The Last Mission (2) DR. REYNOLDS A rather acute case. He doesn't speak. Takes little food or water. ANDERSON Yes or no Doctor. That's all I need. DR. REYNOLDS Well... They stop at a closed door. INT. ROOM The door opens. Anderson steps inside. DR. REYNOLDS (V.O.) Ask him yourself. Mitchell sits across the room on a window ledge. Gazing outside. He's unshaven with messy hair. Almost unrecognizable. ANDERSON Hello Mitchell. Anderson closes the door and walks over. Sits nearby. ANDERSON I doubt you expected to see me again. A bird buzzes by the window. Mitchell smiles. Childlike. ANDERSON You remember that day. Near Bir Hacheim. When you saved me. I never thanked you. Mitchell keeps gazing out the window vacantly. Anderson stands. ANDERSON It was a hell of a shot. A million to one. That's what brings me here. There's a mission I need you for- Mitchell turns his back to him. Anderson nods. Reaches over. Places something down on the ledge. He turns and walks for the door. Mitchell looks down. Beside him is a metal disc. It reads, CARTER M.J. PVT. Mitchell shudders and picks it up. Closing his fist around it in a tight, protective ball. Glaring at Anderson, he silently rises and moves across the room. Anderson spins. SEES him coming too late. Mitchell gives Anderson a quick fist. Knocking him over a table. Sprawled on the tiles. Mitchell picks him up. Grabs his throat. SLAMS him against the wall. Mitchell chokes him. Anderson's eyes bulge. Gasping. MITCHELL My war is over. The door is thrown open. Two Orderlies storm in. Pritchard follows. They WHACK Mitchell with batons until he releases Anderson and falls to the floor. Anderson drops. Catching his breath. The Orderlies drag Mitchell from the room. Pritchard moves to Anderson. PRITCHARD Got along well, did you? A CLANG. INT. JAIL CELL - DAY SQUEEEEEEEEEEL. The cell door opens. Anderson enters. It's tiny. Windowless. Grimy. A hole in the floor doubles for a toilet. Mitchell's bathed in darkness. Sitting on a ratty cot. ANDERSON They'll court martial you. No answer. ANDERSON Striking an officer. That's five years. Maybe ten. No answer. ANDERSON Hard labor- Mitchell leans forward into the light. Bare chested. He's sweaty and dirty. MITCHELL What do you want? ANDERSON Just two hours of your time. MITCHELL Time is all I have. Mitchell notices the Captain's epaulets on Anderson's shirt. The medal on his chest. He starts laughing. ANDERSON What's so funny? MITCHELL They made you a Captain. And gave you the DSO- ANDERSON This isn't about promotions or medals. This is about a mission. MITCHELL Must be important. ANDERSON It is. MITCHELL And you need me badly. ANDERSON What are you getting at? MITCHELL I want a discharge. ANDERSON Not a chance. MITCHELL I'll listen to what you have to say for a discharge. An honorable one. The son of heroic Admiral Anderson can arrange that. ANDERSON Forget it. Anderson turns for the door. MITCHELL And miss out on the Victoria Cross? Anderson stops in his tracks. ANDERSON It's impossible. MITCHELL Nothing's impossible. Call in a few favors. Whatever you've got cooked up must be worth it. ANDERSON For that, you'll go? MITCHELL No. For that, I'll listen. Anderson removes handcuffs from his belt. ANDERSON All right. Turn around then. Mitchell does. Holding his arms behind his back. MITCHELL What's the matter Anderson? Don't you trust me? Anderson places the cuffs on Mitchell. CLINKS them into place. ANDERSON I don't trust anyone. He abruptly spins Mitchell around. They're face to face. MITCHELL Neither do I. EXT. DESERT - DAY Barren. Miles upon miles of sand dunes. A jeep appears, moving at high speed. Anderson's in the passenger seat. TAYLOR drives. He's twenties. Well built. Wears a permanent scowl. Mitchell sits behind, still in cuffs. Taylor watches him in the rearview mirror. A cool stare. Mitchell avoids it. MITCHELL Who am I meeting? ANDERSON A Colonel. MITCHELL He in charge? ANDERSON No. I am. The jeep stops in the middle of nowhere. Complete desolation. Anderson gets out. So does Mitchell. MITCHELL Where are we? ANDERSON The front's forty miles that way. MITCHELL Why stop here? PRITCHARD (O.S.) Because Rommel is forty miles that way. Mitchell and Anderson look over. Pritchard walks up. Wears flowing robes and sandals. Could pass for an Arab. MITCHELL What's this about? PRITCHARD Think of it as a job interview. I'm Pritchard. Special Identification Group. MITCHELL Never heard of 'em. PRITCHARD You will. Come along. They walk. Anderson follows. PRITCHARD I take it by you being here, you're joining our little party. MITCHELL I don't even know a thing about it. They stop. PRITCHARD I want you to kill Field Marshall Rommel from half a mile away. MITCHELL That's all? PRITCHARD That's all. MITCHELL What a relief. I thought it might be something difficult. PRITCHARD All I'm asking for is one shot. One kill. MITCHELL Why me? Pritchard looks to Anderson. ANDERSON I've never seen a sniper of your abilities. And we need the best. PRITCHARD And I wanted to see you myself. MITCHELL So? What do you see? PRITCHARD William Edward Mitchell. Born PRITCHARD Broken Hill Australia. Nineteen eleven. An only child. Son of Arthur and Violet. Both deceased. You joined the army at sixteen. Why? MITCHELL You must know. PRITCHARD Was it because you're parents were killed? Mitchell hardens. MITCHELL You ever been to Broken Hill Colonel? Pritchard shakes his head. MITCHELL You'd join too. PRITCHARD Recruited into the Special Air Service. You took out a squad of tanks near Tobruk single handed. Received the VC for that. Very impressive. Until Bir Hacheim. Mitchell bristles. PRITCHARD Your squadron was ambushed. You alone survive. What happened? MITCHELL You ask a lot of questions. I wonder what your file says. PRITCHARD They don't keep files on men like me. Keeps things neater. MITCHELL And you think killing one man is going to make the difference. PRITCHARD One man can make a difference. One man can decide the outcome. MITCHELL Why now? ANDERSON A week ago, we intercepted a message from Tobruk to Berlin. PRITCHARD Rommel departs North Africa at the end of the month. ANDERSON We know the airfield. The departure time. Everything. PRITCHARD He's attending a high level conference in Berlin. There, Hitler will give approval for a final push on Cairo. MITCHELL Let me guess. No Rommel. No offensive. ANDERSON Exactly. Our team will bring you within five hundred yards of the target. You do the rest. (beat) It's the best chance we've had. MITCHELL Then you have no chance. Forget the discharge. I'll try my luck with a court martial. Pritchard's face becomes stern. PRITCHARD Mister Mitchell. You don't appreciate the situation. This mission is classified top secret. If you decline, I have to leave you here. With a bullet in your head. Mitchell looks around. There's nobody for miles. MITCHELL (to Anderson) He's kidding. Right? Anderson draws his sidearm. Points it at Mitchell. ANDERSON No. He's not. MITCHELL It's very early. I've got a bad headache. And I'm not in the mood. Mitchell brushes the gun aside. MITCHELL Don't piss me off Anderson. Anderson points it back at him. This time, Mitchell shoves the gun aside. MITCHELL If you were going to do it, you'd have done it by now. Anderson FLICKS the safety off. Mitchell grabs his wrist. Twists it hard. Anderson cries out and lets go of the gun. Mitchell grabs it and points it Anderson. MITCHELL I knew he wasn't going to do it. Pritchard just smiles. PRITCHARD Anderson. He'll do. He turns and walks for the jeep. MITCHELL There's no discharge. Is there? ANDERSON It's conditional. Complete the mission. Live through it. You get your discharge. MITCHELL I guess I don't have a choice. ANDERSON No. You don't. MITCHELL So, what are we up against? The cream of the German army? ANDERSON Hardly... EXT. AIRFIELD - DUSK A Nazi flag flies over hangars and tents. A sprawling base. Many planes are parked on the tarmac. ANDERSON (V.O.) Tobruk is garrisoned by Italians and Luftwaffe crews. A transport plane rolls to a stop near assembled Soldiers. Impeccable uniforms. Taut faces. They mean business. ANDERSON (V.O.) Third rate at best. The plane's door opens. The Soldiers smartly come to attention. An Alsatian dog trots out. ANDERSON (V.O.) No match for us. CRUWELL Follows. Handsome. Grim. Cool. An Iron Cross dangles from his throat. JINGLING as he swaggers across the tarmac. He salutes, walking to a waiting EXT. STAFF CAR He follows the dog inside. SHUTS the door. The car drives off. EXT. BEDOUIN CAMP Several tents ring cooking fires. Camels and sheep graze nearby. A handful of women gather water from a nearby well. Cruwell's car passes by. It's hood pennant SNAPPING in the wind. A serpent twisted around a dagger. One of the women, SAMIRA, watches the car intently. She's early twenties. Wearing long robes and ornate jewelry. Her face, covered by a veil. Only her eyes visible. Dark and striking. She quickly turns from the well and hurries off. INT. BEDOUIN TENT She enters, placing a jug of water on the ground. ZAHIR (35), reclines on carpets. He's gruff-looking. Swarthy. Fierce eyes. They speak in Arabic. ZAHIR What is it? SAMIRA German Special Forces. ZAHIR (stunned) Signal Cairo. She nods. Reaches beneath blankets. Pulls out a battered suitcase. Opens it to reveal a radio. She FLICKS a switch. Twists some dials. Zahir watches the entrance as she taps the morse key. EXT. DESERT - GERMAN FRONT LINE The staff car drives up to a large tent. Stops. Cruwell gets out. Shocking patches of light dot the horizon. German Officers watch the display with delight. Like spectators at a sporting event. Shaking his head, Cruwell enters the tent. INT. COMMAND TENT FIELD MARSHALL ROMMEL (50) and LANG (35), are engrossed in a map on the wall. Rommel's noble. Gallant-looking. A military man through and through. Lang looks like a choir boy. Loyal and bright. LANG The armored units have taken heavy losses. It's getting desperate. ROMMEL I'll go to the front at dawn. LANG Sir. The line is in complete disorder- CRUWELL (O.S.) From disorder. Comes order. They both turn. Cruwell stands in the doorway. Rommel smiles. ROMMEL Cowardice from courage. CRUWELL Strength from weakness. (to Lang) Sun Tzu. ROMMEL We'll continue later Lang. Lang nods. Exits. Cruwell salutes. Rommel returns it. Warmly shakes Cruwell's hand. ROMMEL Welcome back to Africa Captain. Sorry for cancelling your leave. CRUWELL No apologies sir. Your message was most urgent. What is the situation? ROMMEL Agents in Cairo report the British are launching a commando operation. CRUWELL The target? ROMMEL Unknown. Meaning we have to locate and destroy them- CRUWELL Before they reach it. ROMMEL Precisely. His eyes suddenly narrow. ROMMEL I don't want a repeat of what happened last year. CRUWELL My men and I won't fail you sir. Rommel nods, assured. They look at the map. ROMMEL What are their strengths? CRUWELL Fast. Mobile. Hard to find. ROMMEL Weaknesses? CRUWELL Same as ours, sir. Supply. They'd have to operate from isolated forward bases. ROMMEL What will you need? CRUWELL Tanks. Engineers. Also, an intelligence officer who knows the area. Not from maps. From being there. ROMMEL I have someone in mind. Cruwell nods. Heads for the door. He stops. Hovers. Concerned face. ROMMEL What is it? CRUWELL Bir Hacheim sir... ROMMEL I read your report. Rommel's looks away. Discussion over. Cruwell turns. ROMMEL And when you find these commandos? Cruwell stops. CRUWELL Annihilate them. Cruwell exits. EXT. STAFF CAR - DAWN Flames LICK at metal. The car drives past flaming oil drums that light the way. Cruwell dozes in the back seat. The Dog's head in his lap. The car hits a bump. Both wake. Cruwell looks out the window. His sleepy face turns sullen. CRUWELL Driver. Stop. The car halts. Cruwell climbs out. The dog follows. EXT. BOMBED OUT MONASTERY Lying just off the road. Crumbling walls. Bricks litter the ground. Holes in roof. THE BELL TOWER Remains standing. Beside it, ringed by a stone wall is a small CEMETERY With a few crosses. A pair of Sentries guard the entrance. They come to attention as CRUWELL Walks up. He walks past crosses. Notices one leaning on its side. He steps over and rights it. A BUZZING SOUND. He looks up. A pair of fighters taxi along a runway. Not far away. Cruwell looks to the horizon. The first bands of dawn appearing. The wind picks up. WHISTLES. Cruwell shivers. Adjusts his coat. The dog trots playfully at his feet. It barks. INT. BARRACKS - DAWN Mitchell sleeps restlessly in his bunk. Blanket pulled to his chin. Eyelids flutter. Face, covered in sweat. He HEARS the dog bark. Flinches. EXT. TRAIL - NIGHT (FLASHBACK) Smoke and flames. Vehicles burn. Men scream. In silhouette, Cruwell steps over bodies. Stops. Points the gun. Presses the trigger. A GUNSHOT! EXT. ROAD - DAY (PRESENT DAY) Mitchell wakes to the GROWL of a vehicle engine. No longer in the bunk. Bright sunshine reflects from sand dunes racing past. He realizes he's in a JEEP Travelling along the road. In the middle of a convoy of cargo trucks. LT. SHAW drives. Early twenties. Scruffy. Roguish. Taylor sits beside him. Mitchell's behind. Wrists shackled. Still unshaven. Scraggily hair. Dirty uniform. Mitchell looks to his right. CARTER Stands alone in the dunes. Uniform, torn and bloody. Eyes heavy. MITCHELL Turns away, shaken. He looks back, unable not to. Carter's gone. Empty sand. Mitchell looks to his palm. In it, Carter's identification disc. He looks up. Taylor glares at him in the rearview mirror. TAYLOR What's that? A good luck charm? Mitchell puts the disc away. TAYLOR (sneering) Special Air Service. SHAW They say he's got the VC. TAYLOR (to Mitchell) And you don't get that for hiding in holes? Do you lad? Mitchell looks away. SHAW What's that saying? A coward dies a hundred deaths. MITCHELL A thousand. A coward dies a thousand deaths. SHAW Bright bugger, isn't he? TAYLOR We know all about you Mitchell. There's nowhere for you to hide out here. MITCHELL This is a desert Lieutenant. Where could I hide? The convoy drives on. EXT. EL KUFRA An isolated desert base. Carved from the desert. Few amenities. Ringed by trenches, pillboxes and barbed wire. A small, single runway. A beat up hangar. A few planes. An oasis nearby. A Bedouin camp not far off. A tall observation tower overlooks the entire area. SUPER: D-DAY MINUS NINE The convoy comes to a halt near a group of tents. Strong looking Commandos start unloading. All are young. Spirited. Raring for combat. Parked opposite are several jeeps. Armed to the teeth. Overloaded with fuel cans. MCTAVISH and CURRIE paint German markings on them. McTavish is mid-twenties. Forceful eyes flank a pudgy, boxer's nose. He's been in his share of fights. Currie is early twenties. Smiles a lot. Laid back. Mitchell's jeep arrives. Mitchell, Taylor and Shaw get out. CURRIE McTavish? He's here. McTavish looks up. Gives Mitchell a frosty look. CAMPBELL staggers up. Early thirties. Sips from a canteen. Glossy eyes. Permanent grin. CAMPBELL Who's that with Taylor and Shaw? McTavish looks up. Disapproving. MCTAVISH Isn't it a little early Doc? CAMPBELL Not really. Still going from last night. (indicating Mitchell) Who's he? CURRIE The second best sniper in North Africa. Right McTavish? He laughs. McTavish doesn't. MCTAVISH Kiss my arse. CURRIE He's the new shooter. Took out a squad of tanks by himself. Single handed- MCTAVISH Impossible. CAMPBELL The one who's unit got wiped out? Currie nods. CAMPBELL Poor bastard. MCTAVISH Poor yellow bastard. They found him cowering in a hole. CAMPBELL And the handcuffs? CURRIE He tried to kill Anderson. Campbell burps. CAMPBELL He'll fit right in here. Mitchell looks over. SEES them working on the jeeps. Staring at him. He notices cylinder shaped drums mounted to the jeep's engine grills. Fitted for long range desert travel. Taylor nudges him along. TAYLOR Move it. INT. ANDERSON'S TENT A hand holds an exquisitely framed black and white photograph. In the picture, Anderson stands beside JACK. He's attractive. Idealistic. Both wear dress uniforms and are close in age. They look happy and proud. Samira embraces Jack. She's stunning in an elegant white, wedding dress. Dark skin with flowing dark hair. All smile for the camera. TAYLOR (O.S.) Captain Anderson? Anderson quickly places the photo face down on the desk. ANDERSON Enter. Taylor and Shaw escort Mitchell inside. Taylor salutes. Anderson returns it. ANDERSON Welcome to El Kufra.
Copyright © 2004 Shaun Goldsmith |