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They pass, except for the last man who walks slower than the rest, a slight limp. They're frightening eyes, starved, hollow, sunken deep in his face, black and dangerous. GARDNER Hey Chris, I show you a picture of Lucy Jean? CRAWFORD What's O'Neill have a nose up the lieutenant's ass already, how come we always get ambush. Gardner, the other new boy, is jovial in contrast, his wallet extended towards Chris. She's real dog u-g-l-y, and what makes it worse is Gardner's put the standard photo of Raquel Welch alongside it, tits and all. GARDNER (admiring) Yeah she's the one all right ... He carries a modified M-16 with a short barrel and a collapsible stock. As Barnes picks up his pace, irritated now at this reprimand from the CO - coming up on Chris, who is soaked now from head to foot in sweat, dizzy, feeling sick, about to vomit. He grabs Chris's machete out of his hand and bulls his way into the foliage, tearing it apart, setting a new pace. Chris standing there one moment, fighting for his breath, suddenly passes out, going over with his 70 pound rucksack, hitting the ground with a loud bang. They're both black, Junior with huge goggle eyes and a face of pimples and pockmarks, his teeth yellowed and decayed, some of them missing. BIG HAROLD De fool think he's gonna get it but he ain't known for his thinking. Hey, whiteboy, watcha waiting for - dat hole ain't gonna dig itself ... We get up at 5 a.m., hump all day, camp around 4 or 5 p.m., dig foxhole, eat, then put out an all-night ambush or a 3-man listening post in the jungle. BIG HAROLD Tricky bitch, reason you gimme dat turkey loaf is nobody else can eat that shit 'cept me so don't start your game playing with me Junior. A gook could be standing 3 feet in front of me and I wouldn't know it, I'm so tired. His rucksack is coming apart as well, about 70 badly packed pounds banging noisily. We cut around some FACES of the Platoon - all to be seen later. The kid cuts on - struggling but trying, on his last reserves of strength, smashing almost straight forward through brush, not even bothering to look ahead. And as he does so, the camera from his POV comes around on a dead decomposing 10-day-old GOOK - eyes starting from its sockets, worms and flies feasting. Barnes suddenly appears alongside, his hard humourless eyes looking annoyed from the gook to Chris. BARNES (to all, almost pleased about it) We got boo-coo movement. (the MEN react with wary silence) O'NEILL (eager to elaborate) Yeah, they had claymores strung up in the trees, blew a whole fucking platoon to pieces. Barnes inflects his next words at Wolfe, who is worried. Barnes doesn't bother acknowledging the question, barely glancing at the Lieutenant, to him a necessary evil. Fu Sheng's going on R&R, you don't want to send their asses out on an ambush. ELIAS (to Barnes) They don't know shit Barnes, and chances are we gonna run into something. Get one of my guys zapped so some fuckface fresh from the World can get his beauty fucking sleep! Concluding the debate, no further argument, Barnes rises. O'NEILL (watching him) Fucking guy's got 3 years in and he thinks he's Cochise or something ... Gardner you go with me (to Chris and Gardner) 'Case somethin' happens to you, you get separated or lost don't yell out okay. An urban transplant, slightly neurotic and getting more so. Others are behind, the column snaking back deep into the brush. Transfers the machete to his other, slightly less blistered, hand. The distortion from the jaw up the left side of his face to his forehead, punctuated by a severe indentation above the left eye where a bullet once penetrated his skull. Warren is a black, thin, tall, paranoid man with untrusting eyes, silent and bitter. WOLFE (CONT'D) (to Barnes) Who do you want on ambush, Sergeant? Wolfe hasn't said a word, looking as Elias departs, without a word. A RESUPPLY CHOPPER lifts off in a flurry of blowing leaves. COMPANY PERIMETER #1 - KING'S POSITION - DUSK KING looks like a king. He is given somewhat to panache, a silver wristband on his arm, a bandana of black parachute silk hanging from his neck, his fatigues tightened down at the ankle, he pulls his pants down, checking for crotch rot, applying talcum powder to the area, his buttocks facing us. CAPTAIN HARRIS is running down a field map with his THREE LIEUTENANTS.
CHRIS TAYLOR is just another one of them - as he turns into a tight closeup, to look at a motorized cart pulling up alongside ... They fall now on a heap of BODY BAGS in the back of the cart. Flies - hundreds of flies - buzz around them, the only cue to their contents. Moving over now to a motley HALF DOZEN VETERANS bypassing them on their way to the plane.
Elias washes himself, attentive to his body, slender and well-muscled, and extremely handsome youth.
TEX (suspicious) You sure you know how to work the claymore? Tex curls up as best he can in his poncho to sleep. don't catch no zzz's on me buddy or I'll sling your motherfucking ass ...
GARDNER (next to Chris, Southern accent) That what I think it is?
The clammy pallor of malaria clings to him as he looks at Chris through decayed black teeth.