Apocalypse Then!
One, Two, Three, what are we fighting for?
The next scene is the outside of a small cabin. Jane, Daria and Mr. O'Neill are outside. The door opens, and out steps a small woman. She wears a shirt that proclaims "CAMP NURSE".
Mr. O'Neill: How is he?
Nurse: Pulse and blood pressure normal. Doesn't seem to be a physical problem. Fear reaction. Some sort of mental shock. Excuse me. I have an office full of mosquito bites and marshmallow lip burns to tend to.
She walks away. Mr. O turns to Daria and Jane.
Mr. O'Neill: Please look in on poor Anthony. I have to round up a councilor to watch the children on the beach.
Mr. O'Neill leaves. Jane shrugs her shoulders, and both girls enter the cabin. On a bed on the far side of the room lies Mr. DeMartino. His face twists and contorts. He is muttering...
Mr. DeMartino: Mission. Fire. Boat. River. Failure. God. Complete Failure.
He begins to sob softly. Daria speaks.
Daria: Are you OK, Mr. DeMartino.
Mr. DeMartino opens his eyes.
Mr. DeMartino: Daria. Jane. No. I'm not OK.
He sits up slightly.
Mr. DeMartino: I forgot completely about it. Suppressed the memories. Tried to move on. It's been over 30 years. But the fire. The painted faces. The helicopter. It took me back. Back. Back to my greatest failure.
Daria: Back?
Mr. DeMartino: Back. Back to Vietnam...
The camera drifts to the roof of the cabin, where a ceiling fan turns. A moment later it pans back down to the bed. Different bed. Different man. Different time.
A much younger Mr. D. lies on a bed in an unkempt room. He is stripped to the waist and sweaty. A whiskey bottle is in his hand. Present day Mr. DeMartino begins to narrate his tale.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) It was 1969. Dick Nixon was in office. Men were walking on the moon for the first time. Me? I was in Saigon.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I was a lieutenant, part of the elite core of army historians. Yes. The army has it's own historians! I remember our motto! Our motto was "When there's battle, we're HISTORY!".
Mr. DeMartino: Heh heh. The army likes to make sure that its version of history is the one that prevails. It dispatched people like me to interview soldiers, to photograph battlefields, to witness battles, to give the army version of history a little positive spin.
The figure on the bed stands and staggers to a window. Swigging out the bottle, Lieutenant DeMartino looks at the view outside. Three helicopters are flying down an airfield outside his room. There is the orange glow of distant fires behind tropical trees.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) There wasn't much positive to report that summer. The Tiet offensive had pretty much demoralized our troops. Nixon promised peace, but the bombs kept falling.
The young Mr. D. drunkenly staggers over from the window, and sits at an old mechanical typewriter.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I had four months left in country. I figured I'd type up my field notes, knock out a draft and call it quits.
The now completely drunk Lieutenant DeMartino falls off his chair, and passes out on the floor. Two officers walk into his room, and look at his collapsed form. They take him by the arms, and carry him out of the room.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) That wasn't to be. The brass had a surprise for me.
Two officers sit at a round table. Lieutenant DeMartino sits with them. He is haggard, unshaven and looks hung-over. One of the officers opens a file folder, and slides it over to the lieutenant.
Officer 1: This man is Colonel Hertz. He has been in country for 5 years.
Officer 2: He deserted in 1967.
Officer 1: He is now in Cambodia. He has established a pacifist movement.
Officer 2: He regularly broadcasts over the radio. He encourages soldiers on both sides to abandon this war.
Lieutenant DeMartino: Well, arrest him, and court-martial him.
Officer 1: No can do.
Officer 2: He's hidden. His followers protect him. We can't get near him.
Officer 1: But you can.
Lieutenant DeMartino: What? How CAN I GET near HIM if YOU CAN'T?
Officer 2: You're an army historian.
Officer 1: He's looking for a historian to tell his side of the story.
Officer 2: You are known to him.
Officer 1: You interviewed him once after a battle. He respects you.
Officer 2: We feel you can get near him.
Officer 1: We feel you can...terminate his command.
Lieutenant DeMartino: You want me to KILL HIM!
Officer 2: We didn't say that.
Officer 1: Not at all. Read my lips.
This officer mouths the words KILL HIM.
Officer 2: No one in this man's army would order another soldier to kill one of their own.
Officer 1: Never. Not directly. I think you know what we mean.
Lieutenant DeMartino: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?
Officer 2: Terminate his command. With extreme prejudice. Permanently. You know what we mean. Wink. Wink.
Officer 1: Nod, Nod...
The scene now moves to a motorboat, about the size of a P.T. boat, docked at a pier on a large river. Sampans pass by it in the background. Several figures are silhouetted on the deck.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I was assigned to a Navy P.B.R. , a plastic patrol boat with a crew that would take me to the border of Cambodia. I remember those boys well...
A man is standing in the wheelhouse of the boat. Muscular, and dressed sharply in kakis, he looks just like Mack.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) Captain John Macintyre ran the ship. And there was his crew...
Three soldiers are on the deck, dressed in kakis pants and grimy tee shirts. These three look like the "three J's".
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I remember their nicknames. Curly. Chucky. And Cookie.
The captain sticks his head out of the wheelhouse.
Capt. Macintyre: Curly! Check the bilge. Chucky! Get that line!
Jamie look-a-like: I'm Cookie!
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) And the one we used to call "The Veg".
This soldier looks like Kevin. And acts like him.
Kevin look-a-like: Hey, Big Mac! Is it like time to untie the boat and make it go in the river?
Capt. Macintyre: If you mean, "cast off", yes! AND DON'T CALL ME BIG MAC! Make me sound like a damn hamburger!
The boat is now gracefully moving downriver. "The Veg" has a portable radio. On it is playing the Rolling Stones "Satisfaction". While "The Veg" dances a spastic jig on deck, Lieutenant DeMartino examines the file on Captain Hertz. He is looking at a photo that looks a bit like our old friend, Mr. O'Neill!
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I reviewed this Hertz characters file. Drama club, ballet lessons, sensitivity studies, home economics in high school and humanities major in college. I started to wonder why a cream puff like this would ever join the military. He enlisted, and then moved rapidly though the ranks. He probably has a family member in a high place, shepherding him through.
Lieutenant DeMartino continues to flip through the folder, as his older counterpart continues the narration...
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I remember interviewing him. It was after a major offensive drive to push the Cong back over the DMZ. He was a captain then. He said his feet hurt, and he just wanted to go home.
The lieutenant removes a cassette tape from the file folder, and puts it in a portable player.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) Now he broadcasts nightly, calling for everyone to go home. Got quite a following. Hell, I remember thinking. Is that nuts? My feet hurt. And I wanted to go home.
Lieutenant DeMartino presses the button on the cassette player. On the recording is static over a voice with a heterodyne whistle in the background. The voice also sounds a lot like Mr. O'Neill.
Mr. O'Neal (static and distortion) We're like snails, crawling on the edge of a knife. We fall into the abyss if we deviate left or right, cut ourselves in two if we continue forward...
Lieutenant DeMartino bangs his head slowly on the wall behind him.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) I swear, that summer, you could have cut the weirdness with a knife. It was that thick.
The boat is now resting at the edge of a rice paddy. Women with the traditional conical hats work knee deep in the water. Lieutenant DeMartino walks from the boat across planks that form a makeshift bridge. Near the edge of a cove of tropical trees at the end of the paddy, sits a shabby building with a tin roof.
Mr D's narration continues...
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) We reached the river delta, and had to enter the mouth of the Mekong river to proceed northward towards Cambodia. At that time of year, the delta was too shallow to cross by boat. We would need air transport.
Entering the building through the front door, he meets the commander of this group. He is shocked to find...
Lieutenant DeMartino: (speaking to an off camera figure) Excuse my shock. It's just surprising to find a woman in charge of a division.
Mr. DeMartino: Her name was Captain Hui. A Chinese woman. She was the commander of...
Of course, this woman looks like none other than our own Ms. Li. She appears on camera and begins speaking.
Captain Hui: This is the 132 Propaganda Corps. Due to the sexist policies of the United States, and the US Army, women are not allowed to perform roles that might involve actual combat. I trust the Equal Rights Amendment, when it is finally passed into law, will finally give women their God given right to fight and die in futile conflicts such as this one! Hoo HOO!
Captain Hui walks toward a window, and gestures out to the countryside outside it.
Captain Hui: Due to my expertise in both Chinese and Vietnamese, my non-combat role is the dissemination of anti-Communist, pro-American pamphlets, posters and radio broadcasts! Your army merely takes the life of the enemy! My corps takes their hearts and souls!
There is a shot of the boat tied to the makeshift dock. "Veg" dances and sings on the deck of the boat, playing the "Rolling Stones" on a portable radio.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) Captain Hui asked if I wanted to join them on an operation into an enemy stronghold near the mouth of the Mekong. Given my choice was to join her, or remain behind and be entertained by "the Veg" lip-syncing "Brown Sugar", my decision was immediate...
Six helicopters are now seen flying in formation low over the marshes and rice paddies. As the choppers approach a forest of tropical trees, the cameras point of view changes to the inside of the lead aircraft. There, dressed in combat fatigues, and hanging on internal netting near the open side doors of the helicopter hunker Lieutenant DeMartino and Captain Hui. As the gun ships approach the jungle below, Captain Hui operates an amplifier. Out of the loudspeakers mounted on the base of the lead chopper blares out Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries". Captain Hui explains her choice of music.
Captain Hui: This is to let the enemy know who's coming. I like to think of this piece of music as our "jingle"!
The music has an effect on the population below. On the ground, people are running for cover. Captain Hui makes a hand signal to the pilot. Two tubes on the side of several of the chopper's begin blowing out thousands of propaganda pamphlets on the scattering population below.
One of the chopper's land, and two men rush out towards several buildings, revealed inside the forest. They start to put up posters with Chinese and Vietnamese characters on them. A woman in a conical hat runs over to the chopper screaming in her native language at the occupants inside. A man in the doorway screams back. The woman raises her hand, exposing a cylinder. The solders outside the chopper fall to the ground and take cover. The helicopter door slams closed.
The woman starts to paint on the side of the helicopter, revealing the cylinder to be a can of spray paint. She scrawls the words "GO HOME" on the side of the chopper. The side door opens. The woman sprays the soldier that begins to exit with paint. The soldier gasps, as his face and hands are covered in dripping red paint. Captain Hui, viewing all this from above, calls to her pilot over a microphone in her headset.
Captain Hui: DAMMIT! Get her! Get her! Ram the strut up her butt!
Captain Hui picks up a box of pamphlets and throws it out of the door. On the ground, the chopper passes over the running woman. The box hits her. She goes down in a cloud of propaganda as the pamphlets fly in a ring around her. In the background, Wagner's music continues to play.
At the close of the propaganda battle, the choppers have landed, and Captain Hui surveys the battlefield. Thousands of pamphlets litter the earth, drifting like so much snow. With Lieutenant DeMartino following her, Captain Hui observes a enemy soldier writhing in pain on the ground. One of her men explains...
Soldier (to Captain Hui) Paper cuts. Hundreds of them.
Captain Hui kneels over the man.
Captain Hui: My God. This man is managing his injuries with dignity. Even though he's a godless commie scum, I'm willing to share my mercurochrome with this man!
She leans over with a small bottle. At that moment, loudspeakers in the jungle begin to blare out. Captain Hui turns, taking the mercurochrome bottle away from the wounded man. He reaches out, misses, and collapses in agony. Hui is enraged by what she's hearing coming from the jungle...
Voice from Jungle: (distorted) Yankee Go Home! Die, American Pigs!
Captain Hui: Damn competition!
She takes out a walkie-talkie.
Captain Hui: 543. Send a rebuttal into yon forest.
Radio: (distorted) Roger that.
Two choppers fly over the patch of jungle. One fires rounds of machine gun fire into the woods, silencing the loudspeakers. Another drops tons of propaganda pamphlets into the jungle. Captain Hui turns to Lieutenant DeMartino.
Captain Hui: I love the smell of printers ink in the
morning. One time we had a hill bombed with paper for over 12 hours. I walked up
it when it was all over; we didn't find one of 'em ... not one stinking body.
They where all papered over! And the smell -- that inky smell -- the whole hill
- it smelled...like...(pause) victory...
Hui looks off wistfully.
Lieutenant DeMartino: You know, some day this war's gonna end...
Captain Hui: (sadly) Yes, I know.
Lieutenant DeMartino looks behind him. A huge helicopter is hauling their boat over the marsh and drops it unceremoniously into the river. Other choppers arrive with Mac and his crew.
As evening approaches, steaks are sizzling on barbeques and beer is being distributed to all of Hui's people. Mr. DeMartino resumes his narration.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) Every night, the captain would have steak and beer for her troops, to make them feel less homesick. She'd charge each one of them a buck fifty, but since the army provided the food 'n' beer my best guess was she just pocketed that money. I thought I'd seen the last of that kind of administrator when the war ended.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) (sigh) Guess I was wrong about that.
Lieutenant DeMartino and his crew are boarding their vessel. The crew carries several boxes of paper. The boat puts off into the river.
Lietenant DeMartino sits in the rear of the boat, as the P.B.R. motors upriver. He is reviewing the file on Colonel Hertz...
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) Captain Hui gave us several boxes of propaganda to pass out on our way to Cambodia. Here I was, going to "terminate the command" of a guy who just wanted out, while maniacs like Captain Hui run around pretending to win over the "hearts and minds" of the people in this country. Well, I figured, I'll just do my job, and I'll get out. Of course, there were forces arrayed to stop me...
The boat is now shown at a makeshift dock. A military style base, with quonset huts, tents and crude metal sheds is in the background. The sky is beginning to darken. Huge tanks of fuel stand on shore. Captain Macintyre supervises two men refueling of his vessel. His crew lounges on deck.
Mr. DeMartino: (voice over) We stopped at a US base midway up the river to refuel. It was there we were hit first...
Soldiers on shore begin to call out to the boat. The sound of a helicopter is heard approaching.
Soldiers on shore: You guys! Come on! RUN! RUN! They're coming!
Lieutenant DeMartino grabs his gun. The "three C's" run off the boat and into the dark. The soldiers fueling the ship drop their hoses and run. Captain Macintyre calmly lifts the hose, and takes on the job of fueling himself. Lieutenant DeMartino looks at him.
Lieutenant DeMartino: What is going on? Is it an attack?
Captain Macintyre: No. USO show.
There is a giant raised stage in the middle of the camp. Huge lights illuminate it. A chopper has just landed in the center, its blades still turning. Thousands of screaming men surround the stage, with only a makeshift fence holding them back. A man in an army dress uniform jumps off the aircraft and takes a microphone. He looks real familiar...
Upchuck look-alike: Gentlemen! For your entertainment, I bring you a bevy of beauties from stateside! Give it up for our sexy teen cowgirls, MANDY!
A Sandi look-alike steps from the chopper, dressed in a fringed leather bikini and white holster with silver guns.
Upchuck look-alike: TRACI!
A Stacy clone, dressed like Mandy appears.
Upchuck look-alike: TIMPANI!
A Tiffany clone materializes.
Upchuck look-alike: And SINN!
Quinn's doppleganger rounds out the quartet. The loudspeakers begin to blare out the song "SUZY Q!". The Fashion clones begin to gyrate and dance. Sandi takes out her silver guns and pretends to shoot in the air. The crowd hoots and whistles! The girls smile into the crowd, but speak to each other as they cross paths on the stage.
Timpani: My...hair...is...getting...all...frizzy.
Mandy: It's so hot and humid. Next time, we demand an air-conditioned jungle!
The soldier's testosterone levels begin to surge. They collectively tear down the fence, and begin to approach the stage. There are only a few M.P.'s to hold them back. The girls come together on stage.
Mandy: Loooks like we should be prepared to be accosted and groped by a bunch of sex starved guys.
Timpani: It's...our...patriotic...duty.
Mandy looks at Traci, who is straightening out her costume. She asks Mandy...
Traci: Is my lipstick on straight?
Traci closes her eyes in anticipation. Timpani discovers a reflective metal plate on one of the missile launchers mounted on the chopper, and is trying to put on eye liner. Mandy stands patiently, waiting for the crush of her admirers. None appear.
Mandy turns and looks at Sinn. The soldiers are lined up in front of her. And in the very front stand the "three C's".
Chucky: Hi, Sinn! My names Chucky!
Cookie: I'm Cookie!
Curly: I'm Curly!
Chucky: I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to, but the door to the laundry hut is open, and I wondered if...
Cookie: She can't go with you. She's with me!
Curly: Yea? Who said?
The boys begin to fight amoung themselves, as other soldiers push forward and clamor for Sinn's attention.
Mandy is hot with jealousy. She takes her silver guns and points them at Sinn. She pulls the triggers, and only gets a "click, click, click". The Upchuck clone approaches her.
Upchuck clone: Babe! Those guns don't really work. But I have a great big one that does! Grrrrrr.
Mandy: Good. Thanks.
Mindy grabs the Upchuck clones sidearm from his holster before he can stop her. She aims wildly in Sinn's direction and begins firing. She misses repeatedly.
Chunks of wood splinter up from the stage from where the bullets impact. The pop, pop of the gun gets the crowds attention.
Someone in crowd: WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!
Someone in the crowd sends a spray of automatic gunfire into the sky. The soldiers now surge up on stage, trying to protect (and grope) Sinn. Sinn dances out of their collective grasp and runs to the helicopter. The Upchuck clone rounds up Mandy, Timpani and Traci and herds them on board the aircraft. He yells to the pilot, and slams the side door shut.
The helicopter props spin, sending a cloud of dust into the crowd, pushing back all but the most determined.
And as the chopper ascends, we see a most determined "three C's" suspended from the struts. Two hang directly from the chopper, while Cookie hangs from Curly's legs. They cry out...
Curly: Sinn! Where do you live?
Chucky: What's your phone number?
Cookie: You maybe got a sister?
Lieutenant DeMartino and Captain Macintyre stand by their vessel, watching as their crew dangle from the chopper. The pilot is trying to shake them off. Cookie is pulling Curly's pants down. Mac rolls his eyes, and Lieutenant DeMartino puts his hand on his face, and shakes his head.
As the scene closes, the "three C's" hang precariously from the chopper in the dark blue night sky. Spotlights sweep across them. Dust and smoke churned by the helicopter form a helix around them.
We fade to a LA LA LA LA LA.
