Stalag 17 Page #3

HOFFY:

(to Manfredi and

Johnson)

Okay, boys -- peel off.

There are handshakes, goodbyes and good-lucks.

STOSH:

When you get going on those broads,

think of me!

HARRY:

Animal! Animal! Aren't you ashamed

of yourself? A couple of guys are

trying to escape and you're thinking

of broads. Broads?

He does a take.

JOHNSON:

(with feeling)

We'll miss you, you cruds.

He turns and climbs down through the trap. Before Manfredi

follows him, he turns away, goes down on his knee, crosses

himself quickly.

UNDERNEATH BARRACK 4 - (NIGHT)

Johnson has already landed on the ground. Manfredi slips

down. They look around and start crawling off in the direction

of the latrine.

INT. BARRACK 4 - (SHOOTING UP THROUGH TRAP)

Stosh is peering after them, his head hanging down through

the trap from above. Beyond him in the barrack, Hoffy, Price

and Duke bend over Stosh, waiting for developments.

UNDERNEATH BARRACK 4 - (NIGHT)

From Stosh's point of view: Manfredi and Johnson have now

reached the end of the barrack and are crawling into the

compound towards the wash latrine some fifteen feet away. A

searchlight sweeps dangerously towards them.

INT. BARRACK

Stosh pulls up from the trap, his eyes closed, his fingers

in his ears. He doesn't want to see or hear the two out there

get shot. The others stand petrified. No shots, no screams.

So Stosh bends down into the trap again.

EXT. BARRACK 4 - (NIGHT)

Manfredi and Johnson just manage to fling themselves back

under the barrack as the searchlight sweeps past. Then, they

get on their feet again and dash to the wash latrine -- just

ahead of another searchlight from the other direction.

INT. WASH LATRINE - (NIGHT)

A primitive, roofless structure, with wooden partitions

shielding it from the outside. Above, a water tank with pipes

running down to spigots over a trough. Under the trough, a

wooden lattice to stand on.

Manfredi and Johnson have reached first base. They stand

breathless. Then Manfredi picks up the lattice, leans it

against the trough, and lifts a dirt-covered trap leading

into the tunnel. Johnson has tied the barrack bag to his own

ankle. They HEAR BARKING. Freeze.

THE HUNDEFUEHRER

Leading the mastiffs past the wash latrine. One of the

mastiffs is BARKING. He seems to smell something, but the

other dogs pull him along.

INT. WASH LATRINE - (NIGHT)

Manfredi and Johnson wait until the BARKING fades in the

distance. Johnson, the barrack bag tied to his ankle, jumps

down into the narrow vertical shaft. Manfredi follows. He

pulls the trap shut over his head in such a way that the

lattice falls into place on top of it.

THE TUNNEL:

A shaft about three feet square and five feet deep leads

into a narrow, crudely shored-up tunnel. Johnson and Manfredi

light their Zippo lighters and start worming their way through

the tunnel, Johnson leading the way, the barrack bag dragging

from his ankle.

INT. BARRACK

Harry and Stosh moving the stove back into place. Hoffy fixing

up the trick bucket. Price pacing up and down. Sefton leaning

against a bunk, smoking the cigar.

HOFFY:

They ought to be under the barbed

wire soon.

BLONDIE:

(still covering the

window)

Looks good outside.

STOSH:

I hope they hit the Danube before

dawn.

PRICE:

They got a good chance. This is the

longest night of the year.

TRIZ:

I bet you they make it to

Friedrichshafen all right.

STOSH:

I bet they get all the way to

Switzerland!

SEFTON:

And I bet they don't even get out of

the forest.

They all look at him.

DUKE:

Now what kind of a crack is that?

SEFTON:

No crack. Two packs of cigarettes

say they don't get out of the forest.

HOFFY:

That's enough, Sefton. Crawl back

into your sack.

HARRY:

He'd make book on his own mother

getting hit by a truck!

Sefton takes two packs of cigarettes from his pocket and

throws them on the table.

SEFTON:

Anybody call?

HOFFY:

Go on, Sefton -- butt out!

DUKE:

Wait a minute, Hoffy -- I want to

back those kids. I'll cover ten of

that.

He starts shaking cigarettes out of his pack onto the table.

TRIZ:

I'll take five.

PRICE:

Eight.

HOFFY:

Put me down for ten, you louse.

DUKE:

(throwing two packs

on the table)

I'll call the whole pot.

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