The Battle of Algiers Page #2

Agile and silent, the paras jump one by one from the trucks in a hurry.

SOUND OF TRUCKS.

They arrange themselves geometrically, their movements synchronized.

They disperse and disappear in the alleys.

They reappear together, then once again scatter.

They meet without looking at one another; each one takes his own

course.

In like manner without a sound, they are above, even on the terraces,

in perfect geometry. Even up here, the paras tighten their grip ...

3RUE DES ABDERAMES. COURTYARD OF HOUSE. INSIDE/OUTSIDE. DAWN.

Every three yards, there is a para, even at all four corners of an

intersection.

They are also in the side streets as well as the main streets.

And also above, against the sky, many other paras appear.

Number three. The doorway is the height of a man. A squadron stands

ready in a semicircle with machine guns in firing position.

Marc continues to hold up the Algerian by his arm.

The captain glances at his watch, then looks up at the terrace and

gives a signal.

In a lowered voice, without turning around, he speaks to the para who

is at his back:

CAPTAIN:

Fire ...

The para nears the front door, his legs wide open, his machine gun,

clenched at his side, and aims at the lock.

MACHINE GUN FIRE.

He moves the gun barrel in a circular direction.

Immediately the others hurl themselves against the door.

At the same time, the door of the terrace is broken down, and the paras

burst into the house below.

The inner courtyard is square. In the center there is a well; above, a

patch of sky; on four sides, the arcades, columns, and majolica arches.

Beneath the porches, there is a door for every dwelling. And above, a

balcony with railings and other doors. The doors are wide open. The

paras quickly carry out their orders.

ORDERS, CURT AND BRIEF.

The people are used to all this and know how to obey. The scene takes

place exactly as if it were an arranged maneuver, a practice drill.

The rooms are emptied in a few seconds. The people are crowded together

in the courtyard.

Eyes wide with fright.

Men, women, and children with blankets and sheets thrown around their

shoulders. By now, it is almost day. A soft light is diffused from

above.

The Algerian walks with his head lowered, Marc on one side, the captain

on, the other.

They climb to the first floor and go along the balcony.

The Algerian stops in front of a door.

The captain murmurs softly:

CAPTAIN:

Here?

The Algerian nods yes. They enter.

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