Tigerland Page #3

Sergeant Thomas.

Private Cantwell reporting

to the weapon shed as ordered.

Sergeant Thomas?

Glad you waited up for me, Dad.

l think everybody did, Bozz.

This the scene where the troublemaker

gets beaten by his buddies?

Somebody got beaten.

Cantwell.

Jesus!

-What happened?

-l think it was Sergeant Thomas.

Damn it.

Anybody report it?

Why? It's not gonna put

his face back together.

He was trying

to f*** around like you.

l'm sorry this happened to you.

There ain't gonna be

no more clowning from you.

You hear?

Go wash up and hit the rack.

Shut your cake-hole, Miter.

You're giving Cantwell a headache.

l'm telling you, and that's like

getting an order from the sergeant.

Don't make me put you on report.

Give it a rest.

It's been a hard day for all of us.

Don't you give me a hard time, Paxton.

You're okay.

You'll be a good soldier,

but this individual--

He wants to be a bumblefuck.

He wants to laugh at everything we do.

He'll hurt this platoon.

What are you, 20 years old?

Just because you wear sergeant stripes

don't mean you ain't gonna die.

Where you going that we ain't, Bozz?

You best start to soldiering, boy,

or you're coming home in a bag.

F***.

Just wanted you to know,

l've taken a great dislike to you.

-ls there anything else, Wilson?

-No.

l don't reckon there is.

l'm gonna tell you something.

This is the last time you'll hear it.

You can't kill a dink with a ricochet.

Oh, this is all about killing people?

Well, sh*t.

So you can shoot when you want to.

When l want to.

ldea of killing dinks excite you?

Cease fire. Cease fire.

Get your targets, scumbags.

All clear.

You can't hit your targets,

there'll be hell to pay.

Sh*t, l do believe that's

Cantwell's target there, boys.

-Not a single bullet hole in it.

-Shut your cracker face, Wilson.

Sgt. Thomas'll chew my ass for chow.

You ain't gonna be making

any phone calls home.

You gonna be busy. All asses and

elbows, picking up ciggie butts.

You're a one-man campaign

to make the world uglier.

-l ain't afraid of you, Bozz.

-Yes, you are, Wilson.

-You're just too stupid to realize it.

-Okay then, Sunday school.

You're such a goddamn saint,

give Cantwell your target.

-l'll give him yours.

-You take that and l'll--

Jesus H. Christ, what's

the purpose of this clusterfuck?

-Wilson switched targets with Cantwell.

-That's true.

-That's bullshit.

-Lie down.

-Permission to--

-Now, shitbird!

Yes, sergeant.

You know why this man's on the ground?

Because he's dead!

He's dead.

And you can't bury him.

Do you know why?

-Why, sarge?

-Because you're dead too!

You're all dead...

...because you don't know how

to fire weapons on semi-automatic.

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