Pearl Harbor Page #8

BRITISH PILOT:

Bloody Krauts! Night raid!

EXT. BASSINGBORNE AIRFIELD - BRITAIN - NIGHT

They race across the runway. Rafe reaches his Spitfire, just

as Ian is removing the fueling hose.

IAN:

I have'na been able ta --

RAFE:

Crank her!

Ian gives the prop a spin, and the engine roars to life.

IAN:

God speed ya, laddie.

EXT. SKIES OVER THE ENGLISH CHANNEL - NIGHT

It's dark, but there are breaks in the clouds, giving way to

patches of light from a full moon. The squadron of Spitfires

tightens up for battle.

Rafe is positioned just right of the squad leader; he sees

planes breaking out of the dark clouds ahead.

RAFE:

Here they come.

The clouds break, revealing a huge attack formation.

BRITISH SQUAD LEADER

Alpha group, on the bombers! Beta group,

take the fighters!

They peel off, into action.

EXT. THE AIR BATTLE OVER THE CHANNEL - NIGHT

We stay with Rafe as he and the Squad Leader rush side by

side at the lead bomber, blasting away with their guns.

INT. GERMAN BOMBER - IN THE AIR - NIGHT

The Spitfires' bullets rip into the pilot and also kill the

nose gunner; the bomber dips as the copilot struggles to take

control.

INT. RAFE, IN HIS SPITFIRE - NIGHT

As he streaks past, Rafe sees the bomber wobble in the air.

RAFE:

We've got him hurt, stay on him!

Rafe throws his plane into an ultra-tight, high speed turn,

right between the tails of the leader German group and the

noses of the second. His turn is so tight that the plane

flexes with the g-force.

Rafe comes out of his turn ahead of the Squad Leader, and

races back up through the formation of German bombers, moving

above them where their weapons and armaments are the weakest.

He stitches a trail of bullets from tail to nose of the

wounded lead bomber; it begins to smoke.

The second Spitfire, the Squad Leader's, takes fire from the

other German bombers, and shears off, heading through the

smoke of the plane Rafe has on the ropes.

RAFE:

We've got him going!

Rafe does a half-loop and half-spin, to bring him around to

face the bombers again. This time the g-force of the turn

pops an oil line inside Rafe's cockpit; hot, pressurized oil

begins to spray everywhere -- all over Rafe, his controls,

and worst of all, over the inside of his cockpit glass.

He wipes at the oil with his hands and that just smears it

and makes it worse.

His wingman sees him veering away from the bombers...and sees

the German fighters moving up to meet him.

SQUAD LEADER:

McCawley! Get to the clouds! Get into

the clouds!

RAFE, IN HIS PLANE, is flying blind.

RAFE:

I can't see the clouds!

His problems are just beginning; the fluid is dripping down

onto his cockpit's corroded electrical wiring; the fluid

causes an arc...a spark...and suddenly a fire is spreading

through Rafe's plane.

He grabs his fire extinguisher and triggers a cloud that

snuffs the fire but fills the entire cockpit with choking

smoke; between that and the smeared fluid on his glass, he

can't see a thing.

And the Messerschmidts are swarming over him.

Rafe's wingman dives in, raking the German planes as he

passes.

Rafe tries to open his cockpit cover to clear the smoke, but

it's jammed; he pulls out his .45 pistol and BLAM! BLAM!

BLAM! He blows out the glass; the smoke clears enough for

him to take a breath and try to see. He fights the stick,

but the plane won't respond.

The Messerschmidts rake him again, bullets riddling his

engine.

SQUAD LEADER:

Get out of there, McCawley! Get out of

there!

Rafe's plane descends, ever faster, passing through clouds,

then clear air again. The Squad Leader tries to chase and

cover him, but Rafe's dropping fast, and still isn't out of

the plane as the Germans dive on him again, firing.

Rafe's Spitfire hits the broken fog over the water -- the

Squad Leader loses sight of it for a moment -- and then the

plane hits, splashing and exploding all at once.

The Squad Leader winces, and ducks into the clouds as he

reports on his radio...

SQUAD LEADER:

McCawley down. No 'chute.

EXT. BATTLESHIP WEST VIRGINIA - PEARL HARBOR - DAY

The sailors have assembled on deck for the ship's heavyweight

championship fight, a contest made more interesting to the

sailors because one of the combatants is white and the other

is black.

The battle is more toughness than technique. The guys

throwing haymakers and shoving each other around the roped

area, as their shipmates cheer and make wild bets. The white

guy digs a punch deep into the black guy's ribs, and the

black guy slams a double left hook into the white guy's

belly, making him back up and say --

WHITE BOXER:

You hit hard -- for a cook.

The black guy rushes the white guy, only to catch a right

cross that wobbles his knees and makes him stagger, with a

fresh cut over his right eye. The white guy now rushes in,

and the black guy (his name is DORIE MILLER) throws an upper

cut that drops his opponent like a sack of rocks.

The sailors cheer wildly. Dorie steps back, and rubs his

glove across his brow. It's really bleeding now.

EXT. MILITARY BASE - DAY

Evelyn is returning from church with six of her nurse

friends. It's very quiet on a Sunday morning, almost nobody

at the base; they walk along the path.

BARBARA:

Let's get into civvies and find a bar.

MARTHA:

Right after church?

BARBARA:

You've gotta sin some, to get

forgiveness. Come with us, Evelyn. You

need some sin.

EVELYN:

I've got to write some requisitions.

We're undersupplied with morphine.

BETTY:

Morphine? We've been here a month and

nobody's had worse than a sunburn.

Evelyn smiles softly and walks toward the base hospital.

BETTY:

I wish she could forget him.

BARBARA:

You don't forget love, Honey. Not ever.

EXT. HOSPITAL - PEARL HARBOR - DAY

Evelyn approaches the hospital and finds the black boxer

peering in the window. He's in a T-shirt and navy pants.

EVELYN:

Can I help you, sailor?

As Dorie turns, she sees the cut on his head, closed only

with a band-aid; it's dripping blood down his T-shirt.

DORIE:

'Scuse me, 'Mam. All the ship's doctors

is golfing, and I couldn't find nobody to

look at this.

EVELYN:

Our doctor's gone too.

DORIE:

Sorry to trouble you.

EVELYN:

Wait, let me look at that... You better

come in here.

INT. MILITARY BASE HOSPITAL - DAY

Miller is sitting on a stool; Evelyn bathes the wound.

EVELYN:

How'd you get this?

DORIE:

Boxin'.

EVELYN:

Win?

DORIE:

Yes'm.

He says it without pride. She puts down the basin.

EVELYN:

What's your name?

DORIE:

Dorie Miller, 'Mam.

EVELYN:

I'm Evelyn. And I'm just a nurse. But

I'm not playing golf, and that cut needs

sewing, or else it's gonna make a big

lumpy scar. Whatta ya say?

INT. HOSPITAL - PEARL HARBOR - LATER

Evelyn clips the ends of her carefully applied stitches;

Dorie's eyes are rolled up as if he could watch from inside

his skull.

EVELYN:

How often you fight like this?

DORIE:

Every other Sunday. I'm heavyweight

champion of the West Virginia.

EVELYN:

What do you get for winning?

DORIE:

Respect.

She hands him a mirror. He studies her work.

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