Spencer comes into the scene.
		Hey, guys -- we got twelve hours 
		rest until they rebuild that 
			(leaping up as a bright 
			idea suddenly strikes him)
		Stop pooch!
		Where's that whizz bang going?
		I know I'm going to get some sleep.
	Dondaro hops around on one foot, trying to get his shoe on 
	and laced in a hurry. Warnicki has a bright idea of his own. 
	He reaches under his equipment for Junior's blanketed record. 
	Murph just relaxes.
			(swinging into the scene)
		Hey, Murph -- hey, Murphy. That red-
		headed nurse of yours is in town -- 
		you know, your fiancee!
		Is she?
		What a lucky guy you are -- meeting 
		a girl you're engaged to in the 
		States way over here.
			(sitting up, 
		Hey, did you hear that? My ever 
		lovin' is coming to town.
	But it still takes a moment before this news penetrates his 
	sleep-befogged mind.
	The scene then dissolves to a full view of a PORTABLE 
	DELOUSING UNIT. The delousing mechanisms are at both ends of 
	four showers. The men feed their combat clothes in at one 
	end, stand in line for their showers, and emerge cleansed at 
	the other end to receive their deloused clothing. A QM 
	Sergeant -- snappily uniformed, clean shaven, wearing horn-
	rimmed glasses -- directs the operations.
		Okay men, your three minutes are up 
		now -- move out of there -- come on, 
		get out of there. 
			(He is greeted 
			with ad libs.) 
		Snap it up, men! Two minutes to 
		lather -- one to rinse! We haven't 
		got all day!  
			(Barking at a bather) 
		What do you think this is -- a 

	Mew and another GI, both bearded, dirty, exhausted, stop 
	before the Sergeant and stare at his "fruit salad," his 
		Hey, Sarge, what's all that?

		Yeah, yeah.
			(Proudly; pedantically)
		Well, the yellow one is for National 
		Defense; the red and white is for 
		very good conduct; and the real 
		pretty one with all the colors, is 
		for being in this theatre of 

			(in amazement)
		No kidding!
		Yeah. Know any good war stories, 

		Yeah, as a matter of fact--
		Oh, come on, your three minutes are 
	SPENCER and LOPEZ, naked, are waiting in line to shower.

			(looking toward 
			the showers)
		Hey, look at Murph. -- He's falling 
		to sleep on his feet.
	He pushes toward Murph, whom we then see under the shower. 
	Bearded, hollow-eyed, he desperately tries to keep his eyes 
	open as he lathers. Spencer comes up to him and pokes him. 

		Hey, Murph, come on! This is your 
		big day!
			(heroically; between 
			globs of water)
		Okay. If Red wants to go through 
		with it, I'm game. 

	He almost falls asleep there and then; Spencer shakes him as 
	the scene dissolves out.
	AMELIA'S STREET dissolves in as Dondaro comes tearing down 
	to DOOR No. 29, and as he disappears through the door it 
	slams closed. -- This dissolves to ANOTHER STREET where 
	Warnicki, holding his blanketed record, comes up to a group 
	of Italians. Ayrab is with him.
		Hey! Know where I can find a 
			(The group doesn't 
			seem to understand.) 
		A phonograph -- a victrola -- a 
		music box, see? What's the matter? 
		You can't understand plain English?
	Heart-broken in their eagerness to be helpful, the Italians 
	volubly canvass each other. Warnicki watches hopefully.
	We get a close view of AYRAB looking up, a little ashamed of 
	his master for even deigning to listen to this jabber. Then 
	we see the CROWD again. No luck; none understood. Warnicki's 
	face "neons."
		Look -- A phonograph, a victrola, a 
		music box.
	He motions as if winding a machine. A light dawns on one of 
	the women.
			(in a rising scale)
		Oh! Oh!! OH!!
	She also makes a winding motion. Warnicki nods. The woman 
	hurries into her ruined house.
		She's got one, Ayrab! We're gonna 
		get to hear Junior yet!
	The Italians are delighted. Jabbering, they assure Warnicki 
	she's a smart woman, a fine woman, a brilliant woman. She'll 
	find it. And there she comes with an old-fashioned coffee-
	grinder. The Italians look eagerly at Warnicki -- and are 
	crestfallen at his look of disgust.
		No! No! NO!! 
			(Another idea hits him.) 
			(He stars singing.)
		"Oh, Marie! Oh, Marie! Did-da-da-tum 
		ti-da-dum -ti-da-dum--"

	Again the Italians brighten. Eager to oblige their liberator 
	they sing too.
		"Oh, Marie -- Oh, Marie--"
			(with abysmal disgust)
		Aw, nuts!
	He continues down the street, Ayrab after him. The Italians 
	helplessly twirl their fingers at their temples as the scene 
	dissolves out.
	A half blown out BUILDING dissolves in, the view moving up 
	along the shattered building past one demolished floor, 
	then another, and then a third, holding on Warnicki in the 
	bomb-shattered flat, where he has finally unearthed a 
	battered old portable victrola.

	WARNICKI, with an intense, happy gleam, examines the 
	battered phonograph, trying to make it go. He presses the 
	lever. Nothing happens. He spins the plate with his finger. 
	But all he can get is a grinding noise. Warnicki listens:       
		Little rusty--
			(The scene widens to 
			include Ayrab cocking 
			his ear.)
		Ayrab, you're gonna hear Junior, or 
		else ...

	Hastily he searches through his pockets for a knife, as the 
	scene dissolves.
	The scene dissolves to a close view of MURPH soaping up his 
	two-week beard before a mirror propped against his helmet. 
	His eyelids still weigh a ton. As he starts a jaw-breaking 
	yawn, the view expands, disclosing a half-ruined cottage. 
	Mew, Spencer and Lopez are with Murph. Lopez is practicing a 
	wedding march. Murph yawns again.

		Hey, cut that out! You can't let Red 
		down now.
		If you do, the best man'll take over.

			(shaking his head)
		I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and cut 
		my fool head off with this Eytalian 
		So what? If we can't marry you, 
		we'll bury you.  

	He signals Lopez to go on with the music.
	LOPEZ, also yawning, starts to play the wedding march 
	again, when suddenly there's a metallic crash.
		Ay dime! Look at that! 

	And we see that Murph has collapsed over the table.

		He's folded! Gimme that razor. I 
		done a little barbering in my time. 
		The whole town must have shaved with 
		this thing.
	Mew hands Murph's razor to Spencer. Spencer pulls back 
	Murph's head with a professional flourish and starts to 
	shave him. A soldier, Jacob, comes running in while this 
	goes on. 

		Everything's fixed to the Queen's 

			(as he shaves)
		Get Ernie. He's gonna give the bride 

		Yeah! We'll get this wedding in the 

	Mew starts toward the door. 

		Get the Captain, too. He's an okay 
	As Mew and Trenton hurry out the scene dissolves to a view 
	of the BATTERED PHONOGRAPH. The plate whirls about merrily.
		It works! What did I tell you! It 
	The scene expands and we see that Warnicki's sweaty face is 
	lit with joy. Ayrab's head follows the revolving plate 
	suspiciously. Treasuringly, Warnicki unwraps the record, 
	places it carefully on the plate and cranks up the motor. 
	But as he's about to lower the arm, he discovers that it 
	lacks a needle.
		No needle.
	Frantically, he searches around the box. No needle. He looks 
	around the apartment, sees a broken-down dresser. He rushes 
	to it in almost a frenzy of excitement, and searches through 
	the drawers for a needle.

	The scene dissolves to a BARN. Sleeping comfortably on a 
	pile of hay, is Ernie. His snores come regular and sweet. 
	Mew hurries in and tries to awaken him.
			(rousing himself)

		Wake up. We need you. Red wants you 
		to give her away. 

			(too sleepy to know 
			what he's talking about)
		What I wanna give her away for? I 
		like Red. 

	He turns over and goes back to sleep. 
			(shaking him)
		Hey, don't go back to sleep.
		Oh, leave me alone. The only way 
		you'll get me out of here is to 
		carry me out.
		We figured on that too.
	He looks off and gives a sharp whistle. The angle widens as 
	Jacob and another GI, carrying a stretcher, come up to 
	Ernie. They roll our very sleepy and very astonished 
	correspondent on to it, and haul him away.

	This dissolves to a SHATTERED APARTMENT, where, in the 
	fading daylight, Warnicki is breaking off the tip of a 
	safety pin which he has found. As he bends it forward and 
	backward, his bearded face gleams with sweat and excitement. 
	Suddenly the pin snaps off, needle size. Feverishly, he puts 
	the needle in place, almost fumbling it in his anxiety. He 
	picks up the record, kisses it and breathlessly replaces it.
			(in a whisper 
			of excitement)
		Here goes, Ay-rab-- Junior's goin' 
		to talk to his papa.
	He presses the lever. The record whirls around. Gently, 
	perspiration tipping his nose, he places the needle on the 
	record -- and the "sweetest voice in the world" goes 
		A-gul-ub! A-gul-ub! A-gul-ub!
	Ayrab jumps back, barking indignantly. Warnicki's face is a 
	study in dismay and disappointment. Hastily, he shuts the 
	phonograph off.
			(almost apologetically, 
			to Ayrab)
		Backwards! I'm a son-of-a-

	Suddenly, there's a sharp whistle from down below.
		Hey, Warnicki--!
	Warnicki looks down, and from his angle we look down below, 
	across the street: The wedding procession is nearing the
	ruined church. Twilight is fast falling.
			(calling up)  
		Come on, Warnicki! Murph's getting 
			(hastily gathering up 
			the phonograph and record)
		I'll fix it later. Come on--

	He hurries over to the stairs and starts down, Ayrab with 
	him, the scene cutting to the CHURCH. Led by Lopez and 
	Spencer, playing the Wedding March, the procession moves 
	slowly toward the altar and the Army Chaplain. Red is on 
	Ernie's arm. Murph, best-manned by Mew, waits for them 
	beside a rubble heap at the altar. Walker is in the 
	procession. Various GI's bring up the rear. As they reach 
	the altar, the music stops and they form before the Chaplain, 
	who is now seen close; he is wearing a stole over his 
		Dearly beloved, we are gathered 
		here ...
	MURPH and RED are seen close. Murph has court plaster 
	patches over his face. He valiantly tries to keep his eyes 
	open. Red's eyes are shining.
		... in the sight of God and this 
		company ...
	Now Warnicki appears at the church door. He almost stumbles 
	over the threshold.
			(cautioning Ayrab)
		Sh! Sh!
	As he clumsily tiptoes to the outer fringe of the wedding 
	party, we hear the Chaplain's voice continuing:
		... to join together this man and 
		this woman in holy matrimony.
	Twilight is now turning to night, as the scene cuts to the 
	Chaplain and to some GI's with Ernie among them.
		Who giveth this woman to be married 
		to this man?
	No one moves. Several eyes turn on Ernie, who is then seen 
	close. Ernie's eyes and thought are far away. After a pause, 
	the Chaplain repeats:
		Who giveth this woman to be married 
		to this man?
	Ernie comes to himself and steps forward as the angle widens. 
	A little sheepishly he takes Red's hand.
		I do.
	Red presses his hand and smiles at him as, embarrassed, he 
	returns to his place.
			(to Murph)
		Repeat after me -- I, Robert Murphy 
		take thee, Elizabeth ... to be my 
		wedded wife ... to have and to hold 
		from this day forward ... 

	Murph repeats each phrase after the Chaplain.

	We get a close shot of Mew. He is beaming. Suddenly he gets 
	an idea. He looks secretively about him, withdraws his 
	insurance blank and with a stubby pencil writes some figures 
	on it as the Chaplain's voice comes over, Murph repeating.
		... for better, for worse ... for 
		richer, for poorer ... In sickness 
		and in health ...
	We see the INSURANCE BLANK. It is marked: Beneficiary -- 
	Warnicki -- $2,000 Junior -- $2,000. And now Mew's stubby 
	pencil adds -- Mrs. Murphy -- $2,000.
	RED and MURPH are seen close as the Chaplain continues:
		... to love and to cherish, till 
		death us do part....
	It is night now outside, and German DIVE BOMBERS appear in 
	the sky.
	We see the CHAPLAIN in the foreground, in the church, as he 
	continues with the wedding ceremony.
		Those whom God hath joined together -- 
			(Rushing the ceremony as 
			the sound of the dive 
			bombers increases and the 
			bombers go into action) 
		... let no man put asunder ... HIT 
	He throws himself flat. The whole party follows suit. The 
	shell explodes with a bang beyond the ruined walls. Warnicki, 
	in the background, covers the phonograph and record with his 
	We see RED and MURPH on the ground. 

			(half-covering Red's body)
		Take a better man than that to put 
		us asunder.
	They kiss, and the scene dissolves to a moving view of the 
	newlyweds as, accompanied by the musicians and their 
	escorts, they reach the edge of a road.
			(suddenly yelling out)
		Procession -- halt! Okay, kids ... 
		It's yours.
	Grinning he points off to the right, and the view moves past 
	a ruined wall and "holds" on a wrecked ambulance with a sign 
	planted beside it: "Bridal Suite." Where once the doors were, 
	blankets have been tacked and looped back with GI neckties. 
	A horseshoe is suspended over the entrance; a battered field 
	telephone at one side is marked: "Room Service." Red and 
	Murph enter the scene, laughing and breathless.
			(looking back)
		Boys -- honestly, thanks.
	And Murph sweeps up Red and carries her over the threshold. 
	-- This cuts to the WEDDING PARTY, the faces displaying 
	varied emotions as they stare across at the married pair.
	Next, in the AMBULANCE, Murph removes the neckties, and the 
	blankets drop over the entrance. The blankets are chalked 
	with huge letters: DO NOT DISTURB.
	This cuts to the WEDDING PARTY outside. The men haven't 
	moved; they stand and stare.
			(finally; gruffly)
		Awright ... What are you guys 
		looking at? ... Let's get going.
	They start to leave. Lopez, however, sits down with his 
	guitar, deliberately turning his back to the ambulance.
			(singing as he strums)
		Tu eres, Lupita, divina 
		Como los rayos del sol--
	As Lopez' singing comes over, the GI's move away, one by 
	one, their thoughts far away. They are joined by 
	superimposed images of their beloved ones: Warnicki holding 
	Junior in his arms with Mollie by his side, Ernie with "That 
	Girl," Spencer, with his mother, etc. Then, as they recede 
	down the night-shadowed road, the superimposed figures have 
	vanished. The men are alone, forlorn.
		Tu es la flor nicaragua 
		En la morada de amore.
	We see AYRAB near the AMBULANCE. He has remained behind. He 
	cocks his head curiously, up toward the ambulance. Lopez' 
	singing continues.
	Inside the AMBULANCE Murph has collapsed, and is fast asleep. 
	Tenderly, Red bends down and kisses him as she tucks the 
	blanket over him. Lopez' song can be heard from outside.
	The view looks toward snow-capped CASSINO. Flashes of 
	artillery burst on the horizon.
		Recibe se esta cancion 
		Tu eres, Lupita, divina 
		Como los rayos del sol ...
	His voice fades away. And now only the low rumble of distant 
	gunfire is heard as the scene fades out.

	The ROAD LEADING from the city fades in at dawn. The GI's, 
	led by Walker and Ernie, are slogging on again in the gray 
	dawn. The view moves past several GI's to Warnicki and Mew, 
	then to Murph, gloomily thinking of the brilliant figure he 
	cut on his honeymoon; then to Dondaro tearing up the road, 
	double quick. Beyond him lies the town of San Vittorio. 
	Reaching the line he sneaks in furtively between Spencer and 
	Murph. -- He looks wonderfully relaxed, in sharp contrast to 
	the others. Suddenly he is attracted to something on Murph's 
	back, which we see from DONDARO'S VIEWPOINT: Some company wag 
	has chalked on it, "JUST MARRIED." -- DONDARO grins. Spencer 
	leans over.
			(Seeing Dondaro's 
			beaming face) 
		Oh, oh! 
			(Then ironically) 
		Tell me, Dondaro, what's your power 
		over women?
			(glibly giving 
			his recipe)
		Klk! Klk! 
			(Looking around, 
		Whatsamatter with you guys, you all 
		look tired?
	Murph's doleful face looks over at Dondaro. Their faces are 
	a perfect study in contrast. Dondaro grins.
		Good morning, dear.
	As Murph starts to curse, the scene dissolves to a moving 
	view of a ROAD favoring WALKER and ERNIE. The GI's spirits 
	have risen with the sun. Walker, however, has a troubled 
	look on his face as he looks ahead.
		I don't like it -- too quiet.
		Maybe they've pulled back all the 
		way to Rome--
			(shaking his 
			head doubtfully)
		Uh uh--
	From another ANGLE we see several GI's; having met no 
	opposition, they are feeling pretty chipper.
		A walk-away -- a walk-away--
		At this rate we'll be in Rome in 
		three days.
			(with a sly dig)
		Maybe Dondaro will give us a knock-
		down to some of his cousins -- Klk! 
	As they turn a bend in the road, Dondaro suddenly spots 
	someone up ahead. This dissolves to a ROCKY HILLSIDE at 
	dusk. Tense, cautious, wary of attack, our company spreads 
	out to occupy the hill slope. The men watchfully work their 
	way toward the crest on which stands an old stone farmhouse. 
	It is a rocky defile. Somewhere beyond that gap is the 
	We see the crest of the HILL, the STONE HOUSE in the 
	background. Crawling up to the crest are Walker and Ernie. 
	Walker looks through his binoculars.
		Look at that old monastery. So 
		peaceful -- 
			(Handing the 
			glasses to Ernie) 
		You'd never think ...
	The scene cuts to the MONASTERY and MOUNTAINS: Atop Mt. 
	Cassino, the Monastery dominates the entire countryside -- 
	aloof, brooding, eternal.
		... there was a war within a
 		thousand miles of it.
		Or a thousand years. 

	Ernie hands the glasses back.
		Well, maybe you're right about the 
		Krauts pulling back to Rome. I don't 
		get it, though--
			(Shaking his head) 
		If they want to slug it out here, 
		they can make it plenty tough ...

	At this, the scream of several shells splits the air. Ernie 
	and Walker "hit the dirt" and start scrambling down the 

	As the GI's scramble behind rocks for cover, shell after 
	shell bursts on the hillside. The stonehouse is struck.

	We get a view of a SHELL CRATER as Ernie tumbles into it and 
	cowers from repeated explosions.

	We next see a shallow FOXHOLE with FIELD PHONE and ROCKS. 
	Walker's runner ducks behind the rocks as Walker scrambles 
	into the foxhole and grabs the phone.
			(into the phone)
		Get me Artillery Fire Control. 
			(He ducks as 
			debris falls.) 
		Pete? Walker. Y'know that building 
		on top of the mountain?

	In a close view of an AMERICAN OBSERVATION POST we see LT. 
	PETERSON at the phone.

			(looking off) 
		The monastery?   

			(at the phone)
		Call it that if you want to, but I 
		call it, in military terms, an 
		observation post. If you don't want 
		to get us all killed you had better 
		give it the works. 

	We get a close view of WALKER at the phone.
		Can't. Got an order about it. 
		Religious shrine.
			(angrily, as a 
			shell screams over) 
		Does that sound like religion to 

	He reaches up and places the telephone on the parapet of the 
	foxhole. -- This cuts to a close view of PETERSON as the 
	explosions nearly wreck his phone. He grimaces. 

	We again see the HILLSIDE, with the MONASTERY and MOUNTAINS 
	in the background. A piercing cry of "Medic! Medic!" rises 
	as more shells scream over. In the distance the monastery 
	stands like a symbol of eternal tranquillity -- ostensibly 
	beyond reach of violence. The scene dissolves to a HILLSIDE 
	at twilight in the rain. The men are wearily digging their 
	foxholes deeper, making use of the terrain for added 
	protection. In the foreground Ernie is watching a patrol, 
	led by Warnicki, slog past the shattered stonehouse with 
	its little shrine as the scene dissolves to a full view, 
	shooting toward a DEFILE at NIGHT in the RAIN. Lit by 
	flashes of distant artillery, the remnants of the patrol 
	straggle back. They are drunk with exhaustion and foul 
	beyond recognition. As they pass, the view moves to Ernie, 
	watching ...
		All right, men -- let's go! 
			(to Ernie) 
		Lost three.
	The scene dissolves to an outcrop of SHELF ROCK in a fog. 
	Ernie and Mew are widening the entrance to a dugout under 
	the slanting shelf of rock. Ernie straightens wearily -- and 
	bangs his head against the rocky ceiling.
		Guess it could be deeper.
		Yeah, kind of looks like we'll need 
		a permanent home here.
		Yeah ...
	He looks off, and from Ernie's angle we see the MONASTERY 
	and MOUNTAINS still standing aloof and imperturbable.
	Into the scene, heading toward the defile, comes a sizeable 
	patrol, again led by Warnicki.
			(shaking his head)
		Patrol, patrol, patrol ... one more 
		patrol and I'll go nuts!
		Personally, I'd feel a lot healthier 
		if that monastery wasn't lookin' 
		down my throat.
	They head into the defile, and the scene dissolves to a view 
	of the DEFILE as Ayrab comes romping gaily out of the defile, 
	his tail up like a flag -- his friends are back! In direct 
	contrast to Ayrab, come the men, great leaden hunks of 
	exhaustion. Several heads stick out of the dugouts and 
	silently watch them returning. The men separate and head for 
	their foxholes. Warnicki heads for Walker's dugout.

	WALKER'S DUGOUT: Lit by a candle, the dugout is dank, wet, 
	dreary, just big enough for three people. Gas cans serve as 
	furniture. With Walker is Lieutenant Henry. Walker, haggard 
	and grimy, looks up as Warnicki enters.
			(with flat weariness)
		Just got back, Captain ... Drew lot 
		of small arms fire on Hill 457 ... 
		Mortar fire 793 ... Terrific 
		artillery fire, but couldn't locate 
			(After a slight pause) 
		They got Lt. Josephs, Spencer and 
		Trenton ... Michaelson got it in the 
		arm, but I got him back okay.
	There's a moment's pause; then Walker speaks quietly:
		Okay, Steve ... Better get some 
	Warnicki turns and wearily goes out. Walker turns to his 
		You take over Josephs' platoon ...

			(starting to leave)
		Right, sir ...

		And, oh--

	Henry half turns; Walker speaks without looking at him.
		... If Lieutenant Josephs had any 
		personal stuff, send 'em over ... 
		will you?
	Henry nods and goes. For a moment Walker stares before him; 
	then shakes himself and concentrates on his maps. A shell 
	whines over. Walker stiffens.
	Inside WARNICKI'S DUGOUT as Warnicki enters and slumps down 
	to a flat rock: This dugout is under a slanting rock which 
	seems to crush down oppressively on the men's heads. They 
	sit around huddled in their great coats, mud-caked, begrimed, 
	exhausted. The only decoration is a picture of Murph's wife, 
	Red. Mew is heating coffee over a fitful fire. Murph, his 
	big knees under his chin, is huddled in a corner sipping 
	coffee. Dondaro is lying on his back, staring up at the rock. 
	There's the constant sound of enemy shells slugging over. 
	Slow drops of water keep dripping on Dondaro's face.
		Somebody ought to phone the plumber. 

	But he doesn't move.
		You know, it sounds pretty silly 
		when you say it, but sometimes 
		resting like this, I get a kick out 
		of just breathing.
			(offering Warnicki a cup)
		Hot java, Steve--
	Warnicki shakes his head, picks up his battered victrola and 
	spins the platter. It emits some outlandish sounds. Suddenly 
	there's a swift succession of shell bursts nearby. The 
	entire hillside trembles. Fragments of rock fall. No one 
		Between the monastery and Steve's 
		phonograph ...

		I'll fix 'em both before I'm 
	Two more shells slug the hillside.
		There goes that monastery again. 
		Everybody knows it's an Observation 
		Post. Why don't they bomb it!
	There's an unspoken answer. The men look away, and in a view 
	favoring LOPEZ we see him looking from one to the other.
		I'm a Catholic, and I say bomb it 
		to hell!
		Check, brother.
		I got a wife and a kid. Think I want 
		to die for a piece of stone?
		Why wasn't I born a 4-F instead of 
	Which reminds him: Secretively he pulls a small phial from 
	his pocket and passes it under his nose. His eyes melt with 
	memories and longing. Offscene Warnicki's record emits some 
	outlandish sound.
	The scene dissolves to a HILLSIDE. Led by a Lieutenant, a 
	squad of replacements trudge up the mule trail, coming to a 
	halt before Walker's dugout. The Lieutenant heads toward it. 
	-- He enters and salutes.
		Lieutenant Hawkins reporting, sir 
		-- replacements.
			(after a pause) 
		Yeah, I'll be right with you.   

	Hawkins goes. Walker takes another sip of coffee, obviously 
	stalling against a job he hates. Finally he buttons his coat 
	and goes; Ernie follows.              

		Maid'll clean it up later.
	This cuts to the HILLSIDE: Approaching the squad, Walker 
	looks over the new men. They are all young. Some look eager, 
	some look scared, but all look young. Warnicki comes up.
		Okay, Sarge, you line the men up.
		All right men, fall in.
			(his voice unnecessarily 
		You first four -- First Platoon -- 
		Sergeant Warnicki'll show you to 
		your hotel suites ... 
			(As the four men fall 
			out and go with Warnicki)
		Next six -- Second Platoon -- The 
		corporal will take care of you. The 
		rest of you go with Lt. Hawkins--
			(Turning to Hawkins) 
		You'll replace Lt. Henry -- Third 
		Platoon. Turn right past the 
		mansion, and down the hill and turn 
		to the left. All right, take over. 

	The men start off.
	This cuts to WARNICKI and his REPLACEMENTS trudging through 
	the mud.
		Any of you dogfaces know anything 
		about a phonograph?
	As the men merely exchange puzzled glances, he is disgusted.
		The cream of the crop, I always get.
	There's the scream of shells. Everyone dives as geysers of 
	mud and rock cascade, and we get a close view of one of the 
	soldiers looking out bewildered from a boulder.
		Gee -- a guy could get killed here --
	The scene dissolves to the GROUP on the hillside:  Tensely, 
	three Lieutenants wait with Walker for some signal. 

		All right ... Let's synchronize our 
			(to Hawkins)  
		You stick with Sergeant Warnicki, 
		Lieutenant. He knows the terrain. 
		Okay, move out.
	We see a flash of an AMERICAN BATTERY abruptly firing a 
	terrific barrage of shells, then the HILLSIDE. Led by their 
	Lieutenants, Warnicki and the GI's start through the defile. 
	Ernie holding Ayrab in his arms, grimly watches them.
		So long, Ayrab.

		Good luck ...
	His face is blue with cold as the raw wind rips across. The 
	thunder and scream of shells mount. It's begun to rain. 
	Ayrab whines softly and snuggles against Ernie. He pats the 
	pup and continues to stare out bleakly. The rain falls as 
	the scene fades out.

	WARNICKI'S DUGOUT fades in. Ernie is sitting alone. Ayrab 
	lies disconsolately at his feet. There's a fire going, 
	coffee bubbling. Suddenly Ayrab leaps up and dashes madly 
	out. Ernie looks up hopefully. And now he sees the returning 
	soldiers. As the men return and flop down in their corners 
	-- one by one -- sodden masses of mud and exhaustion, Ernie 
	silently counts them. There's Lopez! And then Mew! Pause. 
	And that new kid, Whitey! A longer pause which seems like 
	eternity. And Dondaro! Again a long pause. Ernie's gaze 
	falters, and then there's Ayrab and Warnicki! And that's 
	all. Ernie watches for Murphy. But that's all.
		My poor aching back.
	ERNIE looks at the corner where Murphy always sat. Then at 
	Red's picture. Then at Mew, who slowly takes out his 
	tattered insurance paper and a pencil, and starts to rub 
	something out, following which we see the INSURANCE PAPER: 
	Crossing out Murph's name, Mew changes the sum opposite Mrs. 
	Murphy's name to $4,000. The list now reads: Warnicki $2000; 
	Junior $2000; Mrs. Murphy $4000.
	Deeply moved, Ernie, who has watched this, rises, takes 
	Murph's wife's picture off the wall, and goes out of the 
	dugout. We then see Ernie coming out and Walker, standing at 
	the the entrance of the dugout, watching him disappear over 
	the hill. ERNIE is then seen trudging along, looking down at 
	the ground, still stunned by the news, with hunched 
	shoulders and a frozen face.
	This cuts to the CORRESPONDENTS HEADQUARTERS as Ernie nears 
	the shack. Prominent over the entrance is a sign that reads: 
	NEWSPAPER ROW. Directly below these words is the legend:
	Ernie, still walking slowly, enters the scene and goes into 
	the building.
	Inside the CORRESPONDENTS HEADQUARTERS, there are three 
	correspondents -- Roberts, Landry and Ruben. Ruben is 
	hunched over his typewriter. As Ernie enters the room, the
 	correspondents look up -- then quickly stand up and make a 
	deep salaam to Ernie.
			(in unison)
		Our hero! Our hero! Our hero!
		What's the gag?
		Your mail, Mr. Pyle--

	He throws Ernie a crumpled cablegram.
		Thanks. See you already opened it.

		Why not? It was marked "Personal."
			(smoothing out 
			the cablegram)
		What's in it?
		Oh, nothing much. You've just won 
		the Pulitzer Prize, that's all.
		Well, I'll be darned. 

	Reading the cablegram with a blank expression. He is still 
	stunned by Murphy's death.
		I regret to inform you, Mr. Pyle -- 
		you are no longer a newspaperman ... 
		you are now a distinguished 
	Landry, Ruben and Roberts turn their backs on Ernie. The 
	view moves with Ernie as he walks toward his desk. Over the 
	scene we hear Ruben's voice.
		Poor devil will probably be famous 
		now ...
		Tsk-tsk-tsk ...
	Ernie makes his way toward his desk, slowly, still numb. He 
	sits down at his typewriter. Slowly he puts the telegram 
	down and mechanically rolls a sheet of paper into the 
	typewriter. He stares at it for a moment, then begins to 
	Looking past ERNIE'S SHOULDER we see slowly emerging on the 
	sheet of paper the words: "I had long ago come to think of 
	Private Wingless Murphy as an old, old friend. He was just a 
	plain Hoosier boy." The typewriter moves back and forth: 
	"Now you couldn't imagine him ever killing anybody."
	Ernie's eyes fill with emotion, his fingers are poised for 
	typing, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, reaches 
	for a bottle of liquor in his desk, takes a swallow, blinks 
	and then begins typing furiously as the scene fades out.

	The HILLSIDE, the MONASTERY in the background, fades in. The 
	stone house is now only a rubble, the shrine cracked. It is 
	raining. In the distance the monastery is dimly seen through 
	the mist. This cuts to WARNICKI'S DUGOUT. The first thing 
	noted is the sound of a radio in this dank, dreary hole. 
	It's a portable and the boys, huddled in everything they 
	own, are gathered around it. The men are listening to the 
		... it will be a comfort to you to 
		know that your sons, wherever they 
		are ... at sea, or in the sky or in 
		their foxholes ... Yes, sir, your 
		boys are celebrating too ... with 
		the finest turkey ... cranberry 
		sauce ... and all the fixin's ...
	And then the radio starts playing "I'm Dreaming of a White 
			(tapping his ration can,
			out of which he is eating)
		Tough skin on this bird.
			(digging at some beans)
		I always like to eat the stuffing 

			(to an imaginary waiter) 
		Cranberry sauce ... Mm, mm!
		Poor folks back home. Sure got it 

			(at his "vic," trying 
			to play it; morosely)
		Shoulda got a phonograph.
	This dissolves to a battle-scarred street at dusk as Ernie, 
	walking hunched through the snow-filled muddy street, sees 
	something that attracts his attention. Then we see the 
	QUARTERMASTER'S BUILDING from Ernie's viewpoint. Through the 
	office window, Walker can be seen furiously pounding the 
	desk of a startled QMC Lieutenant.
		You had turkey ... The other outfits 
		had turkey ... The general had turkey 
		... My men are going to have turkey.

		But we did try to ...
		Trying ain't good enough! 
			(Suddenly, very quietly) 
		You either get those turkeys or the 
		Supply Corp is going to have to get 
		themselves a new Lieutenant!
	His hand slowly moves toward his holster -- And by God, he 
	means it! He is holding his gun in a menacing attitude. 
	Ernie, unnoticed by either, has entered the scene.
		I'll scrounge around and see what I 
		can do, s-sir ... 

	He starts.
		How about cranberries and stuff?
			(turning back; 
		Oh, now -- wait a minute--

			(after a swift glance 
			at Ernie; coldly)


	The Lieutenant nods and goes. Walker turns heartily to Ernie.  

	We next see the men on the HILLSIDE as jouncing along, laden 
	with provisions, Ernie and Walker's jeep pulls to a stop 
	before Walker's dugout. As the two men hop out and start to 
	unload, Warnicki approaches.

		Phone for you, sir. Battalion 

	Walker and Ernie exchange a glance.
		Probably the Rules and Regulations 
		Committee on Uplift and Morale ...
	He starts off. Ernie continues to unload with the aid of a 
	couple of GI's who drift up.  

			(into the phone) 
		Yes, sir ... Captain Walker ... I 
		see ... 
			(Then; mildly ironic) 
		Just one prisoner or two ... 
		Naturally, sir, as many as we can 
		get ... 
			(His face shadows.)  
		Replacements ... No, they haven t 
		gotten here yet ... yes, sir ...
	As he hangs up, the angle widens to include Warnicki 
		Another patrol ...

		I'll go. 

		Like hell you will! You've been on 
		Every step forward is a step closer 
		... to home.
			(looking up at 
			Warnicki; then)
		Okay. Get me ten men ...
	Warnicki starts out of the dugout. Walker starts getting 
	The scene cuts to WARNICKI'S DUGOUT. Suddenly, through the 
	opening, a box appears, followed by Ernie, followed by a GI 
	(Simmons). Instantly the boys come to life.
		Believe it or not, it's turkey, on 
		the level!
	In less than a second flat, they're at work on that turkey.
		Wine? You bring wine?
			(holding a bottle up)
		What's Christmas without wine? After 
		that little repast one cigar apiece.
	Next we get closeups of WARNICKI and WALKER, who realize 
	it's time to go on patrol; we see them going out of the 
	dugout, Walker looking at his watch, and the patrol 
	disappearing in the rainy night, the scene fading out. When 
	the DUGOUT fades in again, the boys are in a relaxed mood. 
	Lopez tinkles softly on his by now one-stringed guitar. 
	Wayne puffs a corn-cob. Gross chews a wad, Dondaro, near 
	Ernie, is luxuriously smoking a cigar. Mew is half-asleep. 
	Although the air is cold, there's a feeling of old-shoe 
	warmth among them.

		Hey, Ernie, you been to Hollywood. 
		... Ever know Carol ...

	The sound of bombardment bursts into the merriment.

			(a little startled)
		Well ... I've met her ...

		Is it true she's got those great 
		big ...

	Two shells slam over, drowning out his words.

		Is it?
		That's the rumor.
			(doubly intrigued)
		Well, tell me something. Are they 
		really on the level?
	Two more shells slam over.

		I forgot to ask. Probably.
		Klk! Klk! 
			(Then very seriously)  
		You been around a lot -- Washington, 
		New York, Hollywood, everywhere, 
		haven't you, Ernie? Y'know, when 
		this shindig's over, I'm gonna look 
		you up ... I might ask you to get 
		me a job.
	The scene cuts to the HILLSIDE then: Returning wearily down 
	the road come Walker, Warnicki and two GI's with a sullen 
	Nazi prisoner in tow. Nearing Walker's dugout, they are met 
	by a lieutenant.
			(wearily indicating 
			the Nazi)
		Take him down to Headquarters ...
			(putting the Nazi 
			under guard)  
		Replacements came up, Sir ...
	He hands Walker a list. Walker takes it; his face shadows.
		Fine ... I'll assign them ... But 
		we'll need five more. 
			(The lieutenant 
			tows off the Nazi.) 
		Get him down to headquarters, and 
		even if it hurts take good care of 
		But good!

	The scene cuts to WALKER'S DUGOUT as, lighting a candle, 
	Walker sinks wearily to a seat. He almost dozes off, but 
	the list of names catches his eye. He tries to avoid them, 
	but can't. He lifts a bottle from under his box, pours 
	himself a drink and starts checking off the names ... The 
	scene then cuts to WARNICKI'S DUGOUT where entering 
	leadenly, Warnicki is greeted by the others.

		Hi, Steve -- Saved you some turkey, 
	Warnicki silently slumps to his corner and concentrates on 
	his victrola.
			(with a sudden growl)
		Don't want any ...
	The boys, taken aback by this moroseness, exchange glances. 
	Ernie looks at Warnicki steadily.
		Sure wish he'd get to hear Junior.
	Dondaro, meanwhile, has stolen across to his duffle-bag and 
	withdrawn a small bottle of "Aphrodisiac." He sniffs the 
	"ambrosia" ecstatically and secretively dabs some behind his 
	ears. -- Thereupon, in a fairly close view, favoring WAYNE 
	and GROSS, we see the latter taking off his socks as the 
	pungent "fragrance" penetrates to their corner. Gross sniffs 
	and looks over at Wayne. Wayne also sniffing, looks over at 
	Gross. They eye each other suspiciously, then down at the 
	sock -- but shake their heads. That's a "Chanel #5" from 
	another bottle. Sniffing, they look around at the others. 
	-- The others have also begun sniffing and eyeing each other 
	suspiciously. Their eyes focus toward innocent Ernie.
			(grinning wanly)  
		It's not me ...
		Klk! Klk!
	But as Dondaro swiftly slithers out, their faces light up. 
	The candle splutters and begins to die. Ernie rises and 
		Well, I guess I better turn in. 
		Good night, fellows.
		Thanks for the merry Christmas, 
	He goes amid mumbled "Good nights" and "Merry Christmases." 
	The scene then cuts to the HILLSIDE. As Ernie comes out, 
	hunched against the cold, Dondaro can be seen disappearing 
	down the road. Ernie heads toward Walker's dugout ... The 
	distant roll of artillery is heard. -- Dondaro slithers 
	down the village street and slips into the wine shop.
	Inside WALKER'S DUGOUT: Hollow-eyed with fatigue, Walker 
	sits huddled over his papers. The candle flickers fitfully, 
	casting strange shadows on the dank walls. There's a great 
	loneliness about this man as he sits there in this little 
	hollow tomb carved in this foreign hillside. Ernie is caught 
	by it as he enters. Walker glances up. Ernie goes to him 
	with a second joint of turkey he has saved for him.
			(handing it to him) 
		Merry Christmas, Bill.
			(taking it)
		Merry Christmas, Ernie.
	His eyes shadow; he looks away; then, as if remembering, 
	holds up the bottle.
		Night cap? 

		Don't mind ...

	Ernie sinks to a seat. There's only the soft gurgling of the 
	bottle in the silence. They lift their cups and drink. It's 
	murderous stuff.

		What's this -- a secret weapon?
		Grappa. Italian moonshine. A Purple 
		Heart with every third drink.
		I'd rather have some good 
		Albuquerque sunshine ...
		It must be pretty nice in New 
		Mexico this time of the year ...

		Sure is ...

		Always wanted to get out West -- 
		Someday -- maybe--
		If you do, look us up. That girl and 
		I will show you how it's done ... 
		You married?
			(filling his cup)
		Well, yes and no ... She wanted one 
		thing; I wanted another ... She 
		walked out ... Chapter closed ...
	He drinks, shudders as the drink goes down. Ernie fingers 
	his cup. Again the silence; only the wail of the wind and 
	the distant rumble of artillery.
		... Names ... I've been crossing out 
		old names ... putting new names in ...
			(he looks up and laughs) 
		You're not the only writer in this 
		bunch ... I've been writing too ...

	He checks himself, Ernie glances up, understanding the 
	burden on Walker's heart.
		Jones -- Peterson -- McCarthy -- 
		Spidofsky -- Smith ... Dear Mrs. 
		Smith, your son died bravely today 
		on the ...

	He fills his cup again. But doesn't drink. There is a short 
	laugh from him -- but there's no laughter in his eyes. 

		And the new kids coming up. ... 
		That's what gets you ... Some of 
		them have just got fuzz on their 
		faces ... 

	We get a close view of ERNIE listening to him.

		... They don't know what it's all 
		about ... And they're scared to 
		death ...

	We see them together.
		... I know it's not my fault they 
		get killed but I get so I feel like 
		a murderer ...
		I hate to look at 'em -- the new 
		ones ... 
			(Then, almost mockingly) 
		Drink up, Ernie ... Here's to Faid 
		Pass ... Salerno ... Anzio 
		beachhead ...
			(He drinks) 
		Geez, I'm tired ...
		You better try and get some sleep.

		That reminds me of W. C. Fields' 
		sure cure for insomnia. Get lots of 
	Silence ... The candle flickers. Ernie sips at his cup.
			(fighting sleep)
		.... Names and addresses ... and 
		hills to be taken ... You'd be 
		simply amazed at the number of hills 
		still to be taken ... 
			(suddenly looking 
			up at Ernie) 
		Tell me, Ernie, why the devil don't 
		you go home?
			(looking into his cup)
		I've often asked myself.
		If only we could create something 
		good out of all this energy and all 
		these men ... 
			(His voice trails off)  
		They're the best, Ernie ... the 
		best ... 

	The view draws closer to Ernie as he stares into his cup.
		Yip! They live in a world the other 
		world'll never know ... Even the Air 
		Force ... Up there they approach 
		death differently. When they die 
		they're well-fed and clean-shaven ... 
		If that's any comfort ... 
			(He stares ahead 
			deeply moved.) 
		But the GI ... he lives so miserable 
		and dies so miserable, you just ...
	He turns toward Walker, stops and smiles gently. Walker is 
	asleep in deep exhaustion, head on the table. Ernie rises 
	and puts a blanket around Walker's shoulders. He looks down 
	at the sleeping man -- then snuffs out the candle ... 
	There's the distant roar of artillery as the scene fades 

	The HILLSIDE fades in as Dondaro is returning in the pitch 
	before dawn, a happy relaxed expression on his face. He 
	furtively steals past Walker's dugout. Walker, shivering, 
	comes out in the bone-chilling morning.
	As Dondaro shakily approaches, Walker looks him over keenly, 
	but his tone is amiability itself. The sky's begun to gray.
		Have a nice time?
	Expecting a lacing, Dondaro is taken aback by Walker's 
	friendly tone. He nods, puzzled.
			(still friendly)
		Always like to see one of my men get 
		some relaxation ...
			(Almost intimately) 
		Y'know, Dondaro, it would give me a 
		great deal of personal pleasure ...

	Dondaro begins to beam. After all, the Cap's human. Maybe 
	he'd like a "telephone number" too ... Walker's sudden cold 
	tones knife him out of his daydreams.
			(incisively) break every bone in your body! 
		Goin' off down there was one thing! 
		Up here it's another! 
			(Dondaro gulps; 
			Walker blazes.) 
		Now get out! Before I kick the--
	Dondaro hastily starts to scoot. Heads have begun to stick 
	out of the dugouts to listen to this lashing.
			(Dondaro halts.) 
		Report to Sergeant Warnicki. Tell 
		him you're going to dig latrines for 
		every man in this company from here 
		to Rome! Nice deep ones.
	Dondaro scoots. The GI's' faces light with delightful 
	anticipation. A sudden shell-burst slams over as the scene 
	dissolves to a view of the HILLSIDE, where, wielding a 
	pickaxe, Dondaro has dug about two feet of trench. He's 
	tired, disgusted, grimy.

		You're lucky, Dondaro. You're 
		learning a trade.
	The angle widens to include several GI's ribbing him.
		When this war's over, I'm gonna 
		write a book exposin' this Army.
			(leaning over 
			to Dondaro)
		Hey, Dondaro, tell me confidentially, 
		was it worth it?
			(his eyes melting)
		Klk! Klk!
	He digs with renewed vigor. Suddenly there's a deep all-
	encompassing drone in the sky -- a far-away surge of doom-
	like sound. They all look up, crying out:
		Hey, look! Look!
	In a rising crescendo, a vast armada of planes approaches, 
	wave on wave, blacking out the sky. Hurrying out of his 
	DUGOUT, Walker swiftly looks at his watch, looks at the sky,
 	and starts shouting to Warnicki--
			(crisp; businesslike)
		Okay, Steve! Let's go!
			(shouting to the men)
		Okay, men. This is what you've been 
		waiting for! Okay, men -- let's go! 
		On the double!
	The GI's start running up excitedly, falling into their 
	formations ready to start out.
			(heard over the scenes)
		General Eisenhower had made his 
		decision. Bomb the monastery. If we 
		have to choose ... between 
		destroying a famous building and 
		sacrificing our men's lives ... then 
		our men's lives count infinitely 
		more. And -- here was one of the 
		grim ironies of war -- the very 
		rubble of the monastery became a 
		fortress for the Nazis and they 
		stopped us cold. We were right back 
		where we started from.
	We see the MONASTERY. A bomb explodes on the abbey. Then 
	three -- then six -- Then all hell. -- The hillside seems to 
	lift. -- We see that the entire company is elated at the 
	pasting the Monastery is getting.
		On the button!
		Paste 'em one for me!
		That's the old haymaker!
		Hit 'em on the kisser!
	Tons of bombs pulverize the monastery! The bombardment is 
	volcanic. Then in a long view directed toward the STONE 
	HOUSE and DEFILE we see the men excitedly moving out into 
	the defile in a general attack. A GI salutes the statue in 
	the niche as he passes.
		So long, St. Chris. We won't be 
		seein' you no more.
	Next we get a series of views showing the withdrawal of the 
	troops from the attack on Cassino. Limping back, our tanks 
	slowly grind past several overturned, still burning, tanks. 
	-- This cuts to WARNICKI'S DUGOUT as, beaten, scarcely able 
	to breathe, our GI's stumble in and flop down in 
	Several are missing; Wayne and Gross are gone ... Dondaro 
	lifts his head and looks around.
		Warnicki -- ain't he back?
	This cuts to the HILLSIDE, near the DEFILE. Walker moves 
	tensely about, hunched in his rain coat. His nerve-strained 
	face keeps looking toward the mist-filled defile. But there 
	is no one. Only the swirling mist. His lips tighten ... He 
	keeps pacing ...
	Outside the GI's DUGOUT, three GI's look up very much 
	concerned, toward Walker.
		Better take him some coffee ... and 
		keep your eye on him, too.

	One of them, Babyface Pete, starts toward Walker with a pot 
	of steaming coffee.
			(to another GI)
		When are we hittin' 'em again?

			(glancing at his watch)
		Eighteen hundred.
	WALKER stops as Babyface Pete approaches, silently offering 
	him coffee.
		No, thanks. ...
		It's hot.
		No thanks, Pete.
	He continues pacing, keeping his eye on the defile. Babyface 
	moves off behind a boulder and watches Walker. Still pacing, 
	Walker anxiously glances at his watch and then toward the 
	defile. Still only the swirling mist ... -- Hopelessly now, 
	Walker slowly starts back toward the dugout. But suddenly 
	he hears something in the defile. He looks up, his eyes 
	lighting.... And in a distant view of the DEFILE, slowly 
	emerging out of the mist, we see a great leaden, mud-caked 
	figure -- a mass of fatigue and weariness -- Warnicki!  

	Walker starts to him with a cry of joy ... But the cry fades 
	as he sees the abysmal weariness in Warnicki's face.
		Tough time gettin' back, sir.
	Walker nods, and Warnicki slogs leadenly toward the dugouts.
	We get a close shot of WALKER staring after Warnicki. His 
	eyes are filled with pain. Then the scene cuts to WARNICKI'S 
	DUGOUT. Entering, Warnicki slumps down to his corner. He 
	does nothing but sit there for a moment, just breathing.  
	Ayrab sidles up and licks his torn, mud-caked hands. Then, 
	automatically, without thought, Warnicki reaches down for 
	the one comfort that has sustained him so long. His horny 
	blood-torn hands bring the PHONOGRAPH to his knees and 
	habitually, as he has done so often before, his thick 
	fingers fumble at the lever -- the disc revolves -- but now, 
	instead of the usual grating sound, there emerges from it 
	the sweetest, softest, most innocent voice in the world.  
	Junior's childish treble ... and ...
		Come on Junior, say hello to your 
			(on the phonograph)
		Hello, daddy ... Hello, daddy ... 
		Hello, daddy ... Hello, daddy ... 
		Hello, daddy ...
	The calloused mud-caked hand near the phonograph trembles. 
	The view slowly moves up to WARNICKI'S FACE. And it's a 
	horrible, terrifying thing to see. For this face of rock, 
	this granite face, this face that has endured every torture 
	and abomination of war, is cracking. Cracking as a child's 
	voice innocently sings on and on--
		Hello, daddy ... Hello, daddy ... 
		Hello, daddy ...
	The giant frame of the man seethes with a volcanic emotion; 
	the tears burn out of his eyes. His breath comes in short 
	tortured gasps. And suddenly he can endure no more. He rises 
	and breaks. And it's like a great heart breaking. Not 
	weakly, but like a storm suddenly gone berserk.
			between gasps) 
		If it wasn't for them, I'd be home 
		with Junior ... I'd be home with 
		little Junior. I'll ... I'll kill 
		every mother's son of them ... I'll 
		kill them!   

	He lunges fiercely toward the opening.
		Grab him!
	The phonograph goes on and on ... Springing at him, Waters 
	and Moss try to stop him. But he tosses them aside like 
	chips. -- Tearing out of the dugout, Warnicki bulls wildly 
	toward the defile, tearing past Walker.
		If it wasn't for them ... I'd be 
		home with little Junior!  If it 
		wasn't for them! ... I'll kill 'em!
		Warnicki! Warnicki!
	But Warnicki doesn't hear. He has only one thought. To get 
	at those Nazis who have destroyed so much of his and 
	everyone's happiness. To rip them apart with his own bare 
	hands! Dondaro, coming down from the road, leaps at Warnicki. 
	But Warnicki throws him aside ... -- Walker hurls himself in 
	a football tackle at the frenzied man -- The two men go down 
	in a heap near the ruins of the stone house. But Warnicki 
	lashes himself free. Dondaro now pounces on. And Waters and 
	Moss! But all four can't hold Warnicki in his berserk 
	strength ... From the dugout phonograph continues on ...

			(frothing fiercely)
		Little Junior ... Little Junior! Let 
		me go! What's the matter with you? 
		You son of a--
	His wildness seizes all of them like a contagion. They 
	battle with him frenziedly, until ... Walker suddenly shoots 
	over four sharp vicious jabs to the button, and Warnicki 
	sags ... They let him down gently ... The phonograph winds 
	down ... stops ... -- Waters and Moss bend over Warnicki 
	... Walker and Dondaro stand there panting ... Finally they 
	help Warnicki up, but as they do they hear--

			(muttering like a 
			gibbering idiot)
		... hello, daddy ... hello, daddy 
		... hello, daddy ... hello ... Go 
		on, Junior ... say hello to daddy 
		... hello, daddy, hello, daddy, 
		hello, daddy ...
	Deeply shaken, Walker fights to keep from turning away. The 
	men look to him for help.
			(his voice treacherously 
		Take him to the medics....
	But now, as they lead the still gibbering Warnicki off with 
	Ayrab dancing playfully at his shambling feet, a lieutenant 
	swiftly runs up to Walker. (In the background the company is 
	forming for the attack.) 

		All right, men, let's do something 
		about that.
		The machines had done their best but 
		it wasn't enough. Now came the time, 
		as it does in every war, for the 
		greatest fighting machine of them 
		all -- the infantry soldier -- to 
		go in and slug it out.
	The scene dissolves and is followed by a series of scenes 
	representing the victorious attack of the infantry, 
	concluding with a close view of a SIGNPOST at night. It 
	reads "ROMA" with an arrow pointing up ahead. Then we see 
	the ROAD TO ROME as a long surge of troops is heading upward 
	toward the capital. There is a spirited victorious swing to 
	their movement. The moonlight reflects on their helmets, 
	their rifles, their armor. The sound of battle is faint, 
	intermittent, far to the north ...
	In the midst of these fresh buoyant troops is Ernie. He 
	slogs along with them, an older man, reflectively noting 
	their swing, their excited gum chewing. Snatches of 
	conversation drift around him.
		Where you from, Joe?
		Louisiana? Good.
			(looking back, 
		Cassino looks a lot better from 
		this side.
		All away to Rome!
		I got a good telephone number there!
	As Ernie tiredly smiles, he sees someone off the road. And 
	on the ROADSIDE, with the moonlight on the HILLS in the 
	background we see a GI who looks as though he's been thru 
	battle. Ernie approaches him.
		Hey fellows, do you know where the 
		18th Infantry is?
		This is it.
		C Company--? 

		What's left of it.
	He nods over his shoulder. Ernie starts up along a narrow 
	trail in the direction of his nod. We then see him coming to 
	a GLEN where lying about, mud-begrimed and weary, are 
	several GI's of our company, among them Babyface and Moss. 
	They are exhausted, but there is a certain sense of elation 
	over their victory. One of the men is wearily playing a 
	harmonica to himself. As Ernie comes up, he is greeted by 
	one or two--
		Hiya, Ernie--
		Welcome to this side of Cassino--
		Where you been, Ernie? 

		Hiya, boys -- Finally made it. 

	Covertly he counts heads as he looks around to see which of 
	the GI's of his company are still there; which are gone. 

		Guys moving up the road look kind of 
		chipper, don't they, Ernie?
		Sure do!
	They look toward the troops on the main road, and next, in 
	the background, a long line of GI's can be seen marching up 
	the road to Rome, their helmets glinting in the moonlight. 
	-- Ernie continues down the line.
		Hi, Ernie.
		Hi, boys.
				FIRST GI  
			(not bitterly)
		Yeah -- we kick the door open and 
		them guys make the grand entrance.
		Let 'em have their fun -- they're 
		still young.
		Got an extra chair here? Haven't you 
		eaten that dog yet?
	He suddenly stops as across their vision up the hills on the 
	opposite side of the road, comes a slow line of mules 
	winding their way down. The mules bear a burden slung across 
	their pack saddles, the nature of which is indistinct.
	The MULE TRAIL is now seen, and so is the burden the mules 
	are carrying.
	They are dead bodies lashed, belly down, across the saddles. 
	The stiffened legs stick out awkwardly. The mules are slowly 
	led toward a cowshed just off the road.

	The boys silently watch the mules being led toward a cowshed 
	in the background. The line of troops marching toward Rome 
	has passed on. GI's unlash the bodies and lift them from the 
	pack saddles and lay them, one after another, in the shadow 
	of the cowshed's stone wall.
			(looking toward the mule 
			trail; suddenly, quietly)
		It's Dondaro....
	They all look up, and we see the MULE TRAIL, from their 
	viewpoint. Slowly, carefully, a GI is leading a mule with 
	its dead burden down the trail. As he leads the mule toward 
	the cowshed, we see that it's Dondaro. He looks half-dead 
	himself. Gently, he unlashes the body and slides it down the 
	mule. For a moment the dead man is stood on his feet. In the 
	half light he looks merely like a sick man standing there 
	leaning against Dondaro. -- Then we see the GROUP.
			(in a half whisper)
		It's the Cap'n ...
	They watch Dondaro lay Walker's body on the ground in the 
	shadows and sit down near him. -- Then we see, from another 
	angle, Dondaro sitting there staring at Walker. Slowly some 
	of the men across the road in the background stir and go 
	toward Walker's body, one by one, Ernie with them. Several 
	remain behind.
	The men trail slowly up, pausing a little distance away from 
	Walker's body. Then one goes slowly forward and looks down 
	at Walker's body. Ernie watches them.

		God damn it!
	That's all he says and walks away. And then another GI 
	comes up.
		God damn it to hell, anyways!
	He looks down for a moment and then he too turns and goes. 
	And now a third comes up -- an officer and looks down into 
	Walker's face and speaks to him directly, as though he were 
		I'm sorry, old man.
	And he turns away. Finally, Babyface files up, and we see 
	WALKER'S BODY, the view including DONDARO and ERNIE. Dondaro 
	remains immobile. The Babyface runner comes up and speaks, 
	not in a whisper, but awfully tenderly.
		I sure am sorry, sir.
	And he too goes. Ernie watches, deeply moved. And now 
	Dondaro slowly reaches out and takes Walker's dead hand into 
	his own and stares intently into his captain's dead face, 
	for what seems to be a long time. And he never utters a 
	word ...
	Finally Dondaro puts the hand down and reaches over, gently 
	straightening the points of the captain's shirt collar. 
	Then, tenderly, he sort of rearranges the tattered edges of 
	the uniform around Walker's wound. -- And this is the 
	gesture that breaks Ernie completely, as we see him closely. 
	He turns away sharply to hide his emotion, and fighting for 
	control, he walks away from the scene, toward the moonlit 
	trail leading to the main road .... leaving Dondaro and 
	Walker in the shadowed background.... The scene then cuts to 

		All right, men -- let's go.
	And finally against the background of white wooden crosses 
	gleaming in the moonlight, we see the troops marching onward 
	to Rome. Ernie turns, walks after them. They go off into the 
	distance, becoming silhouettes in the background, and the 
	film fades out as Ernie concludes:
		That is our war and we will carry it 
		with us as we go from one battleground 
		to another until it is all over. We 
		will win. I hope we can rejoice with 
		victory -- but humbly -- and that all 
		together we will try, try out of the 
		memory of our anguish, to reassemble 
		our broken world into a pattern so 
		firm and so fair that another great 
		war can never again be possible. 
			(After a pause) 
		For those beneath the wooden crosses 
		there is nothing we can do except 
		perhaps to pause and murmur "Thanks, 

Screenplay by Leopold Atlas, Guy Endore and Philip Stevenson