Hellfighters

Pull that lever! She's coming in wild!

Air-call number JYG 176542.

Mr. Buckman took off from Houston at 10:22,

destination the Bahamas.

That should put him about halfway there.

Of course it's emergency priority. Would I call you if it was anything else?

Happy New Year, Irene.

Calhoun number 5, Baytown.

Any field closer than Houston can take the Jet Star?

No, bring 'em back here.

Well, put away your little whistle Georgie, and load up.

- Yes, ma'am. - Hello?

Yes, Irene.

Well, hold on a minute.

Bill, what's the flying time back to Houston?

Ed Calhoun's number 5.

88 minutes, Chance.

Well, turn around easy.

We wouldn't wanna scatter Mr. Lomax's winnings.

Irene, you can have the copter pick me up in an hour and a half.

Right.

And a Happy New Year to you too.

Sorry, folks. We'll try again next year.

Oh, don't apologize. This is better than gambling in the Bahamas.

Yeah, Irene.

Okay, I'm on the way.

And Happy New Year to ya.

Bueno. Acapulco Plaza.

No, I'm sorry. Mr. Gregory Parker is not in his room,

and he does not answer the page.

Do you have a Dolores Juarez registered?

How 'bout Lupe Estaban?

Yolanda Rodriquez?

Si, un memento.

Bueno. ¿Quien?

Who knows you are here with me in Acapulco?

Nobody but you, baby,

I thought.

Yeah, Irene.

I'll grab the 6:10 plane out of Mexico City.

Check arrival time in Houston, have the chopper meet me.

Same to you.

- It is a fire? - Yep, you wanna go?

It all started between us at that fire near Durango.

No.

I could not live through another one.

This one's all set.

Well, move it on in. Pick some of that iron up.

Can you save the wellhead Chance, or am I gonna have to re-drill it?

Don't cut your throat yet, Calhoun.

We'll do what we can.

Mr. Buckman.

Acquaint our television audience with what's going on. Have you got anything to say?

Your TV truck's too close.

Happy New Year!

New year, new job, everything.

Helen, this is Chance Buckman.

- Helen Meadows. - How do you do?

She was on the plane from Mexico City.

She's never seen an oil-well fire.

Well, I hope you find this one very interesting, Miss Meadows.

Thank you.

I thought your menu for New Year's was Mexican.

That was last night. Why waste a perfectly good fire?

Are you gonna watch it with her, or join us?

Huh? Oh, yeah.

- Where are my work clothes? - Calhoun's trailer.

You're going to go into that?

You're insane, and so am I for not going on to Denver.

Whoa honey, Denver's full of ice and snow…

and very cold people.

It's funny.

But for the first time, I got this sort of a feeling.

It's having met you, I guess.

I just had to do that.

Greg, what do you think?

What does Chance say?

- Well, not to cut my throat yet. - Settle for that.

Mr. Parker, what have you got to say on this situation?

Move your truck back.

- Can't you tell our audience what's being done? - Tell 'em, Cal.

- Mr. Calhou… - Larkin here will tell ya. He's my Field Superintendent.

I notice those fancy red jumpsuits out there.

Why do Buckman and his crew wear them?

I gather that's smart showmanship?

Well, you gather wrong.

Every eye is on those red suits watching for signals.

- Nobody else gives orders. - Oh, I see.

Hey, what the hell's goin' on?

The equipment's overheating!

They've got to clear away every piece of metal,

otherwise when they blow the fire out, the hot metal will reignite it.

According to Mr. Larkin, that section of drill pipe you see sticking out

has to be cut off right at the wellhead

before they can move in with the nitro.

It's spreading the flame. They've got to have a single column shooting straight up

before they'll try to blow it.

Just how soon before they'll attempt to blow this fire out?

They won't try to kill it 'til they're ready to cap the well.

The control head's being assembled to Buckman's order and isn't here yet.

Joe, we better get to work on that nitro.

Don't tell me, I know.

You're bushed. You'd like to take a little nap.

Well, I was up all night.

Of course you couldn't have slept on the plane.

What'd you use for openers this trip? The old headache gag?

Why, you poor man. Perhaps if I rubbed your neck.

True, every word, true.

But it works.

Well, I can't say I blame ya.

A fella as ugly as you are, couldn't get to first base without a fire.

Here's the control head.

Get it rigged. I'll finish with the nitro.

Okay. George!

Sorry to interrupt your nap.

George said it broke your heart.

One of these days some husband or boyfriend's

gonna show up with a 12 gauge

and turn your prat into a punchboard.

The drum filled with nitro is covered with asbestos

and kept wet to keep it from exploding too soon.

For the benefit of our television audience, what'll happen if it does?

There won't be enough left of them to pick up and put together.

Then we better get back in this remote truck. Come on!

The explosion eliminates the oxygen which is what kills the fire,

but the nitro drum has to be placed in exactly the right position.

They're using brass tools to avoid creating a spark.

Even the static electricity of a man running his hand through his hair

could set if off again.

What a great sound!

That's it!

Now we can get a statement from Chance Buckman himself!

Back off!

- Ambulance! - Ambulance!

Come on!

Stay back!

Mr. Parker, do you think it's serious?

No, we're still sweating him out, Cal.

Sure. Sure, Cal.

The minute I know anything.

Thanks.

Joe, how is he?

He's still in surgery, Jack.

He took a real bad beating.

He's had busted ribs before.

This time his lung's punctured.

It's had enough that Greg got the number from Irene and called San Francisco.

Madelyn and Tish?

How in the hell did he hear about them?

- Did you open your… - One night last year down in Mexi…

Chance got stoned to the eyes, and Greg spotted a photograph in his wallet.

Greg asked Chance who it is,

Chance tells him it's his wife and daughter,

and if Greg ever mentions it again, he's gonna break him in 2, that's how.

They're not coming here?

Well, Madelyn's in Europe, and the girl's skiing in Jackson, Wyoming.

Greg flew up to get her.

- You couldn't stop him? - No, I agreed with him.

Suppose Chance… suppose he…

suppose it doesn't look like he's gonna make it?

At least he might have time enough to see his child.

- Miss Buckman? - Yes.

I'm Greg Parker. I phoned you.

Thank you.

I'm a little uncertain about this.

Funny time to be uncertain, isn't it?

I mean, I'm not sure I should come at all.

That's funnier yet.

Just a minute. You said he didn't ask for me.

This was your idea.

What difference does that make? He's your Father, and he might die.

Would you get aboard, please?

You… you okay?

I don't know.

Frankly, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.

I'm sorry he's hurt. I want him to get better.

But I… I hardly remember my Father.

Your Mother never took the time to fill you in on him?

All she ever told me was that he was in the oil business,

and that he was a wonderful man

and that she was the wrong woman for him.

When I was old enough to realize how unhappy it made her,

I stopped asking questions.

Well, she couldn't exactly rap him for all the dough he must've been sending her.

She never took a penny from him, that I know.

Her name was Randolph, of Randolph Department Stores in San Francisco.

Oh yeah, Randolph. Well that…

that made it easy for her to walk out on him, didn't it?

You're struggling to be some sort of boor.

- No, I just know it wasn't Chance's fault. - Were you there?

No, no, but I got a clear picture now.

He had the bad luck to marry a complete bitch.

Shorty, it's getting hard to breathe in here.

- Why don't you go forward? - I…

I…

I will.

Look, I'm sorry.

It's just that your Dad,

he means…

I… I'm sorry.