Southern Comfort Page #3

Synopsis: A squad of National Guards on an isolated weekend exercise in the Louisiana swamp must fight for their lives when they anger local Cajuns by stealing their canoes. Without live ammunition and in a strange country, their experience begins to mirror the Vietnam experience.
Genre: Action, Thriller
Director(s): Walter Hill
Production: 20th Century Fox Film Corporation
 
IMDB:
7.2
Rotten Tomatoes:
88%
R
Year:
1981
106 min
Website
974 Views


was my fault?

Don't worry about it.

It's done.

Hey!

How can you guys play cards

with Sergeant Poole lying dead

over there?

You got another idea about

what we should be doing?

Just don't seem right.

Poole doesn't care - he's dead.

I don't know what the hell any of us

can do about it

so why not play cards?

Just don't seem right.

- It's up this way.

- Where?

- Over there.

- OK, come on, keep moving.

Hey, Spencer, what about

Company Command?

They should be wondering about us,

don't you think?

No, not yet.

We've been out of contact

for 12 hours.

He's right. They should be looking

for us by now.

No way. It's National Guard,

remember?

We were supposed to meet

the trucks 20 minutes ago.

Another hour and a half

the trucks will actually show up.

Two o'clock they'll start asking

around if anyone's seen us.

At three they'll start checking

the bars.

By four they'll really get steamed.

By five it'll occur to someone

that maybe we got lost.

At six the captain will consider

calling Battalion.

At seven-thirty he will.

Battalion will tell him it's too late -

there's nothing anyone can do

till morning.

There's the cabin.

It's him, that son of a b*tch.

Where's the others?

There's more of them.

As far as I can tell he's alone.

- We'll capture him.

- What for? I can get him from here.

Look, Reece,

this is Louisiana National Guard,

not the goddamn vigilantes.

Let's move our asses.

Come on, let's go.

All right, look.

Here's the programme.

We found one of the Cajuns

that shot Poole.

We're gonna capture him.

He's up about 250 metres up ahead.

You sure he's one of them?

Of course we're sure.

What the hell do you think?

Why don't you try talking to him

before you start blowing

his head off?

Simms, Reece, Stuckey and I

are the advance unit.

The initial action's

gotta be decisive.

- Surprise is the key.

- Hey, Casper.

- Did you hear what I said?

- I heard you.

We'll talk to him after

we've captured him.

The rest of you guys are

rear element,

you stay 100 metres back

and keep down.

We'll marry up after the objective's

sealed off. Let's go.

Wait. I'll volunteer for

the advance party.

Forget it. Just do what the hell

you're told. Let's go.

Jesus! This is bullshit.

That's just what I was thinking.

Do you always get out

of everything?

I don't see you raising your hand

to volunteer.

That's right.

I'm not gonna ride shotgun

with these dumbbells.

Four of them with automatic rifles

against some swamp rat.

I make it even money.

What are you doing, coach?

Shut up.

Whoah!

What in the hell...? Let's go.

Son of a b*tch!

You're under arrest.

Bowden, get the hell away

from that prisoner.

I told you to stay in our back.

- Mission accomplished, sergeant.

- Ah, bullshit!

You used your real bullets.

Just pissed them away.

- I didn't panic.

- Oh hell!

All right. Easy now.

We've got to interrogate him.

- Hey!

- Surrender.

Drop the knife.

You son of a b*tch.

I said drop the goddamn knife.

Son of a b*tch! You could have

busted his jaw.

- That's right.

- We want him to talk.

You almost knocked his mouth

down to his ass.

Jesus Christ, Simms.

We gotta interrogate the man.

How the hell's he going to talk to us

if you break his f***ing jaw?

- That's his f***ing problem.

- What the hell did you do that for?

That son of a b*tch shot

Sergeant Poole.

Oh f*** him. Come on, Lonnie.

Let's go see what's inside.

Can you talk?

Ma bouche.

Where's your buddies?

How many of them are there?

Mange-merde.

What the sh*t is that?

This Cajun got himself a couple

of mink this morning.

Goddamn!

This boy's a poacher.

We poached the poachers!

Hey, Lonnie!

Yeah, he shined his last gator.

What the hell's going on here,

Casper?

We got ourselves a prisoner.

Congratulations.

Think you guys have done

a wonderful job.

Hey, did you have to

cut his arm off too?

I'd say he uses dynamite to kill fish.

We got us a genuine outlaw.

Casper! All kinds of good sh*t

in here.

Simms, I don't want you

hitting him again.

You're the one that belted him?

Goddamn right.

What d'you want to go and

do that for?

I don't know.

Just got pissed.

What the hell, man? This army

bullshit is getting to you.

Beans, hominy, spinach.

Hell, this is better than C-rations.

Guns, knives, ammo, supplies.

We got it all right here.

I'd say we conducted ourselves

a pretty successful little raid.

We can pack this sh*t up later.

Let's get outside and

interrogate the prisoner.

Cribbs.

- Yeah.

- Tie up the prisoner.

How am I supposed to tie up a man

when he only has one arm

to do the tying?

Maybe we ought to try

talking to him first.

You speak English?

Does anybody here speak French?

Bowden?

Yeah.

Hey, what's wrong with you, coach?

Don't bother me.

Not now, not ever.

I'll give it a try. A couple of years of

parlez-vous in high school.

Ah...

Hier quelqu'un...

Sh*t! I can't remember

how to say "shoot".

How about "bang bang"?

Hier, quelqu'un...

Bang une ami.

Mon pas fait rien. Mon dis toil

I think he's saying

he didn't do anything.

Hell, I don't know. It doesn't sound

like any French I ever studied.

What the hell is this? I saw him.

I was there too and

I couldn't swear to nothing.

Can't even remember

if the man had one arm.

He was more than 100 yards away,

remember.

We're gonna take this prisoner

back with us

to Staff Command for interrogation.

Then he can stand trial.

Right now I want everybody over to

the rain barrel, fill your canteens.

I want to put some miles

between us and here.

Lonnie!

Bowden, you dummy.

There's dynamite in there.

- Christ!

- Hit it!

- Get down!

- Take cover!

That'll teach them to f*** with us.

Yeah, right. Can't argue with that.

What are you doing, Bowden?

Went and blew the sh*t

out of everything.

Well, I do what I do.

What d'you paint the cross

on your chest for?

It's part of the joke.

What joke?

It's a corporal joke, private.

Oh, what the hell, Bowden.

You dumb son of a b*tch. You blown

up all the supplies we've captured.

All the guns, the ammo

and the food.

Casper, there comes a time

you have to abandon principles

and do what's right.

Maybe we'd better find

the interstate.

Let's get going, Casper.

I think your little raid's

about finished.

Yeah, right. All right, men.

Let's move out.

Get on!

That dumb sh*t Bowden.

Demolitioned that damn shack,

we lost everything we captured.

Yeah, could have worked as a signal

for this bastard's relatives

to gather round.

You don't think we've got to worry

about these coon asses, do you?

Hell yeah.

But I know who's got to worry

about a lot more than me and you.

You don't have to tell me.

They think you boys are bad luck.

They might be right.

I been hanging round n*ggers my

whole life, I haven't got a break yet.

Listen, fellas.

I'm sorry about that incident

back there.

Guess I was a little...

over emotional.

Yeah, you could say that.

You could also say you were

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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