The Patriot Page #25

They listen closely.

MARION:

We are the bait in a trap. We're

militia. Cornwallis thinks we're

rabble, nothing more than a bunch of

undisciplined farmers. And if he

thinks that's what we are, that's

what we're going to give him.

Listen up.

They gather around closer.

EXT. BRITISH LINES - DAY

Cornwallis, surrounded by his staff officers, including

Tarleton, stands on a low hill, trying, with the aid of a

spyglass to catch the first view of the battlefield as the

morning mist begins to burn off.

Through the fog, he just makes out the American lines. He

turns to Tarleton who also peers through a spyglass.

CORNWALLIS:

Do you see that, Colonel?

TARLETON:

Unless I'm dreaming, I think I see

irregulars at their center.

Cornwallis and Tarleton exchange a pleased look.

EXT. LOW MEADOW - YORKTOWN - MORNING

Marion and his men wait.

A STRANGE SOUND. Soft, muted. The men turn their heads,

listening, their eyes shifting.

They hear the SOUND OF THOUSANDS OF BOOTS ON WET GRASS,

advancing...

THE CAMERA WATCHES THE FACES OF MARION AND HIS MEN as they

listen to an unseen army approaching.

ON MARION'S FACE we see him hearing every sound and we see

FLASH CUTS of what he knows he's hearing:

The BOOTS OF THE UNSEEN SOLDIERS...

Shouldered muskets CLICKING against pack buckles...

SILENCE at a stop...

MORE DRUMS...

The men around Marion wait.

THEN, THEY SEE IT...

A MASSIVE WALL OF RED appears over the rise in front of

them...

Thousands of Redcoats, in perfect formation, marching in

lockstep, straight for them.

Marion sees the fear on his men's faces, but none of them

move...

The BRITISH DRUMS GROW LOUDER AND LOUDER... it's almost

enough to drive a man to flight... almost.

The CAMERA explores the faces of Marion's men, faces that

we know, Rev. Oliver, Scott, Abner, Marion. All are

frightened but all are motionless.

Closer and closer, the British line approaches...

The American's don't move...

Then, the BRITISH LINE STOPS...

At a flurry of commands, the Redcoats ready their muskets,

then aim...

Still, Marion and the Americans don't move...

DEAD SILENCE...

Then, a single, thin voice calls out from the British

lines...

IN A THUNDEROUS, MASSIVE VOLLEY, three thousand British

muskets fire simultaneously... just as the entire line of

AMERICAN MILITIAMEN DIVE TO THE GROUND...

Many Americans are saved by the move but many, many others

are torn apart by the British musketballs...

THE AMOUNT OF SMOKE IS INCREDIBLE... it obscures

everything. Each musket spits out a billow of think white

smoke a dozen feet in front of it and three thousand of

them just fired. The massive, opaque white cloud quickly

spreads over the entire battlefield.

The astonished Redcoats instantly reload...

And watch as the Americans rise in DISORDERLY PANIC and

FLEE...

Some Redcoats laugh...

ON A RISE BEHIND THE BATTLEFIELD, CORNWALLIS, watches

through his spyglass, trying to get a sense of what's

happening before the spreading cloud of musket smoke

obscures everything.

He barks to his SIGNALMAN...

CORNWALLIS:

Fix bayonets... dispatch the Green

Dragoons.

The Signalman raises his semaphore flags and snaps the

message.

MARION AND HIS MEN are caught in the middle of the chaotic

retreat...

THE BRITISH LINE advances at a quickstep, bayonets

fixed...

From behind them, THE GREEN DRAGOONS appear, at a full

gallop, Tarleton at their head...

THE BATTLEFIELD:

It's an astonishing sight... total madness... hell... a

painting by Hieronymous Bosch...

The mass of the British infantry charges after the fleeing

Patriot militiamen...

The Redcoat infantry grows disorderly as it runs...

TARLETON AND THE BRITISH CAVALRY THUNDERS to the head of

the Redcoats, closing in on the fleeing Patriots. The

cavalry swords are drawn and raised for a slaughter...

THEN SUDDENLY:

Stepping into view from behind a low, grass covered rise,

a SOLID LINE OF BLUE APPEARS, rock solid...

It open up, allowing the fleeing Patriots to pass through

it like water...

then it closes again, becoming a solid blue wall...

MARION, HIS MEN AND THE ENTIRE MASS OF FLEEING MILITIA

STOPS DEAD, turns and joins the blue American line...

A flurry of orders, then the BLUE WALL ERUPTS WITH A

VOLLEY of musket fire that stops the disorderly British

advance in its tracks...

Hundreds of Redcoats fall instantly...

Hundreds of Green Dragoons and their horses fall with

them...

The effect of the volley is devastating...'

The American timing is perfect...

Again, the amount of SMOKE is astonishing... visibility

drops to less than twenty feet in most places...

Drifting smoke opens up glimpses of the battle here and

there but it is primarily a battle of sound...

Men simply follow the men in front of them...

The Blue Continentals advance in an orderly manner from

both flanks onto the Redcoats, trapping them...

The Redcoats try to flee...

Fighting small, gathered holding actions...

MARION FIRES one of his pistols...

Draws his sword...

Slashes downward... killing one Redcoat after another...

No remorse, no hesitation, no pity...

A relentless, simple battle...

Slashing through the Redcoat infantry...

His sword sinks into the stock of an upraised British

musket and is pulled from his hands...

Marion quickly kills the Redcoat with his pistol...

THEN, THROUGH THE SMOKE, MARION CATCHES A GLIMPSE OF

TARLETON...

Marion freezes... his eyes locked on Tarleton who is

fighting a pitched battle, making his way toward the

perimeter of the field, trying to escape back to the

British lines...

Seeing nothing but Tarleton, Marion hurriedly tears open

his weapons pouch and pulls out one of the bullets made

from Thomas' lead soldiers...

As he loads the pistol, his eyes still trained on

Tarleton, Dalton runs up in the chaos...

DALTON:

COLONEL! OUR LINE!

Marion finishes reloading... distracted he turns to Dalton

for an instant...

DALTON:

OUR LINE IS FALTERING...

Marion takes a quick glance at the Continental line,

seeing...

Scott, Rev. Oliver, Abner and a dozen more of his men, in

the middle of a confused battle, with a larger mass of

Redcoats who are advancing through the broken Continental

line...

MARION IS TORN...

He looks to Tarleton, seeing him distracted, vulnerable

but too distant a target for the pistol...

Then Marion looks to Rev. Oliver and the others... Dalton

can't wait... he runs off...

Marion wavers...

Then he takes a last look at Tarleton and heads off to

help the faltering Patriots...

TARLETON sees the movement of Marion and his men and sees

Marion himself, his back exposed...

AT THE PATRIOT LINE...

Marion, Dalton and two dozen other militia cavalrymen

arrive at the same time, beating back the Redcoats...

As blue-uniformed Continentals reform the line, FIRING AT

THE FALTERING REDCOATS...

TARLETON sees Marion and fights his way toward him...

Marion is oblivious, concentrating on holding the American

line...

Tarleton mounts a terrified, riderless horses, draws his

sword and gallops back toward the British lines, on a path

that takes him directly past Marion...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes