Fury Page #4

COON-ASS

It's a goddamned Kraut. Forget it. Git

on. Get.

The four GI's escape with the prisoner...

TIRED GI:

I have to tell them what you did.

Norman watching this. Shocked. Wardaddy gets in Norman's

face.

WARDADDY:

He's an SS. They're real a**holes. I

kill every SS I can. You'd seen what I

seen you would too.

(CONTINUED)

Pink Revision - 30th Oct 14.

6 CONTINUED:
(3) 6

COON-ASS

F*** every last one. They started it.

We're finishing it.

BIBLE:

Heinies don't know they're beat. Our

Generals smell blood.

COON-ASS

Ain't nothin' stopping the spear from

sliding into the enemy's belly.

Wardaddy stares at Norman, fired up now.

WARDADDY:

We're the spearhead. Done much killing?

Norman shakes his head: no.

WARDADDY (CONT’D)

You will.

The Lieutenant Parker returns from the Company Command

Post...

LT. PARKER

First Platoon TC's! See me now.

SGT. BINKOWSKI

We see you, sir. There you are.

Nobody moves. So Parker joins Wardaddy and the three Love

Platoon TANK COMMANDERS -- SGT. BINKOWSKI, SGT. DAVIS and

SGT. PETERSON.

LT. PARKER

Here's the big picture. Main Unit's

punching East. We're going North on a

flank guard mission. We'll tie up with

Baker Company from the 41st. Sergeant

Collier is with us now. He'll be acting

Platoon Sergeant.

SGT. PETERSON

That's fine with me. Glad to have you,

Don.

WARDADDY:

Sir, saying you get picked off? Mind

showing me on the overlay where we're

going?

LT. PARKER

Sure, Collier. Kansas point Dog. After

that we're working for Captain Waggoner.

Any questions?

SGT. BINKOWSKI

You started shaving?

Lt. Parker disregards the dig...

(CONTINUED)

Pink Revision - 30th Oct 15.

6 CONTINUED:
(4) 6

LT. PARKER

First Platoon! Mount up and move out!

Nobody moves.

Until Wardaddy shakes a smoke from his pack -- Peterson

lights it for him. Then Wardaddy gives the nod. The five

tank commanders cross to their waiting tanks. Wardaddy makes

the "crank it up" hand sign as he heads to the Fury. Gordo

slides in the driver's hatch and starts her engine...

The other four tanks start up -- Their ENGINES ROAR. The 25

men of 1st Platoon take their fighting positions inside the

steel beasts. Wardaddy mounts the Fury. Norman too. One

man confident and seasoned. The other clumsy and hesitant.

CAMERA FINDS -- A CORPORAL arguing with Sgt. Davis...

CORPORAL:

I can't go out! I can't do it! And you

can't make me!

Sgt. Davis punches the man. And shoves him into the Bow

Gunner's hatch. It's like stuffing a cat in a bathtub.

WARDADDY:

Battle fatigue case. Good man. He's got

his limit. We got ours.

COON-ASS

Ought'a be psycho'ed to the rear.

The Corporal extends his hand from the hatch, just his hand.

He's holding a live GRENADE!

BOOM! -- It blows the Corporal's hand clean off, shreds his

forearm. Sgt. Davis is livid...

SGT. DAVIS

Bless your heart. You done went and did

it. Get on, boy. Go suck your mama's

titty milk. Get on out of here you

yellow f***.

The Corporal climbs out of the hatch, slides down the front

of the tank and trudges towards an ambulance clutching his

shattered arm. Norman saw everything. He looks at Wardaddy,

amazed and confused. Who just shrugs and locks and loads his

big .50 Cal machine gun.

WARDADDY:

Guess he didn't want to go. Driver!

Move out!

The Fury falls in behind Lt. Parker's tank. Then Sgt. Davis'

tank. Then Peterson and Binkowski's tanks.

The 5 tanks of 1ST PLATOON move out in a column. Each tank

running over the dead SS Sergeant -- Flattening him into the

mud. No sentimentality here. It's just business.

Pink Revision - 30th Oct 16.

7 EXT. BATTALION AREA - PERIMETER - DAY 7

The Five Sherman Tanks are on the road heading East. They

pass the OUTPOST TANK -- Marking the scrimmage line between

the American Army and the Nazis.

OUTPOST SENTRY:

Go f*** yourself Wardaddy! You owe me

forty bucks!

Wardaddy waves goodbye. The tank column passes a field where

dozens of foxholes are filled with INFANTRYMEN. At the sound

of a WHISTLE a hundred ragged green men emerge from the earth

like spawning locusts and shuffle toward waiting trucks.

ON NORMAN -- Sitting in the Bow Gunner seat, his hatch open.

The ass of the Lieutenant's Tank spewing exhaust and dust in

his face. The Lieutenant keeps glancing back at Gordo,

sitting in the Driver's hatch. Gordo takes quick sips from a

wine bottle between the young officer's disapproving glances.

GORDO:

We get hit, we're gonna burn out. And

we're gonna burn out fast. Our tanks are

sh*t boxes. German guns punch through

them like butter. See this...

He points at a hatch in the floor under his feet.

GORDO (CONT’D)

We get hit. I'm gone. Right through

here. I ain't waiting for you. I ain't

helping you. Got that?

NORMAN:

Okay. Thank you.

Norman looks up at Wardaddy in the Commander's hatch. He

looks like he was born like that -- An iron centaur, half man

half tank. Wardaddy speaks to him through the intercom...

WARDADDY:

Kid, you hear me, you plugged in?

Norman fumbles with the intercom switch, replies:

NORMAN:

I hear you, Sergeant.

WARDADDY:

Don't fire that bow gun until I tell you.

Got that? Don't want you plastering our

guys.

NORMAN:

Okay, Sarge.

Gordo kills off his bottle of wine, throws it at the back of

the Lieutenant's tank, shattering it.

(CONTINUED)

Pink Revision - 30th Oct 17.

7 CONTINUED:
7

GORDO:

Kid, you play cards? Blackjack? Spades?

NORMAN:

No. I don't play cards.

GORDO:

You motherf***er.

8 EXT. DIRT ROAD - DAY 8

Farmer's fields on either side. The tank column passes an

OLD FARMER riding a hay wagon pulled by two old horses.

Columns of black smoke rise in the distance. Wardaddy

spreads his map on the turret. Marks their destination.

Coon-Ass opens his hatch, next to Wardaddy's.

WARDADDY:

What a chicken sh*t job. A goddamned

side mission while main unit leapfrogs

us. We need any support we're f***ed.

COON-ASS

Ain't this f***ing war over yet?

WARDADDY:

We're two hundred miles from Berlin. Get

there just over a week.

COON-ASS

I'm in no hurry to get murdered in

Berlin. Kids pouring bushels of grenades

in our hatches. Wine bottles full'a

gasoline. No thank you, ma'am.

WARDADDY:

I don't want it to end.

COON-ASS

I'm ready to ship home. Work at the hog

farm, marry me a little thing to make me

pies and babies.

WARDADDY:

I never planned on surviving this thing.

COON-ASS

A pretty little mama with a mess of

cousins. Eat their pies too.

WARDADDY:

I'll keep losing at poker until I get my

head shot off. Die owing every dripping

dick in the battalion a stack of money.

COON-ASS

Hurry up. You're running out of war.

WARDADDY:

Don't I know it.

(CONTINUED)

Pink Revision - 30th Oct 18.

8 CONTINUED:
8

COON-ASS

You just wanna keep killing people. You

need it like you need breathing. Can't

do it back home. Not for long at least.

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