From Here to Eternity Page #23

hoe handle an then he asks ‘that

hurt?’ and then I spit at him...

Ony yestiday he done it ten times

runnin an somethin bust... you

know, like they was a fish swiminin

aroun inside you...

PREW:

(to others)

Come on, let's get him to the

hospital.

Maggio grasps him tighter. He is crying now.

MAGGIO:

Prew... they gonna send you to the

Stockade...?

PREW:

No, Angelo -

TWO SHOT MAGGIO AND PREW

MAGGIO:

(pleading)

Should they do, watch out for

Fatso! You gotta make like it's a

game... He'll try to crack you but

you ain't gonna crack... He’s gonna

see you but he’ll never see you

saw... ‘n’ when he puts you in the

Hole you just lay there ‘n’ be

still... ‘at’s the ony way -- be

still... ‘n’ remember things... but

not people. Not people! Things like

nature... woods you been in...

trees is awys good...

He goes limp in Prew's arms, slides to the road.

GROUP SHOT:

Warden bends over Maggio. The others watch, scared.

CLOSE SHOT PREW:

staring down at Maggio.

GROUP SHOT:

Warden looks up.

121.

WARDEN:

He's dead.

CLARK:

Dead? But he was here just a minute

ago.

Prew bends over, picks up Maggio, holds him in his arms

gently, unbelieving.

STARK:

Fatso’s lucky. They'll figure he

got killed fallin out of that

truck.

PREW:

He ain't dead.

CAMERA MOVES AHEAD of Prew as he carries Maggio to the jeep,

the others following. He lifts Maggio into the rear of,the

jeep. Warden puts his hand on Prew's arm.

WARDEN:

He’s dead, Prew.

Prew stares at Maggio, lying in the jeep. Stark gets into the

front of the jeep.

STARK:

I'll take him, Prew.

He starts the motor. Prew leans over, moves Maggio's body a

little.

PREW:

(to Stark)

See his head don't bump.

The jeep drives off.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BARRACKS AREA - NIGHT

LONG SHOT:

Framed beautifully in the moonlight, the Quadrangle and

Barracks area look like a college campus. Silence. No

movement.

LONG SHOT ANOTHER ANGLE

A figure can be seen far in b.g, at the Bugler's post beside

the megaphone. Another figure stands near him. The silence

continues, then is broken by the sound of the bugle beginning

122.

Taps. The first note is incredibly clear and loud and

certain. It is held longer than most Buglers hold it. The

second note is daringly short, abrupt. The last note of the

first phrase rises, peals out, heartfelt. Two men come into

the shot, smoking. They stop, turn toward the Bugler, listen

attentively. One of them flips away his cigarette. The Taps

continues through the following.

INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

FULL SHOT:

Most of the men turn in their beds toward the sound of the

bugle. Some prop up on their elbows.

CLOSE SHOT CHOATE

as he listens. A look of mingled longing and satisfaction.

CLOSE SHOT LEVA:

listening. A strange look of pride.

CLOSE SHOT MAZZIOLI

listening, his face also betraying emotions normally

concealed.

MEDIUM SHOT TREADWELL AND ANDERSON

listening. Their bunks are next to each other.

TREADWELL:

(a reverent whisper)

I bet you it's Prewitt...

EXT. PORCH ON BARRACKS - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT:

Three men come out of the barracks, lean over the porch rail,

listening. Their faces are thoughtful, sad.

INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT WARDEN

The office lit only by a light over his desk. He is working

late, a sheaf of papers spread out before him. He listens to

the bugle call, moved, sorrowful. He snaps off the light,

listens in the darkness.

EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW

at the Bugler's post. He is finishing the last phrases, full

and wonderful. Behind him stands Friday Clark, motionless.

The final note quivers to silence. Prew swings the megaphone

for the repeat. Then the repeat begins, the clear proud notes

reverberating across the silent quadrangle.

.

123.

INT. WARDEN'S ROOM OFF SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT KARELSEN

lying on his back in his bunk, arms clasped behind his head.

He listens, his gnarled face the picture of the old soldier.

He breathes heavily as if he is hearing his own requiem and

epitaph.

EXT. PORCH ON BARRACKS - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT:

There are eight or nine men here now, listening.

CLOSE SHOTS DHOM HENDERSON THORNHILL

There is a choked kinship on all the faces.

INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

FULL SHOT:

More men are propped on their elbows, their heads turned

toward the Bugler. The dim figure of Treadwell can be seen,

at a window now.

TREADWELL:

(almost inaudible whisper)

... I told you it was Prewitt...

EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT PREW:

continuing the Taps. There are tears in his eyes now.

EXT. BARRACKS STEPS - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT:

A half dozen men are sitting on the steps, listening, among

them Stark and Wilson. Stark shakes his head sadly.

EXT. COMPANY STREET - NIGHT

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT WARDEN

listening now on the porch alongside the street.

EXT. BARRACKS AREA - NIGHT

LONG SHOT:

Several groups of two and three scattered about. They are

standing in no particular places, as if they have been

walking and stopped suddenly. They are all looking toward the

Bugler.

124.

INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT ANDERSON

as the Taps repeat is drawing to a close. He is lying on his

side, turned toward the Bugler, a look of serenity, of peace

on his face. His eyes close as he falls asleep.

EXT. QUADRANGLE - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT PREW

coming to the end of the Taps. CAMERA MOVES IN to a CLOSEUP.

Prew's face is wet with tears. His lips are pinched and red.

He blows the final notes.

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT PREW AND CLARK

Prew lowers the bugle slowly and lets the megaphone rest in

its swivel. He withdraws the mouthpiece, puts it in his

pocket. He hands the bugle to Clark. Clark looks at the

instrument as if it has become hallowed. Prew walks off into

the darkness.

.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT

TRACKING SHOT:

CAMERA MOVES along street, passing a lone pedestrian. It

MOVES TOWARD the sign NEW CONGRESS CLUB, HOLDS beside an open

window through which is heard the sound of harsh piano

playing; the pounding style and lack of shading are clearly

Fatso Judson's. CAMERA PANS AND INCLUDES Prew, leaning

against the building. He is watching the entrance to the Club

patiently. There is relentless hatred on his face. The music

stops. Prew does not move.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. NEW CONGRESS CLUB - NIGHT

MEDIUM SHOT AT ENTRANCE

Hearty male laughter from within. The door opens and Fatso

and a couple of sailors cane out. They are about to start

down the street.

PREW'S VOICE

Hello, Fatso.

Fatso looks around in direction of voice. CAMERA PANS,

DISCLOSES Prew, still leaning against the building. Fatso

squints, not recognizing him.

125.

FATSO:

You want me?

PREW:

Yeah, Fatso.

Fatso takes a couple of steps toward Prew, squints again.

FATSO:

I don't like that nickname. You

want to see me about somethin?

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