Battle Cry

They call me Mac.

The name's not important.

It's January 1942.

Marine outposts around the world

have fallen to the Japanese.

Our ranks are empty and ill-equipped.

We need help.

From every part of the country,

kids are answering our call.

This is Baltimore, Maryland.

Detail, halt!

Left face!

You men have got a few minutes

to see your folks. Fall out!

Ma and Pa's over here.

Hey, lady, my brother's a Marine.

If your father had listened to me,

you wouldn't be going to war at 19.

- Mom, let's not go over that again.

- I'm proud of you, son.

Danny!

Hi, Danny. I'm sorry I'm late.

- Scared?

- A little.

Look, suppose I'm gone a year or two years.

Suppose you want to change your mind.

Well, we'd both be awfully hurt then.

I won't change my mind.

I just want to go on being your girl.

Kathy...

I guess this kind of makes us engaged, huh?

Yes.

All right, Section 5, all aboard!

Section 5!

Let's go, on the double, come on!

- Good luck, son.

- All right, all aboard, let's go.

If they don't treat you right, you come right back.

How long can we go on like this,

sneaking around, meeting in cheap joints?

- You'd get to hate me.

- I could never hate you.

But your old man hates me. I won't be

able to get a decent job in this lousy town.

Sue, can't you see I'd rot here?

I couldn't take it!

Ski, what's gonna happen

if you can't get me to California?

Baby, I'll save every nickel, and I'll send for you.

We'll be away from Philly

and your old man.

- All aboard!

- Oh, honey!

All right, men. Get aboard.

Come on now, hurry up!

- I've got to go, baby.

- Get aboard!

Scenes like this are played all over the land...

... as boys from the cities and from

the farms rush to fill our ranks.

All trains head west.

Destination, San Diego.

This bunch looks like any other group we're getting.

Politics and wars make strange bedfellows.

In almost every car,

you'll find a Texan with a guitar...

... an all-American boy...

... the farmer...

... the pride of the Navajos.

Then there's the slum kid...

... the bookworm...

... the lumberjack.

And there's one in every outfit.

And you'll usually find a troublemaker.

- Put it back. You didn't make your point.

- What do you mean?

- You accusing me of something dishonest?

- Put it back.

I was only kidding.

Let's be buddies.

- Spanish Joe's a troublemaker.

- Yeah.

He'll learn. The hard way.

- I wish we were in San Diego already.

- We'll be there soon enough.

You're a couple of nice guys.

I hope we stick together.

Be okay.

- Got a gal, Marion?

- No.

How about you, Andy?

Do I got a gal?

I got hundreds of them.

Every broad in the north woods knows old Andy.

Not me. I got one, that's all I need.

One?

This guy's nuts.

San Diego, the end of the line.

As they arrive at boot camp,

the door to their past shuts behind them.

Get off that truck. Get off.

Quickly.

Get back in there!

Get going.

All right, you guys,

follow that white line over there.

- My head feels like a prickly pear!

- I've been scalped!

Gonna let my eyebrows grow out

and throw them back!

Move it in, you guys!

Come on! Move out!

Over there, you skinheads!

The rest of you get in there

and get deloused.

All right, you people.

My name is Sergeant Beller.

You guys are going to hate the day

you met me.

As far as I'm concerned,

you are not human beings anymore.

And don't get the idea you're Marines!

You're recruits! Meatheads!

The lowest form of animal

in this here universe.

You will refer to me as "sir."

All right.

You'll eat no candy,

read no papers, hear no radios...

...and speak only when spoken to.

You will salute everything moving

above the rank of private.

- What's your name, son?

- I.Q. Jones.

"My name is Private Jones, I.Q., sir!"

My name is Private I.Q. Jones, sir.

Your Honor.

- Where are you from, meathead?

- Cotton Plant, sir.

- Cotton Plant, what?

- Arkansas.

It ain't no more than a wide spot in a thin road...

Shut up!

Who said you could talk?

- You chewing gum, son?

- Yes, sir.

Swallow it.

All right, you people, from now on,

it's gonna be double-time.

No more walking.

All right, you're gonna get fed now.

Personally, I think it's a waste of government money.

Right face!

Forward march!

After the cordial welcome to the Corps...

... comes the job of turning boys into men.

About face!

Face left.

Ready, front!

Let's get that hat down!

Cut down that belt!

Pull up your pants, son!

- You want that button?

- Yes, sir.

- Did you shave this morning?

- I shaved twice, sir.

You didn't slip up and put a blade

in the razor, did you?

A blade, sir? No, sir.

Us full-blooded Indians never shave.

The Marine Corps says you gotta shave

every morning whether you need it or not!

The Indian love call.

We've got a wise guy in our midst.

You guys must need some exercise.

All right. Right face!

Forward, hut!

Double-time, hut!

Lift them up! Hut!

Come on, step it up, you guys. Move!

So it goes from sunup to sundown.

Days turn into weeks.

They learn that the price

of the green uniform comes high.

Move! Get the lead out, you meatheads!

Move!

Then suddenly, you're beginning to learn the

lesson the instructor has been pounding in.

There's no place for stragglers

in the Marine Corps.

Forward.

Left oblique! Huh!

File out, file out.

Right oblique! Huh!

To the rear. Huh!

And you're sure that yours

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes