The Last Flight

---

Level off, Cary!

Level off!

Shep! Shep, are you all right?

Can't make it, Cary.

I Can't make it.

Here, give me your arm!

I'll get you out of here!

Hang on there, Shep!

Get a hold.

Just hold tight, old fella.

Well, the old guerre is finie.

That's right.

What are ya gonna do now, Shep?

Get tight.

And then what?

Stay tight.

Lieutenants Lambert and Lockwood.

You two leaving us, eh?

In a way,

I'm sorry to release you two.

But I have

no choice in the matter.

What am I going to do, Major, about my -

oh, this rotten business?

Spasmodic twitching of the

muscles under the eye, eh, Lieutenant?

What the French call a tic.

T - I - C, tic.

Little bothersome, isn't it?

- Yes, sir.

I'm afraid time'll have to

take care of that.

Time and normal living.

You two are returning to the

United States, I presume?

We haven't decided.

I'd take the first boat home.

Well, here you go.

Oh, I forgot your burnt hands.

Neither of you is fully hospitalized.

I'd undertake a systematic course

of finger exercises.

To, uh, stretch them

and loosen them up.

In time,

you'll regain their full use.

Thank you, sir.

Bye, Lieutenant.

Bye, Lieutenant. Good luck.

Well, there they go.

Out to face life.

And their whole training was

in preparation for death.

Why can't they go on with flying?

You know, the air mails

or something?

I'm afraid they're unfit for

further service in that direction.

They fell, you know -

six thousand meters.

Like dropping a fine Swiss watch

on the pavement.

Shattered both of them.

Their nervous systems are deranged,

disorganized, brittle.

Spent bullets.

Spent bullets

That's it.

They're like projectiles,

shaped for war and hurled at the enemy.

They've described a beautiful,

high-arching trajectory.

And now they've fallen

back to earth.

Spent. Cooled off.

Useless.

Oh, well, if they take care of themselves,

they'll pull through all right.

Even if they do take care of themselves,

what good are they?

What can you expect of them?

I hate to think what may

become of them.

Hello, Cary!

- Hi, Cary!

Hello, Bill! Hiya, Francis!

- Hello, Bill! Francis!

Well, I see you got yours.

- Yup. We crashed.

Hey! Where you going?

Paris!

Paris?!

See you in Paris!

- Yeah.

How 'bout a cocktail?

- Not a bad idea at that.

I beg your pardon.

But, if I'm not too inquisitive,

would you mind telling me

what IS that you're drinking?

Teeth.

- Teeth?

Hey, it's teeth!

- Teeth?!

Teeth!

- That's right.

Yup. It's a full set,

upper and lower.

It's a nice expression.

Hey, how come you're

with those teeth?

I was just standing here.

And a nice gentleman came along

and begged my pardon

and asked would I mind

holding his teeth for a minute.

Well, what did he want you

to hold his teeth for?

Said he wanted to biff somebody.

- Biff somebody?! Which way did he go?!

Just around to the right.

- Come on, men! We're liable to see a fight.

Would you like to come along?

Oh, no. I have to stay here

and mind the man's teeth.

Oh, of course.

Well. THAT'S all fixed.

Let's go back.

Oh, there she is.

Well, we missed it.

- Did something happen?

Well, they carried a guy out.

Say! What's become of the teeth?

Oh, the man came and got his teeth.

Well, what did he say?

- He said thank you for holding his teeth.

What did he look like?

I think he fell in an airplane

in the war

and got his teeth knocked out.

Why do you think he was

in the war?

Oh, he had a kind of little striped

ribbon in his buttonhole.

What makes you think he was a flyer?

His eyes.

- His eyes?

You can tell a flyer better by his ears.

Well, what do you say we have a drink?

- Fine!

Hello, Jean!

Bon soir, Monsieur Lambert. Qu'est-ce que

vous voulez prendre, Messieurs?

Martini! - Martini!

- Martini! - Martiniiii!

Could I have a champagne cocktail?

Certainment, Mademoiselle.

Quatre Martinis pour messieurs!

Champagne cocktail pour Mademoiselle Nikki!

Nikki?!

- Nikki?!

Nikki?!

Can you imagine that, fellas?

Her name is Nikki!

Her name is Nikki.

She holds men's teeth.

She sits at the bar

and she drinks champagne.

Boys,

she's gonna be a lot of trouble.

Oh, my, my!

Poor sweet! She can't even hold her

glass!

Oh, well, HE can't either.

Besides, he has to use two hands.

Course he can't hold his glass.

His hands are burned.

Burned?

You have no right to spill YOUR drinks.

He can't help himself.

Burned? How burned?

He brought a plane down on fire.

An airplane? In the war?

He held the stick.

But his hands began to slip.

Then he held it inside his arms.

He was trying to

bring his rear gunner down alive.

Did he bring him down safe?

Well...

Brought him down.

Oh, so that's why -

- Yes!

That's why he can't hold a glass.

Oh, I'm so ashamed.

Now, Cary's had a pretty thin time.

His nerves are tricky.

You should

never call attention to his hands.

Hi, Cary.

Oh, hello, Frink.

Hello, Francis. Bill.

Shep. Drunk again.

Say, don't you know any OTHER

opening remarks?

It's about all

we've heard from you for a year.

Hi! Jean!

Bonsoir, monsieur.

Qu'est-ce que vous voulez prendre?

Un sidecar.

Say, why don't you fellows go home

and go to work?

Work? What kind of work?

Oh, anything useful.

What could we do?

Sell washing machines?

Drive a milk wagon?

Mend old furniture or somethin'?

Go back to flying.

Fly the air mails.

Aw, we couldn't fly a kite.

Maybe a small kite.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes