The Fourth War

1

What the hell kind of a salute,

do you call that, Sergeant?

Sir...

Do you know the origin of

the salute, Sergeant?

No, sir.

In the days of chivalry, when two

Knights met on the road...

they raised the visors of their helmets,

it meant peace.

If they lowered them,

it meant war.

Why don't you try

that salute again...

and put something more into it,

besides your stump.

First turn, on your right.

Last building on your right.

Sir.

Thank you.

[ gavel pounding in courtroom ]

Gentlemen, Major, Look...

I don't want to get

into an arguement,

with military council, alright?

Jack Knowles was a hard-ass.

I'll give you that.

But, only with his senior officers.

His men thought,

he was one helluva' leader.

And for two very simple reasons.

He knew his job and

he was a warrior.

Good afternoon, Sir...

Colonel Knowles,

knew how to fight a war.

He breached with

more ambush patrols,

he hit hard,

and returned with a minimum

of casualities.

- Can I have a glass of water?

- Thank you.

But, there's no denying,

there was a problem.

Lieutenant Colonel Foster,

the executive officer.

Maybe, it was because

his marriage failed or...

maybe, it was the war.

Atten-Hut!

However, there's not a classroom

from here, to Fort Benning...

that teaches a course on,

the Art of Defeat.

[ gavel pounding in courtroom ]

So, the army's answer was,

to put him in mothballs.

An assignment so far out of the way,

you couldn't find him on a map.

But, when we met last summer,

he had done an about-face...

and brought every indication,

that he had his sh*t together.

[ gavel pounding in courtroom ]

So, I gave him a command

in Camp Clayton.

Now, it's hardly the

glamour as a NATO counselor,

but, I wanted to get him back to

doing what he does best.

Leading troops.

To figure his way out of obscurities.

He dug his way out

of a theory, alright, but,...

it wasn't what I had in mind.

What's the problem, sergeant?

What's the problem?

Clogged fuel line, sir.

Happens all the time.

No, big deal.

No, big deal, huh?

This Trac is leading this convoy.

If it breaks down under fire,

it's all our asses' in a sh*t hole.

You got that?

- Yes, sir.

All right.

Fix it!

Move it out!

- Yes, sir.

It's seems unfortunate, sir,

but uh,

the sense of responsibility

seems now, to be a thing of the past.

That business back there with the Trac...

- You can't blame those kids!

It's the Instructors they got.

You can't teach them

combat discipline,

if you haven't given

them any combat.

It's a joke.

How did you get

your commission, Colonel?

Academy, sir. Class of '70.

West Point, huh?

Brass factory.

It was my grandmother's doing.

She figured the only way to get to

the top, was to start there.

I take it, grandma never

heard of evolution, huh?

Well, she heard about it, sir,

but, she fought back.

She made a fortune

marketing a creme rinse...

that claimed to

straighten black folks hair.

Who won?

Evolution, sir.

After 10 days, over half of the

customers finally found out.

So, she gave up the fight

and switched to wigs.

Stop here.

- Listen up!

- Smoke 'em, if you got 'em.

Want to give me an overview, as to

what's going on over there?

- Yes, sir.

Well, what we have, is a typical

Eastern blocked border.

However, there is one puzzling item

in the pass.

The Czech's can advance

into neutral territory.

Right up to our blue border markers.

Of course, if they

were pursuing someone.

We don't have a reciprocal agreement.

Why would we want one?

Who the hell would want

to go over there?

Well, sir.

You're right, of course

Blue for us, red for them.

Well, that's clear enough.

Nothing else is very clear, anymore.

Do you know what a guy told me

on the flight coming over here?

They're bringing

American football to Moscow.

I don't know.

Maybe, I'm out of whack.

Look!

Czech defector, making a run for it.

- Paul! Hey, man!

Check it out!

Help this man out!

Come on!

- Sh*t, man! You can do it!

- Let's do it!

- Take it home, man!

- Take it home!

- Oh, no way!

- Oh, sh*t!

- Do your best!

- Aw, man! Come on!

- Keep coming!

- Keep on coming!

- Yes! Yes!

- Come on, bro!

- Oh! No! No!

Oh, man!

They need five to catch him!

- Come on! Keep running!

- Keep coming!

Sergeant!

Prepare to engage enemy aircraft!

- What?

You heard me, sergeant!

Roger!

Colonel,

Lock it on, sergeant!

Locked and loaded, sir!

The Rules of Engagement don't allow...

Stop doing my job or

get the hell out of here!

Oh, no! Let's get him!

Colonel!

No, sir!

Just do your job!

- Lower those weapons!

Put 'em down!

- Colonel!

He must have played

in the Cuban league.

Company!

Huggh!

Duty Detail!

Stand Fast!

Huggh!

Right! Face!

Forward! March!

Left! Right!

Left! Right!

Left! Right! Left!...

Welcome, to Stuttgart, Colonel.

Colonel.

General.

I'm off to Hamburg.

Let's take a little walk.

How are you, Roger?

- Good, Jack.

What about you?

Here we go again.

Damn near started

World War 3 out there.

Some serious allegations have

been filed, that tag you...

as an irresponsible malcontent.

- Can I see that report, sir?

- Hell no.

Scrapped it.

I was the one who got you

this assignment, remember.

And you assured me, you could

handle it, goddamn it.

What the hell happened out there?

They shot a man in cold blood,

right in front of us.

Well, not the Soviets.

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