- Take cover!
- Hey, soul man.
You got girlfriend?
- Yeah, nah, I'm good.
- Boom-boom, you want special price?
- You speak Vietnamese?
- Enough to get me a little ass and grass if I want it.
- You're full of shit, Felix.
- Casper, you all right?
- One, no I ain't.
Two, quit callin' me Casper.
You know I hate that shit.
- Seriously man, what's up with you?
- Two.
- Oh, come on man, have one.
- I'm havin' a beer, motherfucker.
I'm talkin' about Charlie.
Two VC.
- Out in the shit?
- Yes, out in the shit.
Just two VC.
- That ain't nothin' new, Casper.
You been out in the shit as long as any of us.
Charlie sits in the hooch and waits on a couple of GIs
to walk by, and then boof!
Pulls a machine gun out of his ass and lays waste.
You just gotta look sharp.
- You can't look sharp for a hole in the ground.
Who's watchin' whose back?
Who's watchin' Whittaker's back?
- You got somethin' you wanna say?
- Whittaker wasn't anybody's fault
except the VC that got the jump on us.
- I'm sayin', who's got our backs?
You think it's Lieutenant Sutter?
Or Meeks with the heavy?
Who you think put Whittaker on point to begin with?
- It was his rotation.
- That's Whittaker, right there before he bought the farm.
That's my black ass.
And these two motherfuckers is y'all.
And then right behind us is Lieutenant Sutter,
over here sniffin' up Joe's ass.
And here's Dan, Archie, and Meeks.
You notice something weird about that?
- It's random.
- Whole buncha negros sittin' on point,
takin' Charlie's first shot.
Point men die like flies in shit.
Walk around a fuckin' tree, there's a VC, boom!
You're fuckin' dead.
Sorry negro, you're on point.
Dead, dead, dead, dead.
You're fuckin' dead.
- Don't even sweat it, man.
You got five more months.
Then it's back to the world.
- And we got Private Whittaker's replacement comin' in.
Private FNG.
They'll stick his ass on point.
That's how it's always been.
- FNG?
Fuck a negro?
- Fuckin' new guy.
It ain't some big conspiracy.
It's the US Army.
- They fuckin' you in the ass, Felix.
- Hey, it's almost one o'clock.
- Yeah, come on, let's get goin'.
FNGs.
- All right boys, we got a sweep on our hands.
Ben Tre's a small provincial city about 60 klicks
south of our current position.
But the surrounding area needs to be swept for Viet Cong.
- Sir, standard rules of engagement?
Search and destroy?
- Well, we're callin' it sweeping now.
Lieutenant Sutter, you want to give 'em the rest?
- All right, two days ago, we lost contact with a platoon
out of the 39th.
Got separated from their company,
and no one's heard from them since.
So there's two points.
First, we're not aware of any major VC presence
in the area, but stay alert.
Don't wanna have any friendly fire.
- Sir, how do we know it's them if we find them?
- They are the only American troops
in that part of the delta.
So if you guys see anybody, anyone,
and they're not a gook, they're either your own company
or the missing platoon,
and you will know them if you find them.
Turns out they're part of Bravo company.
Lieutenant Marsh's boys.
And they are a salty bunch.
You'll know.
- Drop time's 0600 at LZ Echo.
Be ready.
- Yes, sir.
- Hey Meeks.
What's with that?
- It's an M60.
Machine gun.
- Nah, not that.
What's next to it?
That a belt buckle?
- Oh, you mean that?
Yeah, that's a belt buckle.
- Well hey, I love learnin' about belt buckles.
What's the CS mean?
- Means you care about where you came from.
- You mind if I take a look at your belt buckle?
- I'd rather you not.
- Well, why not?
I just want to take a look at it.
- It's special.
It was a gift.
- From the Confederate States, I take it?
Someone from around there?
- It's from my daddy.
- Your daddy?
He from around Confederate States?
- He carried it into battle with him at Guadalcanal,
and passed it on to me.
Heritage.
An unbroken line.
It means something.
- So your daddy, he from Philadelphia, New York, Chicago?
- Jackson, Mississippi.
- So I guess your heritage probably involved
a couple of tracts of land with contract labor, huh?
- As a matter of fact, no.
We were the labor.
My great-great-great granddaddy scrapped in the dirt
on his boss' farm until the good Lord called him
to defend his land from the overreach
of the federal government.
- Sounds like a real sucker.
- Yeah.
Oh yeah, maybe so.
He sure got to shoot a lot of niggers in blue shirts though.
- You got some shit you want to say to me?
- Oh, I think I just said it.
- Fuck you.
- Atten-hut!
- As you were.
What's goin' on?
- Oh, just preppin' for the boonies, LT.
- What about you, Allen?
You ready?
- Almost.
- Well, best finish up.
Because almost ain't gonna cut it out there tomorrow.
This...
Is Private...
What was it again?
- Ham, sir.
Matthew Ham.
- He's Whittaker's replacement.
Get Private Ham up to speed, get some rack time.
We're on deck at 0500.
That's five fuckin' a.m., FNG.
- Lookin' forward to gettin' to work with you fellas.
- Charlie's gonna eat you for lunch, boy.
- Not if I can help it.
- What'd you just say?
- I said, not if I can help it.
I'm gonna give 'em my best fight.
- Your best fight?
You think this is D-Day?
You think the slopes give two shits
what kind of fight you're gonna give 'em?
They think you'll give 'em a fight,
they'll just slither off and hide in the dark
and let you step on a booby-trap mortar round
and blow your foot off,
or fall in a tiger pit and impale your leg on spikes,
and then they'll shoot whoever's gotta carry
your sorry ass back.
It's best to just not get hit, Private Ham.
- Then I guess I'll just do the hitting.
- Looks like we found our point man.
- All right, two minutes!
LZ should be clear,
but we are still establishing a perimeter!
You all know the drill.
- We goin' in hot?
- Only if we get eyes on Charlie!
You all look sharp, you hear me?
And save your ammo!
- Hey, FNG!
You know what happens if the slopes
capture you alive, right?
- I don't know.
- They'll strip you down to your bare ass
and walk you into a minefield at gunpoint.
If you're lucky, you lose a leg and bleed out right away.
I saw an FNG lose his toes,
and the tip of his dick.
A bad way to go!
- Just keep your head down.
- 30 seconds!
- All right, lock and load!
♪ Sing me back home ♪
♪ The song I used to hear ♪
♪ Make my old memories come alive ♪
♪ Take me away ♪
♪ Turn back the years ♪
♪ Sing me back home before I die ♪
- Meeks, if you don't shut the fuck up--
- Why don't you lighten up?
There ain't no slopes out here.
- Motherfucker, I'm out here, and I gotta listen to you.
- Watch your mouth, boy.
You just ain't got culture.
- Oh, I got culture, boy.
You just ain't Frank Sinatra.
You sound like my little cousin tryin' to falsetto
a Temptations song.
♪ I never met a girl that makes me feel the way that you do ♪
♪ You're all right ♪
- Hey, knock it off up there!
This ain't fuckin' camp!
- Hey, Ham.
- Yeah?
- You a virgin?
- What?
- Now, don't lie.
I can always tell when a guy's lyin' about that shit.
Hey, Felix.
How 'bout the first time you fucked a girl?
- Man, I hit some fine-ass Columbian chick back in the day
behind a movie.
I was 15, she was 19.
She kept comin' back for more.
- See, now half of that was bullshit.
He was 15, she was 19, but she didn't come back for more.
Casper, you a virgin?
- My name ain't Casper.
- Come on, just your first.
How old were you?
- 16.
- Where? - At a church.
- At a church? - In church.
- Yeah, I bet you gave it to her
right up there on the altar, didn't you?
- Nope, broom closet, in the foyer.
During church.
- Well now, none of that's bullshit.
Ham, how did you lose your virginity?
- I was at the ballpark.
Fenway Park.
- Bullshit.
- No, no, I swear.
I would work the refreshment stands there during summers
in high school.
I used to go bang this chick real hard in the back.
- Now how'd you get away with that at Fenway Park?
- I would turn the popcorn machine on
so no one would hear us.
- Man, you didn't fuck her in no popcorn.
- No, not in the popcorn.
In the room behind it.
- So this is what, uh, '66?
Uh, '67?
- '66.
- You know, I went to Fenway Park in '66
with my daddy to watch an Orioles game.
So we get to our seats,
and daddy asked me if I wanted anything to eat.
And I said, "Sure, daddy.
"I want a Coca Cola and maybe some popcorn."
So daddy comes back with a Coca Cola and a hotdog.
I said, "Daddy, what's that hotdog for?
"I said I wanted popcorn."
And he said, "Son, I know, but the man told me
"that you have to order popcorn from the man
"walking up and down the stands."
'Cause they don't sell popcorn at the refreshment counters
at Fenway Park.
- Oh!
- Guys, come on, I swear!
No, seriously!
- Oh, we gonna have to find Ham
a nice little mama-san to practice on.
- Okay, yeah, hey, very funny, but no.
- I said lock it up!
We are five klicks from Phong My
and you clowns sound like a goddamn Army band.
- It's a village.
- Phong My?
- Can't be Phong My, we're too far out.
Phong Nam's closer, but it's still three klicks off course.
Nah, it's probably just some random hooch.
- We sweepin' it?
- Well, that's orders.
- One platoon's gonna be enough?
- Yeah, one's all we need.
We start takin' fire, all we gotta do is radio it in
to Third Platoon and the whole damn company shows up.
Charlie knows it.
Fuck.
Any of y'all speak any Vietnamese?
- Yeah, a little.
- How the hell you speak Vietnamese?
- Vietnamese lady babysat me as a kid.
- English.
Hmm?
Wake!
Ask her how many people stay here.
- Ah?
- What the hell you tellin' her?
- I'm askin' her how many people stay here.
She says it's just her, sir.
- Bullshit.
- She says we killed her whole family, sir.
- Well, ain't that a fuckin' sob story.
Is she VC?
VC?
V...
- VC?
- Hey, Ms. Charlie.
You see that M60 and that big ol' belt of ammo back there?
Hmm?
Now that thing's gonna turn your house and probably you
into dog food if I find out that any of those commies
are comin' up through here.
Do I make myself clear?
Wake, tell her.
- I think she's telling the truth, sir.
- I think she's full of shit.
- Why's that?
- 'Cause that lady wants to kill yo ass.
She could be a runner.
- Runner?
- Runs messages for the slopes.
I think we oughta torch the place.
- I tell you what, Ms. Charlie.
How 'bout I go light up your hooch over there, huh?
Or...
You can let Private Ham light up yours.
- What?
- I don't know how to say all that, sir.
- No, you don't have to.
She gets the gist.
Don't you, Ms. Charlie?
Ham!
Why do you say to some prime Vietnamese real estate?
You don't even need a popcorn machine.
- I say no.
- Let's get somethin' straight here, PFC.
Dumbass.
You got a problem?
Swallow it.
- It's all clear, sir.
It's just a hut.
- Oh well.
Looks like it's your lucky day, Ms. Charlie.
All right, pack it up, boys.
We're movin' out.
You better watch your step.
- Or what?
You gonna put me on point?
- You know what?
That ain't a bad idea.
- So what happened to all that talk
about putting the black man on point?
- What about it?
- You're lettin' Sutter have his way.
- No, I ain't.
- You're on point.
- I wanna be on point.
- That's the most dangerous position.
- No it ain't, not out here in the jungle
with the whole platoon.
- What do you mean?
- Charlie ain't gonna fuck with us head on out here.
We's got the advantage.
Nah, they, they gonna let us do our thing,
and then pick at us from the shadows.
So hell, if anybody goes down,
it's gonna be somebody from the middle of the line
back there, you know?
They gonna shoot him in the leg or blow his toes off,
to make two guys drag his ass back to the LZ.
One bullet, three men off the field.
- Maybe we oughta runs our mouths more often.
- Hell, we all just bait out here anyway.
We find the VC and get fire support involved.
That's where the money's at.
- Everything is always some big conspiracy theory with you.
Maybe our country is just trying to help these people
live free lives-- - Hey!
Smell that?
- What?
- Smell like a motherfucker.
- Everyone down!
Return fire!
- They've got us pinned!
- Fuck!
- Where's the fuckin' thumpers?
- They're down, both of 'em!
- Hey, get the fuckin' pig up there!
- I can't, they'll cut us down!
- RPG!
- We're taking too many hits!
- RTO!
Get the fuck up here!
- Sir, they're cut off!
- Fuck this!
Broken Arrow, Broken Arrow!
We're getting overrun--
- Fuck, we need cover!
- Fuck, they're on top of us!
- They got heavies!
Fuck!
Fall back!
Fuckin' go!
Go, fall back!
- Hey!
Hey, we need support!
Hey, hey!
- We are gonna die if we don't lay some fire!
Get the pig up there and wait for my signal!
You frag left, I'll frag right.
You feed ammo, on my signal.
One, two, three!
Now!
- Fuck!
We follow Sutter, we die!
That way, that way!
Felix, you're first!
Go, go, go!
Joe, go!
- So what now?
We gonna run right into 'em?
- That heavy's all they got left.
- They got a crew.
They know we're cut off.
- Man, they comin' for us.
You know they comin' for us.
They just gotta follow our trail.
- We keep runnin'?
- Fuck.
No.
We wait right here.
- Shit.
- Any of you motherfuckers bring a map?
This ain't it.
- How the hell we get so far off course?
- Ran a long way.
- The road to Phong My should be due east
of our original position, right?
If we cut left out of that creek,
we should be northwest by about a klick, if that.
- Maybe.
- Might as well keep truckin'.
Rest of the platoon's probably already there.
- Yeah.
- Hold up.
I didn't agree to nothin'.
- Ain't nobody said you had to.
- Makes more sense to head back to the LZ
and wait for extraction.
- Oh, you know where the LZ is?
You wanna lead us there?
- I know it ain't east, and we're headed east.
I know if there's slopes in Phong My, we're done for.
It looks to me like we're headed straight there.
I think you just wanna find Sutter.
- Hmm.
I think you just want Sutter to find your ass
and save it.
- They can't be far.
- They ain't lookin' for you, or me,
or any of us negroes.
They left your ass to die with us,
and you need to get that through your motherfuckin' head!
- Lieutenant Sutter's a good enough officer--
- Ain't no Lieutenant Sutter no more!
Only a low down, no-account motherfucker
that left Charlie balls deep up our ass!
You got fucked, Meeks, in the ass!
Sutter's prayin' to every god he can think of
we're all dead, so nobody knows he left us to die.
He aint' lookin' for you, so we're lookin' for him.
- You gonna kill him?
- Well, I ain't gonna buy him an ice cream cone.
You gonna try and hang a nigga for killin' the man
that fucked you in the ass?
Let me tell you something Meeks, you in this shit.
You got a target on your back,
and the only thing savin' your ass right now
is a couple of niggers.
Now, that don't make you a nigger,
but you gonna walk with niggers,
you gonna talk with niggers,
you gonna eat with niggers.
And you gonna protect niggers with that pig of yours there,
'cause if you don't, you gonna lay down in a grave
with a couple of dead niggers.
You got that?
- Whatever you say.
- Good. 'Cause I got two things to say to you, Meeks.
Number one, get rid of the fuckin' belt buckle.
And number two, I'm gettin' tired of being on point.
- Casper, I think we overshot it.
Phong My couldn't have been more than a klick out.
We've gone another four by now.
Only thing this far is a couple of farms.
- We're headed southeast.
If we've gone four klicks,
this'll dump us onto the east road, somewhere, uh--
- Sounds like friendlies.
- Charlie!
Wake up and smell the coffee, baby!
You got to the count of
to tell me where your gook friends are stowing their gear
before one of them uses it to shoot more of my men.
Where's the stash?
I'm gonna count to 10 now.
Goddamn it, I still can't learn these fuckin' numbers!
I know for a goddamn fact you didn't have trouble
findin' those rifles when this platoon
walked through here yesterday, did ya?
Well suddenly, you don't know anything, do ya?
I'm gonna have to count to 10 now.
No, let's try this.
Ah, English, goddamn it!
Holy Jesus Christ on a cracker,
I just counted to 10 in gook!
Now, I'll read you the Book of Psalms.
Yea, though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
as long as I know where those goddamn weapons are hidden!
- Hey, partner?
- Is this the lost platoon?
Bravo 39th?
- "Lost platoon."
That's what they're callin' us, huh?
We're with the 39th.
- You Lieutenant Marsh?
- At the hole.
- Hey, LT.
- Yeah.
- You Lieutenant Marsh?
- Yeah.
- Who's askin?
- PFC Allen, sir.
We're with the 60th.
They told us to keep an eye out for you.
- To keep an eye out?
- They said y'all got lost.
- Do we look lost?
- What's in the hole?
- Three gooks.
And their gook kids.
- You waitin' for 'em to come out?
- Are you serious?
Moss!
Frag me.
- You can't frag civilians.
- They could have guns.
- Look, why don't we just bring 'em out nice and slow
and see if they know anything?
Private Wake here speaks a little Vietnamese.
- I don't believe what I'm hearin' right now.
Please tell me that you're fuckin' new to this shit,
'cause only a bunch of fuck-face FNGs
would call a bunch of gun-totin' mama-sans
and frag-tossin' baby-sans civilians!
You ever been shot at by a kid, private?
- Can't say I have.
- They'll shoot you just as dead as an NVA regular.
- Well, that don't make no difference to me, or a jury.
- Hey Calhoun, there you are.
Come here, come get a load of this shit.
- Sir?
- This is my platoon sergeant, Sergeant Calhoun.
Sergeant, we got a couple of doves here
who don't wanna frag the gooks in the hole.
- What?
Why?
- 'Cause they said it ain't right.
- Huh.
- You ain't fraggin' that hole.
- Let me show you something.
Take a look.
Do you know who those men were?
Private Grant, Private Cooper and Private Steadwell.
You know why they're dead?
Because some little gook kid pulled an AK-47
from behind a water tank and cut 'em down
while they handed out gum and C-rations.
Pat 'em on the head and tell them it's okay they're dead
because at least they didn't hurt some little gook kid.
Hell, you should write their mothers and their wives
and tell them what good boys their husbands and sons were.
Rubbing lotion on the bare asses
of a couple baby commie-sans before they got blown away!
Do you wanna tell them that?
You got anything else you wanna say to me, boy?
I didn't fuckin' think so.
Assume your positions.
Fire in the hole!
- Yeah! - Whoo!
- All right, all right, all right.
Round 'em up, boys.
- What are we doin' here?
- What's it look like we're doin'?
Let's go, line 'em up in the field!
- You killin' them folks?
- You either help out or you stay out of the way.
Listen, gooks knocked my whole platoon down to a dozen men.
I got half here, half out...
I don't know, God knows where.
Probably dead.
That's 24 dead GIs in exchange for a dozen gooks.
I'd say they're getting off pretty fuckin' light.
- That ain't gonna fly, sir.
- Why don't you pick a fuckin' side, Private?
Hey, fucker.
Make yourself fuckin' useful.
Move!
Let's go!
Move, move, move!
Fuckin' go!
All right, let's go, on your knees, down!
- Down, down! - Get down!
All right let's do it, turn around!
Pull it in, boys.
- On the left, squeeze it in.
On three!
One, two--
- Hold on, shut up.
Listen, everybody say bravo on three, all right?
- Okay.
One, two, three.
- Bravo!
- Did you get it?
- It ain't balanced right.
- What do you mean, it ain't balanced right?
- Well, it's all screwy.
You got tall guy over there on the left,
and it slopes down on the right.
- Montrabe, move it down a couple spaces.
- Still a little unbalanced.
- For God's sakes, just take the fuckin' picture.
- No, hold on, I'll move up.
That better?
- Dandy.
- Why don't y'all grab one of them mama-sans
and drag her into the picture?
- Why the hell would we do that?
- Like a trophy, you know?
Like you just went on a safari and took down a giraffe,
only it's a Vietnamese giraffe.
- Just take the fuckin' picture!
- Hold on.
I kinda like that.
Yeah.
Hey, come here, honey.
Right here.
No, it's okay, shh, it's okay.
No, right here.
Yeah, smile for the camera, sweetheart.
- All right.
One, two, three.
- Bravo!
- Let's go.
All right.
Light 'em up boys, on three!
One!
Two!
Three--
- You just killed them, you motherfuckin' nigger!
- Time to calm down!
- You gonna shoot me too?
- I will if you don't calm down,
and take a couple of big steps backwards.
- Drop it, PFC!
- Okay Joe, you need to calm down--
- I said, drop it.
- All right.
Tell you what, Joe.
First, you tell me what you think the problem is,
and then I'll tell you what I think the problem is.
- No, fuck you!
You just shot US Army soldiers!
- Okay, so what's the problem?
- They're all dead.
They're all fuckin' dead.
- What the fuck is wrong with you?
I should shoot you right now!
- You gonna shoot your own brother?
- Fuck you!
They're gonna put yo ass in front of a firing squad.
- Let me ask you something, Joe.
You got a dog?
- What?
- A dog, back home, you got a dog?
- Yeah, so what?
- Your dog like you?
- Yeah.
- You like your dog?
- Yeah, what's your point?
- So you and your dog protect each other, right?
You feed him and he barks
if somebody tries to come into your house.
- Yeah, get the fuck on with it, Casper.
- So you loyal to your dog and your dog loyal to you.
- Yeah.
I don't shoot him.
- Let me ask you somethin'.
One day, you walk out of your house
and your dog loses his fuckin' mind
and latches on to little neighbor Sally's arm
and starts tearin' out chunks of flesh.
What do you do?
- My dog's trained not to do that.
- Yeah.
99% of dogs are trained not to do that.
But if you got the one that does anyway,
what are you gonna do when he starts
rippin' off the little neighbor girl's arm?
You gonna stand by and let him maul a little girl,
just 'cause he's your dog?
You gonna toss him a biscuit, or you gonna put him down?
- That's not the same thing!
- It's the exact same fuckin' thing, Joe!
And you need to get that through your fuckin' head.
Now I know you freaked out about what just went down,
but at the end of the day, we're all in this shit together.
- Together?
What side are you on?
- There ain't no sides, Joe!
Havin' stripes on your shirt don't make you the good guy.
Singin' the Star Spangled Banner
don't make you the good guy.
The only difference between good guys and bad guys out here
is what kind of code you dealin' with.
How many good guys you know out there killin' kids, Joe?
If Command found out them good guys
shot all those civilians, we'd all hang.
Hell, we fucked, Joe!
We gonna hang anyway for killin' them GIs.
The only difference is lettin' them children die
would keep you up longer at night.
We are the good guys, Joe.
- Man.
I can't argue with that, fuck those guys.
- Your bullets in 'em, Meeks.
You can't say shit.
- So what?
So we just gonna hop a chopper back to base
and tell everyone that Private Casper went all ape-shit
on the missing platoon?
Hope they just laugh it off?
- Nope, we ain't gonna say a thing.
We got separated from the platoon
and found our way back to Phong Nam.
Made our way back to the LZ and that's all we know.
You good with that?
Or you want to stand up against a wall for havin' some honor
and savin' some kids' lives?
- Yeah.
I'm good with that.
- How about you, Felix?
You okay not standin' up against a wall for those shitheads?
- Fine by me.
- You gonna try some bullshit?
- Nah.
Let's just get back.
- Good news is, platoon sergeant had a map.
- You know what?
I think I figured out why they call you Casper.
- That ain't my name.
- I'm guessin' it's 'cause you turn
red-blooded American boys into ghosts.
Right?
- Not quite.
It's 'cause I shot a little white motherfucker
named Casper and took his name.
That's what we do in my culture.
- Is that right?
- He got it in recruit training.
Drill instructor gave it to him and it stuck.
- It was dumb, it ain't even a name.
- Whittaker used to tell it best.
So drill instructor walks in on ol' Private Allen here
all conked out up on his locker but during fire watch.
DI walks over to him and punches him right in the chest.
Boom!
He says, "You're dead, Private."
And he tells him, "Well, since you're dead,
"you gotta be dead."
So he makes him wear this giant white sheet
for the rest of the night, he's gotta go around and wake up
all the other recruits goin', "Boo, I'm a ghost!"
- Ain't that ironic?
- It's fuckin' stupid.
- It stuck, though.
He's been Casper ever since.
- I can see the resemblance.
- Nobody gave you a nickname in basic?
I was Private Jesus.
- Come on.
- What village is this?
- I don't know, it ain't on the map.
- M16, friendlies.
- Lieutenant Marsh said he got cut off
from half his platoon.
Might be them.
- Maybe.
- Hey.
Maybe we oughta let this one go.
- "Let it go."
It already got us.
- All right boys, round 'em up.
Move it, go on.
Come on, round 'em up, boys.
Come on, get 'em outta there, get 'em out.
- Let's go, get out!
Come on!
- Left side's clear.
Contact, last hooch!
- Get 'em up, get 'em up!
- All right, we got a couple more in here.
We goin' in, Sarge?
- Hell no.
Smoke it, Leland.
- Bravo Company, rest of the lost platoon.
- This ain't our fight.
This ain't our fight, come on, let's go.
- Yeah, we're already in deep enough shit.
- Then what have we got to lose?
- All right, let's go.
Let's go, come on, come on.
- Ain't no good gonna come out of stayin'.
Let's go!
- Come on, little mama.
Ain't so bad.
- What do you think?
Maybe we ought to leave the lady.
The bitch probably deserves it.
Yeah, he'll probably shoot her when he's done too.
You good with that?
- He's good with that!
We all are, let's go!
- So it's just a damn peep show now, huh?
You want me to go get you some tissues?
Look at him gettin' her.
Yeah, see?
That's the shit I'm talkin' about.
Good guys.
Good guys, Joe.
- Hey!
Hey!
Back off, let her go, now!
- Who the hell are you?
- Let her go.
- You from Second Platoon?
- I'm not from any platoon.
Now get outta here.
- RTO just got the radio fixed.
Callin' in our position right now.
- Get back in there and finish your sweep.
- This is the sweep.
- Leave it.
- There's gooks everywhere.
- I don't care!
- I'm just gonna pick it up,
and carry it right back over there.
All right?
Nice.
Slow.
- Clear the chamber.
- Nice and slow.
Nice...
And slow.
- Clear the chamber!
- Hey!
- Here we go.
- Eight niner bravo, friendly fire, taking friendly fire!
Niner bravo, rogue friendlies,
three or four rogue friendlies!
All negroes!
We got a half a platoon down, request immediate evac!
Zero niner five to six niner six--
- Jesus Christ.
- You know they're gonna put our asses
against the wall, right?
- Took us about 10 minutes to set a world record
for fraggin' our own guys.
- They weren't our own guys.
Our own guys don't pull that kinda shit.
- Sutter really fucked us.
- No other way about it.
I give it three hours before a bunch of Cobras
come sweepin' this place,
lookin' to put our asses in the grass.
- We gonna shoot them down too?
- We did what we had to do, with no choice.
Don't go gettin' all twisted up over it.
Perimeter, now!
- It's clear.
- We can't stay here.
Casper, we can't sit around out here
waitin' to get shot, man!
- I ain't tryin' to get shot by no firing squad.
Every one of them boys is white.
What, you think they gonna stand a couple of negroes up
and take a moral crisis into account?
Hell nah.
- I get that.
But we gonna die out here too.
How long you think we're gonna last in this shit?
- I'd rather die out here than back there.
Shit, I ain't gettin' railroaded for stoppin' a murder.
- We might still have a chance.
This war's not too popular right now.
The press'll be all over it.
- Course they will, and that's exactly why
they gonna put us away, nice and quiet.
Somebody will roll a frag into the cell and call it a day,
if they don't shoot our black asses on sight.
- What if we shoot them first?
- Shoot who first?
- Sutter.
- Joe-Joe, well you got hard real quick, didn't you?
- Everything that happened, both those villages,
we found them because Sutter bailed on our asses
and left us for dead.
- So we just gonna fuck his shit up, and then what?
Go wait back at the LZ?
- You got a better idea?
- Now look, I told you there is a code.
I didn't kill no guys for revenge,
or 'cause they called me a nigger,
or-or any of that nonsense.
That was defense of non-combatants.
Women and children.
Now, I stand by that, but Sutter?
Now, that's a whole 'nother ball game.
- Where the hell is Meeks?
- Where'd the bike go?
- He's gonna try and make it to the LZ for extraction,
and tell some bullshit about gettin' separated from us.
Never knew nothin' about anything.
- Gotta beat him there, then.
- We ain't got no bikes.
What, you wanna run?
- We don't need bikes.
We need a boat.
- That stupid motherfucker.
If we were Charlie, he'd be dead meat.
- So we just gonna camp here?
- Man, hell no.
Let's keep moving upstream.
- Nah, they'll see us.
We wait right here.
- Ready?
- We truckin'?
Why don't you just hit the motor
so we can get up outta here?
I know you ain't havin' a goddamn moral crisis
over that asshole.
Man, you think he'd come back for us?
Kick it, Joe.
- He's on our side.
- "He's on our side."
- You in the Army, ain't you?
- He's right.
He had our backs earlier.
- Army gonna fuck us with or without him.
Might as well bring him along to the party.
- Guy bails on our asses.
Calls you a nigger.
- I am a nigger.
But I ain't Meeks.
You in?
- I'm in.
- All right man, what we doin'?
- You know if you don't let me go,
you gonna have about 200 fuckin' US Army soldiers
up here in the morning, right?
Fuck!
Oh you fuckin' piss dick, no good, slope motherfucker!
Keep laughin' with that big gun!
Your village is gonna go up in flames, motherfucker!
I can't wait to see you cry.
I can't wait to watch you burn, motherfucker!
I'm gonna watch the skin fall off your fuckin' skeleton,
you piece of shit!
Why don't you come on up to Jackson?
I'll show you how a white man treats a fuckin' nip,
you piece of shit!
Fuck!
Shit!
Move!
- How'd y'all find me?
- Wasn't hard with you floppin' around up on that bike.
- Goddamn fuckin' slopes.
They were gonna skin me alive.
- You wanna tell me why the fuck you took off?
- Didn't have much of a choice.
- That so?
- Die in the weeds with y'all,
die at the base after a good meal and a hot shower.
- Sounds like you just fixin' to die.
- You gonna shoot me, you probably oughta wait
until I give you your ticket out of this shit.
- What are you talking about?
- Oh, don't want to shoot me now, huh?
- Shut the fuck up.
What are you talking about, ticket out of this shit?
- How 'bout you gettin' the hardware out of my face?
- What ticket?
- Slopes dragged me inside one of those huts
when they first got me.
They had a radio operator in there picking up traffic
from the rest of the company.
One came over the wire saying he found a dozen dead GIs
in a line a few klicks east of Phong Nam.
Guess who called it in.
- Sutter.
- Loud and clear.
Fourth Platoon found 'em hours after we were there.
Our platoon.
Us.
- They try to pin it on us,
Sutter gotta tell everyone he bailed on us.
- And if he decides to cut his losses and 'fess up?
We got an alibi.
We've been pinned down by Charlie
since three in the afternoon,
downriver where we sink this boat.
Sutter ditched us, so we cut south, trying to evade.
Never got anywhere near that village.
LT and the boys become the prime suspects.
- You think it'll stick?
- Only proof they got we were ever there
was that lieutenant's camera.
- Motherfuck!
That camera's got everything on it!
- So what happens if they find the camera
and they see the lost platoon cheesin' on it?
How do you know we're not in any of those pictures?
- These pictures?
- Goddamn.
- Just gotta beat Sutter back to the LZ,
and we're home free.
- That's some good shit.
- We square?
- We square.
- Major? - Sir?
- Something screwy here.
Bravo's Fourth Platoon made contact here,
a klick past Phong Nam.
Backs up two klicks west, then goes back up again
and runs into fresh bodies.
Now why'd they go through an area
they'd just been ambushed in?
- You think they're lying?
- That radio call from Bravo Fourth
came in three hours after Alpha Company's missing platoon
radioed that they were being attacked.
- Rogue platoon?
- Or two.
Something isn't addin' up.
- The rest of Bravo Company's fanned out
across that peninsula.
- And they should be right up each other's asses,
but Fourth Platoon's off by about two klicks northeast.
- Beats me, sir.
- How many birds we got comin' in for the extract?
- 11 for Bravo, sir.
- Can you get an extra on deck?
- Yes, sir.
- Good.
I want two gunships accompanying that extract.
I want a company sweepin' that peninsula at first light
and I want two squads at each kill site
and cover every inch of that delta in between.
- I'll take care of it, sir.
- And Major, clear a seat on that first bird out.
I'll be on it.
- We what, two klicks out?
- If that, LZ's right up the road.
- 0700?
- We got an hour and a half if we want a shot
at the first bird out.
- You think everybody's heard about what happened?
- Probably.
If it was on the radio, every platoon leader knows about it.
I'm thinkin' we better avoid the rest of the company
until the birds are on the ground.
Stake a spot on the perimeter and catch one comin' in.
- What about the gunner?
- What about him?
- Them Huey's got a door gunner.
Radio operator in Giong Trom said
a couple negroes went rogue.
You think they might be on the lookout
for a couple of negroes runnin' straight for a chopper?
- Maybe we oughta just blend in with the platoon?
- Yeah, stick to the story,
and act like we don't know what happened.
- Sutter gonna shoot us on sight and ask questions later.
Door gunner gonna cut us down if we look at him funny.
- So we're fucked?
- Not if they don't see us.
- How they not gonna see us?
What, we gonna go Casper again?
- They ain't gonna see us, 'cause they ain't gonna find us.
We wanna pass this whole thing off,
then we gotta play it all the way.
VC caught our asses and we didn't make it to the LZ.
They held us a couple of days until we busted out,
killed a couple of guards,
and then show up at Command at Saigon
with a couple AK-47s and a motherfucker of a story.
Maybe some nice intel on VC movements south of Ben Tre.
And pissed the fuck off at our platoon leader
who bailed on our asses in the midst of a firefight.
Pissed the fuck off at a guy who's already
gonna be under suspicion for calling in a kill site
when he was the only one there.
That's how we gonna end this.
We dig a fuckin' hole, cover it,
and hide out for three days, maybe four.
If we survive those couple of days,
we hump the 50 klicks back up to Saigon,
and we got an alibi.
No choppers, nothin'.
Just a ticket outta this shit.
- I can dig a hole.
- Damn it, man.
All right, I'm in.
- Meeks, what about--
What the fuck are you doing?
- You were right about one thing.
They ain't gonna find you.
- Meeks, come on, just...
Put that thing down.
- I been doin' a little bit of thinkin' here.
Turns out, this whole goddamn thing
is y'alls fuckin' fault in the first place.
- Our fault?
You got blood on your hands too!
- I didn't have much of a fuckin' choice, now did I?
- Meeks, come on man, you ain't thinkin' straight.
We just saved your ass back there.
- Yeah.
Yeah, you did.
You know why?
'Cause you got my ass captured by the fuckin' slopes.
'Cause you greased a squad of GIs.
But that wasn't enough.
Then you went and greased a second one.
All I done this whole time
is react to you killin' friendlies.
- So you gonna kill three more?
- Fuck you!
Stand up, all of you.
Don't even look at them rifles.
Go on.
Go on!
Stand the fuck up, Casper.
Now toss 'em in the water, nice and slow.
Toss the fuckin' rifles in the fuckin' water,
or I'll end you.
Now helmets, toss your helmets in the water.
You tie a good knot, boy.
Why don't you go on and sit down?
- What, you want me to tie my hands too?
- Nah, I got that.
- Sutter left your ass for dead, and he'd do it again!
- Sutter survived.
So will I.
- LZ Echo sir, coming up.
- Nobody home?
- No smoke, sir.
You want me to put her down?
- Negative.
Other birds will make the extract.
Keep headin' east.
We're lookin' for a couple of rogues.
- Mornin'.
- Jesus Christ.
What the hell are you poppin' out of the bush like that for?
We could have shot you!
- Wouldn't that be a fuckin' tragedy?
- What happened?
Is it just you?
Okay.
You uh, hear about those dead GIs back in Giong Trom?
- Nah.
- Nah?
Yeah, a couple of crazy assholes wiped out a few squads
in two different villages.
And word is, they were American.
- Is that right?
- Yeah, well, that's the word, anyway.
You know, the only problem is,
everyone deployed in operations has been accounted for.
I mean everyone...
Except you.
- Oh.
That's a funny story.
I got one for you.
Chickenshit platoon leader takes off
in the middle of a firefight
and leaves a cut off fire team to die in the shit.
Shoots up a bunch of villagers on the way back,
gets surprised by the missing platoon,
and kills 'em to bury the evidence.
- Huh.
Well, now I didn't say anything about any villagers.
It was you, wasn't it?
- Everything that happened to me happened because of you.
- Okay.
Okay.
Tell you what?
Why don't you point that pig that way and you and I,
we can discuss this?
- Hmm.
Why don't you give me one good reason not to smoke your ass
where you stand?
- How about because you'll be dead
before you get a second shot off?
And honestly, Meeks, I don't think you wanna end your life
out here in the shit.
So get your fuckin' head straight!
- LT, I'm already dead.
- No.
You don't have to be, Meeks.
You don't have to be.
Let me ask you a question.
Where are those other boys you were with?
- Gone.
- Dead?
- Maybe.
- Captured?
- Probably.
- All right, then let tell you something.
Leading a platoon ain't easy.
Sometimes you have to make the tough choices,
like leaving a few men in order to save
the whole goddamn unit.
But Meeks, that doesn't mean I can't try to have your back.
- It's a little late for that.
- It doesn't have to be.
Not necessarily.
Those choppers are gonna be here in a half an hour,
and everyone in this platoon
is gonna be on those choppers, together.
Just like we came off.
Just like we've been the entire time.
All of us, Meeks, together.
Do you...
Do you hear what I'm saying to you?
- So what, you think they're just gonna forget about
two dozen dead friendlies?
- Casper.
It was Casper, wasn't it?
Sure.
Sure, he fired the first shot,
and those other fucking negro boys,
well, they followed right along with him, didn't they?
I mean, that is, that is what happened, right Meeks?
Huh?
- It's still your fault.
- Shit happens.
Especially out here.
Doesn't mean it has to happen to you.
- Why'd you tie these ropes so motherfuckin' tight?
- So I wouldn't get shot.
- We ain't gettin' out these ropes.
- Well, I ain't layin' here sunbathin!
- Choppers inbound, step on it.
- There they are.
Put it down by the road.
- Roger that.
- Lieutenant Sutter, Bravo Company!
- Sutter?
You called in the casualties?
- Yes sir, three klicks northeast of Phong My.
- Bravo Company's the only unit out here!
How many men are you missing?
- Three unaccounted for, sir.
Took off during a firefight outside Phong Nam.
- Where's the rest of the platoon?
- This is it.
- All right, get your gunner squad on the chopper.
- Sir?
- We're gonna sweep and look for these clowns.
I want some firepower on board.
Rest of the platoon, get up to the LZ
and rendezvous with the rest of the company.
- You are our friends.
And you're not bad.
- Yes.
- Hey, tell 'em about Meeks--
- You wear American uniform.
You carry American guns.
You shoot Americans bullets.
Your planes drop Americans bombs,
and kill Vietnamese children.
- We killed 20 American soldiers
because they were shooting Vietnamese.
We killed them.
- We didn't choose this, we fightin' against it.
- Soul man.
Soul man in Vietnam is like a fly
caught between two fighting buffalo.
- Let us go and we'll never come back.
- Vietnamese people starve because of you.
Vietnamese people cannot grow rice,
because Americans planes sprays Agent Orange
and destroys the farm.
American mines take what once created life
and make it death.
Vietnamese people fight for 1,000 years
to get freedom from Chinese.
Vietnamese people fight for 1,000 more.
And for 1,000 more after that.
Bullets will not help you.
Bombs will not help you.
And God will not help you.
You will only die.
Go!
- The fuck we gonna do?
- I ain't dyin' on no motherfuckin' landmine!
- They're gonna shoot us.
- Spread out, one goes down, the others keep movin'.
When I yell, we break for the trees.
Three...
Two...
One.
- There!
There, GIs, open field upriver!
- Bring her in, Captain.
- Those boys move, you gun 'em down.
They're dangerous.
- You know her?
- Yeah.
- Go home, soul man.
It's not your war.
- Down!
- Clear this hooch.
- Hey, hey, hey, hang tight.
Remember that door gunner.
- Thank God you found us!
How did you-- - Stay where you are.
- There's your rogues, sir.
- Man, what the hell--
- Sir, what's goin' on?
- Oh, don't play stupid.
We know what you did.
- What the motherfuck are you talkin' about?
- He knows.
We all do.
After y'all ditched us in the firefight back there,
y'all up and greased a bunch of our own guys.
That's goddamn bullshit!
- We been here two days! - That's bullshit.
- We been here two days.
Charlie picked us up at the end of the firefight,
where LT motherfuckin' bailed on us.
So I don't know what you're talkin' about, sir.
- That's bullshit.
- Yeah?
Where were you, LT?
- Well, I was cleanin' up the mess you bailed on.
Only then to find out that you made another one.
On purpose.
- How 'bout you, Meeks?
Where were you?
- You heard the man.
Moppin' up your mess with the rest of the platoon.
- He was with you the whole time?
- Yeah.
He was.
- Why don't you waste these niggers
before they try some shit?
- Colonel?
How'd the men die?
- He knows how they died.
- They were shot.
- What kind of brass?
5.56, M16?
- 7.62.
Somebody used a 60 on 'em.
- I ain't never fired a pig in my life.
- Sir.
Only one man in the platoon had an M60,
and it wasn't any of us.
- What the fuck?
Are you accusing me of killin' my own men?
Fuck you!
You cocksuckin' piece of shit!
You fuckin' nigger, fuck you!
- Hold on.
Now, how much ammunition did you use?
- I mean hell, I don't know.
Six belts?
- Looks like you used more than that.
Let me see that weapon, son.
- I don't know how in the fuckin' hell
a couple of forked-tongue, black-ass sons of bitches
get away with accusin' red-blooded Americans
of turnin' on their own kind.
You wanna be Malcolm X, don't you, you piece of shit?
I swear to God,
you better be facin' a firing squad next week.
I wanna see you hang, nigger!
I wanna see you fuckin' dead!
- What's in your pocket?
- A couple pairs of dry socks.
- Take it out, son.
Gimme those.
You son of a bitch.
- Oh, Jesus Christ, Meeks!
Oh, Jesus Christ!
Meeks, stand down!
Stand down!
Fuck, Meeks!
I will shoot you!
Meeks!
- This is fucked...