The Battle of Algiers Page #19

Then a brief and sharp hiss, a hundred whistles together.

A signal releases the still forms: the attack begins.

Doors are beaten down, shots, screams, rifle fire, machine gun fire;

the doors opened or broken down; the courtyards, the houses, the rooms,

invaded; the men who are trying to escape and who protest and try to

save themselves.

VOICES:

Of course ... I was just going to work ...

89BEN M'HIDI'S HIDING PLACE. INSIDE. DAWN.

Ben M'Hidi is inside the hiding place. From outside, an old man helps

him to place the square piece of wall over the entrance, and then, in

the spaces between the bricks, he adds a paste of plaster mixed with

coal dust. When the paras arrive, everything is in order.

Still men are being seized, beaten, dragged; a cache of weapons; men

pushed down the stairs:

SOLDIERS:

Go on, go on, you little rats! Get to

work!

90CASBAH. STREETS. OUTSIDE. MORNING.

Women are clinging together after the beatings.

Someone is fleeing toward the terraces. We hear the deafening whirl of

the helicopters flying against the wind, their cabin doors open, paras

sitting on both sides with their legs dangling out, their machine guns

on their knees, a loudspeaker for every helicopter, microphones turned

on in such a way that the din of the motors is multiplied a hundred

times.

The helicopters fly low again, they skirt the terraces.

The Algerians are fleeing in terror, the uproar begins to fade away, is

less intense; microphones are turned on, and off. The terraces are

emptied, men seized, beaten, dragged; all the men are forced outside in

the alleys, the streets, the squares, every man is forced to face the

wall, his hands up.

91SHOPS. DOORS UNHINGED. OUTSIDE. MORNING.

A truck in reverse, a rope fastened to the hub of the wheels, its other

end to a door-latch. The motor is accelerated, clouds of exhaust

fumes ...

Door latches pried open like lids of sardine cans, shop windows smashed

with machine-gun butts, the counters, the shelves, flung into the air,

the merchandise thrown into the streets; a game, a frenzied

excitement ...

The Algerians watch, but can not intervene. Some shopkeepers rush to

the scene, crying despairingly, while others are dragged away forcibly,

tossed about, slapped, pushed, forced to open their shops.

92CANDY SHOP. INSIDE. MORNING.

A shopkeeper is pushed behind the counter; he gets up, trembling with

fear.

A para asks him for a bag of candy, pays politely, smiles, pats his

bald head, and asks him sweetly:

PARA:

And the strike, my friend?

Then he distributes the candy among the children who are outside.

93CANDY SHOP. OUTSIDE. MORNING.

The children take the candy silently, without thanking him, then eat

the candies slowly, their faces unfriendly and cold ...

94PLACE DU GOUVERNEMENT. OUTSIDE. MORNING.

The black sky, the trees, the advertising signs ... Cordon Rouge ...

... an equestrian statue, a car radio, a loudspeaker.

LOUDSPEAKER:

"Attention, people of the Casbah! The NLF

wants to stop you from working. The NLF

forces you to close your shops.

Inhabitants of the Casbah, rebel against

their orders. France is your country.

France has given you civilization and

prosperity:
schools, streets, hospitals.

People of the Casbah, show your love for

your mother country, by disobeying the

terrorists' orders. Algerians, return to

work!"

And then Algerian music, a cheerful and rhythmical melody; the

Algerians are forced out of the Casbah in columns, and are pushed

toward the military trucks which clutter the southern side of the

square, and continue to arrive and depart.

95CASBAH. EXIT. OUTSIDE. MORNING.

Meanwhile the paras of the psychological divisions make their first

selection, randomly, or else deliberately, basing them on the slightest

suspicions. They evaluate each man by his appearance or behavior. They

block the Algerians from the exit ramp, and assault them with a battery

of questions:

PARA'S VOICES

Who are you? What's your name? Occupation?

Where do you work? Why did you strike?

They forced you, eh? ... No ... Tell the

truth! You promised them, right? Then

you're the one who wants to strike. Do

you belong to the NLF? C'mon, answer me!

Are you afraid to say it? Never mind, it

doesn't matter.

The Algerian does not answer, but stares into the para's eyes. The para

turns to his companions and shouts:

PARA:

Jacques! ... Jacques! ... Another one to

headquarters!

The Algerian is seized, and pushed toward the truck.

LOUDSPEAKER:

"Attention, Algerians! The NLF wants to

stop you from working. The NLF forces you

to close your shops. The NLF wants to

starve you and condemn you to misery.

Algerians, return to work ... !"

96THE PORT. OUTSIDE. DAY.

The port is deserted, the cranes still. A loaded ship sways lazily at

her moorings, the fork-lifts are filled with supplies ...

The limestone is dried out, the bridges empty, dangling cables swing

slowly from the pulleys. There is silence in the docks ...

Then, the sound of motors approaching, clouds of dust, Arabs pushed out

of the trucks, into the shipyard.

97STREETS OF ALGIERS. OUTSIDE. DAY.

In the streets of the European city, there is an atmosphere of fear and

doubt. The shop windows have their shutters lowered halfway, the

shopkeepers are standing in the doorways, ready to close.

The front doors of houses are shut. There are a few hurried passersby

but no automobiles; the trams are not running; on the sidewalks the

garbage is piled high, nearby the long brooms of the Algerian street

cleaners.

PARAS:

(yelling)

Sweep, mes enfants, sweep.

An Algerian with a very refined expression, a gentle appearance, says,

while excusing himself:

ALGERIAN:

I don't know how, sir, I'm sorry ...

They shove the broom into his hands, and shout to him:

PARA:

Learn!

LOUDSPEAKER:

"French citizens! Europeans of Algiers!

The strike called by the NLF is a failure.

Do not be afraid. Return to your jobs.

General Massu guarantees your safety.

The Army will protect you!"

98STREETS OF ALGIERS. OUTSIDE. DAY.

A jeep with loudspeaker precedes a row of military trucks loaded with

Algerians.

In every truck there are two paras carrying machine guns by their

sides. The Algerians are standing crowded together one against the

other. Some of them are holding banners and signs:

I AM GOING TO WORK BECAUSE I AM FREE.

WE ARE FREE.

ARMY-POPULATION-PEACE.

THE ARMY PROTECTS OUR RIGHTS.

The trucks turn a corner, a youth jumps from the last truck, falls,

gets up again, and breaks into a run.

The paras shout to him to stop, their voices mix with that of the

loudspeaker.

The Algerian continues to run.

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