The Big Red One Page #3

under a Schmeisser.

Yeah, makes a nice, peaceful

picture from the air.

What's-your-name, you stay behind.

When you hear us fire, you

take out the Schmeisser.

Those Sicilian women

cooked us a terrific meal.

Too bad they were all over 50.

We were more horny

than we were hungry.

A little mothering is good in any

war, but this beats them all.

There's not a man in

the whole village.

- Hey, Vinci.

- Ho.

Tell Matteo the meat wagon

is on its way for his mother.

Oh, and that the general is sending up a

casket, silk-lined, with six handles on it.

Matteo! Matteo!

All right, Matteo,

it's okay. Thank you.

I told you, kid, a deal's a deal, right?

That's all right. That's okay.

No, no, no. I'm mucho gordo,

huh? That's okay.

Thanks a lot. You're

okay, Matteo, any time.

It was the first time in ages

that we had all felt really good.

It lasted about an hour.

Then we got our orders to move out.

Where's my helmet?

The Krauts are gonna spot

that garden a mile away.

I like the smell.

North Africa was sand and rocks.

Sicily was rocks and sand.

England was green.

We hung around England for seven

months getting ready for D-Day.

Give me back my doughnut.

Then one day, we were

in the boats again.

How about it, Johnson?

- Who are you?

- I'm Lemchek.

Lemchek, remember? We been on

dry runs for this invasion...

for seven months in

England. I'm Lemchek.

How about what?

Will you swap with me?

Nope. Eleven is my lucky number.

Try Vinci, he might do it.

- Do what?

- Hey, listen.

Swap numbers in the

Bangalore Relay with me.

My number two for your number 10.

- How much?

- Ten thousand dollars.

Ten thousand dollars! Where the

hell are you gonna get $10,000?

It's from my GI insurance.

I'll make you my beneficiary.

- Can you do that?

- Hey, I could put Eisenhower down...

for my beneficiary. I can

put down anybody I want.

Oh, Lumnuts, I am really shocked.

You know, you told me your

mother was your beneficiary.

What's the matter? Don't

you love your mother?

- I love my mother.

- Sure. I love my mother.

Sure, sure, I love my mother.

But she ain't number

10 on the relay.

Swap with him. He gets

hit, you get 10 grand.

- What if I get hit using number two?

- Ten thousand will buy a lot of bagels.

No, I like my number 10,

like Griff likes number eight.

Zab, nine. Johnson, 11.

The sergeant, 12.

It's bad luck to change numbers.

Don't worry, Lemchek,

you'll make it. You know why?

Only be dead Germans on that beach.

- Yeah.

- That's right.

- You sure? I mean, are you really sure?

- Sure, I'm sure.

You don't think I wanna

blow $10,000, do you?

He don't wanna blow 10,000.

Relax, Lemchek. You heard

what the captain said.

It's a couple of schnell battalions,

combat rejects defending the beach...

at Colleville-sur-Mer.

First Squad!

First Squad, over here.

Son of a b*tch.

This beach hasn't been touched.

Either our shells and bombs fell too

far inland or in the English Channel.

Vinci!

It's Lemchek.

You just blew 10,000 bucks.

Hey, throw me his helmet.

Second Squad!

Those combat rejects sure

know how to lay down fire.

Those aren't rejects up there.

That's infantry.

We couldn't move forward,

we couldn't move back.

Exit E-1 was blocked by a

huge barbed-wire tank trap.

Our Navy was supposed to shell it,

our planes were supposed to bomb it...

our bazooka teams were

supposed to blow it up.

If all else failed, we were the

last resort:
the Bangalore Relay.

First Squad! First Squad!

Bangalore teams two and

three knocked out!

- What about our bazooka team?

- Dead.

- Bazooka team?!

- Killed.

- Break them out!

- Naturally, all else failed.

The Bangalore torpedo was 50 feet long

and packed with 85 pounds of TNT...

and you assembled it

along the way, by hand.

I'd love to meet the

a**hole who invented it.

Ready!

Number one.

- Number two.

- Dead!

Number three.

Number four.

Number five.

Six.

- Number seven.

- Dead!

Number eight.

Number eight.

You'd better make it, Griff, you son of

a b*tch, because my number's up next!

Nine!

Hang on.

Come on.

Zab, tell the colonel.

Tell the colonel his

Exit E-1 is open.

Hey! Layton, 2nd Division, right?

Denham, 29th. Get some

coffees, boys, doughnuts.

We'll chew the fat later.

Hey, come on. Throw the ball.

Just another buzz bomb

headed for London.

- Buzz bomb?

- Yeah, V-1 rocket.

How do you like the book?

- Damn good.

- Hey.

My mother sent it to

me for my birthday.

I'm Zab.

- Welcome to the 1st Squad.

- I'm Kaiser.

Nice to meet you, Kaiser.

That's my book.

- Your book?

- Yeah.

What do you mean, your book? I got

this from the Repple-Depple in St-Lo.

I wrote it, baby face.

And I printed it.

You, I don't want any

infantry around the panzer.

Put that dead panzer gunner

hanging halfway out the hatch.

Second radio man, here,

behind that man.

Put yourself in a good position.

As we slogged through the

hedgerows and across France...

the sergeant began keeping to

himself. It was a little spooky.

He told Vinci he fought

around here in the first war.

He kept ahead as if looking

for some old ghost...

to rise up out of the mist.

Kaiser, your turn at bat.

Would you look how fast

they put up the names...

of all our guys who got killed.

That's a World War I memorial.

But the names are the same.

They always are.

Enemy scout advancing.

Give him a round-trip ticket.

I don't want any of you to

be where I didn't plant you.

No fingers on triggers.

One shot in panic and

we've lost what I want:

A platoon of dead Americans.

Don't twitch any muscle.

Look dead or you will be dead.

Give him a round-trip ticket.

Nothing but a bunch

of dead Germans.

- No dead dogfaces?

- None.

Let's go.

Enemy scout returning with patrol.

These dead guys give me the creeps.

Sh*t, Kaiser, something's

always giving you the creeps.

How come there aren't any dead GIs?

Shut up. Keep your eyes open.

Just like I said, sergeant,

just three dead Germans.

But the sergeant wasn't satisfied.

He'd noticed something about the

piping on their collar patches.

They were different colors.

- What color is that piping?

- White.

White's infantry.

Radio.

Get me the lieutenant.

- Lieutenant? Lieutenant.

- Yeah, go ahead.

- Yeah, this is Sergeant Possum.

- Possum, right. Where are you?

We're at point 33,

Christ on the Cross.

You're in an ambush, huh?

Nothing here. Just a bunch of dead

Krauts and a knocked-out tank.

All right, sir, we'll wait for you.

Wish we could help, sergeant,

but you're on your own.

- What's that?

- Good luck. Over and out.

What?

Yes, sir.

Well, I'll be damned.

To hell with all officers.

He's afraid the platoon's gonna

get lost coming up here...

so we gotta go back and handhold

them all the way right here.

Well, I'll be a son of a gun.

Let's go.

Don't panic. Live

people are watching us.

It's a bushwhack.

I'm hit!

Check for wounded Krauts.

You're pretty good at that, Johnson,

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