OVER A BLACK SCREEN:
April 1945 -- The Allied Armies strike at the heart of
Germany. In four weeks the Third Reich will be no more...
1 EXT. FARMER'S FIELD - PREDAWN 1
Thick morning fog blankets all. A faint glow in the East.
It's quiet save for the DISTANT RUMBLE of artillery.
Somewhere in Nazi Germany...
A Spanish Arabian STALLION emerges from the fog. A wasp
waisted German Army LIEUTENANT erect in its saddle. His
disciplined horse elegantly picks its way over the furrowed
soil. A dark hulk looms in the mist -- Horse and rider
IT'S A BURNED OUT TANK -- An American Sherman. Still
smoldering. Steel armor ripped open like tin foil.
The Lieutenant moves on. Encounters another charred tank.
Its entire turret blown off. A small fire still burns
inside. Around it are the blackened twisted shapes of burnt
He moves on. Another hulk emerges from the mist --This tank
looks like a scrap heap -- Sandbags, railroad ties, sloppy
steel plate, cases of wine, rations and ammunition.
Battered, scarred and seemingly abandoned.
The Lieutenant guides his horse in a slow circle around the
armored vehicle. He HEARS a faint CLINK -- And draws his
Luger from its shiny black holster -- THEN:
An AMERICAN SOLDIER hiding BEHIND THE TURRET leaps on him...
Tearing the German from his horse. The two men CRASH to the
ground. The American stabs the Lieutenant in the face --
THWICK-THWICK-THWICK! Fast, violent, shocking...
The American then carefully slides the knife blade behind the
German's eye -- Piercing his brainpan with a CRACK. The
German convulses for a moment. And dies...
The American retrieves his knife. Wipes it clean on the
German's uniform and scans the area with burning primal eyes.
This is DON "WARDADDY" COLLIER. Late twenties he looks
middle aged. A light beard and hollow cheeks. Years of
combat have ground him into something hard and sharp.
With the mechanical clumsiness of exhaustion, Wardaddy cuts
the mapcase from the German's belt. Then rips the large
Knight's Cross medal from the dead man's neck.
Wardaddy stands to his full impressive height in his oil
blackened overalls. He crosses to the horse. He grabs the
beautiful animal's bridal and looks at it for a moment...
Pink Revision - 30th Oct 2.
Eye to eye. Connecting with the animal. With incredible
gentleness he rubs its muzzle. And kisses it...
Then he pulls his knife -- The horse jerks back, but Wardaddy
holds it firm. He knows horses...
THWICK! -- He cuts off the bridle, slips the bit from its
mouth. He unbuckles the saddle and drops it to the soil.
Wardaddy looking at the horse. Then it heads back the way it
came -- Now without rider and tack...
Wardaddy climbs aboard his tank --Her name is "FURY" -- It's
painted on her cannon...
2 INT. FURY - PREDAWN 2
Dark. Cramped. Crowded. A filthy machine with filthy men.
There's two main areas --THE TURRET BASKET -- A big
cylindrical cage that spins with the turret.
And the BOW -- The front of the tank where the driver and a
machine gunner sit. The sound of piss hitting tin...
BOYD "BIBLE" SWAN is draped casually across the cannon
breech. A pastor's kid from Des Moines, he's serious, calm,
centered. You'd never guess he's killed a thousand men. He
finishes urinating into an ammo can.
TRINI "GORDO" GARCIA sits in the driver's seat sipping wine
from a bottle. A Mexican butcher from Chicago. He's been
drunk since 1942. He once went into combat sober -- And
vowed never to do it again.