Stalag 17 Page #4

SEFTON:

Whatever you say.

(calling off)

Hey, Cookie -- get me some more

cigarettes.

COOKIE, a chipmunk of a kid, scrambles down from his bunk --

the one above Sefton's. Drags out a footlocker from under

Sefton's bunk. The footlocker is chained to the bunk-post.

Cookie opens it, starts taking cigarettes out.

About twelve guys are around Sefton by now, making their

bets.

HARRY:

Here's two and a half.

SEFTON:

No butts.

Cookie comes over with a carton.

COOKIE:

(With a stammer)

W-w-will that do or do you want some

m-m-m --?

SEFTON:

That'll do.

He rips open the carton.

SEFTON:

Speak up, boys. Any more sports in

the crowd?

INSIDE TUNNEL:

Johnson and Manfredi crawling on, by the light of their

Zippos. Johnson dragging the bag behind him. They are dripping

with perspiration. From above comes a little shower of loose

earth.

Johnson stops as he comes to the end of the tunnel. There is

another shaft leading up. He picks up a rusty can and starts

digging at the earth above.

20. THE OPEN GROUND ABOVE - (NIGHT)

In the pine forest some thirty feet outside the barbed wire.

From the goon towers, the lights sweep over the camp and

over the edge of the forest.

The tin can thrusts through the ground as Johnson digs into

the open. Then, when the opening is wide enough, he climbs

out, his face covered with sweat and dirt. He helps Manfredi

out. They lie on the ground for a moment, exhausted. Then

Johnson starts untieing the bag from his ankle.

MANFREDI:

Let's go.

He rises. There is a SHARP BURST of MACHINE GUN FIRE. Manfredi

falls instantly. Johnson, not knowing where the gunfire is

coming from, tries to turn and run, the bag dragging behind

him.

From a hillock about thirty feet off a MACHINE GUN, manned

by three German guards, is blasting away.

A light from one of the goon towers picks up Johnson, running.

The machine gun gets him, ripping his chest. He spins and

crumples to the ground. The light swings to Manfredi.

Bleeding, he tries to crawl back to the safety of the tunnel.

There is another BURST of FIRE --

INSIDE BARRACK:

The men have all run to the window and look out.

All except Sefton and Cookie. They stand at the table where

the cigarettes are. And in back of them: Joey, sitting in

his bunk, comprehending nothing.

There is another BURST of FIRE. Then all is silent. The men

turn back into the room, sickened.

BLONDIE:

Filthy Krauts!

DUKE:

What slipped up, Hoffy?

HOFFY:

Don't ask me. Price was elected

Security.

DUKE:

(To Price)

Okay, Security -- what happened?

PRICE:

I wish I knew. We had everything

figured out. To the last detail.

STOSH:

Maybe the Krauts knew about that

tunnel all the time!

HARRY:

Shut up, Animal!

STOSH:

Maybe they were layin' for 'em out

there!

SEFTON:

(casually)

Yeah. Maybe.

He gives Cookie a sign. Cookie pulls the front of his shirt

out of his pants and holds it out against the edge of the

table. Sefton sweeps the mass of cigarettes into Cookie's

shirt.

DUKE:

Hold it, Sefton. So we heard some

shots -- so who says they didn't get

away?

SEFTON:

Anybody here wanna double their bet?

No answer. He nods to Cookie again. Cookie carries the

cigarettes to their bunks. Sefton follows him, kicks open

the footlocker. Cookie dumps the loot in.

The men are looking at them. Stosh sees a cigarette on the

floor which Cookie has dropped. He picks it up and tosses it

into Sefton's footlocker viciously.

FADE OUT:

END OF SEQUENCE "A"

SEQUENCE "B"

FADE IN:

THE CAMP - DAWN

Another miserable day has begun. The barracks loom in the

murky light.

From the Administration Building -- the one with the swastika --

come a dozen German guards, Lugers hanging from their belts.

They spread out and cross the muddy compound toward the

barracks, BLOWING WHISTLES shrilly. They lift the wooden

bars off the doors and go inside.

FELDWEBEL SCHULZ has arrived at Barrack 4. He is an enormous

man, about fifty-five. His cauliflower ears make a good

vegetable for his pig-knuckle face. He removes the bar, opens

the door, stands there WHISTLING like a madman, enters.

COOKIE'S VOICE

Funny thing about those Krauts. They

hated the sight of us yet they

couldn't wait to look at us again.

Every morning -- at six on the dot --

they'd have the Appell -- that's

roll call to you. Each barrack had

its own alarm clock. Our alarm clock

was Johann Sebastian Schulz. I

understand the Krauts had a composer

way back with the Johann Sebastian

in it -- but I can tell you one thing:

Schulz was no composer. He was a

Schweinehund. Oh, Mother -- was he

ever a lousy Schweinehund!

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