The Last Mission (1) FADE IN: EXT. DESERT - DAY An endless sea of sand. Dunes marred by wildly criss crossed tire marks and tank tracks. Stretching to the horizon. Up ahead, pillars of dark smoke rise from objects dotting the barren landscape. Getting closer, we recognize the objects as MILITARY VEHICLES Burning fiercely. Wrecked and blackened. Flames LICK at metal. Corpses dangle from vehicle hatches. Others, scattered among the debris of war. Once a furious battleground, now QUIET. A HALF TRACK Races past. Followed by some cargo trucks. The pennant of the Afrika Korps (a swastika over a palm tree) FLAPS in the wind. LT. DIETRICH sits in the passenger seat. Early twenties. Irritated looking Nazi poster boy. BECKER (20) drives. He's obese. Slovenly. Sweats a lot. Haggard Soldiers in dusty uniforms sit behind. Their weary eyes avoid the carnage around them. Lt. Dietrich raises his hand. The convoy stops. He gets out. Nearby, flies BUZZ over a burned corpse. Mouth agape in a silent scream. Ignoring it, Lt. Dietrich scans the horizon with binoculars. SUPER: NORTH AFRICA. SUMMER 1942 He takes a map from his coat. LT. DIETRICH North is that way, correct? Becker slurps from his canteen. Wipes dribble from his chin. BECKER Don't know sir. LT. DIETRICH Shit. EXT. RIVERBED Dietrich is watched through binoculars. They lower. This is ANDERSON. Early thirties. A scholarly, granite face. Ambitious glint in his eye. A revolver on his hip. Beside him is CARTER. Twenties. Boyish. Nervous. Both lie prone behind scrub brush. Carter loads an ammo clip into a machine gun. His hands are shaky and it won't go in. Anderson reaches over. Guides Carter's hand. The mag CLICKS home. CARTER Sorry sir. Jumpy. Mitchell says it gives you an edge. Anderson nods. CARTER You ever scared sir? ANDERSON Always. But Mitchell... Anderson looks through the binoculars toward a pile of EXT. ROCKS ANDERSON (V.O.) He likes this too much. A gun barrel pokes through a crack. Meet MITCHELL, hunkered over a menacing rifle known as a Boys Gun. His eye pressed to the scope. A rat in silhouette is painted on the stock. He's thirty. Rugged. Worldly. Strong. The kind of soldier you're glad is on your side. To his right is WHIPPLE. Eighteen. Crew cut. Just a kid. He sets up a machine gun. WHIPPLE Who is it? MITCHELL Signals unit. Ninetieth Light. WHIPPLE They lost? MITCHELL We've found 'em. Haven't we? Whipple grins. Locks and loads the machine gun. EXT. GERMAN VEHICLES Three German Soldiers step from a truck. ZUMWALD. Bullish. GERBER. Younger. Thinner. REIMANN. Baby-faced. Pasty, white skin. The others, tanned bronze. They watch Dietrich. ZUMWALD We're lost. Again. GERBER Dead eye Dietrich. Not the first time... ZUMWALD ...not the last. GERBER I have to piss. He walks off. Zumwald walks to the truck's bumper. Reimann stands there. Holds an egg. ZUMWALD What are you doing? REIMANN I've heard it's so hot here you can fry an egg on the tanks. He cracks the egg. Pours it on the hood. ZUMWALD You can fry it but you won't want to eat it. EXT. GERBER Finds a secluded spot near some scrub brush. He UNZIPS. Piss SPATTERS on the sand. He sighs with great relief. A few yards away, Anderson and Carter stay low. Out of sight. Gerber finishes. ZIPS up. Looks over. Carter crawls backward. Makes a RUSTLING noise. Gerber HEARS it. SEES movement in the scrub. Slowly approaches. EXT. MITCHELL Turns to Whipple. MITCHELL He's spotted them. Through the scope, Gerber walks on. Approaching the scrub brush. But, he moves behind a burned out tank. Obscured from Mitchell's view. Mitchell moves like lightening. Dashes from the rocks. Boys Gun in hand. WHIPPLE Mitchell! Mitchell! He doesn't stop. GERBER advances. Rifle ready. Quickening his pace. CARTER Fiddles with the machine gun. Anderson's face is tight. ANDERSON Take him. Carter presses the trigger. CLICK. Nothing happens. Anderson reaches for his pistol. It's too late. GERBER Points his rifle. MITCHELL charges. Aiming on the run. Gerber in the crosshairs. ZUMWALD AND REIMANN Watch the egg POP on the truck's hood. REIMANN It cooks! GERBER Presses the trigger. A GUNSHOT. Gerber's chest SQUIRTS open like a grape. He falls dead. ZUMWALD AND REIMANN Look over. Eyes wide. ANDERSON Smiles. Relieved. ANDERSON Perfect timing, Sgt. Mitchell. MITCHELL Drops. Taking cover. Looks through the scope. Pulls trigger. CRACK! A bullet SIZZLES through the air striking DIETRICH In the chest. A sickening THUD. He crumples against the half track. ZUMWALD Dives on the ground. ZUMWALD Sniper! Confused, Reimann remains standing. A GUNSHOT! BECKER Is struck. A piece of skull flies out the driver's side window. Another GUNSHOT! REIMANN SEES red fluid spatter on the egg. He looks to his chest, covered in blood. He falls. CARTER Can't get the machine gun to fire. Anderson reaches over. Shoos him away. ANDERSON Let go! He grabs it. FLICKS a swtich. Pulls the trigger. Opens FIRE. ZUMWALD Moves for the flank. Bullets WHIZ through the air. He's hit in the throat. Drops face first into the sand. Dead. GERMAN SOLDIERS Exchange FIRE but are quickly wiped out. ANDERSON SHOOTS until CLICK! The mag's empty. It's over anyway. The German guns now SILENT. Anderson waves his hand over his head. ANDERSON Cease fire! Cease fire! He turns to Carter. Gives him a harsh look. ANDERSON Move in. EXT. GERMAN VEHICLES - MOMENTS LATER Two jeeps are parked nearby. Mitchell takes binoculars from Dietrich's neck. Anderson searches the half track. Further on, Whipple and Carter search the trucks. ANDERSON Take what you can. Torch the vehicles- WHIPPLE (O.S.) One still alive! Quickly, Mitchell and Anderson head over. REIMANN Lies on his back. Covered in blood. Trembling. Eyes wide. Carter kneels beside him. Holding out his canteen. Anderson looks to Mitchell and nods. Mitchell steps forward. Draws his pistol. SHOOTS Reimann dead. Carter recoils. MITCHELL Save your water. He walks on. EXT. FORT - NIGHT Rotting bodies hang suspended in barbed wire surrounding an old fort. Walls pockmarked by gunfire. Bullets ZIP through the air. Flares WHOOSH skyward. Gently floating down illuminating TWO JEEPS Racing for the fort's entrance. EXPLOSIONS all around as they speed through the main gate and into EXT. FORT - COURTYARD Burned vehicles and corpses litter the area. It's chaotic. Amid frequent EXPLOSIONS and panicked shouts, the jeeps stop. LT. CHARTRAND (30), rushes up. Sporting a beard with torn uniform, he resembles a vagrant. His arm's in a sling. LT. CHARTRAND Mitchell! We heard you were dead mon ami. MITCHELL Not yet mate. LT. CHARTRAND Anderson? The General needs to see you right away. A nearby EXPLOSION. All three duck. ANDERSON Let's not keep him waiting. Lt. Chartrand leads them across the yard as more EXPLOSIONS shower them with sand. INT. BUNKER Distant RUMBLES echo through the dank room. It's poorly lit with a low ceiling and sandbags for walls. A map drapes over a table in the room's center. DUSSERE (60), bends over it. Balding. Wrinkles. Dirty face and uniform. But, proud nonetheless. His STAFF OFFICERS stand nearby. Tense faces. One mops his brow. DUSSERE'S AIDE stands opposite. Holding a clipboard. DUSSERE'S AIDE The Germans have moved within two hundred meters of the perimeter. DUSSERE What's left? DUSSERE'S AIDE Very little ammunition. No mortar rounds. The artillery- DUSSERE Can we hold? Dussere's Aide lowers the clipboard. DUSSERE'S AIDE No sir. We cannot. Mitchell and Anderson enter. Dussere nods. DUSSERE We heard you were dead. MITCHELL Wishful thinking sir. DUSSERE Report. ANDERSON The Germans will attack at dawn. We're out of time General. Dussere ponders. Rubs his chin. DUSSERE Begin the breakout at twenty two thirty. DUSSERE'S AIDE And the wounded? SILENCE for a beat. ANDERSON They'll slow us down General. Mitchell looks over. Disbelief. DUSSERE Admiral Anderson would never approve of such an action. ANDERSON Sir. My Father's not here. We are. But, I know what he'd say. Do what has to be done. See it through. To the end. Dussere nods. Grim acceptance. ANDERSON Sir. It's all for naught if they realize we're pulling out. DUSSERE Go on Lieutenant. Mitchell sighs quietly. Disgusted. INT. CORRIDOR It's lined with Wounded Soldiers. Others on the ground. Mitchell and Anderson walk along. Watching where they step. ANDERSON The General agreed. It's what has to be done. MITCHELL You looking for a medal sir? ANDERSON Hardly. Maybe you're just afraid. MITCHELL For myself? Never. My men? Always. ANDERSON You should let me make you an officer. How many times have I tried? Mitchell shrugs. ANDERSON But, you don't like officers. Do you? MITCHELL It's not that I don't like 'em sir. I just don't trust 'em. Anderson smirks. ANDERSON It's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of following orders. Seeing it through- MITCHELL Yeah. Yeah. I heard the speech. But at what cost? They stop walking. Anderson faces him. ANDERSON Any cost. They walk on. MITCHELL Sir. The men are exhausted. ANDERSON I know. But someone said you're the best. And the best, I need. Which brings me to Carter. MITCHELL It's nerves. Happens to us all. ANDERSON Has it happened to you? No answer. ANDERSON The decision's final. He's out. MITCHELL Let me tell him. ANDERSON Of course. (beat) You know. Once the Germans realize we're pulling out, they'll move in- MITCHELL And annihilate us. A distant EXPLOSION shudders the corridor. They stop walking. MITCHELL What do you have in mind? INT. STORAGE BUNKER A single lightbulb dangles from the ceiling. Swaying with every distant BOOM. A hand reaches up. Steadies it. Mitchell's hand. He leans against some crates. A dozen Soldiers stand opposite. Carter and Whipple included. All tense. MITCHELL We're the bait. Several groans. The men shift on their feet. WHIPPLE Why us Sergeant? MITCHELL Someone said we're the best. CARTER A diversion? MITCHELL We follow the trail to the south. Draw the Germans off. Once clear, we head for the coast. CARTER If we make it... Mitchell points the crest on his uniform. MITCHELL What's it say? CARTER Who dares, wins. MITCHELL Remember it. MITCHELL Lads. If Rommel takes Tobruk, he takes Egypt. If he gets Egypt, North Africa's done. And us with it. WHIPPLE They'll outnumber us. MITCHELL At least ten to one. More groans. MITCHELL We'll be lightly armed. Push hard. Kick up dust. Make 'em think there's more of us. Kickoff's twenty two thirty. Any questions? (beat) Let's get started. As the Soldiers depart, Mitchell gestures to Carter who remains behind. MITCHELL What happened out there? Carter turns away. MITCHELL You had a job to do. If it wasn't for me- CARTER I'm out, aren't I? Mitchell nods. Carter frowns. CARTER A last mission then? MITCHELL Just stay close. Do what I tell you. CARTER And if they find us? BOOM! An EXPLOSION. Not far away, rocks the room. The lightbulb sways. Flickers. MITCHELL We run like hell. EXT. DESERT - ROAD - NIGHT Fast moving jeeps armed to the teeth race along a bleak, desolate road. Clouds of sand trail behind. CARTER Drives the lead jeep. Mitchell mans the anti-tank gun mounted in the rear. He's alert. Expectant. Checks his watch. MITCHELL Almost there. Carter nods. EXT. RIDGE ABOVE Gloved hands hold binoculars. Panning. Following the jeeps. The grip tightens. Leather CREAKS. This is CRUWELL. He's early thirties. Wears a cap with goggles. A long overcoat. It's hard to SEE his features in the darkness. An Alsatian dog rests at his feet. In b.g., a row of tanks wait SILENTLY. The Crews ready for action. CRUWELL Traverse. The tank turrets spin as one. Guns trained on the jeeps. INTERCUT - EXT. TRAIL/RIDGE ABOVE A parachute flare bursts into the sky, clearly illuminating the jeeps against the landscape. MITCHELL Stop column! The jeeps halt. CARTER Ours or theirs? Mitchell shakes his head. Doesn't know. Cruwell lowers the binoculars. CRUWELL Fire! The tank's guns ROAR. Mitchell SEES the telltale pinpricks of light. MITCHELL Incoming! Shells bracket the jeeps. EXPLODING all around. Shrapnel ZINGS through the air. Soldiers run for cover. Mitchell loads the anti-tank gun. MITCHELL Move! Carter fumbles with the gear shift. The jeep doesn't budge. MITCHELL Reverse! A shell WHINES in. EXPLODING beside the jeep. Mitchell's blown clear. Tossed around. Lands some distance away. A gash on his thigh. Dazed, he tries to stand but falls. Slowly, he crawls to a INT. WELL And flops in. Catching his breath. CARTER (O.S.) William...William... Mitchell looks over the lip of the well. EXT. CARTER Lays near the jeep. Badly wounded. EXT. GERMAN VEHICLES Race in. Pull up and halt along the road. Soldiers leap out and deploy. MITCHELL'S MEN Raise their hands. CARTER Reaches out his hand toward Mitchell. CARTER Help me Will... CRUWELL Steps from a tank. His dog follows. He looks over the surrendering troops. Then, gestures to his men. Machine guns are pointed and FIRE. MITCHELL'S Horrified. His men are mowed down. He clenches the sand with his fists and tries to climb from the well but his wound is too painful. The SHOOTING STOPS. Wounded men plead for help. CRUWELL Draws a pistol. SEES Carter writhing and walks over. CARTER Watches him approach. Raises his hands defensively. CARTER No... Cruwell FIRES. Carter dies. EXT. WELL Mitchell freezes. Mesmerized. Total shock. CRUWELL Steps toward him. The dog barks. MITCHELL Slowly squirms deeper into the well. Concealing himself. CRUWELL Doesn't notice. Moves along. MITCHELL Shakes all over. More SHOTS follow. More screams. He cowers. Covers his face. Closes his eyes. The dog keeps barking. INT. HOSPITAL TENT - DAY The flap is thrown open. Anderson walks in. Greeted by a flurry of activity. Doctors scurry from patient to patient. Some cry out in pain. Blood soaked sheets are piled high in the corner. Anderson spots Mitchell on an examination table across the tent. He walks over. ANDERSON The breakout succeeded. Mitchell stares off into space. A thousand yard stare. He reaches over and hands Anderson several small discs. Anderson looks at them. Identification discs. Stained with blood. A curt-looking NURSE walks up. NURSE Not now sir. She draws a curtain. Anderson looks at his hands. Stained red. He pauses. Then, turns and walks out. EXT CAIRO - DAY Sun rises over the Great Pyramids of Egypt. EXT. CITADEL SUPER: TWO MONTHS LATER A vast fortress centered around an ancient mosque. Sunshine glints from the massive dome. A Union Jack FLAPS in the breeze. Steps from the driveway lead to the EXT. CITADEL - MAIN ENTRANCE Anderson steps out the door. Sentries snap to attention. He touches a freshly painted medal pinned to his chest. Shiny. He salutes the Sentries and walks down the steps to a waiting INT. STAFF CAR Pritchard sits in the passenger seat. Puffing on a pipe. He's fifty. Fatherly. Distinguished. Gray hair with tanned skin. Dapper. Wearing a white suit. Anderson climbs in, shutting the door. ANDERSON We're on. Pritchard smiles and the staff car drives off. EXT. CAIRO - STREETS The car drives along. Horn HONKING. It's all stop and go. Streets teem with pedestrians. INT. STAFF CAR Pritchard closes a file. Smiling. PRITCHARD Radio intercepts. Magnificent. Now, all we need is for Rommel to be where he's supposed to be. When he's supposed to be. Anderson peers out the window. ANDERSON Summoned to Berlin on Hitler's orders? He's not about to miss it. The car stops at an intersection. Anderson watches A SHOPKEEPER Replace photos in his shop window of Churchill and King George V with those of Hitler and Mussolini. ANDERSON They think we're finished. Don't they sir? PRITCHARD Fail this time. And we are. The car speeds on. ANDERSON Have you seen the shooting results? PRITCHARD McTavish will be ready. ANDERSON His accuracy at longer ranges- PRITCHARD You said your operative could get us inside the perimeter. ANDERSON And if she can't? We've taken chances before. Not this time. PRITCHARD You should be more optimistic Captain. ANDERSON You can afford to be. I can't. Anderson removes a silver case from his pocket and lights a smoke. ANDERSON For this assignment, we need a marksman like no other. One who can hit a target from any distance. Under a variety of conditions. PRITCHARD You have someone in mind? Anderson nods. PRITCHARD So? Where is he? ANDERSON That Colonel, is the problem. INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - DAY Clean. Sterile. Clinical-looking. Dull walls. Plain tiles. Anderson and Pritchard walk with DR. REYNOLDS (45). He's balding and nerdy. Wears eyeglasses and a labcoat. ANDERSON Battle fatigue?
Copyright © 2004 Shaun Goldsmith |