Apocalypse Now Redux Page #5

Willard is sitting, smoking a cigarette, and looking down

at a large pouch. He opens the flap and WE SEE there are

several dossiers inside. He opens one, thumbing through

the material. WE SEE the personal letters, photographs,

reports, files-the entire case history of Colonel Walter

E. Kurtz.

WILLARD (V.O.)

At first, I thought they handed me

the wrong dossier. I couldn't

believe they wanted this man dead.

Third-generation West Point, top

of his class...Korea, Airborne,

about a thousand decorations, etc.,

etc. I'd head his voice on the

tape and it really put the hook in

me, but I couldn't connect up that

voice with this man. Like they

said, he had an impressive career.

Maybe too impressive. I mean,

perfect. He was being groomed for

one of the top slots in the

corporation. General, chief of

staff, anything. In 1964, he

returned from a tour with Advisory

Command in Vietnam, and things

started to slip. His report to

the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Lyndon

Johnson was restricted. Seems

they didn't dig what he had to

tell them. During the next few

months, he made three requests...for

transfer to Airborne training,

Fort Benning, Georgia...and was

finally accepted. Airborne? He

was thirty-eight years old. Why

the f*** would he do that?

1966...joins Special Forces, returns

to Vietnam.

Suddenly we HEAR a sound, a distant EXPLOSION. The crew

all stop whatever they are doing, look out beyond the shore

and the green jungled hills. There is a distant ROLLING

NOISE, like interrupted thunder. The buffeting and noise

continue.

CHEF:

What's that?

WILLARD:

Arc light.

LANCE:

What's up?

WILLARD:

B-52 strike.

CHEF:

What's that?

WILLARD:

Arc light!

CHEF:

I hate that. Every time I hear

that, something terrible happens.

CLEAN:

Charlie don't never see them or

hear them, man.

LANCE:

There they are!

He points up to the sky.

EXT. SKY - FULL SHOT - DAY

Way up-past any clouds and barely discernible we SEE the

black silhouettes of four B-52 bombers, their vapor trails

streaming white against the dark blue sky.

CLEAN:

Concussion'll suck the air out of

your damn lungs.

CHEF:

Something terrible is going to

happen.

CLEAN:

Smoke! Secondary burning.

FULL SHOT-COASTLINE

Black smoke rises from the jungle.

CHIEF:

Hueys over there. Lots of Hueys.

WILLARD:

Let's have a look Chief.

The Chief hands Willard the field glasses. He looks through

them out at the burning coastline.

WILLARD (V.O.)

It was the Air-Cav, First of the

Ninth.

(to Chief)

That's them.

All the crew move to battle positions, get their flak

jackets, helmets, etc.

WILLARD (V.O.)

Our escorts to the mouth of Nung

River. But they were supposed to

be waiting for us another thirty

kilometers ahead. Well, Air Mobile.

Those boys just couldn't stay put.

The PBR moves to the beach through a chaos of other boats,

low-flying helicopters, and soldiers rushing by onshore.

EXT. BEACH AND VILLAGE - DAY

A vast field of devastation, smashed and burning huts,

shattered sampans and bodies washing around in the surf.

Willard jumps off the boat, Clean and Lance fall in behind

him, they head ashore.

WILLARD (V.O.)

First of the Ninth was an old

cavalry division that had cashed

in its horses for choppers, and

gone tear-assign around Nam looking

for sh*t. They'd given Charlie a

few surprises in their time here.

What they were mopping up now hadn't

even happened yet an hour ago.

They make their way across the beach, weapons in hand.

Explosions go off around them; there is smoke everywhere.

Suddenly they are stopped by a VOICE.

VOICE (O.S.)

Go on, keep going. It's for

television. Don't look at the

camera.

Willard and the two who are following stop incredulously,

their M16s still in hand.

VOICE (O.S.)

Go on, go on, keep going. Don't

look at the camera.

REVERSE ANGLE OF WHAT THEY SEE

A NEWS TEAM, dressed in fatigues and combat dress. A

director, cameraman, and soundman; the director keeps waving

them by.

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