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This is the complete, unedited final script of "Fury"


                                Written by
                                David Ayer

         April 1945 -- The Allied Armies strike at the heart of
         Germany. In four weeks the Third Reich will be no more...
         Thick morning fog blankets all. A faint glow in the East.
         It's quiet save for the DISTANT RUMBLE of artillery.
         Super title: Somewhere in Nazi Germany...
         A Spanish Arabian STALLION emerges from the fog. A wasp
         waisted German Army LIEUTENANT erect in its saddle. His
         disciplined horse elegantly picks its way over the furrowed
         soil. A dark hulk looms in the mist -- Horse and rider
         IT'S A BURNED OUT TANK -- An American Sherman. Still
         smoldering. Steel armor ripped open like tin foil.
         The Lieutenant moves on. Encounters another charred tank.
         Its entire turret blown off. A small fire still burns inside.
         Around it are the blackened twisted shapes of burnt shrunken
         He moves on. Another hulk emerges from the most -- This tank
         looks like a scrap heap -- Sandbags, railroad ties, sloppy
         steel plate, cases of wine, rations and ammunition.
         Battered, scarred and seemingly abandoned.
         The Lieutenant guides his horse in a slow circle around the
         armored vehicle. He HEARS a faint CLINK -- And draws his
         Luger from its shiny black holster -- THEN:
         An AMERICAN SOLDIER hiding BEHIND THE TURRET leaps on him...
         Tearing the German from his horse. The two men CRASH to the
         ground. The American stabs the Lieutenant in the face --
         THWICK-THWICK-THWICK! Fast, violent, shocking...
         The American then carefully slides the knife blade behind the
         German's eye - Piercing his brainpan with a CRACK. The German
         convulses for a moment. And dies...
         The American retrieves his knife. Wipes it clean on the
         German's uniform and scans the area with burning primal eyes.
         This is DON "WARDADDY" COLLIER. Late twenties he looks middle
         aged. A light beard and hollow cheeks. Years of combat have
         ground him into something hard and sharp.
         With the mechanical clumsiness of exhaustion, Wardaddy cuts
         the mapcase from the German's belt. Then rips the large
         Knight's Cross medal from the dead man's neck.
         Wardaddy stands to his full impressive height in his oil
         blackened overalls. He crosses to the horse. He grabs the
         beautiful animal's bridal and looks at it for a moment...
         Eye to eye. Connection with the animal. With incredible
         gentleness he rubs its muzzle. And kisses it...
         Then he pulls his knife -- The horse jerks back, but Wardaddy
         holds it firm. He knows horses...
         THWICK! - He cuts off the bridle, slips the bit from its
         mouth. He unbuckles the saddle and drops it to the soil.
         Wardaddy looking at the horse. Then it heads back the way it
         came - Now without ride and tack...
         Wardaddy climbs aboard his tank -- Her name is "FURY" -- It's
         painted on her cannon.
         INT. FURY - PREDAWN
         Dark. Cramped. Crowded. A filthy machine with filthy men.
         There's two main areas - THE TURRET BASKET -- A big
         cylindrical cage that spins with the turret.
         And the BOW -- The front of the tank where the driver and a
         machine gunner sit. The sound of piss hitting tin...
         BOYD "BIBLE" SWAN is draped casually across the cannon
         breech. A pastor's kid from Des Moines, he's serious, calm,
         centered. You'd never guess he's killed a thousand men. He
         finishes urinating into an ammo can.
         TRINI "GORDO" GARCIA sits in the driver's seat sipping wine
         from a bottle. A Mexican butcher from Chicago. He's been
         drunk since 1942. He once went into combat sober - And vowed
         never to do it again.
         Next to Gordo, the transmission housing between them, is the
         body of RED. A blood soaked jacket pulled over his head. His
         blood spattered inside the tank.
         GRADY "COON-ASS" TRAVIS, a good-old-boy from Arkansas, is
         wedged into the battery compartment fixing a short. He's
         cunning, viscous and World wise.
         Wardaddy drops down into the Commander's hatch.
          Get that fucker?
          I knocked him off.
         Gordo offers Red a drink, pushes the bottle into his
         shoulder. Whispers to him...
          Gordo. Stop. Leave him rest.
          He's dead. Or did you forget? Drunk damn
         Gordo shoots them a dirty look. Keeps whispering to his dead
         friend. Wardaddy watches Coon-Ass work.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Goddammit. Ain't you done?
          Keep ridin' me.
          I'm not riding you. If I was, you'd know
          it. More where he came from.
         Wardaddy tosses Bible the Knight's Cross - Bible hangs it in
         the turret - Where more German combat decorations hang like
         Christmas ornaments.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You get some canned bacon for this?
         He tosses Gordo the dead Officer's Luger. He inspects it.
          For this? Yeah. A case or two.
         Wardaddy lights a cigarette. Then scratches another notch in
         his knife with his GI can opener. It's tense - They are
         behind German lines and acutely aware of the danger they're
         in. But danger becomes routine. After years of it...
         Coon-Ass smirks - KNOWING he'll get a rise...
          How come you didn't shoot that horse? You
          love shooting horses so much.
         Wardaddy darkens with outrage -- He works his way over to
         Coon-Ass and begins kicking the Hell out of him.
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          Stop it! What's that for?
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          You know what it's for.
          Why you always whoopin' on me?
          Because you're an animal. A dog. All you
          understand is the fist and boot.
          Bull-sheeet. I understand me the pussy
          and the gun. Killin' and fuckin'.
          In that order?
          Maybe. Timing's important. I like me warm
          pussy. Pipin' hot.
          You still talking? Can we get out of
          here? Everyone shut up.
          You shut up. You're a goddamn bottle of
          wine. Stink like wine. Think like wine.
          Alcohol never solved nothing.
          Neither did milk. Let's go. Vamanos.
          Vamanos ya.
          Wanna talk Mexican? Find another tank. A
          Mexican tank. This is an American tank.
          We talk American.
          Who put a nickel in you? You talk Kraut.
          You can talk German and I can't talk
          I use my German as a tool of war.
         Coon-Ass grabs his crotch...
          Here's my tool of war.
         Bible realizes this isn't about horses or Spanish. It's about
         Red -- The man with his head blown off in the Bow Gunner's
                        CONTINUED: (3)
         seat. Bible hands Wardaddy some coffee he warmed on a
         Coleman stove.
          Thanks, Boyd.
          Stop ragging on everyone. You didn't kill
          Red. The German's did.
          That's true. But I sure didn't keep him
          His number came up. That's all. We've
          been lucky. Until now. Settle down.
         Wardaddy adds sugar to his coffee. Stirs it with a greasy
         callused finger. He opens the German's mapcase -- Discovers
         several maps...
          Thank heavens. We got a map.
         Wardaddy studies a German map...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          We're here. Battalion Area's to the
          South. This hardball road here'll get us
          back. Sound good?
          You got the stripes, Daddy. You figure it
          I got more, boy. Need more?
         Wardaddy pokes his head out of the commander's hatch and
         listens carefully to the coming dawn. His finely tuned
         instincts kick in. Wardaddy drops back inside - Pulls the
         hatch shut with a CLANK...
         The sound of ROARING LOCOMOTIVES -- An Artillery barrage is
         on the way...
         BOOM-BOOM-KABOOM! -- Shells explode around the tank. Rocking
         it. For the moment the men are safe in their steel cocoon.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Coon-Ass? Anytime, sweetheart.
                        CONTINUED: (4)
         Coon-Ass turns a last bolt then extricates himself from the
          'Kay. Crank her up, Gordo. Whip this
          bitch like your donkey back in Old
          I'll whip your Alabama ass with my donkey
         Gordo pushes the starter button. Expectant faces. The engine
         RUMBLES but doesn't catch.
         MORE EXPLODING SHELLS -- Incredibly loud. Shrapnel PINGS off
         the hull. They endure it with their trademark stoicism.
         They've been through it before - But a direct hit can kill
          Choke'er up. She's cold.
         Gordo opens the choke. Tries again. The engine rumbling.
         Doesn't start. Worried faces.
          There's condensation on the plugs.
          Plugs're good. Don't flood it.
          Drunk or not I can start a damn tank.
         VROOM! -- The engine ROARS to life. They are relieved. Low
         key and businesslike, they don their headsets - It's now
         unbelievably loud in the tank. Coon-Ass joins Wardaddy and
         Bible in the turret basket.
          Move out!
         Gordo double-clutches and shifts into first. The tank
         lurches. Bible presses his eye to the gunsight...
         Wardaddy rotates the turret with his THUMBSWITCH, looking
         outside through a PERISCOPE.
         BEHIND GORDO -- We see the turret basket rotating, the legs
         of Wardaddy, Bible, and Coon-Ass standing inside - It's an
         impressive sight...
                        CONTINUED: (5)
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Forward! Pick it up! Forward!
         The tank RATTLES. CLANKS and SHUDDERS. Ammo cases, weapons, C-
         rations vibrate. We are in the belly of the beast.
         KABOOM-BOOM-BOOM! -- Shells explode dangerously close. The
         tank shudders. Gordo clutches, shifts into second. Stomps
         the gas. The tank builds speed. Wardaddy SEES the road...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Drive! Left. Left. Left.
         ON GORDO - Turning the tank with the two big steering levers.
         He whips it onto the road, upshifts into third gear. The tank
         builds speed - Moving surprisingly fast.
         Gordo can sure drive a tank. Eyes riveted to his periscope.
         Gas, oil, blood and piss sloshing over his boots. Red's body
         in the seat next to him.
         Leaving the CRASHING artillery behind...
         Out of immediate danger, Wardaddy opens his hatch and takes
         his normal position - Exposed from the chest up in the
         commander's hatch. He grips a captured German assault rifle,
         grimly scanning for threats with his cold hard eyes.
         The Fury has escaped. Her crew is neither grateful or
         relieved. There is work to do. The war is not over...
         A farmer's field has been overrun by a traveling circus of
         death - An American Armored Battalion. A couple thousand men.
         A couple hundred vehicles. The TIRED MEN load TIRED VEHICLES
         for another day on the attack. Months of spearheading into
         Germany have taken their toll.
         A BOOMING ARTILLERY BATTERY pumps rounds into German targets
         miles away. The BLACK DRIVERS of the Redball Express Trucks
         unload heaps of supplies from their trucks.
         MECHANICS, CLERKS, COOKS, and MPs move with purpose.
         INFANTRYMEN clean weapons. A CHAPLAIN gives last rights
         outside the surgery tent as MEDICS line up more litters of
         WOUNDED MEN.
         A hundred GERMAN PRISONERS sit listlessly behind barbed wire.
         A BULLDOZER plows a heap of dad Germans into a pit.
         A ROW OF FIFTEEN SHERMAN TANKS -- Their busy CREWS ready them
         for another day's push into Germany. The tankers stop working
         and stare in amazement.
         HERE COMES THE FURY -- Driving up fast, it deftly spins and
         parks perfectly alongside the newer, cleaner tanks. SERGEANT
         DAVIS, commander of the Lucy Sue shakes his head.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Thought you were dead, Collier.
          The Devil watches over his own.
         Wardaddy jumps down. A pair of MEDICS approach the tank with
         a litter. Wardaddy and Gordo haul Red's corpse out of the
         tank and lay him onto the litter.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Take care of him. He was a good man.
         The Medic SEES the top of Red's head is gone.
          You said you had wounded. We're not
          graves registration.
          Take good care of him. Or I'll take good
          care of you.
         Wardaddy pats his assault rifle with menace. The Medics trade
         looks and depart with the body. Gordo crawls under the tank
         and passes out in the mud.
         LIEUTENANT PARKER approaches Wardaddy. Young and fresh, he
         has just a month with the outfit. He's intimidated Wardaddy,
         this tough tanker hard tempered by war's hammer.
          LT. PARKER
          Sergeant I was afraid you were dead. I'm
          awful sorry about T-5 Conley.
          It's Red. We call him Red.
          LT. PARKER
          Sure. Where's the rest of Third Platoon?
          Were' it.
          LT. PARKER
          What happened out there?
          Another goddamned green Lieutenant
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          LT. PARKER
          What do I tell the Captain?
          Tell him we drove straight into a
          strongpoint. Two Kraut tanks were dug in
          like pillboxes. I got ;em both. After
          they got everyone else.
          LT. PARKER
          We're moving again. Headquarters
          section's already folding. You're in my
          platoon now. We're assigned to check out
          a town while main unit bypasses.
          A goddamned flank guard mission?
         Wardaddy nods at the Fury. Looking even more ragged in the
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Lieutenant, I gotta short in the master
          switch box. Steering linkage is rattling.
          Engine's losing compression. Oil's in the
          radiator. Bogies need rubber. There's a
          75 gouge on the turret that'll take
          twenty pounds of welding rod to fill in.
          She's a mess. So's my crew.
          Lt. PARKER
          Make ready to depart the company area on
          my order.
          Yessir. Fuck my life.
         The young officer spins on his heels and walks off. Wardaddy
         looks at Bible and Coon-Ass, staring at him from atop the
         tank. Just crushed. Beaten, exhausted. Spent.
          Parker's a douchebag. We working for that
          Yankee fool now?
          Don't you worry about him. You work for
          me. Restock ammo and rations. Wake up
          Gordo. Have him top off the water and
          gas. Do what you can about the mechanical
         Wardaddy walking away.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
          Where you going?
          The latrine to take a shit. I ain't shit
          in a week.
         NORMAN ELLISON a shiny new Private with a dufflebag
         intercepts Wardaddy.
          Sergeant Collier?
          Maybe. What the fuck are you?
          Private Ellison. I was told to report to
          you. I'm your new Assistant Driver.
          Lookit you. Crisp and green like a new
          dollar bill. Puppy breath and all.
         Wardaddy lights a smoke. An outgoing volley from the nearby
         Artillery Company makes Norman flinch.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Don't worry about outgoing. Incoming
          mail's the issue. Nazis can drop an 88
          shell in your hip pocket from two miles
         Wardaddy directs him to the Fury...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          That's home. Do what you're told. And
          don't get too close to no one.
         Wardaddy walks off. Norman approaches the tank. Bible and
         Coon-Ass scrutinize the newcomer. Gordo slides out from under
         the hull, bathed in mud. The three feral tankers eye Norman.
         Gordo grabs Norman's dufflebag and searches it. Norman afraid
         to stop him.
          Which way's the front?
         Bible gestures in a wide circle...
          All around us. Kid, this is Germany.
          We're surrounded by Krauts.
                        CONTINUED: (4)
         Norman sees a YOUNG TANKER running in circles holding an M1
         rifle above his head. Yelling this:
                         YOUNG TANKER
          I'm a shithead! I'm a shithead! I'm a
          shithead! I'm a shithead!
          What's that about?
          He was cleaning a machine gun and didn't
          unload it. Nearly killed a sergeant.
          Lucky he didn't get stomped into the mud.
         Norman swallows hard. Looks around. Gordo angrily looks up
         from Norman's dufflebag.
          Where's your cigarettes?
          I don't smoke.
          Well then you're a bastard.
         Gordo tosses Norman's dufflebag in the mud. Norman looks
          You go to tank school?
          I've never seen inside a tank. I'm a
          clerk typist. I was going to Fifth Corps
          HQ. They pulled me off the truck and sent
          me here. It's gotta be a mistake.
          Ain't a mistake. Army does what it does.
          Kid, you from Missouri?
         Norman shakes his head: "no."
         Norman shakes his head: "no."
                        CONTINUED: (5)
          No, I'm from --
          -- No one gives damn where you're from.
         Gordo offers him his canteen. Norman politely takes a swig.
         Spits it out.
          It tastes like hornet stings.
          You don't drink?
          Nuh-uh. Especially that.
         Gordo snatches back his canteen.
          I hate you.
          You a praying man?
          I go to church.
          Do you subscribe? Are you saved?
          I'm baptized.
          That's not that I'm asking. And you know
          it. Wait until you see it.
          See what?
          What a man can do to another man.
          Reverend-pastor-deacon Swan here was in a
          preacher factory when he got drafted.
          It's called divinity college.
                        CONTINUED: (6)
          Praise Sweet Jesus. Thank you for the war
          dear sweet, sweet Jesus. Thank you for
          all the goddamned Nazi's to kill.
          Norman. There two are wicked men. Albeit
          amusing. You better grab hold of Jesus.
          He's the one thing that won't rattle you
         Coon-Ass pulls open the Bow Gunner's hatch.
          Here boy. Here's your seat. Get a bucket
          of hot water from the kitchen and get it
          clean. Amish clean.
         Norman's face drops when he peers inside...
         INT. FURY - DAY
         Minutes later. Norman kneels awkwardly over the transmission
         as he scrubs off blood with a rag. He pauses to stare at the
         big belt fed machine gun - Also spattered with blood. He
         cleans it gently. As if afraid of waking a dangerous animal.
         Norman removes blood spattered pin-up girls. And a photo of
         Red's wife - The tough cattle ranching woman who has no idea
         her man is dead. He reaches for a photo of Red in cowboy
         regalia astride a horse -- And freezes...
         WHAT HE SEES -- Blonde hair, an ear, a single blue eye. Half
         of Red's face.
         Love Company's tanks are being readies for combat. Gas tanks
         are filled. Equipment is oiled and cleaned. Ammo loaded. Busy
         green monkeys scrambling over big green turtles.
         ON THE FURY: Coon-Ass and Bible load ammo into the turret.
         Wardaddy and Gordo tighten track links with wrenches.
         Norman scrambles out of the tank and tumbles over the side.
         Landing on his hands and knees, he vomits his ham and eggs
         into the mud...
         Coughing and sputtering he looks up in time to see a 6x6
         truck roll by, filled with a heap of corpses. German and
         American. Legs and arms sticking out. It looks like they are
         waving "Hi" to the young soldiers...
         Norman wants to cry. The Fury's crew stares at him. Blank
         faced. No sympathy.
          Get back in there. It's not going to
          clean itself.
         Norman stands, brushes off the mud. About to climb back in
         the tank, he pauses and stares with his mouth agape.
         Two TIRED GI'S escort an SS SERGEANT. His hands tied behind
         his back with bailing wire. His head is SWOLLEN like a
         watermelon. Puffy slits for eyes, blood slicked hair. He's
         taken a serious beating.
          Why ain't he sleepin'?
                         TIRED GI
          G-two wants a prisoner to question.
          I'll question him.
          (in fluent German)
          What's your favorite color? You like
          chicken or beef? You a good dancer? You
          like fat girls?
         The stoic prisoner blinks with confusion...
         THWICK! -- Wardaddy buries his knife in the SS Sergeant's
         chest. Smack in the heart. And works it side to side.
         The GI's shake their heads with weary dismay. Bible and Coon-
         Ass pull Wardaddy away. Gordo cackles with delight.
                         TIRED GI
          Okay, that kind of thing's gonna get you
          in a lot of trouble.
          We ain't here to ask them questions.
         The Tired GI's drop their prisoner. They look at Wardaddy
         like they're going to do something about it. Coon-Ass aims
         his Tommy gun at them...
          It's a goddamned Kraut. Forget it.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
         The SS man dies in the mud gasping his last breath. The tired
         GI's move along.
                         TIRED GI
          I have tell them what you did.
         Wardaddy ignores him. Norman watches the men go, shocked.
         Wardaddy spits. Wipes his knife clean.
          You killed a prisoner of war. In cold
          I know what I did. He's an SS. They're
          real assholes.
         Wardaddy shakes a smoke from his pack. Scratches another
         notch in his knife with his can opener.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          I kill every SS I can. You'd seen what I
          seen you would too.
          Fuck every last one. They started it.
          We're finishing it.
          Heinies don't know they're beat. Our
          Generals smell blood.
          Yep. Ain't nothin' stopping the spear
          from sliding into the enemy's belly.
          We're the spearhead. Done any killing?
         Norman shakes his head: no.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You will.
         Wardaddy shoves an ugly stamped metal submachine-gun into
         Norman's hands. The GIs call it a "greasegun." The Lieutenant
         returns from the Company Command Post...
          LT. PARKER
          First Platoon TC's! See me now.
         The first Platoon TANK COMMANDERS wander over to the
         Lieutenant. WARDADDY, SGT. BINKOWSKI, SGT. DAVIS, and SGT.
         PETERSON, all rough men who can kick ass in a bar fight.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          I see you, sir. I see you.
          LT. PARKER
          Here's the big picture. Main Unit's going
          East. We're going North on a flank guard
          mission. We'll tie up with Baker Company
          from the 41st. Sergeant Collier is with
          us now. He'll be acting Platoon Sergeant.
          SGT. PETERSON
          That's fine with me. Glad to have you,
          Sir, saying you get picked off? Mind
          showing me on the overlay where we're
          LT. PARKER
          Sure, Collier. Kansas point Dog. After
          that we're working for Captain Waggoner.
          Any questions?
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          You started shaving?
         Lt. Parker disregards the dig...
          LT. PARKER
          First Platoon! Mount up and move out!
         The five tank commanders cross to their waiting tanks.
         Wardaddy makes the "crank it up" hand sign. Gordo slides in
         the driver's hatch and starts the Fury.
         The other four tank start up - Their ENGINES ROAR. The 25 men
         of 1st Platoon take their fighting positions inside the steel
         beasts. Wardaddy mounts the Fury. Norman too. One man
         confident and seasoned. The other clumsy and hesitant.
         CAMERA FINDS - A CORPORAL arguing with Sgt. Davis...
          I can't go out! I can't do it! And you
          can't make me!
         Sgt. Davis punches the man. And shoves him into the Row
         Gunner's hatch. It's like stuffing a cat in a bathtub.
          Battle fatigue case. Good man. He's got
          his limit. We got ours.
                        CONTINUED: (4)
          Ought'a be psycho'ed to the rear.
         The Corporal extends his hand from the hatch, just his hand.
         He's holding a live GRENADE.
         BOOM! -- It blows the Corporal's hand clean off, shreds his
         forearm. Sgt. Davis is livid.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Bless your heart. You done went and did
          it. Get on, boy. Go suck your mama's
          titty milk. Get on out of here you
          yellow fuck.
         The Corporal climbs out of the hatch, slides down the front
         of the tank and trudges toward an ambulance clutching his
         shattered arm. Norman saw everything. He looks at Wardaddy,
         amazed and confused. Who just shrugs and locks and loads his
         big. .50 Cal machine gun.
          Guess he didn't want to go. Drive! Move
         The Fury falls in behind Lt. Parker's tank. Then Sgt. Davis'
         tank. Then Peterson and Binkowski's tanks.
         The 5 tanks of 1st PLATOON move out in a column. Each tank
         running over the dead SS Sergeant - Flattening him into the
         mud. No sentimentality here. It's just business.
         The Five Sherman Tanks are on the road heading East. They
         pass the OUTPOST TANK - Marking the scrimmage line between
         the American Army and the Nazis.
                         OUTPOST SENTRY
          Go fuck yourself Wardaddy! You owe me
          forty bucks!
         Wardaddy waves goodbye. The tank column passes a field where
         dozens of foxholes are filled with INFANTRYMEN. At the sound
         of a WHISTLE a hundred ragged green men emerge from the earth
         like spawning locusts and shuffle toward waiting trucks.
         ON NORMAN - Sitting in the Bow Gunner seat, his hatch open.
         The ass of the Lieutenant's Tank spewing exhaust and dust in
         his face. The Lieutenant keeps glancing back at Gordo,
         sitting in the Driver's hatch. Gordo takes quick sips from a
         wine bottle between the young officer's disapproving glances.
          We get hit, we're gonna burn out. And
          we're gonna burn out fast. Our tanks are
          shit boxes. German guns punch through
          them like butter. See this...
         He points at a hatch in the floor under his seat.
                         GORDO (CONT'D)
          We get hit. I'm gone. Right through here.
          I ain't waiting for you. I ain't helping
          you. Got that?
          Okay. Thank you.
         Norman looks up at Wardaddy in the Commander's hatch. He
         looks like he was born like that - An iron centaur, half man
         half tank. Wardaddy speaks to him through the intercom...
          Kid, you hear me, you plugged in?
         Norman fumbles with the intercom switch, replies:
          I hear you, Sergeant.
          Don't fire that bow gun until I tell you.
          Got that? Don't want you plastering our
          Okay, Sarge.
         Gordo kills off his bottle of wine, throws it at the back of
         the Lieutenant's tank, shattering it.
          Kid, you play cards? Blackjack? Poker?
          No. I don't play cards.
          You motherfucker.
         EXT. DIRT ROAD - DAY
         Farmer's fields on either side. The tank column passes an OLD
         FARMER riding a hay wagon pulled by two old horses. Columns
         of black smoke rise in the distance. Wardaddy spreads his map
         on the turret. Marks their destination. Coon-Ass opens his
         hatch, next to Wardaddy's.
          What a chicken shit job. A goddamned side
          mission while main unit leapfrogs us. We
          need any support we're fucked.
          Ain't this fucking war over yet?
          We're two hundred miles from Berlin. Get
          there just over a week.
          I'm in no hurry to get murdered in
          Berlin. Kids pouring bushels of grenades
          in our hatches. Wine bottles full'a
          gasoline. No thank you, ma'am.
          I don't want it to end.
          I'm ready to ship home. Work at the hog
          farm, marry me a little thing to make me
          pies and babies.
          I never planned on surviving this thing.
          A pretty little mama with a mess of
          cousins. Eat their pies too.
          I'll keep losing at poker until I get my
          head shot off. Die owing every dripping
          dick in the battalion a stack of money.
          Hurry up. You're running out of war.
          Don't I know it.
          You just wanna keep killing people. You
          need it like you need breathing. Can't do
          it back home. Not for long at least.
          I got no home.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          If I get it first, you gotta promise to
          bury me face down.
          So you find your way to Hell quicker?
          So the whole damn world can kiss my ass.
         VROOM! - A P47 fighter flies over. So low they can count the
         rivets on the wings. It quickly vanishes over the horizon.
         ON NORMAN - Watching with fascination. He SEES another P47
         fast approaching.
         VROOM! - It passes directly overhead.
         PAK-PAK-PAK-PAK-PAK! - A German anti-aircraft gun opens up.
         600 yards away it's well camouflaged in a group of trees.
         It blows the wing off the low-flying fighter plane.
         The aircraft corkscrews into a field and EXPLODES VIOLENTLY
         as its bomb load detonates. Sudden. Shocking.
         ON WARDADDY - Spinning the turret with his thumb switch, he
         lines up a shot on the anti-aircraft gun's position.
          Anti-aircraft! Two O'clock. Six hundred
          yards. HE! Fire when ready!
         Bible presses his face against the gun's telescopic sight. He
         makes fine adjustments to the azimuth and elevation wheels of
         the cannon. Then stomps the firing pedal...
          On the way!
         KABOOM! - The gun recoils violently several feet, rocking the
         tank. Coon-Ass immediately loads another shell into the
         breech - It slams it shut - KERCHACK!
         EXT. DIRT ROAD - DAY
         ON NORMAN - Buffeted by the muzzle blast. He SEES the cannon
         shell - a glowing fireball - Arc into the German position.
         KABOOM! - A direct hit. The distant target explodes with a
         high order detonation - Burning and exploding ammunition
         rains down around it.
          Love One-Two for Love-One. Target
          destroyed. We should head over there.
          Might be more Krauts to bag.
          LT. PARKER
          Negative, Collier. We're on a timetable.
         They continue on their way. Leaving the carnage behind them.
         Norman watches the greasy columns of smoke from the crashed
         fighter and the destroyed German gun recede in the distance.
         It all happened so fast. His first taste of combat and he
         never saw an enemy soldier.
         The five tanks turn onto a paved road. It is crowded with
         REFUGEES - A long ragged column of German civilians fleeing
         the bombings and marauding Russians to the East. OLD MEN,
         WOMEN, CHILDREN, once proud faces not dirty and scared.
         ON WARDADDY - Warily eying the flood of refugees. There's a
         19th Century carriage being pushed by women. A car is pulled
         by horses.
          Okay. Button up. There might be a wolf
          hiding in the sheep. Kid, cast an eyeball
          on 'em. Anyone makes a move you cut them
          right in half. Do what you need to do. If
          people are in the way, that's their
          problem. You copy?
          I copy.
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Gordo and Norman close their hatches. Norman looks at the
         machine gun. Hesitant. Gordo reaches over and cocks it for
         him - KERCHACK!
          Gun's ready. Just pull the trigger. Every
          five rounds is a tracer. So you can see
          what you're hitting. Remember, short
          bursts. That way you'll harvest more meat
          per bullet.
         Norman REACTS. Looks through his periscope.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - The world as seen through a
         rectangular piece of glass. He just sees a tire mass of
         people. Pathetic and harmless.
         EXT. PAVED ROAD - DAY
         The Refugees move aside for the tanks. Among them are a dozen
         SOLDIERS - Schoolboy draftees - With no appetite for a fight.
         They toss aside their weapons and raise white handkerchiefs.
         Wardaddy, from his position high in the turret towers over
         them, aims his assault rifle at them...
          Keep walking. American lines are that
          way. Keep moving. Hands up high. There
          you go. Move.
         Lt. Parker is 50 feet ahead in his tank, he handsignals for
         Wardaddy to speed up. The tanks speed past of the line of
         refugees. Tanks don't like people near them.
         INT./EXT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Gordo opens his hatch. Norman does the same. Grateful he
         didn't have to shoot anyone. They pass a pretty girl on a
         bicycle. She smiles at Norman.
          There you go, boy. She'll let you fuck
          her for a chocolate bar.
          That's not true.
          That's not true? Okay. It's not true.
          It's true. You can liberate her ass for a
          D-ration bar. Or some smokes. Don't give
          her a whole pack. Four will do it.
          Ignore them. Don't disappoint Christ.
          Don't let them lead you astray.
          We can kill 'em but we can't fuck 'em.
          Right? Cuz it's in the bible.
          I'm done trying to convert you heathens.
          Mind if I continue invading Germany?
          You think Jesus loves Hitler?
          I would assume so. And if Hitler accepted
          Jesus in his heart and got baptized, he'd
          be saved. Won't save him from man's
          What about your regular issue Nazi line
          trooper? He going to heaven?
          You've been asking these same dumb
          questions for three years. You know where
          I stand.
          Please save me. Sing me a hymn. Sing me
          "The Old Rugged Cross." Sing it boy.
         Coon-Ass tickles Bible. For all their back and forth, they're
         closer than brothers.
          Stop, fool. I'll shoot you.
          Knock off the horseplay.
          (a beat, then)
          Boyd, you think Hitler would fuck one of
          us for a chocolate bar?
          I hope so. I'd give it to him good. Slide
          this cannon right up his backside and
          punch out a Supercharge. Send the
          sonofabitch straight to Hell.
          That's awful Christian of you.
         EXT. PAVED ROAD - DAY
         The 5 tanks steadily approach their objective. Telegraph
         poles line the road. From those poles hang four YOUNG BOYS,
         about 10 or 11 - Big signs around their necks...
         The men in the Fury stare at the dead children. Wardaddy is
         face to face with them. He's up so high.
          What do the signs say?
         Wardaddy paraphrases the German scrawls on the signs.
          "I'm a coward and refused to fight for
          the German people."
          Kids. They're just kids.
         Then the body of a HOUSEWIFE.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          "I helped traitors to Germany."
         Norman gasps, looking at the bodies. Stunned by the senseless
          They did that shit in France and Belgium.
          Now they're doing it to their own people.
          Let 'em rip themselves to pieces.
         The tank column continues.
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Norman watches the world go by through his periscope block.
         Seeing Germany through the small glass prism...
         Norman's PERISCOPE POV - MOVEMENT in the ditch alongside Lt.
         Parker's tank - An 11 Y.O. HITLER YOUTH aims a Penzerfaust
         anti-tank rocket at the Lieutenant's tank - He's a scared
         child, fear on his face, trembling.
         Norman can't believe that he's seeing - He hesitates.
         EXT. PAVED ROAD - DAY
         FWOOSH! - The Hitler Youth fires the rocket. It slams square
         into the side of Lt. Parker's tank...
         KABOOM! - A perfect hit on the ammunition storage. The result
         is instant and catastrophic as a jet of molten steel ignites
         the cannon ammunition...
         A column of intense flame erupts from the commander's hatch
         like a giant blow torch. Lt. Parker is immolated like a
         human candle.
         WARDADDY aims his assault rifle at the Hitler Youth...
         BRDDDDT! - Drops him with a burst. Tow more HITLER YOUTH
         decide they are done playing soldier and take off running...
         BRDDDT!-BRDDDDT! - Wardaddy smokes the little fuckers too...
         The four other tanks spread out into a cover formation...
         The burning tank rolls to a stop. The Driver's hatch opens.
         The DRIVER crawls out - Flops on the ground. Burning alive,
         he pulls his pistol from his shoulder holster...
         BAM! - And shoots himself in the head.
         Wardaddy and the other three tank commanders scanning for
         more Germans. All clear. Into radio...
          Keep an eye out.
         Wardaddy climbs out of his hatch. Coon-Ass covers him with a
         big. 50 Cal machine gun.
         Wardaddy approaches the burning tank. AMMUNITION begins to
         EXPLODE. It is a total loss. No survivors.
         Wait - The BOW BUNNER'S hatch opens. Belching fire and smoke.
         The A-DRIVE flails in the open hatch. Roasting alive.
         Trapped. Hopeless.
         BRDDDDT! - Wardaddy finishes him off. Then, he crosses to the
         Hitler Youth in the ditch - He's still alive. Wardaddy kicks
         him. Reloads his rifle.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You happy now you little shit? You should
          be in school drinking milk. You didn't
          have to fight us you idiot.
         Wardaddy aims his weapon - BRDDT! - Ends the boy's short
         lived war. He returns to the Fury. BANGS on Norman's hatch
         with his gun butt.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Norman, open this goddamn hatch you
         Norman opens the hatch, scared of Wardaddy. Who wouldn't be?
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Why didn't you shoot that shithead when
          you had the chance?
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          It happened so fast. He was just a kid.
         Wardaddy gestures at Lt. Parker's burning tank.
          See what a kid can do? That's your fault.
          Next fucking German with a weapon you
          see, rake the dogshit out of him. I don't
          care if it's a baby with a butter knife
          in one hand and mama's left titty in the
          other. You chop him up.
         Wardaddy walks away leaving Norman destroyed and guilt
         wracked. Gordo looks at him, SEES he's falling apart.
          Okay. Look. That stupid kid did that not
          you. I froze up before too. That's why I
          like driving. You gotta kill Krauts? It's
          them or us. Can you do it?
          ...I can do it...
          Okay. Then do it. This makes it easier.
         He offers Norman a bottle of wine. Norman declines. Wardaddy
         shouts to Sgt. Davis' tank.
          Alright, Roy. Guess I'm it. I'll lead the
          column. Let's get where we're going.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Lead the way.
         Wardaddy climbs into the Fury's turret. Double checks his
         map. Into his mic:
          Move out, Driver.
         Gordo puts the tank in gear and leads the column forward.
         INFANTRYMEN dig foxholes. Eat chow. Clean weapons. Play
         cards. There are several HALF-TRACKS and TRUCKS. Tow huge
         columns of thick black smoke rise from just over the next
         hill. The four tanks approach. An American INFANTRY SERGEANT
         flags them down...
          Gordo, stop 'er here.
          (to the Sergeant)
          Baker Company?
                         INFANTRY SERGEANT
          I'm not a sir.
                         INFANTRY SERGEANT
          Where's your boss?
                         INFANTRY SERGEANT
          Who's in charge 'a this column?
          I am.
                         INFANTRY SERGEANT
          I'm talking to the right man. Park it.
          Old Man's waiting over there.
         The Infantry Sergeant leads Wardaddy to a COMMAND HALFTRACK
         full of radios. A couple RADIOMEN monitor the CHATTER.
         IN B.G.: A MORTAR CREW fires rounds at distinct German
                         INFANTRY SERGEANT
          Sir, tankers are here.
         CAPTAIN WAGGONER turns toward Wardaddy. This is an officer he
         can respect. Rugged, solid. Big calloused hands. A confident
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          How many tanks you got?
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          I asked for ten. Here's the deal - I got
          a platoon pinned in a sugar beet field by
          machine guns. I sent my tracks in an they
          got knocked out. The Boche has a 75 dug
          in and I need you to destroy it. They're
          CAPTAIN WAGGONER (cont'd)
          not old men and kids. It's a regular
          Wehrmacht outfit. Help me kill them. Then
          we'll push into town and kill the rest of
          the bastards. Main unit has Time on
          Target and aviation priority. So we're on
          our own. I know who you are and I know
          you know what you're doing. Let's get it
         Wardaddy likes this guy. He taps the Captain's map.
          Seeing as they're covering this road.
          Mind if come in this way? Hit their
          flanks and roll 'em up.
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          Do what you see fit. Just paste them
          hard. They murdered some good boys today.
          Why don't they just quit?
          Would you?
         Point taken. Wardaddy walks away.
         Minutes later. MEDICS tend to four wounded GIs. Two dead GIs
         are laid across the hood of a Jeep. Nearby a couple GUNNERS
         in HALF-TRACKS fire bursts from their .50 cals into the
         distant German positions.
         Wardaddy's four tanks are in a row. The tank crews prepare
         them for combat. Weapons and ammo are double checked. Track
         links are tightened. Norman helps Gordo top off the gas tanks
         with the help of a BLACK TRUCK DRIVER.
          This is it. We're gonna see some action.
          I'm scared shitless.
          You'll be so fucking busy you won't have
          time to be scared.
                         TRUCK DRIVER
          A hero's just as scared as a coward. One
          quits. One don't.
          Don't give him no hero bullshit. It's a
          job. Everybody does their job, you win
          the game. Like a football team.
                         TRUCK DRIVER
          And the fellow that charges into danger
          to save his buddies? What is he?
          A moron.
          How's it feel to kill a man? Is it hard?
                         TRUCK DRIVER
          Ever killed a hog? Butchered a hog? It's
          just like that. Screaming and all.
          How would you know? Get in a knife fight
          in the whorehouse shitter back home?
                         TRUCK DRIVER
          They put me on the line in the Bulge.
          They don't want us killing the white man.
          Until it's their necks. I killed me a
          whole bunch. Krauts got real hot when
          they saw who was doing it. It was just
          like killing hogs.
          I'm from the city. I've only seen a cat
          get hit by an ice wagon.
          I'm from the city too. Chicago. And I
          seen lots of animals die. Papa worked in
          a slaughterhouse cutting up steers with
          an electric saw. Came up from Mexico to
          work there. Papa would cut off a piece of
          meat, swipe some kidneys or a tongue and
          sneak 'em home. We ate beef every day. I
          started me there when I was fourteen. On
          the kill line. Hitting beef cows, old
          dairy cows, sometimes horses, between the
          eyes with a twelve pound sledgehammer.
          Right here.
          (taps his forehead)
          I'd be head to toe in blood, brains, and
          snot. Whackin' beefs all day until I
          couldn't move my arms.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          I helped in my dad's stationary store. At
          the register. We sold sundries. Nothing
          that bled or screamed.
          Too bad. It's something. The kill line
          teaches you something.
          That it's better to be the man with the
          That's right.
         INT. FURY - DAY
         Croon-Ass and Wardaddy are alone in the turret. Coon-Ass is
         crying. His nerves are getting the best of him.
          Don, I can't do it. I can't take any
          more. I don't want to die. I feel like
          I'm going to slide right out of my skin
          every time a goddamn shell goes off. I
          can't do this. I don't got the nerve.
          You can do it. You get worked up. Before
          an action. That's all.
          This ain't that. This is something
          No it's your regular bullshit. You get
          the jitters. You bitch some and then
          you're fine. Grady, it's your way.
          Lookit the odds. We got four years of
          close calls. All the original boys are
          gone. Dead or mangled. We're it. Me, you
          and the Mexican. Out of how many? Some
          guys have been replaced four or five
          times. Replacement shows up one day. He's
          dead the next. Why not us?
          Shut up. Shut your mouth. Don't you spook
          that kid any more than he's already
          spooked. We need him.
          Remember that boy from Texas who was
          running and got hit by a shell? Listen to
          me. Don. Listen to me.
          I remember.
          And his tank got hit by a Tiger and he
          bailed out and was running and a cannon
          shell hit him square in the back and he
          disappeared but his head flew straight up
          and landed in a tree. You remember that?
          I said I remember.
          Every night I dream his head's in a tree
          singing to me. Soft and sweet like my
          mama's songs when I was a baby. If I
          close my eyes right now, I'll see him.
          Red's got us all a little sad right now.
          Grady. Look at my eyes, I'm talking. We
          gotta help this outfit. Then, you can get
          shit-yer-pants drunk and fuck some girls
          or something. How's that sound?
          You gonna drink with me?
          You know I won't do that. I'm the
          foulest meanest damn drunk you can
          imagine. I'd stab you in the face and
          lick the blade clean.
          Fine. I'll drink that nice Cognac we
          found and roll around with some Nazi
          split-tails. I'm an ass man you know.
          Wish I had a stick of butter.
         Wardaddy smiles. Coon-Ass is ready to fight.
         Wardaddy does a final walk around his four tanks. He sees
         both man and machine are ready for battle. He turns to the
         two waiting INFANTRY SQUADS - About 20 men.
          Let's kill us some Germans. Mount up.
         The tired dogfaces climb aboard the tanks. Wardaddy climbs
         aboard the Fury. Plugs in his helmet.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Start 'em up and move out.
         The tanks start their engines and pull out. Each tank has at
         least five soldiers riding on top.
         The four tanks move in a column. Shielded from the enemy by a
         small low hill. Fury leads the way - An OLD SERGEANT standing
         behind the turret mans the .50 Cal.
          You know what's waiting for us?
                         OLD SERGEANT
          Yeah, I know.
         Wardaddy smiles at the old leathery bastard.
                         (INTO RADIO)
          All tanks this is Wardaddy. Form a
          shallow right echelon on me. When we hit
          the flat ground spread out to a hundred
          yard interval. On my signal we'll drop
          the doughs and roll up that 75. Everyone
          SGT. DAVIS
          Love One-Three copies. Wilco.
          SGT. PETERSON
          One-Four. Roger all.
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          This is Five. We got you Daddy.
         The column accelerates.
         EXT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Wardaddy grinds his teeth in anticipation. The column is now
         coming around the low hill...
          All tanks halt!
         The tanks stop. To the Old Sergeant...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Get 'em off.
                         OLD SERGEANT
          You heard the man! Everyone off!
         Soldiers spill off the tanks and take a knee. Close to the
         front line they stay low and wary. Some of the older salts
         immediately start digging foxholes.
          All tanks! Move out! Button up!
         The column begins to roll again. Hatches are closed. Only the
         TANK COMMANDERS expose their heads.
         The tanks churn up dirt as they enter the field. Spread out
         in the field is a PLATOON OF AMERICAN INFANTRY, laying in
         shallow trenches they scraped into the dirt between the
         furrows. They are pinned down by German machine guns.
         Several are wounded or dead.
          Okay! Fast left! Fast left! Let's go!
          Start squirting them trees and bushes.
         The tanks fire their MACHINE GUNS - Streams of TRACERS from
         the four tanks probe at any possible hiding place for German
         men and armor. This is called recon by fire...
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Norman stares through his periscope. Trying to make sense of
         the world outside the small glass rectangle.
          Do I shoot?
          Yes. Start shooting.
          What do I shoot at?
          Anywhere Nazis might hide.
         Norman pulls the trigger. The machine gun jackhammers
         violently. Adding to the deafening noise of the developing
         battle. Once over the initial shock of firing the weapon, he
         smiles, empowered, and hoses every tree and bush in sight.
                         GORDO (CONT'D)
          Don't sit on the trigger! You'll burn out
          the barrel!
         ON BIBLE - His face pressed against his gunsight. He fires
         bursts from the coaxial machine gun using the foot switch.
         BIBLE'S GUNSIGHT POV - His tracers rake the distant ditches
         and bushes.
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          One-Five for Wardaddy. I see a bunch'
          Krauts a hundred yards to my right.
          That's our troops. Do not shoot them.
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          Yeah. Okay I copy.
         EXT. BEET FIELD - DAY
         The Fury and the other three tanks drive abreast through the
         field toward a row of hedges and trees...
         There are two BURNING HALF-TRACKS - The source of the black
         smoke we saw earlier - Jagged holes in their armored sides.
         Surrounded by charred men and smoking equipment.
         BRDDDDDDT! A GERMAN MACHINE GUN whips a long burst into the
         Fury. It sounds like an evil chainsaw. Sandbags, cases of
         ammo and Jerrycans of water are torn to shreds.
          Goddammit! Bible hit that machine gun
          position! Eight hundred! Fire!
         KABOOM! The Main gun fires. The cannon round crashes into the
         well camouflaged machine gun position.
         BOOM! The high explosive round detonates.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Coon-Ass jams a fresh round into the breech- KERCHACK! In his
         lap and loose at his feet are more big rounds.
         Bible fires the instant he hears that. KABOOM! The cannon
         slams back in recoil, ejecting the spent shell. Coon-Ass rams
         another shell into the breech, punching it in with fist -
         KERCHACK! - The breech block slams shut...
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
         KABOOM! - The gun fires. Recoils and ejects. Coon-Ass
         reloads. This veteran crew works like a Swiss watch.
         EXT. BEET FIELD
         BOOM! The last round nails the gun - Cartwheeling a GERMAN
         SOLDIER through the air like a ragdoll.
          Okay! Cease fire. That target's
         Wardaddy sees a tank has turned the wrong way.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Wardaddy for One-Five. Where are you
          going? Head North.
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          I'm heading North.
          Dammit, Binkowski. No you are not. Turn
          right! Turn right! Head for that stand of
          trees and check it out.
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          One-Five copies. Wilco.
         Wardaddy SEES another of his tanks about to run over American
          Love One-Three! Fox Romeo! Pull your
          right brake! You got troops right in
          front of you! Get your head out of your
         Love 1-3 swerves at the last second, just avoiding crushing
         several men. Wardaddy is already looking for the next problem
         to solve. It's like herding cats.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         The tank is now a loud, smoky reverberating metal chamber of
         engine noise and gunfire. Norman is getting the hang of it.
         Firing the weapon into haystacks. Trees. Anywhere a German
         may be hiding. Empty shells cover the floor at his feet...
         CLACK! - He runs out of ammunition. He grabs another box of
         ammo. Reloads the hot gun.
         CRACK!-WHOOSH! - A hidden German cannon fires a high velocity
         round that rips right past Wardaddy's head. It's a tank
         killer and a grave danger...
          Fuck! Where's that gun! Who sees it? Who
          sees the gun shooting us?
          SGT. PETERSON
          One-Four for Wardaddy. It's ours. I think
          that's a howitzer from the company area.
          Bullshit! It's not ours. It's a Kraut
          high velocity gun. I can hear it
          whistling. Where the fuck is it?!
         CRACK-WHOOSH-KTANG! the hidden German cannon fires again,
         hitting Love One-Four. Fortunately, the round glances off and
         careens into the sky.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Believe me now?!
          SGT. PETERSON
          Anti-tank! Right front! Right front! Nine
         Love 1-4 fires its main gun at the hidden German cannon...
         KABOOM! VREEE! The tank round falls short, hits the ground
         and ricochets sharply. All four tanks begin to fire at the
         cannon's position.
         KABOOM-KABOOM-KABOOM! Round after round detonates in quick
         succession. Stripping the stand of trees bare. Splintering
         their trunks.
         KAWOOP! Success! The cannon position detonates with a greasy
         black explosion - THEN...
         CRACK-WHOOSH! A second 75mm Anti-tank gun opens fire!
         KTANG! Love 1-4 is hit again. The German cannon round makes a
         massive burst of sparks and ricochets away.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          SGT. PETERSON (cont'd)
          I'm hit. Pulling back!
          There's another gun! Who sees it?
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Norman fires his machine gun at a more distant group of
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - His stream of tracers cuts into a
         group of trees and suddenly deflects upward - From the
         camouflaged German ARMOR PLATE hidden there...
          There's something there! At, uh, ten
         INT. BERT FIELD
         Wardaddy SEES the stream of deflected tracer fire.
          Got him! Anti-tank! Left front! One two
          hundred. HE. Superquick. Gordo, head
          right at him. Gunner! Traverse left!
          Steady...On it! Fire!
         KABOOM! The Fury's main gun fires - BOOM! - The shell crashes
         into the cannon position, igniting its stock of ammo.
         KABOOM! A massive secondary explosion obliterates the 75mm
         tank gun.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Target destroyed! Okay, One-Four you're
          too damn close to me. Maintain your
          interval. All tanks, move forward. Let's
          go. Let's clean it up.
         The four tanks straighten up their line and drive for the
         German positions. They near twenty foxholes, each with two
         GERMAN SOLDIERS inside.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Norman loading a fresh belt of ammo...
         GORDO'S PERISCOPE POV - A GERMAN SOLDIER stands up and aims a
         Panzerfaust at the Fury.
          Get him! Kill him!
         Norman finishes loading the belt. COCKS the gun. Looks
         through his periscope.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - BRDDDDT! Bible shreds the German
         Soldier with the coaxial machine gun.
         Beating Norman to the punch. Gordo glares at Norman.
                         GORDO (CONT'D)
          Do your job. Do what you're here for. Do
          it now.
          I was loading the gun.
         Norman grits his teeth and begins firing. Moving the gun from
         side to side. Utterly lacking in finesse.
         The four tanks hose down the foxholes with their machine
         guns. Several Germans jump up and wave white handkerchiefs in
         surrender. They are shot down.
         Wardaddy SEES a machine gun position - Three GERMANS cower
         behind their dug-in heavy machine gun.
          Machine guns, twelve O'clock. Gordo! Run
          them bastards over!
         Gordo guns the engine. The Fury lurches forward. The three
         Germans try to flee from their foxhole.
         It is too late - Two of them are crushed. The third man
         cringes at the bottom of the deep hole. Gordo stops over him.
         Works the steering levers back and forth...
         The tank turns from side to side, grinding apart the German
         position, burying the last man alive. The four tanks continue
         firing their machine guns into the foxholes. Chewing apart
         the huddled GERMAN SOLDIERS.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Gordo turns to Norman.
          Squirt them Krauts there. On yer left.
          See 'em?
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - There is cluster of dead German
         Soldiers, cut down when they tried to run for it.
          The dead bodies? They're already dead.
          You a doctor? How you know they're dead?
          Hit 'em. So they can't jump up and shoot
          us in the ass.
         Norman looking at Gordo. He just can't do it. Gordo shakes
         his head in frustration. And turns the tank toward the bodies
         and runs them over.
         Norman begins to cry. Not simply a tear down the cheek but a
         roar of anguish, good honest pain...
          I can't be here. I can't be here.
          Turn your goddamn intercom off if you're
          gonna ball like that!
         The Fury turns side to side grinding dead Germans into the
         mud. Wardaddy gets on the big .50 Cal machine gun...
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT! He fires into the foxholes, chewing up
         dirt, men, and equipment.
         Soon the German dead have all be adequately "double tapped"
         by the four tanks. An everyday procedure. The firing
         slackens. And stops. Just the occasional burst from a tank's
          All tanks. Let's hold here. One-Four. You
          better take care of that fire.
         The packs on Love 1-4 are still burning. Wardaddy looks
         behind them and SEES the pinned Platoon from Baker Company
         rise to their feet. These are the men the tanks have just
         rescued. There is no celebration. No back slapping.
         The Infantry Soldiers know that only more hard fighting
         awaits them. The men they dropped off have moved up. The two
         platoons of soldiers inspect the Kraut foxholes...
         A couple CREWMEN in Love 1-4 douse their burning packs with
         fire extinguishers. Then cut them off.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Wardaddy for Love-Four and Five. Pull up
          there fifty yards and cover that road.
          SGT. PETERSON (V.O.)
          Love one-four wilco.
          Love One-Six for Baker Six. We cleared
          out the machine guns and the anti-tank.
          You're fine to roll up your vehicles.
          Baker Six copies. We're gonna catch up
          and then we'll push into town.
          Love One-Six copies.
         Wardaddy slides out of the turret. Encounters the Old
         Sergeant waving his men forward...
                         OLD SERGEANT
          First Platoon get up here and get this
          trash policed up! Second Platoon pass
          through and dig in along that ditch. I
          want an outpost on that hill.
         The Old Sergeant gives Wardaddy a grateful nod.
         The 1st Platoon Soldiers search the dead. Taking watches and
         rings. Anything of value. 2nd Platoon (the soldiers that
         Wardaddy just rescued) stand and move forward to establish a
         new defensive line. Some don't get up. The MEDICS search for
         injured among the dead.
         POW! A Soldier finishes off a wounded German - The German's
         body is missing from the waist down. Wardaddy bangs on
         Norman's hatch. Norman opens it with trepidation.
          I had the best Assistant Driver in the
          entire Ninth Army in that seat. Now I got
          you. I promised my crew a long time ago
          I'd keep them alive. You're getting in
          the way of that. It ain't like the
          newsreels up front.
          I'm sorry. Okay? I'm trained to type 60
          words a minute, not machine gun dead
          bodies. I'm trying my best. Maybe you've
          never been scared, but I'm so damn scared
          I can't breathe. I got three hours in a
          tank. Three. How many do you got?
         Backtalk?! From this peachfuzzy teenager? Wardaddy is
                        CONTINUED: (2)
                         REDNECK SOLDIER
          Hey lookit here we got a live one. Get
          the fuck outta there boy.
         A feral, dirt-shiny REDNECK SOLDIER drags a middle-aged
         GERMAN CORPORAL out of a foxhole. The man is terrified.
         Trembling. He's the last German alive - now surrounded by
         dozens of pissed off American troops. Dark unshaven faces.
         Eyes burning with fever and exhaustion.
         The Old Sergeant makes a throat cutting motion. The Platoon
         Soldier is about to shoot the German Corporal...
          Hang on.
         Wardaddy yanks Norman out of his hatch. Holds him by the
         neck, he frogmarches him over to the German Corporal. Who has
         pictures of his wife and kids in his hand.
                         GERMAN CORPORAL
          Meine kinder! Meine frau!
          Halt die Fresse!
         Wardaddy slaps the pictures from the man's hands. He pulls
         the .45 from his shoulder holster and hands it to Norman.
         Wardaddy spins the prisoner and kicks him to the dirt. Norman
         looking at the big pistol.
         Bible watching this unfold from the Fury's turret. Gordo
         watches from the driver's hatch. Coon-Ass stops tossing out
         fired cannon shells to watch too.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You're no goddamned good to me if you
          can't kill Krauts. Put a big fat hole in
          his back.
         Some of the Platoon soldiers pause and watch the show. Others
         drift away and continue searching dead Germans. There is
         simply no way Norman can shoot this sobbing father in the
         back. He looks at Wardaddy with defiance.
          No. I'm not doing it.
          Why the hell not?
          It's not right.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
         He hands the pistol back. Wardaddy looks like he's going to
         hit Norman with it. Instead he holsters it. And walks away.
         Then Wardaddy pauses. Thinks to himself: "Fuck this, I'll win
         this round." He strides back over to Norman. Grabs him by the
         throat and shoves him to his knees. He holds his .45 To
         Norman's head.
          We ain't here for right and wrong. We're
          here to kill these people.
         Platoon Soldiers gather to watch - this is getting
         interesting. Wardaddy cocks the hammer.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You or him. Your pick. You or him.
          Do it. Kill me.
         Norman has called his bluff. Enraged, Wardaddy forces the
         gun into Norman's - then wrestles the pistol against the back
         of the German Corporal's neck, who is falling apart sobbing.
                         GERMAN CORPORAL
          Nicht shiesen! Bitte! Nich shiessen!
         Wardaddy crams Norman's finger onto the trigger guard and
         mashes it against the trigger.
         BAM! The pistol fires. Into the German's brain stem. Killing
         him instantly. Norman sags in defeated horror. Wardaddy
         holsters his pistol and walks away. Leaving Norman on his
         knees in the mud.
         A HUGE DIRTY SOLDIER steps in and rolls the dead German
         Corporal over - He takes his watch and wedding ring. Bible
         walks over to Norman. He helps the kid up.
         Leads back to the Fury. Where Coon-Ass hands Norman a hot cup
         of coffee. Norman accepts it gratefully. Wardaddy is by
         himself smoking a cigarette, maybe feeling a little guilty.
          That was a shit show. Was that supposed
          to make a man out of me? My conscience is
          clean. I'm keeping it that way.
         The Fury crews trade looks. They've all been there. Gordo
         puts a brotherly arm around Norman.
                        CONTINUED: (4)
          Don's crazy as a shithouse rat. But he's
          solid. We've been together since before
          Africa. I won't fight with nobody else.
          He's the biggest asshole I ever met, and
          I've met a couple.
          Ain't no crew stayed together like we
          have. And it's because of him. Look, you
          did alright. You spotted that 75 when no
          one else did.
         A kind word. Norman needed it. The crew is starting to accept
          First time we got shot at in North
          Africa, Don shit his drawers. Stunk the
          tank up real good.
         Norman looks at Wardaddy. Unable to imagine him ever afraid.
         Wardaddy's four tanks lead the men and vehicles of Baker
         Company to their next objective. Infantry Soldiers ride on
         the tanks, ten or more on each. They are followed by several
         Norman's hatch is open. He looks across at Gordo - who gives
         him a reassuring nod.
         UP IN THE SKY - Flying at 30,000 feet is a massive formation
         of nearly a 1000 B-17 bombers! A white band of contrails
         covers the sky. The formation is several miles long. An
         astounding vision. Around the bomber formation are the
         corkscrewing contrails of fighters engaged in dogfights.
         Norman watching this entranced. The other tankers and
         soldiers are enthralled by the spectacle. Wardaddy watches
         the bombers with admiration...
          There you go, boys. Keep pounding them.
         There is a bright flash and a bomber falls out of the sky.
         The tankers and soldiers watch the distant bomber spin slowly
         towards the ground like a giant falling maple seed.
         The column of men and machines continues up the road. They
         pass two mangled German Army Horse-drawn Wagons. Shattered by
         fighter plane rockets, a twisted tangle of dead German
         soldiers and horses. An OLD WOMAN is hacking off hunks of
         horseflesh. She glares at the Americans with pure hate.
          There you go, kid. She's sure as shit
          fuck you for a chocolate bar.
         Norman looking at Gordo. Scandalized by that. Then, he cracks
         a smile at the sheer absurdity - Norman is starting to become
         a frontline soldier.
         The column has halted. The four tanks are spread out abreast.
         The Infantry Soldiers have dismounted from the tanks and take
         shelter behind them.
         Wardaddy scans the town with German binoculars. His jaw
         muscles ripple as he grinds his teeth.
         WHAT HE SEES - A typical small North German village. Houses
         and shops clustered around a couple intersections. He gets on
         the company net...
          Baker Six from Love One-Six. I don't see
          white sheets. And nobody's out. I think
          we're looking at a fight. Over.
          Baker Six copies. Higher wants this place
          secured by fifteen hundred German
          O'clock. Go ahead and get in there.
          Mortar section's standing by. They're all
          we got so don't get in trouble.
          Baker Six from Love One-Six. Wilco.
          Commencing assault from LOD now. Over.
         Wardaddy grabs the mic for the platoon net.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          All tanks. Listen up, we're going in.
          Move out. And let's button up until we
          know what's in there. Love One-Three,
          take the right, outside that line of
          buildings. One Four, you take the left,
          I'll take point on the wedge. Binkowski,
          you're on me. Stay twenty yards off my
         The four tanks move forward toward the town. Love 1-3 and
         Love 1-4 leave the road and split off around either side of
         the village. The tanks move slow- - so the Platoon Soldiers
         on foot can keep up.
         The Fury enters the sleepy rural village. Nobody is in sight.
         Except for a bent OLD MAN in a doorway.
          Grandpa. Where are the German soldiers?
         The Old Man points at a HOTEL down the road.
         POW! A single rifle shot hits the Old Man, dropping him
         instantly. Wardaddy grabs the handles of his .50 Cal and lets
         it rip on the Hotel building.
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT! Thumbsized armor piercing bullets
         smash into the Hotel. Blasting off chunks of masonry.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Bible, follow my burst. Throw a round of
          HE into that open second story window.
          On the way -
         KABOOM! The cannon fires, the round impacts the building.
         BOOM! The round EXPLODES dropping most of the second story
         facade - exposing 6 GERMAN SOLDIERS, stunned by the blast.
         POW-POW-POW-POW-POW! The Platoon Soldiers crouched behind the
         Fury eagerly light them up with their rifles.
         INT. FURY - MOVING
         Norman's face is pressed against his periscope.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - A GERMAN SOLDIER runs right in front
         of the tank. Without thinking Norman opens fire.
         BRDDDDDDDT! Dropping the German to the street. His rifle
         CLATTERS across the cobblestones.
         Norman realizes that he did. He leans back and takes a deep
         breath. Gordo pats his shoulder.
          That's all it is. Keep going.
          Good one, kid. Keep stacking 'em up.
         Norman wipes the sweat from his brow. Settles in behind the
         periscope. Hunting for more targets.
         Platoon Soldiers take cover in doorways. Staying close to
         walls. They kick in doors and methodically clear each
         building. The Fury and Love 1-5 slowly advance. Wardaddy is
         two stories high in his turret...
         ON HIS LEFT - A GERMAN SOLDIER in a second story window aims
         a submachine gun at him...
         Wardaddy - Almost face to face with the German - Grabs his
         assault rifle and aims.
         BRDDT - Killing the soldier.
         Wardaddy scans the upper stories around him for more threats.
         BRDDDDT! A German heavy machine gun opens up. It is cleverly
         dug into a cellar in the base of a building. Its chainsaw
         roar echoes off the buildings. Its deadly tracers rake the
         Two Platoon Soldiers are hit and drop - The Machine gun is
         too close to the Fury for the tank to get a good shot.
          Binkowski, see that Kraut stinger in the
          cellar there? Mind giving him what for?
          SGT. BINKOWSKI
          Sure, Daddy. I'll slap him around. You
          better button up.
         Wardaddy gets inside the turret. Closes his hatch.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Wardaddy watches through his periscope...
         KAPOW! 1-5 fires a High Explosive shell right next to Fury...
         BOOM! The shell blasts a hole in the building's exterior
         wall. Silencing the machine gun. Falling brickwork lands on
         the Fury...
         Wardaddy opens his hatch, bricks cover the tank. A German
         Soldier staggers out of the exposed building. Bleeding from
         the ears and disoriented...
         Wardaddy pulls his .45 and takes careful aim - POP! Drops him
         with one shot - Then out of nowhere:
         BOOM-KTANG! A German anti-tank shell glances off the turret
         with a SHOWER OF SPARKS and smashes into the building.
         Wardaddy is stunned by the close call. Wiping his eyes,
         choking on brick dust...
         NEW ANGLE - A Small German antitank gun is hidden inside a
         tailor shop. The crew frantically reloading.
          Antitank! Left! Fox Love! Phosphorous!
          Five zero! Fire when ready!
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         We see the amazing skill of an experienced tank crew. Coon-
         Ass unloads the High Explosive shell in the breech and shoves
         in a SMOKE ROUND - Bible traverses the turret on the target.
         Gordo works the steering levers bringing the thick armor of
         the tank's front to face the enemy gun...
         Norman joins in - Firing a long burst into the Tailor ship.
         His tracer rounds bouncing off the guns armor shield...
         The Fury and her turret spin quickly - Lining up on the
         tailor shop.
         KABOOM-POW! - The white phosphorous shell detonates inside.
         Explodes with a white burst of noxious smoke - Spraying
         burning phosphorous particles everywhere...
         The four man GUN CREW flees into the street. Trailing white
         smoke - Phosphorous burning deep into their flesh.
         BRDDDDDDDDDT! Norman mows them all down. All four men.
         Ending their misery.
         CLOSE ON NORMAN'S PERISCOPE - We can see his eyes through the
         glass prism.
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Norman gawks through the periscope at their smoking corpses.
         It sinks in what he's done. He doesn't like it.
          Gunner, put an HE in there. Smash that
         KABOOM-BOOM! The Fury fires a High Explosive shell into the
         Tailor Shop. Not taking any chances. The Fury continues
         forward. Its steel tracks CLANKING on the cobblestones of the
         tiny farming village. Love 1-5 follows close behind FIRING
         BURSTS OF TRACERS into upper story windows.
         The Platoon Soldiers filter through the buildings behind
         them. Checking for enemy soldiers. Small teams of soldiers
         leapfrogging up the street. All business. Unhurried and
         The Fury and Love 1-5 enter the square and spread out. Each
         covering their respective sides. A door opens...
         Wardaddy swings his .50 Cal on an older man waving a white
         pillowcase - He's the town BURGERMEISTER. White sheets
         suddenly appear from several windows. The Burgermeister
         cautiously approaches the Fury.
                         (IN GERMAN)
          Please. Stop shooting. The remaining
          soldiers wish to surrender. I am trying
          to save my village. The people have
          suffered so much.
                         (IN GERMAN)
          Thank your buddy Hitler for that. Where
          are the German soldiers? How many are
          there and what weapons do they have?
                         (IN GERMAN)
          They are in the bank. There are thirty.
          They are not soldiers. They are children.
          The SS made them fight.
         He points at a DEAD TEENAGER hanging from a lamppost with
         another of those damn signs "I am a coward"
                         (IN GERMAN)
          You tell them to come out with their
          hands held high and empty.
                         (INTO RADIO)
          All tanks, hold your fire until I say so.
          I got the mayor here and I think they're
          surrendering. Binkowski load an HE and
          get ready to put it in that bank if these
          people want to test us.
         Wardaddy nods for the Burgermeister to go ahead. He crosses
         to the bank, under dozens of watchful American weapons.
         Wardaddy scanning the area for threats. It's tense.
         The Burgermeister SHOUTS for the soldiers to come out.
         AT THE BANK - The front doors open. A line of dejected kids
         emerges in eclectic uniforms. BOYS and GIRLS. Their hands
         held high, faces scared.
         The Platoon Soldiers surge forward and search them. Among
         them is an SS OFFICER, his arm in a sling. Wardaddy points
         him out to the Burgermeister.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
                         (IN GERMAN)
          Is he the man who has been hanging the
         The Burgermeister looks nervous - The SS Officer is glaring
         right at him. Nevertheless, the Burgermeister nods: Yes.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Hey! Shoot that guy! Yeah, him. The SS
          cocksucker with the busted wing.
         Without hesitation, a young SKINNY SOLDIER pulls the SS
         Officer from the line, aims his Tommy gun at him and...
         BRDDDDDT! Stitches the hardened Nazi from crotch to throat.
         The Burgermeister gives Wardaddy a grateful nod.
         LATER - The Company vehicles have joined the tanks. With the
         day's work over for them, Baker Company's SOLDIERS swarm over
         the town, searching houses, collecting weapons.
         SOLDIERS stack the dead Germans. MEDICS treat the wounded. A
         SOLIDER drags a mattress down the street. Another sits in a
         big stuffed chair on the sidewalk smoking a cigar.
                         OLD SERGEANT
          Dig in! We're gonna be here a while!
         Bible scoops helmet-fulls of empty machine gun brass out of
         the turret. Gordo sleeps under the tank. Coon-Ass boils water
         in his helmet over a fire of made of broken chair legs.
         Norman stands outside the Fury trying to comprehend what he
         has seen. Wardaddy approaches him. Offers his hand. Norman
         shakes. Wary of this volatile veteran.
          It wasn't nothing right?
          Come again, Sergeant?
          Rubbing out them Heinies. You splashed
          'em real good. Wasn't nothing right?
         Norman looks at Wardaddy - realizes he NEEDS Norman to agree
         with him - To agree it's nothing to kill people. As if
         Norman can give Wardaddy absolution for all the men he's
         killed. Norman lies and tells him what he wants to hear.
          Sure, Sergeant. It wasn't nothing. In
          face, I kinda liked it.
         Norman is a bad liar. Wardaddy thinks for a moment. Then:
          I want you to see something.
         Wardaddy leads Norman down the street - to the front door of
         the local NAZI PARTY HEADQUARTERS.
         Wardaddy pushes the door open. He and Norman gaze upon a
         shocking sight...
         WHAT THEY SEE - There are several dead men and women. The men
         wear Nazi Party uniforms, middle-aged fat bureaucrats. The
         women wear party dresses. Presumably their wives. Empty booze
         bottles everywhere. Several of the men hold pistols.
          They knew we were coming. So they got
          drunk as Lords and shot themselves at sun
         A beat as Norman stares at this mad tableau...
          Why are you showing me this?
          You know why.
         Wardaddy walks away. Norman follows.
         Wardaddy and Norman head down the street. Two GIs pass them
         clutching wine bottles - both wear top hats and sunglasses.
          Keep doing what I say. You do that and
          you'll get through this thing.
         CRASH! - SOLDIERS searching a building heave a dumpster out
         the window. It bursts open on the cobblestone street.
         Wardaddy SEES a face in the window on the upper floor of a
         nearby apartment building. He quickly heads for =it.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          What'd you see?
         Wardaddy grabs Norman's greasegun - cocks it and hands it
         back. He takes the safety off his assault rifle and boots the
         front door.
         Wardaddy quickly charges up the stairs...
         Norman follows. They reach an apartment door on the top
         story. Wardaddy POUNDS it with the stock of his assault
         rifle. A WOMAN opens the door - Her name is IRMA - The fear
         on her face is plain as day.
          Who's in here?
          Just me.
         Wardaddy forces his way inside.
         It has surprisingly modern furniture and decor. Wardaddy
         quickly searches the place. Norman follows him around like a
         puppy. Wardaddy checks closets. Cupboards. Anywhere a human
         being can hide. He enters a bedroom and looks under the bed -
         SOMEONE is hiding underneath.
          Get out of there. Right now. Hurry up.
         Norman watches a gorgeous young lady slide out from under the
         bed. This is EMMA - she's 18 - Norman's age. Wardaddy helps
         her up. Norman is transfixed by her.
         Wardaddy drags Emma from the bedroom by her wrist. Wardaddy
         turns to Norman.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Close the door and lock it.
         Norman freezes - Things are going to a bad place.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Lock the fucking door!
         Norman complies. Slowly closing and locking the front door.
         Irma is just sick with fear.
          Please, leave her alone.
          You said nobody was in here. You could
          have gotten her killed.
          She's my cousin. I'm sorry. Please. I was
          afraid of --
          - I know what you were afraid of.
         Wardaddy pushes Emma onto the couch. Then sits down in a
         chair. He takes off his helmet. Leans his rifle against the
         wall. Suddenly looking very tired. He looks at Irma.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Get me some hot water. For shaving.
                         (TO NORMAN)
          Sit the fuck down. Put the gun away. You
          make me nervous.
         Norman stiffly sits on the couch with Emma. It's awkward.
         Like a bad blind date.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          What's your name young lady?
          Emma, you know how to cook?
         The girl nods: yes. Wardaddy reaches in his musette bag. Digs
         out a soap dish. He opens it and carefully unwraps four eggs -
         Precious rare eggs.
         Then he takes out a can of coffee. And a can of bacon. He
         offers the rare treasures to Emma. Her eyes light up and she
         joyfully accepts them. As a bonus Wardaddy gives her two
         packs of smokes. She happily joins Irma in the kitchen.
         Norman relaxes. Wardaddy isn't here to rape and kill them.
         Norman takes off his helmet. And takes off his jacket.
         In the kitchen - Irma savoring an American cigarette as she
         cooks bacon and eggs. She sips from her cup of fresh coffee.
         The first in years.
         Norman is asleep on the couch. Wardaddy stands before a pot
         of steaming hot water. He has peeled off his jacket, overalls
         and shirt - Hideous burn scars cover his back.
         Emma crosses to Norman and gently wakes him, offers him a
         steaming cup of coffee. Norman smiles at her. He likes her.
         She smiles back. She likes him. She sits next to him. Thigh
         to thigh.
         Norman SEES Wardaddy's burns and REACTS - Embarrassed by
         them, Wardaddy puts his shirt back on.
         Emma holds Norman's hand. Then tries to pull him off the
         couch. Norman realizes where this is going. And blushes. He
         shakes his head: no.
         Wardaddy slides a fresh blade in his safety razor.
          She's a good clean girl. You don't take
          her in that bedroom, I will.
         Emma intuits what Wardaddy has said and clings to Norman's
         Norman looks at Wardaddy. At the girl. Wardaddy doesn't
         really want her. But Norman doesn't know that. Norman makes
         his decision. He leads Emma into the bedroom. She shuts the
         door behind them.
         Wardaddy smiles. Like a proud big brother. He works up a good
         lather with his shaving brush.
         NEW ANGLE - Irma steps out of the kitchen, arms crossed, with
         a disapproving look.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          They're young. And they're alive.
         He carefully scrapes off the dirt and whiskers with the sharp
         razor. Irma stands there smoking, watching him shave. It's
         nice having a man in the house.
          You speak good German.
          I know.
         He's not interested in her. She was hoping he was. She
         returns to the kitchen.
         Coon-Ass has been waiting impatiently inside the Fury.
         Finally Gordo exits the tank turret, buttoning his trousers
         with a satisfied look.
          Batter up.
         Coon-Ass climbs into the tank. Bible looks on disapprovingly.
          I hope you get scabies.
          Burnt motor oil kills the little fuckers
          right off. I'll save a slice for you. You
          need to get your dick wet, sky pilot.
         Gordo grabs a wine bottle. Takes a swig.
          Where's Wardaddy? Daddy? Where you
          hiding? Don't leave your family on the
          street? Daddy??
         Bible nods toward the Apartment Building.
         IN THE BEDROOM - Norman has her hand in his, he's reading her
          This is the ring of Solomon. You help
          people. And understand them. It's really
          rare. See mine? I got it too.
         He shows her his hand. Then continues her reading...
                         NORMAN (CONT'D)
          This is your heart line. You're going to
          have one great love in your life. My
          grandma taught me how to do this. People
          came from all over to see her. Okay, this
          is your life line...
         Norman pauses. Looks at her. It's not good news.
         She sees the change in him. Decides to lighten the mood.
         Emma peels top off. Norman's eyes lock on her breasts. She's
         proud of them, as she should be. With the ice broken, Norman
         makes his move and kisses her. She takes his pants off. He's
         shy. She likes that.
          Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt
          I don't know what you're saying.
         Emma shushes him with a finger. She rolls him on his back and
         mounts him.
         INT. FURY- DAY
         MINUTES LATER - Coon-Ass is screwing the very plump TOWN
         WHORE. Pig fucking is a better description. Pure mindless
         carnality. How did she fit in the tank?
         Irma singing in German as she works in the kitchen. Norman
         exits the bedroom. Looking flushed and content. Wardaddy, now
         cleaned up, is a different man. Norman sits on the couch.
         Gathering his thoughts.
          You don't need to say nothing.
         They sit there in silence. Wardaddy sipping his coffee. Emma
         exits the bedroom. Glowing. She joins Irma in the kitchen who
         quietly scolds her.
         BANGING at the door. Wardaddy nods for Norman to get it. The
         women peer around the corner, frightened.
         Norman opens the door - It's Coon-Ass, Gordo, and Bible. The
         three men enter. Take off their helmets. Set down their
         weapons. Coon-Ass and Gordo are drunk.
          Boy, it's time for you to act the man. We
          got you fixed up good. A special gal's
          down there waiting for you.
          You're too late.
         Emma brings the new arrivals glasses of beer. Coon-Ass drools
         over the beautiful young woman. She returns quickly to the
          Bless your heart, boy. You took that
          pretty thing for a roll?
         Norman won't answer him. And that's answer enough.
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          We're a team, right? Eat, shit, kill,
          fuck together. Right?
          That's right. Pass the plate, Norman.
          Make a donation to the cause.
          Y'all touch her and I'm kicking your
          teeth down your throats.
         Coon-Ass smiles. Rubs Wardaddy's smooth face.
          You're so pretty, can I fuck you?
          Have at it. There's a jar of grease in
          the kitchen.
          Sissy bastard.
         Coon-Ass regards a photograph on the wall. A young man in
         Army uniform. He takes it down, dismayed.
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          Who's the goddamn Nazi?
         Coon-Ass charges into the kitchen with it - Indignantly waves
         the picture at Irma...
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          Who's the fucking Nazi, lady?
          My husband. He died in Russia.
         Wardaddy appears behind Coon-Ass and takes the photo from
         him. He gently hands it to Irma.
          I'm sorry for your loss.
         Norman is touched by this respectful side of Wardaddy. Coon-
         Ass sits down. Pulls a bottle from his jacket and takes a
         swig. Coon-Ass hands it to Norman. And stares at him with
         angry bloodshot eyes...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          You best take a bite.
         Norman hesitates, then takes a swig. Winces from the burn.
          Sure that's not gasoline?
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          Pure white lightning. Some of the Georgia
          boys cooked it up.
         Suddenly there's a WOMAN'S SCREAM followed by a GUNSHOT from
         outside. Emma and Irma trade scared looks.
         Norman gets up and looks out the window...
         WHAT NORMAN SEES - A DRUNK SOLDIER exits the bank with an arm
         load of Reichsmarks and tosses them in the air.
          Get back from that window. Before those
          drunk ass fools kill the hell out of you.
         Norman carefully backs away.
         Norman, Wardaddy, Coon-Ass, and Bible sit at the table eating
         bacon and eggs. Emma toasts thin slices of black bread. Irma
         pours the men little glasses of Schnapps. She sets a glass in
         front of Wardaddy. He pushes it away with his finger.
          No thank you.
          You like horses?
          I told you, I'm a city kid.
          Don likes horses. Right, Don?
          I'm eating. We're eating.
          In France we hit the beach right after D-
          Day and fought through all those fucking
          hedgerows. We finally broke out into open
          country. And bypassed all these Kraut
          divisions. We linked up with the
          Canadians and British and trapped an
          entire Kraut Army pulling back to
          Germany. We fucked them up. With planes
          and artillery. Dead Krauts and horses and
          busted up tanks and cars for miles.
          Miles. Your eyes see it but your head
          can't make no sense of it. We go in
                         GORDO (CONT'D)
          there. And for three whole days we shot
          wounded horses. All day long. Sun up to
          sundown. Putting down horses. Hot summer
          days. Ain't smelled nothing like it. The
          sound of it. Those fucking horses
          screaming. Black clouds of flies buzzing.
          Like being in a giant bee hive.
         Norman's eyes bug. He's lost his appetite.
          That's really a fine story. Pleasant meal
          time talk. Thank you.
          It's what happened. And what happened
          happened. And what's gonna happen is
          gonna happen. And playing house with a
          couple bitch Krauts won't change much,
          will it?
          Shut the fuck up.
          The seventh seal's broken, buddy. You
          can't put the shit back in the horse.
         Wardaddy pulls his .45 And SLAMS it on the table. Coon-Ass
         backs down. A painfully tense silence follows. Wardaddy's
         fork scrapes against his plate as he shovels eggs and bacon
         into his mouth. Finally he looks at Norman. Smiles warmly.
          Your mama a good cook?
          She's a really good cook.
          How's her fried chicken?
          She doesn't fry chicken. She roasts it
          with stuffing. Or makes chicken and
          dumplings. That's my favorite. She bakes
          too. Pies and cakes and --
         A KNOCK at the door. Norman gets up and answers. It's the
                         COMPANY MESSENGER
          Where's Love One-Six?
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          Right here.
                         COMPANY MESSENGER
          Old Man wants you.
          How come?
                         COMPANY MESSENGER
          You got a mission.
         The men look at each other. Their short respite is over.
         Wardaddy finishes his coffee. Pushes his chair back and
         stands. His men stand too.
          If you'll excuse us, please.
          (to the guys)
          Let's go.
         He crosses, grabs his helmet and weapon.
          Where are you going?
          To take the next town. And the next one.
          And the next one. Until you people quit.
          What's going to happen to us?
          I don't know.
         Irma stands stoically. Hands folded in front of her. Lips
         pursed. Norman grabs his greasegun. Slips on his helmet. It's
         hateful to leave. Just hateful. Emma runs to him and holds on
         to him for dear life. Coon-Ass grabs the boy by the scruff
         and drags him away.
          There's a lot more of them.
         To the Company Messenger, on his way out - RE: the women...
                        CONTINUED: (3)
          Make sure none of the boys give them a
          hard time.
         Inside a nice house with antiques and Persian rugs. Captain
         Waggoner goes over a map with Wardaddy.
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          Grasshopper spotted a troop concentration
          moving west. Higher wants your armor
          guarding these crossroads in Ohio Queen
          on the overlay.
          How many troops he see?
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          Enough to spook the Colonel. Road march
          to the crossroads and secure them. Don't
          for anything. Take my gas if you need it.
         Wardaddy looks at the map, makes some notes in a notebook.
          Alright, sir. I'm on my way.
         Suddenly there is a loud WHISTLING of incoming German
         Artillery - Wardaddy, the Captain, the RADIOMEN and COMPANY
         CLERKS hit the deck...
         A group of SOLDIERS plays blackjack on a blanket. Gambling
         for piles of watches and jewelry. Norman and Gordo pouring
         gas into the Fury.
         BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-KABOOM! - German artillery shells explode
         all around them. Bible drops into the turret, closes the
         hatch. Gordo slides off the tank and crawls underneath.
         Norman follows. Coon-Ass already there. A grinning fool.
          I was ticked off we were leaving. Don't
          seem so bad now. Germans can flatten this
          town for all I care.
         BOOM! A large shell strikes Irma's apartment building,
         collapsing the front. Then everything is obscured by dust and
         WHAT THEY SEE - Though brief, the shelling has transformed
         the little village. Buildings burn. Others have collapses.
         THE APARTMENT BUILDING is heavily damaged.
         A SOLDIER crawls along the street crying for his mama, his
         legs are missing, just two stumps trailing blood.
         Norman runs to the apartment building - At the smoking rubble
         pile that was its facade moments before. He stops in his
         tracks and looks up...
         WHAT NORMAN SEES - Irma's shattered body hanging from a
         splintered mass of wood floorboards...
         Next Norman SEES Emma is crushed and mixed into the rubble.
         She's gasping for her last breath...
         Norman shakes off the blow and starts to dig out Emma,
         desperate, frantic - Coon-Ass grabs him and drags him away.
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          You think you're Jesus Christ? You gonna
          raise her up? She's done. She is done.
         Norman starts throwing punches. Coon-Ass lets him vent,
         easily blocking them.
                         COON-ASS (CONT'D)
          There you go. Get mad. Get mad.
          What the fuck is wrong with you!? What
          the fuck is wrong with everyone? Nobody
          cares about anything. What the fuck is
         Bored with being punched, Coon-Ass throws Norman to the
         ground. Kicks him in the ass.
          It's called war. Quit your cussin' and
          fightin' and get your spindly ass in that
          tank, boy.
         The four tank engines ROAR to life. Wardaddy does a quick
         check of the Fury's tracks. Norman sits in the BOW seat.
         Tears streak his dusty face. Gordo looks at him. Sympathetic.
          Sorry about your lady friend.
         Norman ignores him. Here comes Sgt. Davis helping his
         ASSISTANT-DRIVER to his tank, he can barely walk.
          He wounded?
          SGT. DAVIS
          Naw, drunk.
         Sgt. Davis pours the man into the front hatch and mounts his
         tank. The Captain approaches Wardaddy.
                         CAPTAIN WAGGONER
          We'll hook up with you in the morning.
          Good luck.
          Thank you, sir.
         He shakes the Captain's hand. SCHWACK! A sniper's bullet rips
         out the Captain's throat, dropping him on the spot.
                         SOLDIER VOICES
          -- Six is down! --
          -- Sniper!
          -- They got the Old Man! --
         Wardaddy is up into the Fury like a shot.
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         He drops shut his hatch...
          Move out! Let's go!
                         (INTO RADIO)
          All tanks from One-Six. Sniper's in those
          goddamn buildings on the right! Make 'em
          go away.
                         (TO BIBLE)
          What are you waiting for?
         KABOOM! - The main gun fires. Coon-Ass slams home a fresh
         KABOOM! - Bible fires another. The Fury fires again and
         ON GORDO - Safe beneath his closed hatch, he sees Norman has
         his head exposed - He grabs the kid and yanks him down...
          Stupid. You wanna die?
         Norman glares at him. With a new hardness that takes Gordo by
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - A row of four hundred year old
         buildings is destroyed in just over a minute. Their roofs can
         be seen collapsing through clouds of thick dust and
         shattering explosions as the tanks pump high explosive shells
         into them. Into radio:
          All tanks cease fire. If that didn't get
          him nothing will. Let's get the fuck out
          of here.
         The four tanks of 1st Platoon Love Company pull out for their
         next mission. Wardaddy leads the way in the Fury.
         They are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Leaving behind
         a town transformed. Blood in the streets. Stacks of dead.
         Burning buildings. Piles of rubble.
         Open flat farm country. The occasional farm building. The
         column of four tanks moves fast. Wardaddy keys the intercom.
          Norman. Get your ass up here.
         Norman looks at Wardaddy. Who waves for him to join him.
         Norman carefully climbs out of his hatch. And picks his way
         across the moving tank. Wardaddy pats the big .50 Cal machine
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Why don't you sit up here for a bit and
          run this baby.
         Norman grabs the spade grips and stands behind the turret.
         His face is angry stone. Wardaddy seems relaxed. Almost
         enjoying the beautiful country. He looks at Norman.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          I know how you feel.
          You have no idea how I feel.
          Today... Look, what happened back there.
          Is every day. It's every day.
          Today's the worst day of my life.
          Like I said, that's every day. If you
          think it can't get worse, it can. And it
          will. I started this war killing Germans
          in Africa. Then France. Then Belgium. Now
          I'm killing Germans in Germany. It will
          end. Soon too. But before it does a lot
          more people gotta die.
         Wardaddy points out a massive column of black smoke in the
         distance. The herald of destruction on an unbelievable level.
         It is the death of a city.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          See that? That's a whole city on fire. I
          bet that's where those bombers were
          heading. The dying ain't done. The
          killing ain't done.
         Norman tries to understand the enormity of what he is
         witnessing. He can't. They ride in silence for a beat.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          My mother was born near here. I think
          right there in that city burning to the
          ground. I got no problem killing my kin.
          How'd you get all burnt up?
          My back?
          Germans did it? That why you hate them so
          No. I did it. Before the war. Before the
          Army. I had a beautiful girl I was gonna
          marry. Rose. She made me feel like a
          fucking king. Pretty like one of those
          old paintings. She was good. A good
          person. She had a good heart.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
         Wardaddy looks at Norman. Not sure if he should continue. He
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          I drank then. I'd get asshole drunk and
          Rose hated it. There was a dance in town.
          With a band from Wichita. I had her old
          man's truck. My little brother came with
          us. He was sixteen. And looked just like
          you. With the same "I'm smarter than
          everyone else around me" expression you
          got. And he was. Book smart and people
          smart. A good kid. Well I drank two
          bottles of nickel whisky and got in a
          punch-up at the dance with this big
          Indian. K.O.ed him with a bottle.
          I'm not your bartender and I'm not your
          pastor. You don't need to tell me this.
          And I ain't your friend. You're listening
          'cause someone has to hear. The sheriff
          got called so I shoved Rose and my
          brother in the truck and drove off like
          my hair was on fire. Yep, like a real
          shithead. Pedal to the mat. Hit an ice
          patch and flipped it. I got thrown and
          ended up under it. The engine right on my
          back, cooked me like Sunday's beef roast.
          Rose and my brother got their necks
          broken. Whole county hated me for it. I
          got the chain gang. I laid roadbeds.
          Worked cotton. Mule teams. War started
          and the Judge told me to die for my
          country. Best advice I ever got.
         Norman looks out on the German countryside. Then at Wardaddy.
         Despite his age, Norman has a strong, quiet wisdom.
          Does it matter now? Does it matter here?
          Does to me.
          You killed them.
          I know what I did.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
          You're already dead.
          I don't disagree. Been with these fine
          gentlemen since nineteen forty two. And
          they don't know none of this. Not a word
          of it. Keep it that way.
         Norman will keep his secret.
          I was born in the caul.
          Where's that?
          A caul. A birth shroud around my head. So
          I see things. Sometimes I know things are
          going to happen. And people tell me
          things. Since I was little. Bad things.
          Confessions. I'm used to it. Don't worry,
          you'll get your wish. When I said you
          were already dead it didn't mean anything
          but what it means. You're going in the
          ground soon.
         Wardaddy likes hearing that. He looks at Norman.
          You're a strange one, Norman.
          My brother's name was Norman.
         Norman REACTS - Not to Wardaddy - But to the terribly thin
         corpses filling the ditches on either side of the road. They
         wear the infamous striped pajamas of the camp system. They
         were shot after collapsing during a forced march.
          Why are they so thin?
          They're from the concentration camps.
          They starve 'em to death there.
          Are they criminals?
          No. They're just people. Regular people.
          Germans are marching them around to keep
                        CONTINUED: (4)
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          them from us. Rather have them dead than
         A HUNDRED CIVILIANS dig a tank ditch through a couple
         farmer's fields. They stop working and stare in awe as
         Wardaddy's four tanks race right past them on the unblocked
         Wardaddy FIRES a magazine from his assault rifle into the
         air. Civilians hit the dirt or drop their shovels and run.
         Wardaddy laughs.
         The four tanks have stopped by a low hill. Wardaddy and Sgt.
         Davis are on their bellies at the top of the hill studying
         the shallow valley below with binoculars.
         A couple miles away is the CROSSROADS the tanks are to
         protect. A few farm buildings dot the landscape. It is
         deceptively calm and bucolic.
          SGT. DAVIS
          What are you thinking, Don?
          There's the crossroads. We'll set our
          picket line along that defiladed area to
          the right. You'll be outpost tank by that
          little hill with the trees.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Sounds copacetic.
          Let's get in position before dark. German
          Army moves at night. I wanna be ready for
          'em. Let's go.
         Wardaddy and Sgt. Davis crawl back towards their tanks.
         EXT. VALLEY - DAY
         The tanks head for the crossroads. Norman is back in the
         front right hatch.
         ON LOVE 1-5 - The last in the tank column --
         THWACK-KABOOM! - Is suddenly hit by a high velocity gun...
         It's turret is blown into the air - The tank instantly burns
         a maelstrom of gasoline, explosives, and gun propellant...
          Fuck! Where the fuck did that come from?
          Driver! Reverse!
                         (INTO RADIO)
          All tanks, back up! Get behind the rise
          on the right. Everyone button up.
         The three remaining tanks quickly reverse and spread out.
         Wardaddy scanning with binoculars. Looking very worried.
          What the fuck was it?
          That was an 88. It's a goddamned tank.
         FSSSSS-WHAM! - A glowing high-velocity shell hits the ground
         and ricochets in front of the Fury.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Tank! Three O'clock! Eight hundred
         Wardaddy whips his binoculars to 3 O'clock...
         WHAT HE SEES - A GERMAN TIGER TANK near a barn in a hay
         field. Tigers are the deadliest tank of the war. Wardaddy's
         three Shermans are hopelessly outgunned, worse, a Tiger's
         armor is nearly impervious to their cannons.
          I see it. It's a goddamned Tiger. Bible,
          get an eyeball on him and send it.
          I got him! On the way!
         KABOOM! - The Fury fires. Its glowing shell strikes the front
         of the distant Tiger and ricochets off harmlessly.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Let's get the fuck out of here.
          Unless he drowns himself in a shit filled
          ditch, it's up to us to kill him. C'mon,
          hit that sonofabitch!
         KABOOM-KABOOM-KABOOM! -- All three tanks open fire on the
                        CONTINUED: (2)
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          All tanks! Fast right turn! Right at him.
          Let's bumrush this cocksucker. Turn on
          your gyros! Shoot and scoot!
         The three tanks stop backing up - They quickly turn toward
         the Tiger and accelerate right at him! Firing their cannons
         as fast as they can.
         Three little Davids versus one Goliath - The Tiger aims at
         Love 1-4, the middle tank...
         KABOOM! - The 88 cannon shell misses the Sherman - But hits
         Sgt. Peterson - Taking his head right off.
         KABOOM-KABOOM-KABOOM! - The Sherman's keep firing. Quickly
         closing the distance to the massive German tank...
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Tense faces. Bible focuses on the target. Coon-Ass stands by
         with a fresh shell - Bible fires...
         KABOOM-KERCHANG-CLANK! - Coon-Ass loads the cannon...
                         CLEAR --
         KABOOM-KERCHANG-CLANK! - They keep pumping rounds into the
         massive German tank.
         ON NORMAN - Staring at the Tiger through his periscope. He
         opens fire...
         BRDDDDDDT! - His .30 Cal spits empty brass as it jackhammers
         slugs at the armored enemy monster.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - His tracer rounds splash harmlessly
         against the German tank.
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         KAPOW! - The Tiger again fires at the middle tank...
         THWACK! - Its shell strikes the turret and goes right
         through. The fatally wounded Sherman rolls to a stop, gushing
         yellow smoke. The DRIVER and A-DRIVER bail out...
         The Tiger opens fire with its machine gun - Splattering the
         two poor tankers...
          Fucking animals! Load a white
          phosphorous. Blind the bastard!
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Coon-Ass loads a phosphorous shell.
         Bible, ever cool under fire, takes careful aim and toes the
         firing pedal - KABOOM!
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         POW! The white phosphorous shell bursts with a large cloud of
         dense white smoke. Burning clumps of phosphorous cover the
         The Fury and Sgt. Davis' tank are damn close to the powerful
         Tiger. They are now passing down its right side...
          Here we go. Shoot at the back third,
          under the track. AP. Fire when ready.
          I know where to hit him.
          So shoot the sumbitch!
         KABOOM! KTANG! -- The shot was high, it glances off the
         The monster's turret is turning toward the Fury...
         KABOOM! -- The Fury fires - KTANG! - Its round pierces the
         Tiger's gas tank. Black smoke erupts from its engine deck...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Hit 'em again! In the sweet spot.
         KABOOM! KTANG! Another money shot into the Tiger's engine
         The big tank grinds to a stop. The five TIGER CREWMEN abandon
         their tank - They wear sinister black uniforms...
         The Fury charges the burning tank. Wardaddy shoulders his
         assault rifle - He's about to light up the running German
         tankers when...
         BRDDDDDDDDDDT! - The give Tiger Crewmen are shot to pieces.
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         It's Norman doing the shooting. He's becoming a real
         motherfucker. He reloads his machine gun...
          That's it, kid. Fuck those Krauts.
          How'd that feel, Norm?
         Norman cocks his machine gun - KERCHACK!
          Like nothing.
         This time he means it.
         IN THE TURRET - Bible wipes his face with a rag. Coon-Ass
         refills the ready rack with ammo...
          Where'd a Tiger come from? German army
          ain't supposed to have no gas.
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         The sun is low in the sky. Another bloody day is nearing its
         conclusion. Wardaddy sits in the Fury's turret. He lost two
         more tanks, now just burning wrecks. He watches the Tiger
         burn for a moment, his jaw grinding.
         Sgt. Davis' tank pulls alongside the Fury. He's scared.
          SGT. DAVIS
          Holy shit, Don. Binkowski and Peterson
          are gone. Florida Mike. Nicky Colletto.
          They got wives and kids. And Stan? Stan's
          fucking dead. They're all dead.
          I know who's dead.
          SGT. DAVIS
          What do we do?
          We do our job. Like we always do. I can't
          have you all spooked. Can you shake it
          SGT. DAVIS
          I'm not like you, Don. Nobody is.
          Check out the barn. Make sure there's no
          Krauts in there.
         The barn is a hundred yards away. Sgt. Davis heads to it in
         his tank, Love 1-3. He stops outside the barn doors.
         Wardaddy scans the area with his binoculars - Not a threat in
         Sgt. Davis' ASSISTANT DRIVER gets out and pulls open the
         Barn's big double doors...
         BRDDDDT! - He's nearly cut in half with a long burst...
         The ROAD of a starting tank engine as ANOTHER FUCKING TIGER
         TANK emerges from the barn!
         BRDDDDDDDDT! - The Tiger fires its coaxial machine gun,
         spattering Sgt. Davis across his turret.
         Its huge cannon lines up on Love 1-3 and fires...
         KABOOM! - The point blank cannon shot tears through the
         Sherman like butter. The ammunition inside EXPLODES.
         KA-WHAM! It is a violent and shattering detonation, the
         turret is thrown in the air, the side of the Sherman splits
         open like tin foil - Another tank dies...
         ON WARDADDY - He REACTS, gets low in the turret...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Tank! Hit it! AP! Three rounds! Gordo!
          Get right on his ass.
         The Fury turns and lurches toward the big enemy tank...
         The Tiger accelerates out of the barn, colliding with the
         burning wreckage of Davis' tank, shoving it aside...
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Bible traverses the turret. It feels like it's taking forever
         to aim the main gun at the Tiger...
         Gordo double clutches and puts the Fury in 3rd gear. He
         stomps the gas pedal, white knuckling the steering levers.
         KABOOM! - Bible fires. Missing the tank...
         GORDO'S PERISCOPE POV - The second Tiger is looming damn
         close - Its turret traversing to line up a shot on the
          Okay, here we go! You want me to hit him?
          Don't hit him, you dumbass! Make a tight
          turn around him! Drive around him and
          stay close as you can get! Just keep
          moving! Bible, keep hitting him!
         BOOM! - The Tiger fires...
         KTANG! - It's a glancing strike against the side of the Fury
         causes a burst of SPARKS inside. The noise and shock of the
         impact stun Gordo and Norman...
         HYDRAULIC OIL sprays everywhere...
         There is a SMOKING WHITE HOT DENT where the round struck the
         hull. The Fury fills with smoke. Norman is bleeding from his
          I'm hit! I'm hit!
         Gordo ignores the chaos, keeps driving at the Tiger...
          Gordo! Any damage?
          I dunno. She still drives.
         Bible works the power traverse grip - Something's wrong...
         THE TURRET STOPS TURNING! - The shell damaged its mechanism.
          I lost the power traverse!
         He switches to the MANUAL TRAVERSE WHEEL - Turning it
         frantically. The Fury's turret now turning slower - This is
         very bad...
         KABOOM! -- Bible fires again...
         BIBLE'S GUNSIGHT POV - The Armor Piercing shell bounces
         harmlessly off the Tiger's turret...
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         It's a close range tank duel - The two tanks are now just
         yards apart. Smoke from the burning Sherman's washes over the
         battle-locked armored vehicles.
          That's it! Gordo, drive in a circle
          around him. We can move faster than he
          can swing his gun.
         ON THE TIGER - As its turret tries to catch up to the Fury.
         The smaller, more agile American tank easily drives in a
         circle around the Tiger...
         But the threatening of the Tiger's cannon is starting to
         catch up...
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Bible swinging the turret - Cranking the wheel as fast as he
         can. Sweat pours off his face as he hunts for the soft spot
         in the Tiger's armor.
         KABOOM! - Bible fires. The round just misses, plows into the
          It's not that easy. We're moving too
         Norman is scared shitless as he watches all this unfold
         through his periscope. He trades a worried, desperate look
         with Gordo.
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         Wardaddy, only his head exposed, watches the Tiger. Instead
         of just driving in a straight line - The Tiger now turns
         toward the Fury - Its big cannon swinging faster...
         The Tiger is maneuvering to line up a shot and broadside the
         American Tank. Smart bastards...
         With his tank damaged, Wardaddy knows he better make a move
         or they are all going to die...
          Gordo, when I saw back up, you back up!
          Bible stand by! I'll call the shot!
         Wardaddy waiting for just the moment - For the two moving
         tanks to align a certain way.
         The Tiger cannon is nearly in position to fire!
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Gordo! Now! Reverse! Reverse!
         The Fury jolts to a stop - The same time as:
         KABOOM! - The Tiger fires...
         The cannon rips the sandbags off the front of the Fury,
         missing anything vital. The Fury is backing up...
         The Tiger realizes what is afoot - It starts turning in the
         other direction to protect its vulnerable engine compartment,
         its huge tracks chewing up the earth...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Bible! Steady. Steady. Steady...
         Wardaddy waiting for just the right moment. Excruciating
         tension as the two steel beasts dance around each other...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
         KABOOM! - The Fury's cannon fires into the Tiger's ass...
         The round rips through the engine and fuel tanks. There is a
         fireball of burning gasoline...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
         INT. FURY (MOVING) - DAY
         Coon-Ass feeds a fresh shell into the cannon breech...
         Bible stomps the foot pedal...
         EXT. HAY FIELD - DAY
         KABOOM! - the round punches through the soft armor in the
         rear of the tank and penetrates the crew compartment...
         The ammunition inside EXPLODES. The Tiger shudders to a
         stop. The Driver's Hatch opens -- Belching a column of
         flame. The DRIVER tries to escape. But the flames are too
         intense. He's incinerated right before Wardaddy's eyes...
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         Bible breathes a sigh of relieve.
          Tank destroyed.
         Wardaddy puts an arm around Bible...
          Good shooting.
          I'm the instrument. Not the hand. God
          didn't want us today.
         Norman sags in his seat, exhausted by the tension. Wardaddy
         drops inside the turret. Grabs the radio mic - Realizes the
         radios are trashed...
          Radio's are eighty-sixed. We're on our
          lonesome until Baker Company shows up.
         Coon-Ass lights a smoke with shaking hands. Gordo wipes the
         grit from face with a sleeve.
          I quit. Fuck the Army. You can put me in
          the stockade. Take away my name and
          birthday. Find another driver.
          Quit? Quit?! Boy, we get a dollar
          thirty five a day plus free chow and
          smokes. A goddamn paid European
          vacation. Best job I had.
         Coon-Ass wasn't trying to be funny. He's shaken to his core.
         Wardaddy lets them vent. He passes Gordo a bottle of brandy.
         Gordo takes it and downs a long swig.
         Wardaddy SEES Norman sitting there quietly. Covered with
         hydraulic oil and blood. Staring into space.
          Having a good time, kid?
         Norman looks at Wardaddy and shakes his head thinking "What
         the fuck is wrong with these people." Wardaddy smiles. He
         knows Norman will be okay.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          We're still open for business. Let's head
          to the crossroads and keep 'em out of
          Kraut hands like we've been told.
          With one busted-ass tank? In case you
          ain't noticed, we're it. Platoon's gone.
          The entire platoon.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          Are they? I'm sorry, I didn't notice.
          Don, you can be a real callous bastard
          We got a job to do. We can sit here and
          bitch about it. Or we can go down to
          those crossroads and bitch about it
          there. I don't see a hell of a lot of
          difference, do you?
          That's real inspiring. Shit, now I wanna
          storm the gates of Hell and snatch Satan
          off his throne by his balls.
         Norman turns to Wardaddy and deadpans:
          That's not really true. He just said it
          to be an asshole.
         Norman just took the sarcasm to another level. The veteran
         tankers stare at Norman -- He is becoming one of them...
         The sun is setting. The Fury moves up the road approaching
         the rural tree lined intersection with an OLD HOUSE and a
         BEER HALL - There isn't a soul in sight.
         Wardaddy scans the terrain with his binoculars. He's looking
         for a good spot to park the Fury for the night. The tank is
         moving through the intersection.
         BOOM! - The Fury runs over a mine - The explosion lifts the
         tank and drops it. The broken left track falls off the drive
         INT. FURY (MOVING)
         It was a damn hard whack -- Dust and smoke fill the interior.
         Rations and ammunition spill from its racks. SPARKING
         electrical shorts.
          Fuck! Another Tiger!
          Calm down. It's a mine. We hit a mine is
         Gordo shakes it off. The engine stalls. He restarts it. Puts
         it in gear. Lets up the clutch. The tank starts turning in a
          We threw a track!
         EXT. FURY - DUSK
         Wardaddy aiming his .50 Cal at the nearby buildings. Coon-Ass
         exits the turret. Examines the broken track and the smoking
         crater the mine made.
          She's broke as fuck. Busted a shock too.
          You fix it?
          Yeah. Why not?
          Norman! Get out here!
         Norman exits his hatch - He's afraid to jump down to the
          What about mines?
          They're for vehicles. You ain't heavy
          enough to set one off. Go with Coon-Ass
          and check out those buildings. I'm
          covering you. Go on.
         Norman looks at Coon-Ass, who shrugs. They approach the Old
         House just up the road...
         INT. OLD HOUSE - DUSK
         WHAM! - Coon-Ass kicks the door. Norman joins him inside.
         Both men freeze...
         WHAT THEY SEE - The Interior of the house is filled with
         mines. Big round anti-tank mines to be exact. Stacks of them.
         It's being used as a munitions depot.
         Coon-Ass slowly backs out of there...
          Don't touch nothin'.
          Not planning on it.
         Gordo and Bible have started unbolting a section of track
         from Fury's side. Coon-Ass shouts to Wardaddy:
          Whole thing's full of mines. Good thing
          you didn't shoot the shit out of it or
          we'd be drinking whiskey with Jesus.
          Maybe I will anyway. I could use a drink.
          Keep going. What's in the other house?
         INT. BEER HALL - DUSK
         WHAM! Coon-Ass kicks the door. Enters with Norman.
         This place is disturbing in a different way. There is dried
         blood everywhere. Bandages. Medical supplies. Cut off bloody
         uniforms and boots. Amputated limbs. Flesh. Organs. And a
         half-dozen DEAD GERMAN SOLDIERS who succumbed to battle
         wounds. This was a temporary field hospital.
          At least there ain't no live Krauts to
          worry about.
         It is beyond creepy in here...
          Can we go now?
         Coon-Ass and Norman return to the Fury. Gordo uses a track
         breaking tool to remove the damaged track links. Bible probes
         the road around them for more mines.
          Naw, nothing.
          Kid, head up by those trees. You got
          outpost guard.
         Norman nods and heads up the road.
         Norman sits in the roadside ditch. He checks his greasegun.
         It's loaded. He sets it in his lap.
         He adds drink powder to his canteen. Shakes it. He opens a
         can of crackers with his little GI can opener. He chews the
         hard crackers and washes them down with his canteen.
         He yawns widely. He's physically and emotionally drained from
         his first day as a US Army tanker.
         After being in a tank he feels so alone and exposed out here.
         He HEARS something. Scared, he raises his ugly black weapon.
         It's just an OWL in the trees. Norman relaxes. He can't keep
         his eyes open. His head falls toward his chest. His heavy
         eyelids close. And he falls asleep.
         LATER - Norman startles awake. Gasping for breath. Dreaming
         he was shot. He checks himself for holes. And relaxes - It
         was just a dream...
         He berates himself for falling asleep. He gets on his knees.
         To a less comfortable position.
         Then he freezes. And his eyes grow wide.
         WHAT NORMAN SEES - Moving toward him along the dark road is a
         long column of silhouettes.
         GERMAN SOLDIERS - Marching toward him. A lot of them. More
         than he's ever seen. There are several hundred. And there's
         something about the way they move. These aren't shuffling
         demoralized conscripts. These are healthy, well equipped
         combat troops - And they are heading his way...
         Norman thinks for a moment. He has to warn the others...
         He gets low and slowly backs down the ditch...
         Gordo, Coon-Ass, and Bible work on repairing the track.
         Wardaddy sits in the turret, a deadly alert sentry with his
         big machine gun. He can't see the approaching men.
         Here comes Norman at a full run...
          Why good evening, Norman. Why aren't you
          at your post?
          They're coming.
          Who's coming?
          The Germans.
          How many?
          More than I can count.
         Wardaddy climbs down from the turret.
          I'm sure it's some bums looking for
          someone to surrender to.
                         (TO COON-ASS)
          Keep working. I'll be right back.
         Wardaddy and Norman head up the road...
         Wardaddy and Norman move low along the ditch. Wardaddy SEES
         the approaching troops - Silhouettes in the darkness. He can
         just hear their hobnailed boots CRUNCHING the road.
         He grabs Norman's arm and drags him out of there.
         Wardaddy and Norman come running.
          There's a goddamned SS battalion headed
          this way.
         Bible sees he's dead serious...
          Where are they?
          Marching this way.
         Wardaddy's mind is racing - They face hopeless odds.
          Let's get out of here. They'll never see
          us in the dark. Let 'em pass through.
          We're not running. We're fighting it out.
          We'll hold this damn crossroad.
         His men look at him like he's insane. This is unlike anything
         they have ever done.
          You wanna set here in a busted tank and
          hold off an SS battalion?
          No I don't want to. But it's what we're
          doing. Mount up. Take your fighting
         Wardaddy climbs aboard the Fury. His jaw tenses. It's okay
         with him. He double checks his .50 Cal.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Go on. Get outta here.
         Norman looks at the other guys. Then at Wardaddy. He crosses
         to the Fury and stands by it, looking at the others with
         crossed arms.
         With that show of bravery, Gordo, Coon-Ass, and Bible have no
         choice but to follow suit. The three men approach the Fury.
         No one has any illusions - This somber, sober choice means
         their deaths.
         Wardaddy smiles. As much of a smile as he can muster. Then
         he's all business.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          We're gonna play dead, like we've done
          before. Let 'em march right up. Then open
          up with all we got and splatter the
          assholes all over the road.
                         (TO COON-ASS)
          Grab us one of them dead Krauts.
          We gonna have a pig roast?
          Something like that.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
         Coon-Ass Rushes off toward the Old House...
         Wardaddy grabs his knife and cuts several packs and
         dufflebags off the tank. He hands Norman a gas can...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Give 'em a good soaking.
         Norman pours the gas on them. Gordo grabs extra boxes of ammo
         from the storage racks and shoves them into the tank.
         Bible is in the turret singing a hymn. He resets the fuzes on
         the cannon shells for close-in work. He wipes the main gun
         breech down. Cleans his optics. Oils the machine gun.
         Here comes Coon-Ass dragging a body...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Hurry up with that sack 'a shit.
         Wardaddy jumps down to help. He tosses the body on the front
         of the tank. Pulls off his jacket and puts it on the body.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Toss me that helmet.
         Norman tosses him an American helmet. Wardaddy straps it on
         the corpse's head. He grabs the gas can from Norman. Splashes
         the body with it. Wardaddy lights a smoke with a match. Then
         tosses the match on the body - FWOOMP!
         Wardaddy lights another match and tosses it on the packs in
         the road - FWOOMP! Satisfied, he surveys his work.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Now they ain't gonna see nothing but a
          shot-out tank with a blown track. Get in.
          Button up.
         The men slip into the Fury and close the hatches. It looks
         like a bigger shit pile than when we first saw it, bathed in
         the firelight of the burning packs and the German corpse.
         Debris scattered around it, a broken track...
         INT. FURY - NIGHT
         Norman lines up boxes of ammunition for his machine gun. He
         wipes the gun with a rag. Gordo loads his submachine-gun.
         Stacks up extra magazines.
         He opens a case of grenades and removes their safety clips --
         Pausing to swig from his bottle of brandy. Coon-Ass organizes
         the main gun rounds.
          We got four rounds of cannister. Four
          Willy Petes. Twenty three Supercharges
          and thirty three solid shots.
          Alright. Load cannister. Have the other
          three in your lap.
          What's cannister?
          Turns this cannon into a big fucking
         Wardaddy pulls out a bottle of French Cognac. He opens it.
         Stares at it like it's the very gates of Hell. Bible is
         mortified Wardaddy is considering drinking it.
          What are you doing?
          Might as well get a little tight. Won't
          be around for the hangover.
          Don. No.
          Let the man have a taste.
         Wardaddy pours the booze in his mouth, it splashes down his
         cheeks. Norman watching him - If he didn't know they weren't
         going to live through this he does now.
          God that's better than good. Like warm
          honey dripping on my heart.
         He offers Bible the bottle. Bible takes it. He meditates on
         the demon liquor a beat. Then:
          I know you hate me preaching, but what
          we're doing is a righteous act. There's a
          bible verse I think about sometimes. Then
          I heard the voice of the Lord saying,
          "Whom shall I send? And who will go for
          us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me."
         That resonated. Bible sees it on the faces of the men.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
          Book of Isaiah. Chapter Six.
         Bible is floored Wardaddy knew that...
          Yeah, Don. That's exactly right.
         Bible drinks from the bottle. Then hands it to Coon-Ass. Who
         takes a long pull. He passes it to Gordo. He takes a swig and
         passes to Norman. Norman finishes the bottle.
          Damn son, you're a fighting, fucking,
          drinking machine.
          Machine. That's it. That's your war name.
          I christen thee "Machine."
         "Machine" - Norman likes the nickname. He smiles. This now
         makes him a full fledged member of the Fury's crew.
         Bible looking through the periscope - REACTS...
          They're coming.
         The mood instantly switches to one of wary fear. The men take
         their places behind their weapons. Wardaddy watches the enemy
         draw closer through his periscope.
          ...nobody does nothing until I say...
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - The column of SS TROOPERS is
         close. Helmets, boots, weapons clearly visible. They look
         surprisingly modern in their camouflage uniforms.
         Norman SEES the SS TROOPERS marching closer. It's agonizing
         to wait and do nothing. His finger ready on the trigger of
         his machine gun...
         The fast marching SS Troopers quickly approach the Fury.
         Looking like nothing more than a disabled tank. An ASS
         LIEUTENANT barks crisp orders.
          Reinhold, take your men and clear those
          structures. Hoehner, ensure the enemy
          tank is unoccupied.
         The SS TROOPERS split off and investigate the Old House and
         the BEER HALL. Ten more rush ahead of the march column to
         investigate the Fury. They approach the tank. Unconcerned.
         Searching the various crates for rations and cigarettes like
         kids on Christmas morning. Two troopers climb aboard the
         INT. FURY - NIGHT
         The crew listens to the movement around the tank. The
         SCRAPING of metal hobnailed boots against the tank's hull.
         It is hateful to do nothing. Bible's foot hovers above the
         firing button on the turret floor. Eyes glued to his
         Wardaddy waiting. Watching. A grenade in each hand. Coon-Ass
         sweating bullets. Wondering why Wardaddy doesn't give the
         order to shoot.
         Norman's face pressed against his scope. He licks his lips.
         His mouth is bone dry.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - He SEES a TROOPER reaching for his
         Norman aims his greasegun up at his hatch. Norman is scared
         His hatch opens revealing an astonished SS Trooper.
         Norman squeezes the trigger of his greasegun...
         BRDDDDDDDT! - Blowing the Trooper off the tank.
                         SS LIEUTENANT
          Hit 'em!
         Everything happens at once...
         The Troopers in the road dive for cover...
         Bible stomps the foot switch...
         KABOOM! - The main gun fires...
         Norman pulls the hatch shut - CLANG! - And opens up with the
         machine gun...
         Wardaddy pulls the pins of his grenades. He opens the "pistol
         door" on the side of the turret. Drops the grenades outside.
         Slams the door shut...
         EXT. FURY - NIGHT
         Utter chaos - Cannon rounds tear into the column of men and
         EXPLODE - SS TROOPERS tumble like bowling pins...
         BRDDDDDDT! - Tracers from Fury's two .30 Cal machine guns
         slice into SS Troopers as they scramble for cover. Mowing
         them down...
         BOOM-BOOMM! Wardaddy's grenades explode. Blowing the two SS
         Troopers off the top of the tank...
         KABOOM! The main gun fires again. More Troopers are
         Several Troopers run into the buildings for shelter...
         SS OFFICERS and NCOs bark orders trying to create order from
         the madness.
         INT. FURY - NIGHT
         BRDDDDDDDT! - Norman jackhammers long burst into running SS
         Troops. Bible fires the coax machine gun in long bursts...
         The tank filling with smoke from the firing weapons. Norman
         reloads his machine gun. Wardaddy watching the Troopers
         scatter and run...
          Keep squirting that coax! Traverse
          right! Steady...On! Fire!
         KABOOM! - Bible fires. The gun spits out the smoking brass
         shell. Coon-Ass shoves a fresh shell into the breech.
         BOOM! - Wardaddy watching where it hits...
          Up fifteen! Right fifteen!
         Bible makes adjustments to the gun's hand wheels...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Bow Gunner! Squirt those assholes running
          for the house.
         KABOOM! The gun fires. Norman shifts his fire...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Okay! Loader. Four rounds of Willy Pete
          up. Bible put 'em in those buildings.
          Burn the fucking things to the ground,
          they're full 'a Krauts.
         Wardaddy's periscope spins 360-degrees as he turns to
         continually check the rear of the tank. Bible works the hand
         wheel and aims at the buildings.
          On the way!
         KABOOM! - He fires the Willy Pete shell...
         BOOM! - The White Phosphorous shell hits the wood building
         and explodes with a spectacular burst of burning white hot
         streamers - It's like the 4th of July.
         The tracers, the explosions, the fires. The SS Troopers
         returning fire. What wildly beautiful chaos.
         BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! - The Fury pumps three more phosphorous
         shells into the two buildings. The buildings start to burn.
         Bathing the area with a warm orange glow...
         Burning SS Troopers run out of the buildings...
         BRDDDDDDT! - They're cut down by the tank's machine guns.
         The fire backlights the SS Troopers making them easier for
         the Fury to spot.
         INT. FURY - NIGHT
         The Fury is filled with acrid blinding smoke from the spent
         gunpowder. Wardaddy watching the destruction...
          It's a fucking turkey shot.
         He takes a swig from a fresh bottle and lights a cigarette,
         his face shiny with sweat, his eyes burning with madness.
         The Coaxial machine is glowing RED HOT. So is Norman's
         machine gun.
         Suddenly Norman's gun "RUNS AWAY" - Cooking off rounds by
         itself, zipping through a fresh ammo belt...
          My gun's going crazy!
         Gordo twists the belt, stopping the runaway weapon...
          It's over heating! Don't let it burn up.
         Gordo puts on an asbestos glove and changes the red hot
         barrel with a fresh one. Norman reloads and keeps firing...
         KABOOM! - Bible steadily firing the main gun...
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - He SEES a cluster of SS Troops
         hiding in a ditch - They shoot at the Fury - THWACK! - A
         bullet strikes his periscope shattering it...
         Wardaddy yanks out the broken periscope. Slaps a new one in
         its place. And continues his observation.
          Traverse right. Steady. Steady. Right
          there. Hit 'em!
         KABOOM! - Bible fires...
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - BOOM! - The shell explodes in the
         ditch launching several in the air.
         The the coax machine gun jams - Red hot, hopelessly
         Wardaddy puts on asbestos gloves and wrestles it from its
         mount. He opens the turret's Pistol Door and tosses the red
         hot machine gun outside...
         He grabs a fresh machine gun pilfered from another tank.
         Locks it into place. Reloads it.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Slow it down. Don't burn up the guns.
         BRDDDDDDDT! - The new coax gun starts firing. The floor of
         the turret is covered with spent brass.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Okay! Okay! No targets! Cease fire! If
          you don't see 'em, don't shoot 'em.
          Can't spare the ammo on guesswork.
                        CONTINUED: (2)
         All firing stops. A sudden deafening silence. Wardaddy
         turning his periscope looking for SS Troopers.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          We can be damn sure they're working their
          way behind us. Anyone see anything?
          No. Nothing.
          Me neither.
          Nine O'clock! Bazooka!
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - He whips the scope around and sees
         an SS Trooper aiming an anti-tank rocket at the tank!
          Traverse right! Traverse right!
          Cocksucker's got a panzerfaust!
         Bible turning the hand wheel as fast as he can. The turret
         steadily moving - Sweat pours off his face...
         The SS Trooper fires - FWOOSH! - The anti-tank rocket HISSES
         right past Wardaddy's periscope, just missing the turret.
         NORMAN'S PERISCOPE POV - Norman sees a couple of running
         BRDDDDDDT! - He cuts them down. He's in the zone. Hunting for
         targets and hitting them...
         The turret lines up on the trees alongside the road.
         KABOOM-KABOOM-KABOOM! - Bible fires three canon rounds into
         the darkness.
         It's quiet again. Wardaddy looking for targets. He wipes the
         stinging sweat from his eyes with his sleeve. Then...
         FWOOSH-BOOM! - An anti-tank rocket explodes against the
         turret with a burst of red sparks...
         A jet of molten steel plasma penetrates - Passing right
         through Coon-Ass and into the recoil tube of the cannon...
         The crew is stunned by the impact. Coon-Ass absorbed the
         brunt of the blast - A smoking baseball size hole burned
         through his torso. He's dead.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
         The recoil tube of the cannon leaks hydraulic fluid. There is
         a small fire.
         Wardaddy grabs the extinguisher and puts out the fire. The
         tank is filled with smoke and the stench of charred flesh.
         Bible embraces his dead comrade...
          Oh, Grady. Oh dear God. Please dear God
          have mercy on this man's soul.
          He's gone. We gotta fight.
         Bible will. He's furious. He mounts his seat - Then he
         realizes the main gun is damaged. Oil everywhere.
          Recoil assembly's shot. We can't fire the
          Stay on the 30. Keep knocking 'em down.
         Bible reloads the coaxial machine gun.
          Two boxes left. We need ammo.
         They listen to the bullets hitting the tank - It sounds like
         rain on tin...
         Wardaddy scans the area with the periscope. Doing a complete
         WARDADDY'S PERISCOPE POV - He sees muzzle flashes all around
         them. In the firelight of the burning buildings, shadows
         dance and twist. It's like being stalked by an army of black
         Bible SEES them too and opens fire...
         BRDDDDDDDDDT-BRDDDDDDDDDT! - He fires several long bursts to
         keep the Germans' heads down...
                         BIBLE (CONT'D)
          I'm almost out!
          Me too! I got two boxes left!
          Gordo, gimme one.
                        CONTINUED: (4)
         Gordo passes up the 250 round ammo box. Wardaddy opens it,
         gets the belt ready for Bible. Then Wardaddy grabs several
         smoke grenades...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          We got ammo outside. I'm gonna drop some
          smokes. Gordo, you pop your hatch and lay
          down some cover fire. Bible and Machine,
          rip off what you got left.
         Wardaddy throws open his hatch - Pulls the smoke grenade
         pins, tosses them in a ring around the tank...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Okay. I'm going! Hit it!
         Wardaddy climbs up out of his hatch...
         The smoke grenades gush torrents of dense yellow smoke.
         Gordo opens his hatch - Fires his Tommy-gun at anywhere he
         thinks a German is hiding...
         Next to him, the muzzle of Norman's machine gun spits fire
         lead and tracers into the night...
         Wardaddy scrambles over the turning turret. To the rack of
         .30 Cal ammo boxes.
         Gordo firing and reloading his Tommy gun...
         BRDDDDT! - Bible fires the last of his ammo. He climbs up
         through Wardaddy's hatch and grabs the grips of the big .50
         heavy machine gun and lets it rip...
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT! - He's chopping down a row of trees
         where a cluster of SS Troopers fires at the Fury.
         It is a scene of inexpressibly wicked beauty - The hot orange
         light of the blazing buildings. Bright white and pink tracers
         slash the air. Bullets spark against tank steel. Dead and
         dying SS Troops in a haze of psychedelic yellow smoke.
         Running shadows. The sharp bright FLASHES of German hand
         grenades. And the noise! GUNFIRE, SCREAMING, SHOUTING.
         At the center of it all - Wardaddy pulls several boxes of
         ammo from the turret's external racks and pitches them into
         the open hatch...
         He HEARS A SCREAM - A FANATICAL SS TROOPER emerges from the
         wall of yellow smoke - Charging and firing his MP40 machine
         Wardaddy pulls the .45 from his shoulder holster...
         THWICK! - Wardaddy is hit in the arm. Wardaddy aims, fires
         BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! Dropping the SS bastard. Wardaddy grabs
         Bible's shoulder - Banging away with the .50 Cal - Shouts in
         his ear...
          Get in! Get inside!
         Bible dives through the hatch. With bullets hitting all
         around. Wardaddy climbs inside the Fury.
         Gordo empties his magazine - BRDDDDT! - Drops inside the
         tank. CLANGING the hatch shut behind him.
         The yellow smoke is clearing -- Several SS TROOPERS run PAST
         Bible reloads his coax gun. Wardaddy passes boxes of ammo to
         Gordo as Norman loads a fresh belt into his gun. Wardaddy
         back at his periscope looking for targets.
          We got eight boxes of ammo. For per gun.
          Make it last.
          You're hit.
         Wardaddy looks at his arm and shrugs.
          So are you.
         That's when Bible realizes blood is running down his neck.
         His scalp got nicked with a bullet.
         Gordo pulls the pin out of a grenade. Quickly opens his hatch
         and tosses it outside.
         Norman concentrates on his periscope, walking his tracers
         onto the darting shadows outside - Gordo sees something...
          Ten O'clock. Thirty yards. Squirt those
         Norman fires off a long burst. The last of the belt. He
         cracks open another box and reloads.
                         GORDO (CONT'D)
          Hurry up. I think they wanna kill us.
          I think you're right. How long can we
          keep this up?
          Not long.
         Wardaddy HEARS hobnail boots on top of the tank - He pulls
         his .45 And opens his hatch.
         An SS TROOPER is right there! -- He kicks Wardaddy's gun
         hand, the .45 Drops to the turret basket floor. Wardaddy
         reaches up and grabs the Trooper's legs, pulls him down into
         the tank. Wardaddy pulls his knife...
         The German soldier headbutts Wardaddy with his helmet
         splitting his nose. Wardaddy is not thwarted. He stabs the
         man in the chest. Bible freaking out.
          Oh dear God!
          It's alright. It's alright. I got him.
          Gimme a hand.
         Wardaddy and Bible hoist the dying German and shove him out
         of the tank through Wardaddy's hatch.
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          They're getting cocky.
         Wardaddy is in pain. Blood soaking his sleeve.
          You're no good leaking oil everywhere.
          So patch me up. Gordo, get up here and
          work the thirty.
         Gordo slips into the turret. Reloads the .30 Cal and starts
         shooting targets.
         ON NORMAN - Still shooting. Empty brass is up to his ankles.
         Bible cuts open Wardaddy's sleeve. Pours sulfa powder on the
         gunshot wound and bandages it. As Bible tends his wound...
                        CONTINUED: (2)
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          If a man loves the world, the love of the
          Father ain't in him. For all in the
          world, lust of the flesh, lust of the
          eyes, the pride of life, is not of the
          Father. But of the world.
          The world and its desires pass away. But
          he who does God's will lives forever.
         Off bible's quizzical look...
          I once had a long spell with nothing but
          the good book and my conscience.
         With his arm patched up, Wardaddy recovers his .45 Pistol.
         Bible turns to Gordo.
          I got it.
         Gordo has a worried look...
          Brother it's the last belt.
         Bible replaces Gordo at the gunner's position. Wardaddy is
         mulling their options. Bible turning the turret. Firing the
         coax with its footswitch.
         ON NORMAN - As the last few rounds feed through his gun...
          I'm out! I need another can.
         BRDDDDT! CLICK! - That's when Bible runs dry...
          She's done.
          That's it then. There ain't more.
         Worried looks are traded...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Don't shit your panties. We still got
          hand weapons and the fifty.
         Wardaddy opens his hatch and climbs out.
                        CONTINUED: (3)
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Pass me a can of fifty.
         Bible hands up a box of ammo.
         Wardaddy reloads the .50 Cal. He squints into the shadows.
         SEES a MAN RUNNING and fires...
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT! - The man bursts like a water balloon.
         Bible opens the Gunner's hatch and joins Wardaddy with his
         Tommy gun. Then Gordo and Norman open their hatches,
         submachine guns ready...
         It's deathly quiet. Just the crackling of the burning
         buildings. The moaning of the wounded Germans.
          ...where are they..?
         A GERMAN MACHINE GUN OPENS FIRE! - the big kind that sounds
         like an evil chainsaw.
         It sprays bullets all over the Fury - Gordo pulls the pin on
         a grenade, cocks his arm to throw it...
         THWACK! - Gordo is hit through the chest and drops the
         grenade inside the tank.
         Wardaddy swings the big .50 on the German MG...
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT! - His tracers find the source of the
         German tracers. The German MG fire stops.
         Gordo is fatally wounded and bleeding out - He fumbles for
         the HISSING grenade.
         Norman stares at him from across the transmission. He's
         fucked - The grenade will kill them both!
         Gordo smiles at Norman - Then with dying strength he holds
         the grenade tight to his chest...
         WHOOMP! - Gordo's body absorbs the blast, saving Norman.
         ON NORMAN - He's just sick. Terrified and horrified - And
         wildly grateful of Gordo's final act.
         The crew is down to three men. And a couple hundred SS
         Troopers still lurk outside in the dark...
          Norman! Keep shooting, son!
         Norman grits his teeth. Loads a fresh mag in his Greasegun...
         Norman pops up and fires a long burst into the ditch
         alongside the tank...
         Bible's Tommy gun jams - He fights to clear the malfunction.
         No dice. He tosses away the weapon.
         He jumps down from the tank and grabs a German assault rifle.
         He pulls magazines from the pouches of dead troopers.
         A supposedly dead SS TROOPER jumps to his feet and rushes
         him! - Bible grabs the assault rifle by the barrel and swings
         with all his might...
         CRACK! - He catches the SS Trooper in the face with the
         buttstock - Teeth go flying. Bible flips the gun around and
         squeezes the trigger.
         BRDDDT! - Finishing the job. Bible scrambles back to the
         Several German smoke grenades are tossed at the Fury. They
         gush dense white smoke - Smoke washes over the tank -
         Wardaddy, Norman, Bible can't see a thing.
          Get ready. They're gonna make a move.
         Wardaddy pulls a pin on a grenade. His instincts tell him
         where to throw it...
         BOOM! - The grenade explodes - Followed by the SCREAMING of
         the soldiers it maimed...
                         SS VOICE
          You motherfuckers! We're going to skin
          you alive!
          Your mother's in here. She can't talk
          now. Her mouth's full.
                         SS VOICE
          I'll cut off your fingertips and make you
          eat the,!
          Shut up and send me more pigs to kill!
         Suddenly dozens of German weapons open up simultaneously.
         It is an unbelievable volume of fire. Wardaddy fires back
         blindly into the smoke...
         RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT! - He runs out of ammo...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Bible! Ammo!
         Bible drops into the turret and grabs a box of ammo off the
         rack. He climbs up and hands it to Wardaddy.
         THWACK! - Bible is hit in the head and instantly killed. He
         clatters back into the tank. Now it's just Norman and
         ON NORMAN - Helplessly cowering for his life as bullets
         ricochet all around him...
         THWACK-THWACK! - Wardaddy is hit twice...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
          Button up!
         Wardaddy drops inside the tank and closes the hatch. Norman
         closes his hatch.
         The bullets striking the tank sound like gravel hitting sheet
         metal. Wardaddy holds Bible. He has a massive head wound.
         Wardaddy is devastated. He gently wipes the blood from
         Bible's face.
          I'm sorry, Boyd. I did my best.
         Norman watching this - The SS Troopers are going to finish
         them off at any moment. Norman SEES Wardaddy is bleeding
         heavily from his gunshot wounds...
          You're wounded.
         Wardaddy notices his two new bullet holes for the first time.
          Sure am.
          Sergeant Collier?
          My name's Don.
          Sorry. Don?
          Yeah kid?
          I'm scared.
          I'm scared too.
         Wardaddy lights a cigarette. Finds his bottle of Cognac and
         takes a belt. Offers Norman the bottle, it's covered with
         blood. Norman wipes the bottle. He takes a sip.
         Wardaddy is fading fast. Norman will soon be alone...
          I want to surrender.
          Please don't. They'll hurt you real bad.
          And kill you real bad.
         Wardaddy takes a drag on his cigarette. The hatch above him
         is opening. With casual ease, Wardaddy pulls his .45 - Aims
         up at the hatch.
         BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! - He empties the pistol and
         the hatch drops shut. He ejects the mag. Moving slow from
         blood loss. The gun slick in his hands. He pats his pockets
         looking for a fresh mag...
         The hatch opens - THREE GRENADES ARE DROPPED INSIDE!
                        CONTINUED: (2)
         Smoking, HISSING, deadly. Wardaddy looks at Norman who is
         frozen with fear...
                         WARDADDY (CONT'D)
         Norman snaps into action. He dives into the driver's seat,
         pushing Gordo's body aside - He opens the EMERGENCY ESCAPE
         HATCH and dives through...
         Norman is under the tank. Without a weapon!
         BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! - The grenades explode inside the tank. With
         that Norman knows Wardaddy is no more. Norman is all alone.
         Around him he hears angry cursing GERMAN VOICES...
         Norman crawls into the crater made by the land mine that
         broke the track. He makes himself as small as possible, pulls
         dirt in over himself. Burying himself...
         SS Troopers everywhere. Their medics attend to their wounded.
         They swarm over the Fury. Open her hatches. Aim their weapons
         inside and...
         BRDDDT-BRDDDDT! - Make sure all the occupants are dead.
         A YOUNG TROOPER looks beneath the tank with a flashlight.
         Norman, nearly entirely buried, follows the path of the light
         beam with his one exposed eye...
         The light plays across the undercarriage. Norman's HEARTBEAT
         feels excruciating loud. Blood pounding in his ears. AN SS
         OFFICER SHOUTS...
                         SS OFFICER
          Let's go! We're behind schedule! Move it!
          Hurry up! Let's move!
         The Young Trooper turns off the lights. He stands and walks
         away. Iron boot heels crunching the road...
         Norman thanks his higher power. He may just survive this
         thing. Then the boots stop. And return...
         Norman tries to be one with the roadbed.
         The Trooper lays down - CLICK - Shines the light directly in
         Norman's face. He's been discovered.
         ON THE YOUNG TROOPER - Now we see his face. He's a kid,
         younger than Norman. A boy in uniform. He looks Norman in the
         Norman slowly lifts his hands in surrender. His oil and blood
         soaked fingers emerging from the dirt and dust.
         The Young Trooper smiles weakly - "I won't hurt you." Then
         turns off the light and walks away.
         Norman sags with anxious relief.
         Shrill WHISTLES. SHOUTING as the Sergeants get their squads
         on the march again. Jackboots CRUNCH the road as the SS
         formation continues down the road.
         The SS Troops are marching away in the distance. On a
         pointless and doomed mission against overwhelming Allied
         Armies steamrolling across Germany.
         Now it's quiet. Dead quiet. Norman, buried in his hole,
         finally succumbs to exhaustion. His eyes close. He passes out
         curled in his womb of dirt.
         Distant ROOSTERS CROW. The escape hatch slowly opens. It's
         Norman - He slips inside the Fury. He forces his way past
         Gordo's body. Then covers Gordo with a jacket. He moves to
         Coon-Ass and covers him. Then Bible, he gently crosses his
         arms over his chest.
         There's Wardaddy. Sitting there. The grenades have made a
         mess of him. Norman takes off his jacket and covers him up.
         He pauses. Gently picks up Wardaddy's big calloused hang. He
         looks at his palm. Traces the lines a moment. As if to
         confirm something he already knew. Then he sets it down.
         Norman finds Wardaddy's knife on the floor of the turret
         basket. He picks up the knife and runs his thumb along all
         the notches. Norman HEARS something...
         Movement outside the tank. And VOICES!
         He freezes. Unsure what to do. This kid is traumatized, he's
         in no condition to fight Nazis...
         Alone and scared. Norman sits there trembling, holding
         Wardaddy's knife for protection...
         The hatch opens - It's a SOLDIER...
         An American soldier. - One we recognize - The Huge Dirty
         Soldier from Baker Company - He looks at Norman with war
         weary eyes. Wipes his nose on his sleeve and shouts to his
          One's alive!
         The Fury is shot to hell, burnt and scarred. Baker Company
         soldiers are gathered around her.
         Norman is pulled out of the hatch and laid onto a stretcher.
         Two MEDICS carry Norman to a waiting Half-Track.
          You're a hero. You know that?
         Norman doesn't know what that means. Or really care. It is
         clear from the churning angst in his eyes he will never, ever
         be the same.
         CRANE UP - Until we look straight down on the crossroads and
         see the true scope of the fight, of the carnage...
         Laid out in a ring around the tank for fifty yards are a
         couple hundred dead SS Troopers...
         Norman is loaded into the Half-Track. It slowly drives away.
          -- THE END --