The Wall Page #2

---

You got eyes?

F***in'... Sar'nt Matthews?

Sar'nt Matthews!

Sar'nt!

No, no, no, no, no... he'd shoot you

before you even get...

Sarn't Matthews, you hear me?

MATTHEWS:

I'm here.

Hang in there.

Please f***in' hang in there.

MATTHEWS:

You got eyes on him?

Come on, man.

Where'd it come from?

I don't f***in' know...

I don't know.

MATTHEWS:
Crack bang.

What's the distance?

Okay... Crack bang...

Crack bang...

MATTHEWS:
Didn't you hear it?

Crack bang, how many seconds?

[ Indistinct]

MATTHEWS:

Ize... you didn't f***in' gauge?

Listen, man,

I got one shot at him.

Don't f***in' touch that rifle, man!

The second you touch

that f***ing rifle, you're dead.

Hold on!

[ Panting ]

[ Groans ]

F***!

[Wind blowing]

[ Screams ]

F***!

[Groaning]

All right.

Shane, I got eyes on...

Sar'nt Matthews?

Sar'nt Matthews,

you f***in' hear me?

Shane!

Oh, man... God.

You didn't bleed out...

Come on, man, get up...

...get up

and dress that wound, man...

[ Groans ]

[ Continues groaning ]

F***. F***.

[ Groans ]

[ Muffled groaning ]

[ Muffled screaming ]

[Whimpering]

[ Sobbing ]

You f***er.

F***. F*** it.

F***.F***.

God!

[ Gasping ]

MAN ON RADIO:

Last transmission...

Come in... How do you copy?

Come in...

Last transmission...

Come in...

How do you copy?

How do you read us?

[ Static ]

Last transmission...

How do you copy?

How do you copy?

This is Spartan Thirty Tree.

How copy?

MAN ON RADIO:

Reading you Lima Charlie, over.

This is Spartan Thirty Tree...

...receiving enemy fire.

Requesting dust off...

I got a man down...

There's a shooter...

got us pinned,

me, got me pinned...

requesting medevac, I repeat,

I repeat, requesting medevac.

MAN ON RADIO:

What's your position, over?

Uh... Uh, Grid Hotel Whiskey

seven, two, zero, three.

MAN ON RADIO:

Copy that. Stand by.

[ Groans ]

[ Exhales ]

Oh, God.

Hey, Shane,

we're goin' home, buddy!

[Sighs]

[Wind rustling]

[ Chuckles ]

About f***in' time...

[ Radio static ]

[ Exhales ]

All right, come on.

This is Spartan Tree Tree...

are you there, over?

Okay.

MAN ON RADIO:

Reading you, Lima Charlie.

You're on a radio feed,

and we do not want

to move beyond range

of your signal.

Do you copy?

Beyond range of my signal?

You're already

in my local radio.

Are you close?

MAN ON RADIO:

Need a confirm on your ID, over.

This is Sar'nt Allen Isaac,

51st ODA.

I have Staff Sar'nt

Shane Matthews here with me,

but he's down, possibly KIA...

I don't know.

He's not responding, so...

Over.

MAN ON RADIO:

We copy Spartan Tree Tree.

Prepping medevac.

[ Softly ]

Okay.

[ Exhales ]

Oh, Jesus Christ.

All right,

you little f***er, you.

[ Exhales ]

F***ing NATO round.

Goddamn.

7.62 by 51...

No, we got a shooter,

high-caliber weapon.

Requesting UAV.

MAN ON RADIO:

We need your challenge code

before we send in medevac.

Whoa, wait.

Say that again?

MAN ON RADIO:

Requesting your challenge code.

What the f*** is...?

No, but... umm...

Who is this?

MAN ON RADIO:

This is Captain Otis Simmons.

I need your challenge code

if I'm going to get you

and your Staff Sar'nt medevac.

Uh, Romeo... no...

No, wait, I didn't say

I needed medical assistance.

Do you copy?

MAN ON RADIO:

Copy that. I assumed.

But this is protocol.

[ Radio static ]

Well, f*** me,

how do I know that?

Huh? That you are

who you say you are?

Allen Isaac.

You and your Staff Sergeant

Shane Matthews

made an overnight worm

into a killzone

to investigate a potential sniper

and report back to us.

Okay, okay...

All right, I'm sorry.

I'm a little f***ed up.

Uh, listen, you gotta bring

a heavy escort...

This guy's a f***ing a**hole.

[Wind blowing]

[ Exhales ]

[ Radio static ]

Where do you keep goin'?

MAN ON RADIO:

Do you have a flare, sergeant?

Do you copy?

Uh, yeah, no, I don't...

I have an M4 and a sidearm.

MAN ON RADIO:

I need you to stand

And fire into the air.

We need to get

a lock on your position.

What the f***?

This ain't ranger school!

The f***in' shooter'll get

a f***in' lock on my position.

MAN ON RADIO:

Well, I can't help you

unless I know your location.

Do you copy?

F*** it.

A lotta f***in' help, you've been

so f***in' far, motherf***er.

This is f***in' stupid.

This ain't f***in' protocol.

MAN ON RADIO:

Sergeant,

We need your exact location

to send in medevac.

Say that again?

MAN ON RADIO:

I need your location.

No, my rank, what's my rank?

[ Accented ]

MAN ON RADIO:
Sergeant.

[ Scoffs ]

You, uh...

You got an accent.

Not American.

MAN ON RADIO:
You have

seen through my camouflage.

The f*** are you talking 'bout?

MAN ON RADIO:
I'm talking

about hiding behind words...

like you're hiding

behind that wall.

You...

Motherfu...

Oh, sh*t.

[ Groans ]

You... f***!

MAN ON RADIO:

I've got a question for you.

Your friend, is he dead?

He looks-He looks dead to me.

This is Spartan Thirty Three,

sending in the blind.

MAN ON RADIO:

But maybe he is just unconscious.

I got a man down!

MAN ON RADIO:

Shall I make sure?

I got a sniper,

I got an enemy sniper...

Requesting medevac!

MAN ON RADIO:

Shall I shoot him in the head?

I repeat, I repeat,

requesting...

MAN ON RADIO:

Does he have a wife? Children?

[ Stones falling ]

Will they enjoy a closed casket,

if I take his face off?

All right, all right,

shut the f*** up, man.

All right stop, stop,

stop, stop.

[Sighs]

Is there something

that you want?

MAN ON RADIO:

Yes.

Well, I don't know nothin'.

I'm a buck sar'nt.

They don't tell me sh*t,

so... f*** you.

MAN ON RADIO:

That's not what I want.

Oh, what do you want?

You want f***in' twelve virgins

or somethin'?

MAN ON RADIO:

I want to get to know you.

I just want to get to know you.

Will you allow that?

[ Gasping ]

Hey, you're f***ing with me.

MAN ON RADIO:

I was.

But you figured it out.

So now, let's be real.

It's just you and me out here.

So what do you say?

Yeah, I'll talk to you.

MAN ON RADIO:

Good.

Where are you from?

No, listen, I don't know

sh*t about you,

so why don't you go first?

MAN ON RADIO:

Me?

There is nothing to say.

No story.

ISAAC:
Uh, you're the one

who wants to get chatty, bro.

Why ain't you saying anything?

Huh?

MAN ON RADIO:

Okay. I'll start.

I am just...

a regular Iraqi man.

A civilian.

A civilian, my ass.

Crack bang.

One, two, three, four, five...

[ Exhales ]

Okay, one, two, three,

four, five...

One, two, three, four, five...

One, two, three, four, five...

Okay, one, two, three,

four, bang.

Four plus four...

Four plus four...

eight hundred plus...

[Sighs]

Okay.

Bullet... 45, 50, 60,

60 degree angle.

9... 950, 950 plus.

That gives me, 1,500.

Okay, okay.

At the wall, me, Matthews.

Crane, construction site,

trailers, flagpole.

MAN ON RADIO:

And you?

What about me?

MAN ON RADIO:

Are you a regular American?

ISAAC:

Uh, yeah. Regular Joe.

MAN ON RADIO:

A regular G.I. Joe...

Army ranger or marine?

You worked

in our f***in' ranks, huh?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes