1EXT. LATE 1942. THE SAHARA DESERT. DAY.

SILENCE. THE DESERT seen from the air. An ocean of dunes for mile

after mile. The late sun turns the sand every color from crimson to

black.

An old AEROPLANE is flying over the Sahara. Its shadow swims over the

contours of sand.

A woman's voice begins to sing unaccompanied on the track. Szerelem,

szerelem, she cries, in a haunting lament for her loved one.

INSIDE the aeroplane are two figures. One, A WOMAN, seems to be

asleep. Her pale head rests against the side of the cockpit. THE

PILOT, a man, wears goggles and a leather helmet. He is singing, too,

but we can't hear him or the plane or anything save the singer's

plaintive voice.

The plane shudders over a ridge. Beneath it A SUDDEN CLUSTER OF MEN

AND MACHINES, camouflage nets draped over the sprawl of gasoline tanks

and armored vehicles. An OFFICER, GERMAN, focuses his field glasses.

The glasses pick out the MARKINGS on the plane. They are English. An

ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN swivels furiously.

Shocking bursts of GUNFIRE. Explosions rock the plane, which lurches

violently. THE WOMAN SLUMPS FORWARD, slamming her head against the

instruments. The pilot grabs her, pulls her back, but she's not

conscious. The fuel tank above their heads is punctured. It sprays

them both, then EXPLODES.

THE MAN FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, clinging to his dead lover. The are both

ON FIRE. She is wrapped in a parachute silk and it burns fiercely. He

looks up to see the flames licking at his own parachute as it carries

them slowly to earth. Even his helmet is on fire, but the man makes no

sound as the flames erase all that matters - his name, his past, his

face, his lover...

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