Platoon Page #3

EXT. COMPANY PERIMETER #1 - KING'S POSITION - DUSK

KING looks like a king. A lion of a black man but with a sleepy,

gentle face, not to be roused, is painfully trying to scrawl a

letter home with the pencil held awkwardly, mouthing the words.

FRANCIS, a young baby-faced black with long lashes and soft eyes,

peeks over his shoulder, shaking his head.

FRANCIS:

Sh*t, King, it ain't d-e-r-e man, it's d-e-a-r, and

Sara don't have no two r's in it, fool. Shame on

you.

King shrugs, a sleepy stoned voice.

KING:

Don't matter, she knows what it means ... an she

don't read too good nohow ...

EXT. COMPANY PERIMETER #1 - COMPANY PC - DUSK

Sgt. Elias washes himself, attentive to his body, slender and

well-muscled, and extremely handsome youth. Of Indian blood,

with long black hair, generous smile, wide facial bone structure,

gypsy eyes, and the cleanest white teeth, he could be a young

Greek god. He is given somewhat to panache, a silver wristband

on his arm, a bandana of black parachute silk hanging from his

neck, his fatigues tightened down at the ankle, he pulls his

pants down, checking for crotch rot, applying talcum powder to

the area, his buttocks facing us.

LERNER, a white kid, 19, from Florida, stopping to admire the

frontal view.

LERNER:

Mumm, any time sweetheart.

ELIAS:

Lerner, you'd choke to death on it.

EXT. COMPANY PERIMETER #1 - COMPANY PC - DUSK

At the COMPANY COMMAND POST a beehive of activity with its four

radios, personnel, some Vietnamese scouts milling around.

CAPTAIN HARRIS is running down a field map with his THREE

LIEUTENANTS. Harris, a broad-shouldered fine-looking military

specimen with the requisite Southern accent and football coach

mannerism, is directing his remark to 2nd Platoon's LT.WOLFE, who

looks a little nervous.

CAPTAIN HARRIS:

Sky Six reports a fresh company of NVA moving across

from Cambodia to this blue line.

(points to position)

We got a good chance to light 'em up tonight. All

platoons will set squad-size ambushes before full

dark. Lt. Wolfe

(glances at him)

You 'bush in this area near that ol' Buddhist temple

we passed on the hump in. Lt. Hawkins, you take this

area in the rubber plantation...

LIEUTENANT WOLFE

(eager)

No problem sir ...

EXT. PLATOON PERIMETER #1 - CHRIS' FOXHOLE - DUSK

Elsewhere, Chris scrapes out a foxhole, his shirt off, bandana

around his head, the work hot and heavy.

TEX is out there setting the claymore as BIG HAROLD and JUNIOR

start breaking down their C's.

JUNIOR:

(a whining high voice)

Hey Big Harold, gimme your peaches for the fruitcake

man.

BIG HAROLD:

(laughes loudly)

F*** you b*tch.

JUNIOR:

C'mon man, didn't I do you right that time I give you

the turkey loaf for the ham and lima beans sh*t.

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