The Steel Helmet Page #3

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My name's Bronte.

Yeah? You should be luggin' ammo,

not a music box.

I have my specified amount

of ammunition.

There ain't no specified amount of ammo.

This your first dance too?

Yes, sir.

Sure you won't hurt yourself with that?

What do you do to

make your living in the army?

I'm the radio operator.

Yeah? What are you gonna do?

Clobber the Reds with those bottles?

Well, they didn't have the right change

at the P.X. Back at Pusan.

So I took it out in hair tonic.

Oh. One of those kind of guys, huh?

Let's see what kind of permanent you got.

Who scalped you?

I lost all my hair when I was a kid.

Yeah? How?

Scarlet fever.

Come on, buster. Let's go.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute!

Any of you ballerinas smoke cigars?

I got a box in my pack.

Oh, yeah?

What kind?

I don't know.

I don't smoke. I just found 'em.

I'll see you as far as the temple

for the stogies.

-Know where it is?

-Let's go.

These guys are smart.

They hide behind them white pajamas

and wear them women's clothes...

and make their kids play

near bombing targets.

-They're smart.

-We're wasting our time.

Look, I want to come out of this.

I don't want to turn my back

and have some old lady shoot my head off.

-They all look alike to me.

-Don't you know how to tell

the difference, Fat Paul?

-No.

-He's a South Korean when he's runnin' with ya...

and he's a North Korean

when he's runnin' after ya.

Well, Sergeant, I told you

it was a waste of time.

If I was right all the time

I'd be an officer, Lieutenant.

Hey, fellas! Watermelons!

Melons! Come on!

-Are you sure?

-Sure I'm sure.

You don't know how embarrassing

it was for me...

to introduce my friends

to my bald-headed mother.

And you're sure

that her hair grew back, huh?

I'm telling you. Ha!

These ads in the paper

can't grow your hair back.

And neither can the slop in that bottle.

Oh. How'd your mother

get it back then?

Rubbing. Massage.

But it's knowing how to massage -

and with what.

-Did you massage her?

-Of course.

You don't think I'd let anybody else

massage my bald-headed mother.

This is the secret of it.

Dirt. Earth. Soil.

-You're sure now?

-Makes things grow, don't it?

Doesn't that make sense to you?

I tell you what. When we get to

the temple, I'll start working on your head.

Ah. In no time,

things will be sprouting.

What things?

Hair! What do you want to

grow on your head? Tomatoes?

What'd you do in the last war?

4F? Not that I care.

-1A.

-Oh, yeah?

Shipped you right out, huh?

What theater? Europe or the Pacific?

I was a conscientious objector.

I found a dead American.

Are you sure he's dead?

You gotta be sure, you know.

-Half his head is gone.

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