Southern Comfort Page #3
was my fault?
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
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 -
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.
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.
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.
you have to abandon principles
and do what's right.
Maybe we'd better find
the interstate.
Let's get going, Casper.
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.
back there.
Guess I was a little...
over emotional.
Yeah, you could say that.
You could also say you were
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"Southern Comfort" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/southern_comfort_18577>.
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