The Deer Hunter Page #8

EXT. GRASS HUTS - DAY

MERLE spins out with the B.A.R. on full automatic. The V.C.

SOLDIERS go down screaming, arms and necks thrown back, in a

thin mist of spraying blood.

ABOVE THE CHATTER OF MERLE'S B.A.R. WE HEAR A GROWING ROAR.

EXT. APPROACHING AMERICAN HELICOPTERS - DAY

There are five of them, coming in low under the tops of

nearby trees.

EXT. GRASS HUTS - THE VILLAGERS - DAY

The VILLAGERS stand motionless, staring at the helicopters

and frozen with terror. They turn. They start to run. And

then they disappear in a roaring wall of burning napalm.

EXT. GRASS HUTS AFTER NAPALM ATTACK - DAY

MERLE stands alone with his B.A.R. surrounded by clouds of

billowing black smoke. There is no sound but the rush of

heated air and the faint crackle of flames. MERLE'S clothes

are burning. Flames are licking up his trouser legs and a

blob of napalm is burning fiercely on his helmet.

In front of MERLE the SOLDIERS and the VILLAGERS lie in two

charred heaps. The BABIES lie between them. Both are

motionless now, like two roasted stones.

An AMERICAN LIEUTENANT steps out from behind one of the

burning huts. MERLE and the LIEUTENANT spin on each other and

then the LIEUTENANT lowers his carbine.

LIEUTENANT:

What the hell are you doing here?

MERLE:

(numb)

Saving lives.

MORE AMERICANS appear, some twenty of them, coming out of the

trees in a long line. Among them are NICK and SAL.

LIEUTENANT:

Move it out, girls! Move it out!

The LIEUTENANT heads down the line. NICK stares at MERLE.

NICK:

Merle?... Jesus, Merle!

MERLE turns and looks at NICK. There is no recognition. He

seems to be looking right through him.

SAL comes up behind NICK.

SAL:

Hey...! Hey, Merle!

A shot rings out. The LIEUTENANT goes down and suddenly the

whole line of AMERICANS is caught in a murderous cross-fire.

Grenades rain out of the trees. MERLE, NICK and SAL dive for

cover.

Out of the smoke V.C. SOLDIERS begin to appear, more and more

of them, swarming out of the jungle in scores.

EXT. CLEARING IN THE JUNGLE - HEAVY RAIN - DAY

We are looking at the ground where three pits have been dug

and fitted with bamboo gratings which are held down by

stones. The ground is ankle-deep in running mud and the pits

are filled with water to within a foot of the bamboo

gratings. In each of the pits are about a half-dozen men --

SOUTH VIETNAMESE and AMERICAN. Their hands grip the gratings

and their eyes are hollow. Other than an occasional groan

there is only the sound of the falling rain.

A V.C. SOLDIER trudges out of the jungle. As he reaches the

pits he notices the hands, curses and begins jumping up and

down on the bamboo gratings. The hands disappear. As soon as

one comes back, the SOLDIER stomps on it, shrieking with

laughter. Then, almost as an afterthought, the SOLDIER pulls

down his pants and squats above the center grating.

CAMERA TILTS SLOWLY UPWARD. We see the clearing in its

totality. It is a raw hole hacked out of the jungle and

contains only two structures. One is a large bamboo "tiger

cage" with a few leaves tied to its top. The other is a small

hut with a thatched roof. The walls of the hut are open and

we can see V.C. GUARDS moving about inside.

A cry comes from the hut. There is the THUD of a rifle butt

on flesh and the cry abruptly stops.

INT. THATCHED HUT - DAY

In the middle of the hut is an American kitchen table with a

rose-patterned plastic top. At opposite ends of the table are

two chairs. A SOUTH VIETNAMESE PRISONER sits in one of the

chairs. In the other chair, facing him, is MERLE.

The SOUTH VIETNAMESE has a welt on his head and one of the

half-dozen V.C. GUARDS in the hut is screaming at him. In the

middle of the table, between the SOUTH VIETNAMESE and MERLE,

is a single-action .45 caliber revolver with an American

eagle carved on its ivory grip.

MERLE sits quietly, waiting, but his eyes are working, taking

in every detail of the scene. The V.C. GUARD gives the SOUTH

VIETNAMESE a final cuff, takes up the revolver with a

dramatic flourish and loads one cartridge into the chamber.

Immediately the OTHER GUARDS begin placing bets. The GUARDS

are a ragged bunch -- wet, half-drunk on captured Budweiser,

and it takes some time to straighten things out.

MERLE looks off to his right:

INT. THATCHED HUT - REVERSE ANGLE - DAY

We see more SOUTH VIETNAMESE and AMERICAN prisoners standing

against the wall. Most of them have been badly beaten and all

have their elbows tied behind their backs. In among them,

standing beside one another, are NICK and SAL. NICK looks

grey, like a skinny ghost. SAL is out of control, sobbing

quietly.

INT. THATCHED HUT - ORIGINAL ANGLE - DAY

The betting is now completed. The V.C. in charge waves the

.45 around and calls for silence. Then, closing the cylinder

containing the single bullet, he points the revolver at the

ceiling and clicks through the empty chambers until the

revolver goes off with a ROAR. Bits of thatch flutter down

from the ceiling. The V.C. GUARDS shout enthusiastically and

grin.

MERLE sits motionless. The SOUTH VIETNAMESE across the table

from him begins shaking uncontrollably.

The V.C. in charge now reloads the revolver with one

cartridge, snaps the cylinder shut, puts the gun on the table

between MERLE and the SOUTH VIETNAMESE and gives it a good

spin.

The revolver slows and finally comes to a stop pointing at

MERLE. MERLE stares at it for a long beat. Then he picks it

up, spins the cylinder, c*cks it, puts it to his temple and

pulls the trigger. The hammer falls on an empty chamber with

a loud CLICK.

MERLE places the revolver back on the table and pushes it

toward the SOUTH VIETNAMESE. The SOUTH VIETNAMESE begins to

tremble again. Fumbling horribly he finally manages to get

the gun in his hand. He spins the cylinder, c*cks the hammer

and puts the gun to his temple. The gun weaves around.

The SOUTH VIETNAMESE closes his eyes and pulls the trigger.

There is a loud CLICK.

MERLE takes the revolver again. He spins it, c*cks it -- all

in one smooth motion -- puts it to his temple and pulls the

trigger. There is another CLICK.

MERLE pushes the gun back across the table. This time the

SOUTH VIETNAMESE takes it up with sudden confidence. He spins

the cylinder, c*cks it, puts it to his temple and pulls on

the trigger.

THERE IS A ROAR. THE PISTOL IS FLYING IN THE AIR AND THEN THE

MAN'S HEAD, HALF-EXPLODED, CRASHES OVER ONTO THE KITCHEN

TABLE.

MERLE doesn't even blink. The GUARDS begin hooting and

laughing, wiping pieces of brain from their clothes, and

MERLE watches them, watches every gesture, every movement...

like a cat.

EXT. THATCHED HUT - LATER DAY

A pile of bodies lie by the steps in the pouring rain. The

bodies are both SOUTH VIETNAMESE and AMERICAN. Their heads

are all variously blown to pieces and SEVERAL HUGE RATS are

already feeding on them.

INT. THATCHED HUT - TABLE AREA - DAY

NICK is at the table now, opposite a SOUTH VIETNAMESE. He

holds the pistol by his chin, spins the cylinder. His face is

twitching, dripping sweat and both he and his opponent are

holding onto each other's eyes as if they had been at it for

a long time.

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