Saving Private Ryan Page #3

Abandoning the perimeter defense of the bunkers. The Germans

are CUT DOWN.

MILLER motions to WADE, a small, wide-eyed, demolition man

who's struggling under the weight of half-a dozen satchel

charges.

MILLER:

Okay, Wade, your turn.

Wade Captain, I love it when you say that.

Miller, Sarge, Reiben and Jackson cover Wade as he races to

the first of three bunkers. Dodging bullets from inside.

Wade tosses a SATCHEL CHARGE into a gun port. A HUGE, MUFFLED

EXPLOSION, rocks the bunker.

MILLER AND SARGE

Survey the field.

SARGE:

What the hell were you doing? Drawing

fire!

MILLER:

Worked, didn't it?

SARGE:

You tryin' to get yourself killed?

MILLER:

Don't need to, the Krauts go that

covered.

Sarge shakes his head at Miller, then he looks over the cliff

at the scores of men, their shattered, burning bodies covering

the rocks and the beach below. He's clearly affected.

Miller coldly glances at the dead and wounded. Then he moves

on, leading his surviving men toward the two remaining German

bunkers. The SOUNDS OF BIG GUNS and MACHINE GUNS FIRE

surround him. DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. WAR DEPARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

The SOUND OF CLATTERING MACHINE GUN FIRE SEGUES TO that of

CLATTERING TYPEWRITERS. A huge government building stands

in the heart of Washington, D.C.

SUPERIMPOSITION:

WAR DEPARTMENT WASHINGTON, D.C.

JUNE 8, 1944

INT. COMMUNICATIONS OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

Very busy. A dozen, somber military clerks work behind desks,

quickly and efficiently. No small talk.

A CLERK:

Older than the others, sad-eyed,

adds a sheet of paper to a large

pile in his out-box.

CLOSE SHOT:

An outgoing telegram. It reads:

"We regret to inform you...killed in

action...heroic service..." This is

the paperwork of death.

THE CLERK:

Pulls out a file. Reads. Finds

something troubling. Quickly shuffles

through some other papers. Finds

what he's looking for. Rises from

his desk and hurries out of the

office.

INT. LIEUTENANT'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

Seen through the glass wall. The clerk speaks to a YOUNG

LIEUTENANT who is visibly shaken by what he is being told.

He motions to the clerk to follow and he strides out of the

office with the clerk on his heels.

INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

Again, seen through a glass wall. The Young Lieutenant speaks

to a YOUNG CAPTAIN who, like the Lieutenant is clearly

bothered by what he's being told. The Captain takes the

papers from the Young Lieutenant and strides out.

INT. COLONEL'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

A busy office. Aides and secretaries scurry about. The

walls and tables are covered with maps of Normandy and complex

deployment charts. A ONE-ARMED COLONEL with a chest full of

ribbons pours himself another cup of coffee. He clearly

hasn't slept in a long time. The Young Captain, his staff

officer, walks in.

Young captain Colonel, I've got something you should know

about.

One-armed colonel Yes?

Young captain Two brothers died in Normandy. One at Omaha

Beach, the other at Utah. Last week in Guam a third brother

was killed in action. All three telegrams went out this

morning. Their mother in Iowa is getting all three telegrams

this afternoon.

The life drains from the Colonel. Others in the room hear

and freeze.

One-armed colonel Oh, Jesus.

Young captain There's more. There's a fourth brother. The

youngest. He parachuted in with the Hundred-and-First

Airborne the night before the invasion. He's on the front.

One-armed colonel Is he alive?

Young captain We don't know.

The Colonel regains his bearings. Stands and motions curtly

to the Captain. One-armed colonel Come with me.

The Colonel regains his bearings. Stands and motions curtly

to the Captain.

One-armed colonel Come with me.

The Colonel strides from the room with the Captain on his

heels. The aides and secretaries watch them go.

EXT. FARM ROAD - IOWA - DAY

A black car drives along a dirt road, a cloud of dust rising

behind. Passing through an endless expanse of ripening corn.

EXT. RYAN FARM - IOWA - DAY

A whit farmhouse. A barn. A stand of trees. Cornfields as

far as the eye can see.

IN THE YARD:

A tire swing. A bushel basket nailed

to the barn over a dirt basketball

court.

A PORCH SWING:

Sits empty. Moves slightly.

ON THE GLASS OF THE FRONT DOOR

Four American flag decals. Each one, a man in service.

MARGARET RYAN:

Steps out. Around sixty. Her face

shows the lines of a life of hard

work and mother hood. A good woman.

She wipes her hands on her apron and looks out across the

fields. Far in the distance she sees the dust rising behind

the black car.

She watches the car get closer, then sees it turn toward her

house. She starts to grow uneasy.

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