Battleground

To the rear, march! To the rear, freeze!

Forward! To the right flank, freeze!

Forward! Platoon, halt.

At ease.

What was that number in Paris?

All heads up. Right face.

Forward march.

Extend. Hut!

Swing right. Hut!

"Merry Christmas." That's a crock.

Beats those replacement camps.

You said the war would be over

by Christmas.

What do you want, egg in your beer?

Here we are, two hours from Paris.

The spitting image

of Camp Wolters, Texas.

You know, they got a man in the army.

A two-star general.

But all he does is fly around

in a private plane looking for ugly places.

Flat, sandy places. No trees, no water.

Then he checks up on the climate.

If it's too hot in summer for human life

and too cold in winter...

and if it has more rain, fog, wind,

and snow...

than any other spot he can find,

then he plants the American flag...

and proclaims it a US Army camp.

Did they drill that way at Camp Wolters?

Bombshell.

Box steps.

To the rear, freeze! Forward!

To the right flank, freeze!

Forward! Platoon, halt!

At ease!

Forty-two sixty what?

- Forty-two sixty-ten.

- Seventy!

Platoon, attention. Right face.

Forward march!

The Screaming Eagle.

They know who you are

when you wear that on your sleeve.

It wasn't bad enough

being in Infantry Replacement.

We have to volunteer

for the 101st Airborne.

You go in gliders instead of trucks.

That's the only difference.

There must be a difference

or they wouldn't give you extra pay.

Hooper, I don't think

I'll take in that movie tonight.

I'll be kind of busy getting acquainted

and sewing on shoulder patches.

Why did they have to put us

in different companies?

- Lf we ask them, they might do something.

- No. There's another major general.

His job is to find out who your buddy is

and then to split you up.

- Don't forget, I'm in K Company.

- I won't.

And don't you forget, I'm in I Company.

Third platoon, second squad.

So long, Hooper.

Thanks.

Remember that lieutenant in Normandy...

who said he'd court-martial the first man

who tossed his gas mask away?

We ripped out the masks...

and used the carriers

for toting that cognac we liberated.

"Take care of that gas mask, soldier.

It might save your life someday."

- Hiya. How did you make out?

- The lights were pretty bad...

but I was really flipping them in there.

Six completed passes.

- I'll be hot in that game tomorrow.

- Tomorrow? You ain't going to Paris?

Him? He'd rather play football than eat.

With the chow we've been getting,

I don't blame him. But Paris...

It's gonna be lonesome here.

The whole platoon's going.

All except the replacements.

- Sgt. Wolowicz?

- Yeah?

My name is Layton.

I've been assigned to your squad.

Make yourself at home,

but on some other sack.

- That one's mine.

- I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Li'I Abner in Paris.

Boy, that's gonna be something.

Daisy Mae won't know you

when you get back to Dogpatch.

That's for dang sure.

Abner, will you please stop saying that?

Fellows, look what I found.

- Holley.

- The Purple Heart kid.

At ease, men.

I heard the war was on its last legs,

so I thought I'd come back.

Rough in the ETO.

A little scratch on his leg...

and a month later he comes back in time

for a three-day pass to Paris.

It was misery in that hospital, Kipp.

Passes every night, champagne, I'amour.

And me brooding all the time

about my dear buddies back there...

defending the Republic.

Will you look at that girl bait.

I'm getting me a mess of that fruit salad

just as soon as we hit Paris.

You can have the sack next to me.

Nobody's got it, have they?

No, I was just sitting here.

- That's a nice-looking little girl.

- It's a boy.

What's it like, Holley?

- Paris?

- Yeah.

I spent my spare time in the art galleries.

But I happened to hear about a place

that might interest you. Place Pigalle.

Pig Alley.

Be sure to bring your dog tags,

because one night in Pig Alley...

Excuse me.

Because you're going to think

you're the Caliph of Baghdad.

You guys talk about Piccadilly Circus.

Compared to Pig Alley,

it's like the quiet room in a limey YMCA.

How about you and me

boarding up in Paris?

What's the matter,

did Pop Stazak disown you?

Pop can't go on account of his arthritis.

I love you, Roderigues. I love all of you.

But I'm getting me a private room

and private bath in Paris...

if I have to get it at the point of a gun.

The big brain wants to get away

from us common people.

He hasn't got anybody around here

to chat with about the Einstein Theory.

What do you mean? He's got me.

There ain't nothing

we like to talk about better.

What happened to Lt. Belwick?

He was just your speed, Joe College.

He got hit in Holland.

It's all right, kid. Go right ahead.

Just brush me off when you're through.

- Holley, my boy, bonjour.

- Hiya. What are you busting out about?

It's nothing at all, son.

It's hardly worth mentioning.

They're just making me a civilian,

that's all.

- They what?

- I wish I had arthritis.

It ain't the arthritis.

They got a report from the Red Cross...

that my wife is too sick

to take care of the kids.

So I let them talk me into accepting

a dependency discharge.

Glad you made it, Pop.

Who's gonna adopt Roderigues?

He'd be lost without his Popsy Wopsy.

One of these days

you're going to get a GI bootsie wootsie...

right square in those GI teeth.

Such language. You should have

learned him better manners, Pop.

- Knock it off, will you?

- When do you leave?

Any day now. I have to sweat out

a letter of confirmation...

from our higher headquarters.

You'll be in Paris.

No, I decided to catch that football game.

That's swell. It'll be rugged

waiting around here all alone.

See you in the morning, Johnny.

You gonna miss me, Abner?

That's for dang sure.

I'm glad to see you guys

finally got the junk off my cot.

How about dousing that light?

Paris trucks are leaving early.

Okay, douse it.

All right, roll out of them sacks.

Hit it.

Leave your cots and grab your socks.

Let's go, men. You're slow.

Get them up, Wolowicz.

- I ain't going to Paris.

- Nobody's going to Paris.

- We're moving up. On trucks.

- Moving up? Where to?

Beats me. The Krauts

made a breakthrough someplace.

They tell me it's gonna be cold...

so wear your long johns and two pairs

of pants. Three, if you can get them on.

But they told us yesterday

we'd be off the line for good.

They didn't get the order

till after midnight.

There's trucks this time instead of gliders.

That's a good sign, anyway.

This is strictly for the birds, brother.

Beats anything

ever I stuck my finger in before.

"General, I need a crack division

to plug up that gap."

"A crack division, General?

I'd be honored if you'd use the 101st."

"Awfully nice of you, old boy.

Thanks a lot."

"Not at all, General."

Maybe the adjutant

can put in a phone call.

Yeah. It's only a technicality.

- I forgot to tell you, men...

- Shut up!

It's a secret move,

so rip off your shoulder patches.

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