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23.976 On the other side|of the world... in Europe the Allied forces|are pounding the Germans... with relentless force. We do not expect to have|a winter lull in Europe. We expect to|keep striking... to keep the enemy|on the move... and hit him again|and again. 1944, December. I was miles|from the front... and a stranger to war. Troops, fuel dumps... enemy units... they were pins|on a map to me. Champagne? Are you trying|to score a few points? Just trying to aid|the war effort, Hart. Tom. Sir. The captain needs a lift|back to the 106th. Can you find him a driver? I can take him, sir. Funny. I had a feeling|you'd say that. Well, there hasn't been|much movement today, sir. So I see. Captain. Oh, don't forget, sir. You wanted to send some of that|champagne along as well. Yes. Yes, thank you|for reminding me, Tom. The general should get|a kick out of that. Colonel. Troops are now fighting... along a battle line|of 300 miles in Poland... France, and Germany. Within 10 weeks|after the first landings in France last June, the Allies have landed|nearly 2 million men. You know what|this army could use, sir? Snowplow services. What we could use... is half a million gallons|of gasoline... and a road|that wasn't paved... for Bouncing Betties. German S-mines. Yes, sir. You really ought|to spend a night... on the line sometime,|Lieutenant. I know that, sir. Of course,|it's not too likely, is it? Sir? The Colonel says|your father is a senator. So I guess you won't|spend too many nights... in a foxhole, will you? It's nothing|to be ashamed of, son. That's a hell|of a father to have. -Where to, sir?|-St. Vith. I'm afraid you've gone|the wrong way, sir. St. Vith is due west. I'm pretty sure|St. Vith is due east. Sergeant,|it's straight ahead. Can I see that, sir? I drove this route|yesterday, Sergeant. Mm-hmm. Get your hands up. Out! Halt! Are you in great pain? First Lieutenant... Thomas Hart. Serial number... 1841287. Would you care|for a cigarette? Your train is|an 8 kilometer march from here. Of course,|with some shoes on... you might be all right. First Lieutenant... Thomas Hart. Serial number 1841287. Thank you, Lieutenant. But we both know... there is much more|to you than that. Show me locations|of the fuel dumps. Just point... and we can end all this. I'll have your clothes|returned to you immediately. When you are dressed,|we'll have another chat. Our last one, I hope. Smile, Joe. For you the war is over. Lieutenant. This will help|against the cold. No thanks, soldier. I'll be all right. No, you won't. Come on. Take it. Just till you warm up. Take it, sir. Hey, Captain... does somebody tell our folks|about us being captured? Germans give a list|to the military... and the military|notifies the family. Is that voluntary, sir? How do you mean,|Lieutenant? Uh, I mean... can you ask them not to? I don't think so. Have to put|some straw in there. Straw in your shoes... for frostbite. Another slave detail, sir. Hey, ladies... next batch of shells|you turn out... nothing but duds|this time, all right? Mortars no boom boom, ja? Fire! Captain, P-51 incoming. -Incoming!|-Ours? Get down, everybody! Get down! Everybody stay down! Keep low! Captain, what's happening? Why are they|shooting at us? They can't read the roof. All right, get the doors! Everybody get the doors! Come on, now! Get down! Get down! Down! Hart, help out! -Come on!|-Go! Go! Go! Go on, now!|Let's go! Moving out! Get the other cars! Get the other cars! Let's go! Now! We're spelling out! Round up your men now! We're spelling out|our position! We're spelling out! Hart, get that man|clear of here. Let's get in line! Assemble on me! -Assemble!|-Move it! Move it! All right, men! Let's get back in line! Move it! It's not helping. Come on, men! Oh, Christ. Are you OK? Keep looking at me.|Look at me. Look at me. Oh, shit. Shit. All right.|Are you all right? They're telling us to march. Probably ought to take|his boots, Lieutenant. Lieutenant! Take his boots. 'Cause either you|or some Jerry's gonna get 'em. Take 'em, sir... while you still got feet|to put 'em on. His socks, too. Ain't gonna help him any. Stay together. All right. Once again... I'm forced to remind you|escape is not a sport. Think of it this way. Now these Russians|have a chance... at a happy new year. Those are dogs|you're saluting, Colonel. Animals. My country doesn't make... those kinds of|distinctions, Colonel. They're our allies, Colonel. Oh, yes.|You and your allies. Let me tell you|about you and your allies. The Ministry of War|has just released the figures... from our offensive|in the Ardennes. Two hundred thousand Allies|killed or captured. Your Third Army-- Patton--|in full retreat. And the wehrmacht has captured|enough abundant fuel... to retake Paris-- perhaps even drive|your troops back to the sea. Might be a bit crowded|around here this winter. Turn around, Joes. Yes. Turn around. Ross. Hart. Ross and Hart. I'm Captain Ross. Major Clary. Lieutenant Hart. Lieutenant. Debriefing, gentleman.|Officer's hut. On the double. The German counterattack on|the American Third Army front... The German counterattack on|the American Third Army front... is still going on. The entire front... stretching about|30 miles south of Monschau... is in full view. On our side,|countermeasures are being taken. On the enemy's side,|more strafes are being flown in. This is a major German effort. Some of the best units|in the German army... were involved|in this penetration. At ease, soldier. Sit down. Thank you, sir. So tell me, Lieutenant... How come you're not dead? Sir? First you survive|crashing that jeep... then Hans and Fritz|take your boots. You got a rabbit's foot|in your pocket, son? Two horseshoes|and a 4-leaf clover, sir. Atta boy. By the way... you might want to take it easy|on that bread. You haven't had anything|solid for a while. Wouldn't want you to wind up|in the infirmary. I don't know, sir. After the march I just made... and infirmary might look|like the Waldorf to me. A stomach can shrink|quite a bit in 17 days. That's the number, isn't it? Seventeen days? Six days on the train... another 6 days of marching. What was it, Joe? Five days of interrogation? No, sir. Three days. Well, anyway...|easy does it. Yes, sir. Thank you. So this interrogator|they threw at you... his name wasn't Schumann,|was it? No, sir. Lutz. Schumann was a real prick. Almost broke me in two. Not much for small talk,|I guess. You come to appreciate that. Smoke, Lieutenant? Would you care|for a cigarette? Again, Lieutenant,|I need to ask you... the fuel dumps... Thank you. This Captain Lutz... he know much about|your operations at the chateau? He knew everything, sir. Fuel dump locations? Troop movements? Sir, he knew what|I'd had for breakfast... the morning of my capture. Point,|and we can end all this. Just name, rank,|and serial number. Good enough. You're excused, Lieutenant. Unfortunately,|we won't be able... to quarter you here. We're full up. We're gonna have to|put you in Barracks 27. Isn't barracks 27|for enlisted men, sir? Yes, it is... but as you can see... the Germans are doing a rather|brisk business these days. You'll be comfortable there. Sir. -Lieutenant.|-Sir. Point. Point or say|hello to stumps... for the rest|of your life. Good. Don, are you in?|I called. Hold your water, Joe. Hold your water, Joe. Looks like a whole division|just surrendered. Who's in charge here? Hey, how many we up to? Three lovely ladies,|big shot. That's right. That's right. -Excuse me.|-Yeah? I'm looking for|who's in charge here. From the looks of things,|I'd say Adolf Hitler. I'm Lieutenant Tom Hart. It's OK, folks. Staff Sergeant Vic Bedford. -Good to meet you.|-You, too. You just come in|from Ardennes? Yeah. Colonel sent me over|to bunk in here. Officers' barracks are full. Well, in that case,|welcome to Rio. Hope you don't mind, sir. All we have is this|middle bunk right here. It looks fine. I'm betting you're|a Lucky Strike man. You bet right. Care for some hooch,|Lieutenant? Ringing in the new year. Uh, thanks. I'm fine. It's fermented raisins,|mostly. A little turpentine|thrown in for flavor. I'm fine. We got anybody|left up front, sir? How are you doing,|Lieutenant? Private. Give him a break, fellas.|He just got here. Lieutenant. Guard 'em with your life. They double for cash|around here-- especially with the guards. -Thanks, Sergeant.|-Excuse me a second. Fellas, listen up. Lieutenant Hart here... is going to be staying|with us for a while. -Hello, sir.|-Men. Say, what's it take|to get in that poker game? I expect we can work|something out. Good. Sir, are you about a size 10? Why? They got a Woolworth's|behind one of these barracks? You never know. Just piss on him, sir. Huh? It's the only thing|that gets him moving. Happy New Year. New year. It's 1945! Happy New Year! Ten and a half|is the best I could do. The holiday season. Look at the smile|on this guy. Socks, too. Could have used those|in the... What's the matter,|you don't like trench foot? Sure, it's just that|once my toenails turned black... I didn't have a single purse|that matched. Square 'em up, Major. Yes, sir. Look at this. They've got those poor bastards|going around the clock now. See that factory|up past the North tower? The Germans are making bombs|right under our noses. It's supposed to be|a shoe factory. Instead, they've got the|Russians running in and out... making mortar shells. What the hell is that? One of their flyers. Wait a minute, they've got|niggers flying airplanes, now? Three hundred and thirty-second|Fight Squadron. I read about them|in ''Yank Magazine.'' I'll be damned. Well, we got us|some nigger officers. Fucking Jerry's right.|We must be losing this war. Five, 6, 7, 8. Lift! Lift! -Lieutenant.|-Sir. Looks like it'll be a good show. Yeah, it does. It's high stakes|around here, sir. What do you mean? Half the smokes in camp|are riding on... where you're putting|the new men. Where do you think|we should put them? I think I'd give them|their own billet tent, sir. Well, we can't do that. I was thinking about|putting them in 27 with you. Sir, wouldn't they be better off|in the officers' barracks? I don't carry enough weight|to move 2 officers out of 22. I can't make them|the only 2 officers... in the enlisted men's barracks. You're in 27. Figure you can keep|an eye on them for me. Sir, I'm still new|to that barracks. Don't carry a lot of weight|with the men yet. You've got bars|on your shoulder, Lieutenant. That ought to be weight enough. Be done. Come on. Tastes like chicken, right? No, you've got maggots. It's protein. Eat. -You called?|-Yeah. What do you got? Gonna have to to make|some room in here, fellas. Come on in, men. We got 2 more guests. Second Lieutenants|Lamar Archer and Lincoln Scott. You've got to be kidding, sir. They're gonna live here? Two officers just|entered the barracks. Where's your salute? What's the big idea, sir? I mean, we're all|full up in here. Not anymore. -Croutch, Krasner.|-Yes, sir. You've been reassigned.|Barracks 28. The Colonel wants you|situated before lockdown. What were you flying? P-51 bomber escorts. Must be a shitload|of dead bomber crews... scattered across Europe. You see these bars,|Sergeant? A pair of bars|don't make you fit to share... the same roof|with white folks, boy. Bedford! That's Lieutenant, boy.|You got that? Call yourself|whatever you want. You're still just|a nigger to me. I didn't quite catch that,|Sergeant. -What was that?|-All right! -That's enough!|-Just let it go. Set, go! Over--Over here! Nice. Very nice! Uh-oh! Deadline. Lieutenant!|Mind grabbing that, boy? What are you doing? Nice one, sir! Cookie, hey! More bread.|More bread. Das ist verboten! Das ist verboten, Bedford! Bon appetit! Shit! Nobody moves! How bad, Sergeant? Yeah, it's just a nick.|I'll be fine. -You all right?|-Yeah. Fuck 'em ! -Go get that hand looked at.|-Yes, sir. Hey, Bed. Cigarettes? You're a regular bank, Vic. How's the hand? Is that really what you|came over here to ask me? No. Major Clary told me|that you went to see him... to lodge a complaint about|Lieutenants Archer and Scott. I'm sure he'll take it up with|Eisenhower first chance he gets. They don't belong here. Nobody belongs here. But this is where|the colonel put them. Yeah. I bet you wish the colonel|would have given you... that open bunk|in the officers' barracks... right about now, Lieutenant. I mean, this is hardly|the Waldorf. Ain't that right? We're not going|to have a problem... about this, Sergeant,|understood? What did you do before the war|for a living? I was in law school.|Second year. Harvard? Yale. -Meet many coloreds up there?|-A few. Yeah, well,|I dealt with their kind. Two years I was|on the police force... in East St. Louis,|and I know what they are. So let's not pretend like|we're fucking neighbors. You finished, Sergeant? No, I'm not finished. Never did settle on a price,|did we... for them boots and socks? I mean, might be as cold as|the North Pole around here... but that don't make me|Santa Claus. What do you want? I'll take your watch. This was a gift from my father. I bet your daddy|can afford you another one. Is this going to buy me|a little civility, Sergeant? Tons. Not much of a picture, is it? Well, we do feel|a little misled, sir. Guard told us|they'd be showing... the life and time|of Jesse Owens. You know, you men can sit|up front with everyone else. We're fine, sir. Nobody's going to bother you. I said we're fine, sir. That was nice, C.W.|That was 18 inches. Ah, come on, Joe.|It was 2 feet, at least. Hey, either way,|my record still stands. Cut it out, you guys. Up, up, up. Everybody.|Out of the way. -Out!|-Out of the bunks. Attention. Attention near the bunks. Now. Who is the ranking man in here? Lieutenant Thomas Hart. One of your men was out on the|compound tonight, Lieutenant. He was spotted|on the East field... removing a spike from|one of the billet tents. Your men are aware of|this camp's policy... concerning the possession|and concealment of weapons... are they not? Major, no one has|left this barracks. Whoa, wait a minute.|What the hell-- Quiet. -But this is a plant.|-Quiet. -Somebody put that--|-Quiet. You bastard, I heard you go out. I should have seen this coming. Major, where are|you taking this man? Examples must be made,|Lieutenant. We take the safety of|our men very seriously. Major, where are you all|taking him? What did he do? I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, Bedford. You put that spike-- Watch your mouth, nigger. You put that spike there.|Get off of me. -Lincoln, look at me.|-Get off of me. Can I let you go, Lincoln? It's a minor offense, Colonel. This man deserved 15 days|in the cooler, not execution. He attempted to escape. Bullshit. You dragged him out of his|barracks barely clothed. Your men lined him up|and shot him. This man wasn't trying|to escape... any more than those Russians|you hung the other day. Is he a dog? A lesser race? There's a word you|Americans use, as I remember. But of course, your country|doesn't make such distinctions. And neither do you, I'm sure. He was an officer... a lieutenant in|the Army Air Corps. Yeah. That's why you were|so eager... to welcome him and the other one|into your barracks. Look it up, Colonel. We have every right|to question a man... for concealment of|a dangerous weapon. This man had rights, too. The Geneva Convention... specifically forbids|summary executions. Take a look around you, Colonel. This is not Geneva. Where are you going? To check on my men. You're welcome to do so,|of course. In the meantime, I'll be looking|in on your barracks... to listen to what's on|the B.B.C. this evening. Now go see your men, Colonel. Good night. Not to love the Fuhrer|is a great disgrace so we heil, heil|right in the Fuhrer's face Is we not the super friend? Aryan pure supermen? Ja, we is der supermen Super-duper supermen Is this Nazi land Let's go. How's Scott holding up? It's hard to tell. He isn't saying much. He was asking about the body. And there's some personal|effects--dog tags. Come on, boys. Take that, you bastard. Careful, Bedford. That's a nigger|you're rooting for. Tail's painted red... means he's 99th,|right out of Tuskegee, boy. Come on, let's get him out! Get them out of there. Get him to the doc, now. Put this out. Come on! More buckets, more buckets.|Quickly, come on. Come on! -Move around this corner.|-Yes, sir. Do you know where|I wish I'd never been? Where's that? The goddamn Waldorf. It's not personal. He just can't stand|being lied to. -I never lied to him.|-Go on. You hung yourself the minute|he debriefed you. That guy Lutz|they threw on you... he was a level 1 interrogator. McNamara had him, too. When a guy won't talk, they just|keep kicking him up the ladder. Level 2, level 3. It takes weeks. He was in there for a month. The only guy you saw was Lutz... and he spit you out of there|in 3 days. All I gave them was name,|rank, and serial number. See, the thing about the colonel|is he's not like you and me. He's West Point,|fourth generation. He was raised on all this. The crap like this... catching a junior officer|in an obvious lie... all it does is remind him|of how far away he is... from the real war... the one he's supposed|to be fighting. You see? Lieutenant Lincoln. {}{} |
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