Three Kings Page #3

Soldiers scream and go nuts.

Beer is sputtered from soldiers' mouths.

"I Can't Do Nothing For Ya Man" by Public Enemy blasts.

WALTER WOGOMAN, 19, quiet, tall, Southern operates two

parallel boom boxes like a DJ.

A Soldier rapidly peels down one Bruce Lee poster on top of

another, like a flip-book animating Bruce Lee. Vig wearing

a bandage across his nose from the fight on the berm does a

series of cheerleader-like karate arm movements.

Soldiers whip brightly painted toy footballs at Troy. He

whips the balls back, is tackled over a table, crashes.

Soldiers -- Vig, Walter, others -- scream viscerally as the

music blasts. Two soldiers fire their fingers like pistols

at Troy on the floor screaming like a fierce animal.

TROY:

Rahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Vig screams into Troy's face at point blank range.

VIG:

Rahhhhhhhhh.

TROY:

Rahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

CAPTAIN VAN METER

Goddamn it, where the f*** did

this beer come from we gotta take

more Iraqis prisoner tomorrow.

EXT. IRAQI DESERT - DAY

WIDE SHOT - HUNDREDS OF IRAQIS walking in the desert, hands

raised above their heads.

TRANSLATOR (MEGAPHONE)

Hasnala shi aluno quibaan --

CAPTAIN VAN METER

We will not hurt you. Lay down

your weapons, get on the ground --

TWO IRAQIS with bad face wounds get medical help.

FIVE IRAQIS:

on their knees, plead for mercy in Arabic as they disrobe.

They grab and kiss Troy Barlow's hand, as he holds his M-16

on the begging Iraqis.

TROY:

It's cool, no one's gonna hurt

you --

Vig whips out his big Thunder 5 pistol and points it in their

faces.

VIG:

Did you rape and torture anybody

in Kuwait, Abdul?

The Iraqis wail for mercy. Troy pushes Vig's pistol away.

TROY:

You're making them all hysterical.

Vig points the big pistol at an OLDER IRAQI OFFICER who is

the only one not taking his clothes off.

VIG:

Take your f***ing rags off, take

this off. No comprende English,

motherf***er?

TROY:

What is your f***ing problem,

Conrad?

VIG:

I'm trying to git him to obey the

spirit of things but he won't take

his rags off.

TROY:

(leans down)

Sir? We need you to disrobe like

all the other towel heads, OK?

The Officer does not move, Troy punches his head once. Vig

and Walter forcibly pull the Iraqi Officer's pants off. Troy

takes out a bottle of aspirin, eats two.

VIG:

Whoa, it's a freaky thing, Troy.

Vig points to the Officer's bare buttocks, where a rolled up

piece of paper is sticking out --

TROY:

There's a document in that guy's

ass, Conrad.

VIG:

That's the freaky thing.

WALTER:

Do you think he ate it?

TROY:

It wouldn't come out perfect like

that if he ate it.

Troy pulls out a latex glove out of his pocket.

TROY:

Go get it, Private.

IRAQI OFFICER:

Hasa man timal!

The Officer screams in protest and is forcibly subdued by

Walter as Vig, wearing the glove, slowly pulls the rolled up,

greasy paper from the Officer's ass -- Troy looks disgusted.

TROY:

Open it up.

VIG:

You only gave me one glove.

TROY:

I'm sorry I don't have another,

but you gotta open it up. That's

how the chain of command works.

Vig takes out a U.S. Army pen and uses it to unroll the

greasy paper and lie it flat on the sand.

CLOSE UP - THE RUMPLED PAPER

is a handwritten map, with scant Arabic writing, a few spare

roads, numbers, and three small boxes.

VIG:

What the hell is that?

TROY:

Important enough to squeeze your

cheeks for.

INT. TELEVISION TRUCK - DAY

In the half-light of dozens of TV monitors playing Iraqi news

from around the world, Archie Gates madly humps CATHY DAITCH

on a lawn chair which is slamming into the monitors.

CATHY DAITCH:

You are a trained warrior, trained

warrior, trained warrior, Jesus

Christ, Colonel!

TV monitors crash to the floor as she climaxes. Archie lays

on the floor catching his breath, stares at a sideways

monitor of soldiers celebrating; she stands, dresses.

CATHY DAITCH:

(breathless)

What's Bill got?

ARCHIE GATES:

Just the celebration story.

CATHY DAITCH:

That's it?

ARCHIE GATES:

That's it --

ARCHIE GATES:

How about you? Did you find

anything?

CATHY DAITCH:

It could be another bullshit lead

but I need you to help me find a

guy who might have something on

the gold --

ARCHIE GATES:

Who's the guy?

CATHY DAITCH:

Somebody Barlow, maybe in Company

B--

ARCHIE GATES:

Barlow.

CATHY DAITCH:

Got a map out of a prisoner's head.

ARCHIE GATES:

Out of a prisoner's head?

CATHY DAITCH:

Or his ear, or his ass, or his

dick, and they got like a fifty

page full-color mini atlas of

Saddam's bunkers --

ARCHIE GATES:

Out of a guy's dick?

The door explodes open and two MPs grab Archie, pants around

his ankles, and drag him from the truck.

EXT. TELEVISION TRUCK - DAY

Archie is faced by an OLDER TWO STAR GENERAL (GENERAL PYE),

a YOUNGER ONE STAR GENERAL (GENERAL HORN).

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