Twelve O'Clock High Page #3

Have the surgeon give you a shot

so you'll sleep 24 hours.

A man only has so much to give

and you've given it.

You're relieved of command.

Report to me at Bomber Command.

I'll send someone to take over.

- Good night, Keith.

- Good night, sir.

The 918th will stand down until

the new commanding officer arrives.

- Want me to take it, sir?

- No.

I wanna talk, Frank.

There's a hole in the dike, Frank.

I'm scared stiff.

Maybe you know how deep

this goes, maybe you don't.

I've got to spill it, anyhow.

We're fighting all over the world.

Every theater commander is screaming

for crews and equipment.

50,000 airplanes. That's what

they say they're building.

I wish we had 500.

Our problem right now

narrows down to one group.

If the 918th folds, it can spread

to the other three groups.

It can fold the whole deal.

There's only one hope of shortening

this war:
Daylight precision bombing.

If we fold, daylight bombing

is done with.

I don't know.

Maybe it means the whole show.

We could lose if we don't

knock out German industry.

You can smell what's coming.

No man should have to do this job...

...who's had more than

his share of combat.

I'm asking you to take

nice kids and fly...

...until they can't take anymore.

Then fly some more.

We've got to find out

how much a man can take...

...and get it all.

I don't know if any man can do it.

That's what cracked Keith.

What time can you get there tomorrow?

Early, I guess.

No squawks?

It's hard to have one,

the way you put it.

Thanks, Frank.

- Smoke, Ernie?

- Thank you, sir.

All right, sergeant.

Yes, sir.

- You know me?

- No, sir.

- Then why are you admitting me?

- It's a staff car, sir.

Gring could have been in it.

- My A.G.O. Card.

- The general may proceed.

This is a military post, not a zoo.

From now on you'll check

everyone who enters.

Take a good look at me.

If you, or any man on this post,

passes me up without saluting...

...you'll wonder what fell on you.

- You might pass that word around.

- Yes, sir.

- Take my bags to my quarters.

- Yes, sir. Good luck, sir.

Thanks, Ernie.

[WHISTLES]

How do I address you?

I don't quite understand, general.

- What's your rank? How can I tell?

- Sergeant Mclllhenny, sir.

It's Private Mclllhenny now.

Where's the air exec?

He's not here, sir. He left after

Lt. Zimmerman's funeral.

- Zimmerman?

- Yes. Navigator, sir.

- What happened to him?

- Suicide, sir.

- Where's the ground exec?

- In the hospital, sir. Mumps.

- The adjutant?

- Major Stovall's at the Officers Club.

Get dressed and find him.

- Ask him to report to me.

- Yes, sir.

[KNOCKING]

Major Stovall, group adjutant.

I remember you.

Are you the only one around?

Probably, sir.

I presume you've come

to take over the group?

That's right.

You been drinking, major?

Yes. It's the first time

I've been drunk in 20 years.

But it may not be the last.

- Where's the air exec?

- I don't know, sir.

It's only an opinion,

but it's possible he's drunk too.

- Is he off the station?

- Yes, sir.

- Where?

- I don't know that, sir.

Send the MPs to find him.

Bring him to me under arrest.

Under actual arrest, general?

Exactly. Two:
Cancel

all leaves and passes.

Make sure all squadron commanders

are here by tonight.

Three:
Bring me the personnel files,

the 66-1 s...

...on Gately and the key staff,

including yours.

Yes, sir.

Four:
Set a meeting for combat crew

in the briefing room tomorrow at 0800.

- Is that all, sir?

- That's all.

Yes, sir.

- Colonel Gately is here, sir.

- Send him in.

That's all, men.

- May I ask why I'm under arrest?

- No.

Stand at attention.

You're the son of Lt. General

Tom Gately, aren't you?

That's my standard identification, sir.

- How is he, as an officer?

- None better, sir.

That's right.

You're the son of a fine officer,

the grandson of another.

You're a graduate of West Point

with nine years' service.

Your Form 5 shows that you've more

four-engine time than any man here.

You could've done more than anyone

to take the load off Colonel Davenport.

Records show you've flown only

three missions since you've been here.

- Is that right?

- And I turned back twice.

I take it you don't care

about the part you had...

...in breaking one of the best men

you'll ever know.

As air exec you were in command here...

...the moment Colonel Davenport left.

You met that responsibility

exactly as you met his need.

You ran out on it.

You left the station to get drunk.

Gately...

...as far as I'm concerned,

you're yellow.

A traitor to yourself, to this group...

...to the uniform you wear.

It would be the easiest course

to transfer you out...

...to saddle some unsuspecting guy

with a deadbeat.

Maybe you think that's what you're

gonna get out of this, a free ride.

But I'm not gonna pass the buck.

I'm gonna keep you right here.

I hate a man like you so much...

...that I'm gonna trample

your head in the mud.

You'll wish you'd never been born.

- Lf that's all, sir.

- I'm just getting started.

You're gonna get a bellyful of flying.

You'll make every mission.

You're not air exec anymore.

You're an airplane commander.

And I want you to paint this name

on the nose of your ship:

"Leper Colony."

You're gonna get every deadbeat...

...every man with a penchant

for head colds.

If there's a bombardier who can't hit

his plate with his fork...

...you get him because you rate him.

Is that clear?

General Savage,

I can file charges against you...

...for exceeding your authority...

Get me Pinetree.

I want General Pritchard.

OPERATOR:
Line's busy. Will you wait?

- I'll wait.

Rights, Gately. You've got a right

to explain to General Pritchard...

...cowardice, desertion of your post,

a yellow streak a mile wide.

He can explain it to your father,

so they'll both be proud.

You could tell him right now.

I have your line, sir.

General Savage,

I withdraw my statement.

Hello? I have your line, sir.

Never mind.

That's all, then.

Cut an order relieving Gately

as air exec.

Anybody else, sir?

I'll let you know, major.

One file, Cobb, squadron commander,

shows a good record in the air.

What are his qualifications?

I'm sure you'll be pleased with any

selection you make from the group.

Thanks for the help, major.

I'll be around the station.

Sir?

- I've been assigned as driver.

- Fine.

- Aren't you the clerk...?

- Yes, sir. Private Mclllhenny.

General officers rate sergeants

as drivers.

- Put those stripes back on.

- Yes, sir.

- Beer.

- Yes, sir.

Remove your cap in the club.

- That's regulations, huh?

- It is.

Have another, Major Cobb.

- Scotch.

- I'll get it.

No regulation against buying my own.

That's right.

Corporal.

This bar is closed for tonight,

and until further notice.

I'll keep a light in the doghouse

window for you.

MAN:

Come in.

Major Stovall?

Cut an order, assign

Major Cobb as air exec.

Yes, sir.

- Good night.

- Good night, sir.

[CHATTERING]

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