Apocalypse Now

CHIEF

This is my crew and my fucking boat, and I'm the responsible party.

WILLARD

Get in there now or I'll bury you in this river.

It's clear that Willard will kill the Chief if he doesn't do as he says.

CHIEF

(finally relents, turns the helm)

You're fucking crazy. You're going to get us all killed.

The P.B.R. navigates through the rush and into the mouth of the tributary.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE TRIBUTARY – P.B.R. – RAIN

Rain is pouring down, but the P.B.R. is slowed down to a snail's pace by Hyacinths, literally across the waterway.

Willard, Chef and Clean in the water, cutting through them with machetes.

VIEW ON LANCE

Having climbed to the highest point of the cockpit.

LANCE

It breaks through in about twenty feet.

VIEW ON WILLARD

Cutting through. he looks to Chef, who has stopped cutting, and is staring into the jungle.

WILLARD

What do you see?

CHEF

I don't know.

He looks out – the jungle at this point is very dark and high – totally impenetrable.

WILLARD

Keep cutting.

They work feverishly, knowing something is wrong.

VIEW ON CHEF

Cutting with all he's got.

CHEF

I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like the goddamn jungle's watching us.

WILLARD

Probably is.

CHEF

Whatdoya think it thinks.

WILLARD

That we're dumber than we look.

Chef stops again, looks hard, trying to penetrate the darkness and from the very depth of it – the darkness of it, comes a stream of tracers, lazily arching out at them. It whips between them – the SOUND FOLLOWING much later.

Other BULLETS SMASH through and ricochet off the deck fittings. GLASS SHATTERS, and a huge hunk of paint is removed from the armor shield by a 20 mm cannon.

CHIEF

Lance – 'bout twenty meters starboard.

Lance leaps down to his position. Willard, Clean and Chef cut feverishly, as the trapped boat struggles to get free.

CHEF

There in the trees!

Everything is confusion – yelling – GUNFIRE – the THUD of heavy BULLETS ripping inti the P.B.R.'s fibreglass hull.

VIEW ON LANCE

Lance's twin guns return the FIRE. The Chief moves to one of the heavy guns and joins Lance in returning the FIRE.

VIEW ON THE MEN IN THE WATER

Pushing, cutting. Bullets SMASH and EXPLODE around. Clean climbs onto the boat, and leaps onto a gun emplacement.

MEDIUM VIEW

Nobody really knows where the erratic fire is coming from.

CHIEF

(back at the helm)

Elevate Lance, in the tree. No, I saw another.

CHEF

Thirty meters up, Lance; I saw the fucking flash.

Lance grits his teeth, FIRING –

CLOSE SHOT ON CLEAN

POV BEHIND CLEAN

He BLASTS short bursts of tracers into the jungle, cutting it to salad. Suddenly more tracers from another direction – Clean swings around – BULLETS smash against his shield and rip chunks from the surfboard. He BLASTS a long heavy burst at the jungle – trees crumble.

CLEAN

I'm ripping 'em, man, son-of-a-bitch, it's jammed, oh God, it's jammed.

Clean is riddled by MACHINE GUN FIRE.

Chief runs to Mr. Clean – it is obvious that he is dead. He looks angrily to Willard.

Willard and Chef are practically through. Willard leaps up, as Chef finishes the last strokes. He moves toward the cockpit.

WILLARD

Throw me that ordnance.

Chef throws him an M-79 and several shells – Willard opens it, jams a huge projectile and pulls himself over the edge of the cockpit.

WILLARD

(continuing)

Give me some kind a field a fire –

BULLETS rip by.

CHEF

(exhausted)

We're through.

He climbs aboard and collapses.

CHEF

(continuing)

Oh, God –

LANCE

(firing)

I ain't finished! I ain't finished!

WILLARD

Bring that bow ordnance into those trees.

He jams his gun up as he sees a flash and FIRES – there is a low POP and a WHISTLE as the GRENADE arches into the jungle.

POV – BEHIND THEM

He FIRES another burst as the GRENADE EXPLODES brightly. There is another POP and WHISTLE , another BLAST. A large tree falls, just as the craft speeds up through the thinning growth. We HEAR strange SCREAMING from the trees and jungle, hideous MOANS and terror-filled CRIES.

CLOSE SHOT ON THE CHIEF

He jams the throttle forward – the boat surges ahead. Willard FIRES another GRENADE from his M-79.

FULL SHOT ON THE P.B.R.

The boat slams through the hyacinth growth, moving through the river, FIRING BACK at unseen enemy in the jungle.

DISSOLVE TO:

FULL VIEW ON THE P.B.R. – TWILIGHT

The boat moves ahead at half speed through a wide, flat area in the river.

MEDIUM VIEW

The men sit around, exhausted, brutalized, wounded. They look like animals, but they are relaxed, because they know they're too far from the banks to be shot at.

They smoke pot and eat silently. Lance smokes a joint and looks at his gun. Splotches of paint have been blown away from the armor shield – pieces of deck are ripped and ragged around the mount. The boat is a floating wreck.

Clean's body is being prepared in a plastic sack by Chief. All of the men are silent.

Chef comes up from below; he has been wounded in the shoulder.

CHEF

There's some bad holes, man, and the cracks – water's coming through the cracks. Food's shot to hell.

WILLARD

How much is left?

CHEF

Less than half – sure is a mess down there.

Chief has been silent by the body of Clean in a plastic sack.

WILLARD

And the grass?

CHEF

Still got a lot of that stuff from Nha Trang. But we're running low on the other.

Chief pushes Clean's body into the river.

VIEW ON WILLARD

He notices something in the distance.

WILLARD'S POV

A light.

MEDIUM VIEW

Willard stands up, pointing up the river.

WILLARD

Hey.

They all look over.

WILLARD

(continuing)

That's a light down there –

CHEF

Yeah, it is.

CHIEF

What the hell is it?

WILLARD

In the middle of the jungle – a goddamn light.

FULL SHOT – THE P.B.R. – THE TWILIGHT

The P.B.R. approaches the distant light – which seems to be on the dock of an overgrown plantation building.

VIEW ON WILLARD, CHIEF

Straining to see; he uses field glasses.

POV – THROUGH THE GLASSES

Seems to be some figures standing on the dock. The figures pull back behind some drums.

BACK TO SCENE

WILLARD

Watch it!

They duck as SHOTS RING OUT from the dock, stitching the water across the P.B.R.'s bow. The crew crouches, guns trained on the dock as the boat still approaches.

WILLARD

(continuing)

They're not Cong.

CHIEF

(over the loud-hailer)

We're Americans.

Another BURST, closer.

CHEF

Maybe you shouldn't say we're Americans?

Willard stares at the dock and building, trying to figure it out.

WILLARD

Chef, try your French.

Chief hands the loud-hailer to Chef, who shrugs and shouts:

CHEF

Nous sommes Americains –

Silence.

CHEF

(continuing)

Nous ne voulon pas vous agresser.

VIEW ON WILLARD

He looks through the glasses.

POV THROUGH THE GLASSES

Gradually, a small group appears from behind the drums on the dock.

WILLARD (O.S.)

French Nationals – they may not be too friendly, though.

BACK TO SCENE

We drift closer to the dock. The Chef starts enjoying speaking French.

CHEF

Nous sommes Americains – nous sommes des amis –

There is silence as the boat drifts closer. Then:

FRENCHMAN

(shouting out)

Vous parlez Francais comme une vache espanole.

CHEF

(to himself)

I thought it was pretty good, myself.

CHIEF

What'd he say?

CHEF

Said I speak French like a Spanish cow.

FRENCHMAN (O.S.)

Laisser tomber vos armes –

CHEF

Put the guns straight up – stand away from the mounts.

WILLARD

Do it.

They do.

FRENCHMAN (O.S.)

Vous pouvez approcher mais doucement –

CHEF

Take her in slow.

FULL SHOT – DIFFERENT ANGLE – DOCK

The men on the dock move forward, cautiously. They are a young man, PHILIPPE, about 25, strong and handsome, save for a scar down on the side of his face and through his left eye, which is covered by a patch. He is dressed in a tiger suit and the red beret of the French colonial para-troops. Also of the red beret are HENRY LeFEVRE, a bearded, dark-looking man of 35, and TRAN VAN KAC, a middle-aged half-breed slave. They all bear automatic weapons and suspicious in their eyes. As the boat pulls up to the dock, another Frenchman joins the group, obviously the head man, GASTON DE MARAIS, about fifty, small and delicate, with a strength about him.

PHILIPPE

Hands on the heads.

CHIEF

I can't steer with my goddamn feet.

CHEF

Hey, they speak American.

GASTON

Who is the commanding officer?

CHIEF

I –

WILLARD

I am – I'm Captain B.L. Willard. This is Chief Warrant Officer Phillips – it's his boat. We were shot up bad downriver and need repairs and food – we can pay you in gold.

GASTON

Philippe –

Philippe moves to another position – Kac grabs the rope from the deck and ties it to the dock.

LANCE

I'll help you with –

PHILIPPE

Do not move –

Gaston looks at the skyward pointed twin fifties admiringly.

GASTON

Fifty calibers, eh, Captain –

WILLARD

As I said, we can pay you in gold.

GASTON

Entirely unnecessary, Captain.

He puts down his gun – the others do likewise –
 

GASTON

We share a common enemy – you are our guests.

(he steps back)

I am Gaston de marais – this is my family's plantation. It has been such for 121 years. It will be such after I die. This is my son, Philippe – he has fought in Algeria and held the rank of Captain. And Henry LeFevre – a sergeant; he was at Dien Bien Phu. My personal servant, Tran Van Kac –

Then he motions to the trees. A young man in a tiger suit and three women come forward from different positions – all wear bush clothing and bear weapons.

GASTON

(continuing)

My youngest son – Christian –

CLOSE SHOT – CHRISTIAN

He carries an M-60 machine gun in his hand – a belt of ammunition trailing off behind him.

GASTON

Christian's wife – Ann-Marie –

A tall girl, good-looking, but severe – she carries an M-16.

GASTON

(continuing)

And my youngest daughter – Claudine.

CLOSE ON CLAUDINE

An attractive girl about eighteen. She wears a red paratrooper beret and a well-fitted bush suit. She carries an M-79 grenade launcher and plenty of ammunition.

FULL VIEW – P.B.R. – CREW, GASTON, OTHERS

They stand there, exhausted and amazed. Philippe yells in Vietnamese – about a dozen native men in tiger suits, heavily armed, walk out of the trees from all around them. They look the Americans over warily and assemble at Philippe's command.

WILLARD

American weapons?

GASTON

We took them from the dead.

(smiles)

Now – I assume you want to rest, to shower. We'll attend to your repairs after dinner.

CHEF

Shower.

Willard's men look at one another, dazed.