Stalag 17 Page #8

VON SCHERBACH:

I see! Six hundred funny men! ...There

will be no Christmas trees! But there

will be delousing.

(to Schulz)

With ice water from the hoses!

He wheels about and marches back up the plank and into the

Administration Building. His Lieutenants after him. Two of

the guards start picking up the planks again.

SCHULTZ:

(shouting, to the

P.O.W.s)

Dismissed!

The men break ranks, going off in all directions, some back

to the barracks, some toward the latrines.

Only Joey stands where he stood, his eyes fastened on the

puddle. Slowly he walks toward it. He bends down and fishes

out his sweet potato, dripping with mud. It is broken. He

wipes the pieces off on his coat and hides them inside his

jacket.

INT. WASH LATRINE

Packed with men from Barrack 4, about two dozen of them.

Others waiting outside for their turn. At the trough washing:

Hoffy, Price, Duke, Stosh, Harry, Cookie and Sefton. No soap.

A couple of worn-out towels. Except for Sefton: He's got

soap, towel and tooth brush.

STOSH:

(imitating von

Scherbach)

'We will remove the iron stove --

the one that was camouflaging the

trap door.'

HARRY:

I'm telling you, Animal, these Nazis

ain't Kosher.

STOSH:

You can say that again!

HARRY:

I'm telling you, Animal -- these

Nazis ain't Ko --

STOSH:

(grabbing him)

I said say it again. I didn't say

repeat it.

Triz reaches for Sefton's soap, but gets a sharp rap on the

knuckles.

SEFTON:

Private property, bub.

DUKE:

How come the Krauts knew about that

stove, Security? And the tunnel? How

come you can't lay down a belch around

here without them knowing it?

PRICE:

Look -- if you don't like the way

I'm handling this job --

HOFFY:

Kill it, Duke. It's got us all

spinning.

DUKE:

I just want to know what makes those

Krauts so smart.

STOSH:

Maybe they're doin' it with radar.

Maybe they got a mike hidden some

place.

HARRY:

Yeah. Right up Joey's ocarina.

DUKE:

Or maybe it's not that they're so

smart. Maybe it's that we're so

stupid. Maybe there's somebody in

our barracks that's tipping 'em off!

One of us!

HOFFY:

Come again?

DUKE:

You betcha. I said one of us is a

stoolie. A dirty, stinkin' stoolie!

SEFTON:

Is that Einstein's theory? Or did

you figure it out yourself?

A P.O.W. sticks his head into the doorway.

P.O.W.

(breathless)

New dames in the Russian compound!

Stosh lets go with a SCREAM. He takes off like shot from a

cannon, Harry after him. Instantly the wash latrine is emptied

of the men, wet as they are. Nobody is left but Price, Hoffy,

Duke, Sefton and Cookie.

EXT. COMPOUND

It's a stampede. P.O.W.s are rushing across the compound

toward the Russian compound.

Stosh, charging like a bull, gets tripped and falls flat on

his puss right into a mud puddle. Harry zooms past him. Stosh

picks himself up and runs after him, his winter underwear

dripping with mud.

THE BARBED WIRE FENCE

dividing the American and Russian compounds. P.O.W.s rush in

from all sides, about a hundred of them. They go as far as

they are permitted; to a low warning wire, running parallel

to the big fence some fifteen feet away. To cross the warning

wire is verboten. The German guards up in the goon towers

insure that.

There is great excitement among the P.O.W.s. Some give out

with cat-calls and wolf-whistles; others just stand there

staring.

Beyond the fence a new batch of Russian prisoners has just

been brought in. German guards are counting some sixty

prisoners, about twenty of them women. They all are in

uniforms and wear boots, a bedraggled lot. The women are big

buxom dames, not exactly Golden Circle material, but this is

war.

The Americans jump up and down trying to attract the women's

attention. They throw cigarettes, chewing gum, chocolate.

One guy is dancing the Kazatski, two of his pals holding him

up.

P.O.W.S

Yee-ow!

Tovarich! Tovarich!

Oh you sweethearts!

Let's open the third front!

Hey, Minks -- Pinsk!

How about some borscht -- the two of

us!

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