Apocalypse Now Page #15

CHEF:

There in the trees !

Everything is confusion -- yelling -- GUNFIRE -- the THUD

of heavy BULLETS ripping inti the P.B.R.'s fibreglass hull.

140 VIEW ON LANCE

Lance's twin guns return the FIRE. The Chief moves to one

of the heavy guns and joins Lance in returning the FIRE.

141 VIEW ON THE MEN IN THE WATER

pushing, cutting. Bullets SMASH and EXPLODE around.

Clean climbs onto the boat, and leaps onto a gun emplace-

ment.

142 MED. VIEW

Nobody really knows where the erratic fire is coming from.

CHIEF:

(back at the helm)

Elevate Lance, in the tree. No,

I saw another.

CHEF:

Thirty meters up, Lance; I saw

the f***ing flash.

Lance grits his teeth, FIRING --

143 CLOSE SHOT ON CLEAN

144 POV BEHIND CLEAN

He BLASTS short bursts of tracers into the jungle, cutting

it to salad. Suddenly more tracers from another direction

-- Clean swings around -- BULLETS smash against his shield

and rip chunks from the surfboard. He BLASTS a long heavy

burst at the jungle -- trees crumble.

CLEAN:

I'm ripping 'em, man, son-of-a-

b*tch, it's jammed, oh God,

it's jammed.

Clean is riddled by MACHINE GUN FIRE.

Chief runs to Mr. Clean -- it is obvious that he is dead.

He looks angrily to Willard.

Willard and Chef are practically through. Willard leaps

up, as Chef finishes the last strokes. He moves toward

the cockpit.

WILLARD:

Throw me that ordnance.

Chef throws him an M-79 and several shells -- Willard

opens it, jams a huge projectile and pulls himself over

the edge of the cockpit.

WILLARD:

(continuing)

Give me some kind a field a fire --

BULLETS rip by.

CHEF:

(exhausted)

We're through.

He climbs aboard and collapses.

CHEF:

(continuing)

Oh, God --

LANCE:

(FIRING)

I ain't finished ! I ain't finished !

WILLARD:

Bring that bow ordnance into

those trees.

He jams his gun up as he sees a flash and FIRES -- there

is a low POP and a WHISTLE as the GRENADE arches into the

jungle.

145 POV. - BEHIND THEM

He FIRES another burst as the GRENADE EXPLODES brightly.

There is another POP and WHISTLE , another BLAST. A large

tree falls, just as the craft speeds up through the thin-

ning growth. We HEAR strange SCREAMING from the trees and

jungle, hideous MOANS and terror-filled CRIES.

146 CLOSE SHOT ON THE CHIEF

He jams the throttle forward -- the boat surges ahead.

Willard FIRES another GRENADE from his M-79.

147 FULL SHOT ON THE P.B.R.

The boat slams through the hyacinth growth, moving through

the river, FIRING BACK at unseen enemy in the jungle.

DISSOLVE TO :

148 FULL VIEW ON THE P.B.R. - TWILIGHT

The boat moves ahead at half speed through a wide, flat

area in the river.

149 MED. VIEW

The men sit around, exhausted, brutalized, wounded.

They look like animals, but they are relaxed, be-

cause they know they're too far from the banks to

be shot at.

They smoke pot and eat silently. Lance smokes a

joint and looks at his gun. Splotches of paint

have been blown away from the armor shield -- pieces

of deck are ripped and ragged around the mount.

The boat is a floating wreck.

Clean's body is being prepared in a plastic sack

by Chief. All of the men are silent.

Chef comes up from below; he has been wounded in the

shoulder.

CHEF:

There's some bad holes, man,

and the cracks -- water's coming

through the cracks. Food's shot

to hell.

WILLARD:

How much is left?

CHEF:

Less than half -- sure is a

mess down there.

Chief has been silent by the body of Clean in a plastic

sack.

WILLARD:

And the grass?

CHEF:

Still got a lot of that stuff

from Nha Trang. But we're

running low on the other.

Chief pushes Clean's body into the river.

150 VIEW ON WILLARD

He notices something in the distance.

151 WILLARD'S POV

A light.

152 MED. VIEW

Willard stands up, pointing up the river.

WILLARD:

Hey.

They all look over.

WILLARD:

(continuing)

That's a light down there --

CHEF:

Yeah, it is.

CHIEF:

What the hell is it?

WILLARD:

In the middle of the jungle --

a goddamn light.

153 FULL SHOT - THE P.B.R. - THE TWILIGHT

The P.B.R. approaches the distant light -- which seems

to be on the dock of an overgrown plantation building.

154 VIEW ON WILLARD, CHIEF

straining to see; he uses field glasses.

155 POV - THROUGH THE GLASSES

Seems to be some figures standing on the dock. The

figures pull back behind some drums.

156 BACK TO SCENE

WILLARD:

Watch it !

They duck as SHOTS RING OUT from the dock, stitching the

water across the P.B.R.'s bow. The crew crouches, guns

trained on the dock as the boat still approaches.

WILLARD:

(continuing)

They're not Cong.

CHIEF:

(over the loud-hailer)

We're Americans.

Another BURST, closer.

CHEF:

Maybe you shouldn't say we're

Americans?

Willard stares at the dock and building, trying to figure

it out.

WILLARD:

Chef, try your French.

Chief hands the loud-hailer to Chef, who shrugs and shouts:

CHEF:

Nous sommes Americains --

Silence.

CHEF:

(continuing)

Nous ne voulon pas vous agresser.

157 VIEW ON WILLARD

He looks through the glasses.

158 POV THROUGH THE GLASSES

Gradually, a small group appears from behind the drums

on the dock.

WILLARD (O.S.)

French Nationals -- they may not

be too friendly, though.

159 BACK TO SCENE

We drift closer to the dock. The Chef starts enjoying

speaking French.

CHEF:

Nous sommes Americains -- nous

sommes des amis --

There is silence as the boat drifts closer. Then:

FRENCHMAN:

(shouting out)

Vous parlez Francais comme une vache

espanole.

CHEF:

(to himself)

I thought it was pretty good,

myself.

CHIEF:

What'd he say?

CHEF:

Said I speak French like a

Spanish cow.

FRENCHMAN (O.S.)

Laisser tomber vos armes --

CHEF:

Put the guns straight up -- stand

away from the mounts.

WILLARD:

Do it.

They do.

FRENCHMAN (O.S.)

Vous pouvez approcher mais

doucement --

CHEF:

Take her in slow.

160 FULL SHOT - DIFFERENT ANGLE - DOCK

The men on the dock move forward, cautiously. They are

a young man, PHILIPPE, about 25, strong and handsome, save

for a scar down on the side of his face and through his left

eye, which is covered by a patch. He is dressed in a

tiger suit and the red beret of the French colonial para-

troops. Also of the red beret are HENRY LeFEVRE, a bear-

ded, dark-looking man of 35, and TRAN VAN KAC, a middle-

aged half-breed slave. They all bear automatic weapons

and suspicious in their eyes. As the boat pulls up to the

dock, another Frenchman joins the group, obviously the

head man, GASTON De MARAIS, about fifty, small and deli-

cate, with a strength about him.

PHILIPPE:

Hands on the heads.

CHIEF:

I can't steer with my goddamn

feet.

CHEF:

Hey, they speak American.

GASTON:

Who is the commanding officer?

CHIEF:

I --

WILLARD:

I am -- I'm Captain B.L. Willard.

This is Chief Warrant Officer

Phillips -- it's his boat. We

were shot up bad downriver and

need repairs and food -- we can

pay you in gold.

GASTON:

Philippe --

Philippe moves to another position -- Kac grabs the rope

from the deck and ties it to the dock.

LANCE:

I'll help you with --

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