Thirteen Days Page #13

ECKER:

I think I understand. What about my

men? If it comes up hot and heavy, and

we don't have anyone to protect us...

I'm going to be writing letters to

parents. I hate writing letters to

parents.

INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

Kenny nods to himself, feeling. He's done it himself.

KENNY:

If the President protects you,

Commander, he may have to do it with the

Bomb.

INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

Ecker doesn't want to be avenged with atomic weapons. No

sane person would.

KENNY (V.O.)

I've known the man for fifteen years.

The problem is, he will protect you. So

I'm asking:
don't make him protect you.

Don't get shot at.

Ecker down, deeply affected. Suddenly, A BELL RINGS. A

TELETYPE goes off. Ecker knows it's for him. His orders.

ECKER:

Okay, Mr. O'Donnell. We'll do what we

can.

END INTERCUT.

As Ecker hangs up, the Duty Officer rips off the ORDERS,

hands them to Ecker, who takes one look, then gazes out the

window at the runway --

EXT. RUNWAY - KEY WEST NAVAL AIR STATION - DAY

A CART speeds down the flight line past the waiting F8U-1P

Corsairs. One by one, the four pilots accompanying Ecker and

Wilhemy jump off to mount their planes. The cart still

moving.

ECKER:

Get that fuel assayed?

WILHEMY:

Yeah. It sucks. Ain't for high

performance babies like ours. Shoulda

brought some from home, but what can you

do? Last-second deployments...

Wilhemy jumps off, then they're at Ecker's plane, and he

jumps off. Too late to worry about bad fuel now. He hoists

himself up and into the cockpit of the sleek navy jet.

INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

As the canopy closes, Ecker powers up the engines, talks to

his flight over the Guard channel.

ECKER:

Okay, time to play Spin the Bottle with

our bearded buddy. Nobody gets out

ahead. Remember, just sitting here

we're only ten minutes from target.

EXT. RUNWAY - DAY

The Crusaders swing around in pairs at one end of the runway,

and then the first two throttle-up, flaps down, and drop

their brakes. The machines LUNGE forward like duelling drag

racers. The FILL THE SCREEN, blow past.

EXT. AERIAL - OVER KEY WEST - DAY

The six Crusaders, in pairs, streak over the buildings and

streets of Key West. And in a heartbeat, cross the beach and

are out to sea.

And already on the horizon, the low clouds and dark line of

land. Cuba. Ninety miles away.

INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

The ocean shrieks past so close you can see the white foam.

Ecker checks the altimeter: 150 FEET.

A small fishing boat looms ahead, its net booms reaching up

like tree limbs. The Crusader rockets over it.

Ecker checks his instruments. OUT THE WINDOW, the other

Crusaders thunder over the water, past sailboats, cabin

cruisers, the small-craft traffic outside Key West. The

speed sucks the breath away.

ECKER:

Go to military throttle on my mark.

Three...two...one... mark.

His airspeed indicator spins up to 400 knots. And then his

radio suddenly crackles:

PILOT #1 (O.S.)

Flameout flameout!

PILOT #2 (O.S.)

Sh*t! Me too!

ECKER:

Get some altitude!

Two of the Crusaders pull up, away from the water.

PILOT #1 (O.S.)

Oh, God damn. Got it restarted.

PILOT #2 (O.S.)

Yeah. Yeah. Me too. Goddamn fuel.

PILOT #1 (O.S.)

Sir, I don't think she's gonna hold up

for the run.

ECKER:

Affirmative. You two get out of here.

EXT. AERIAL - CRUSADERS - DAY

The two planes with bad fuel pull wingovers to their left,

head for the airfield in the distance. The four remaining

planes streak over the ocean. There are no more small craft

this far out in the strait.

INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

Cuba, green and hazy, looms in the window. Ecker throws a

series of switches.

ECKER:

Start your camera checks.

A mechanical WHINE accompanies the switch-throwing. Ecker

pulls the trigger on his joystick and a THUMP THUMP THUMP

hammers away. There are green lights across his boards.

One of the other pilots cuts in on the radio:

PILOT #3 (O.S.)

Failure. All cameras. Sonofabitch.

Film must not have fed.

PILOT #4 (O.S.)

Jesus! Sh*t! Oh sh*t! I just shot it

all, boss. Activator jammed open, its

exposing everything now.

WILHEMY (O.S.)

That's alright, Lenny, it happens to

most men at some time --

Ecker grimaces, but his voice stays cool.

ECKER:

-- Scrub, you two. Get out of here.

Still with me, Bruce?

WILHEMY (O.S.)

That's affirm.

The two Crusaders who've failed their camera checks break

off. And now Cuba's hills, the Havana sky line are right in

front of them.

EXT. CUBAN BEACH - CONTINUOUS

The last two Crusaders streak over the surf, a white wake of

spray in their jetwash, and cross the beach with a boom.

EXT. AERIAL - CRUSADERS - CONTINUOUS

The planes dip and rise with the green tropical contours,

taking us on a sickening roller-coaster ride over Cuban

countryside at treetop level.

Palm forest, roads, can fields, more palm forest race by.

And then, ahead, a large clearing.

ECKER (O.S.)

Warm 'em up. We're here.

EXT. ANTI-AIRCRAFT BATTERY - CONTINUOUS

Cuban ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNNERS shout as they traverse their 40mm

guns in their sandbagged emplacement. The low rippling

thunder of the incoming jets becomes an earsplitting ROAR...

and the Crusaders blast out over the clearing. The anti

aircraft guns open up.

INT. WILHEMY'S CRUSADER - CONTINUOUS

Wilhemy jinks left to avoid a streaking of TRACER FIRE.

WILHEMY:

Holy sh*t!

INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - CONTINUOUS

Tracers and flack pepper the air in front of Ecker's

Crusader. METAL PINGS, TINKS, RATTLES off the fuselage.

Anti-aircraft and small arms fire comes up from all over,

hitting the planes multiple times. He surveys the shapes in

the target zone dead ahead.

ECKER:

Lights.

And sees the long, canvas-covered objects on the ground. The

missiles. They draw closer.

ECKER (CONT'D)

Camera.

A steel fragment CRACKS his window, obscuring our view.

ECKER (CONT'D)

Action.

And he thumbs the CAMERA SWITCH. All twelve B-system cameras

begin banging away like cannons.

EXT. AERIAL - CRUSADERS - DAY

TRACERS lace the air between the two planes as they blast

over the missile site. Over trailers. Over tents. Over

trucks. Over trenches. Over bulldozers.

And then they're out over forest again. It's all over in

seconds. The triple-A stops. In unison, the two planes bank

right, heading for the distant blue, blue sea.

INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - DAY

Kenny paces by the phone. It rings. He picks up, listens,

reacts. Relief. And we know the planes have made it back.

EXT. RUNWAY - CECIL FIELD, FLA. - DAY

Ecker jumps down from the cockpit ladder and turns an eye to

his battered, pock-marked plane. Wilhemy and the GROUND CREW

CHIEF come running up, the Chief letting out a whistle.

GROUND CREW CHIEF

Lookit what daddy done brung home.

WILHEMY:

You shoulda seen it, Chief, they --

ECKER:

-- damn sparrows. Must've been

migrating. Guess I hit a couple

hundred.

(to Wilhemy, stern)

How many did you hit, Bruce?

Wilhemy stands there, looking at Ecker, not sure what to make

of him. The Crew Chief just starts laughing as more

impressed GROUND CREW come up.

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