A Midnight Clear

It's too hot.

When I get back, I'm gonna put it...

Mother?

Mother's the oldest in our squad.

He just had his 26th birthday, and two days later his baby was born dead.

We call him Mother... Wilkins...

because he's always hounding us for being sloppy, bugging us...

about leaving things around.

They're a little bent.

You want me to turn you in, Vance?

Between the stuff you did and the stuff I make up...

I could at least get you to a psychiatrist in some hospital.

Couldn't fool anybody.

Wouldn't let me do all this shit.

Only you were here.

Doesn't really count.

You sure fooled me, Mother. I'll tell you that.

You also broke a squad rule.

What rule?

Well, you said "shit."

What would Father say?

Father Mundy invented our squad "no obscenity"rule.

We wanna make it clear we're not actually part of this army.

Yes, we have a squad father too.

Mother Wilkins, Father Mundy.

Father Mundy was gonna be a priest, but never made it through the seminary.

The next guard was taken by Bud Miller, our mad mechanical genius...

and resident wit...

and Stan Shutzer, our avengingJewish angel.

They're supposed to be 12 in Intelligence and Reconnaissance squads.

Ours is down to six.

Mel Avakian, our best remaining soldier...

became corporal to our squad at the same time I made sergeant.

It wasn't for anything we did.

Except stay alive.

He hasn't sewn on his stripes either.

Our regimental commander is Major Griffin.

Griffin was a mortician in civilian life.

His main passion now seems to be generating business...

for his army counterparts.

It's thanks to Griffin and his military mortuary skills...

that I've made my recent headlong leap to three stripes.

We lost half our squad, attempting one of his map-inspired, ill-conceived...

recon patrols.

When I say "lost," I mean "killed."

Nobody in the army ever admits that someone on our side is killed.

They're either lost, like Christopher Robin...

hit, as in a batter hit by a pitched ball...

or they get "it" like in hide-and-go-seek.

Or maybe they get it as with an ambiguous joke.

Not one of the six killed had an army intelligence score...

of less than 150.

We gained a few miles of European real estate...

and lost the beginnings to untold generations of very bright people.

I think the army considered this a good deal.

So now we've been moved north into the Ardennes Forest...

to await replacements.

It's become a kind of frontline halfway house...

for straightening out our nerves.

I'm not sure I can be straightened out.

I'm scared all the time now.

It's mid-December, 1944.

My family name is Knott. K-N-O-T-T.

My parents named me William.

By the third grade, I was Will Knott.

I've learned to live with it.

What I wasn't prepared for were the guys of the I & Rplatoon...

who decided I was to be known as "Won't."

Let's go, Knott!

Back in Camp Shelby before we shipped out...

Lieutenant Ware was told that Intelligence was doing a lousy job.

He figured if he filled the squad with intelligent soldiers...

he'd get better Intelligence.

He searched the regimental records for the soldiers with the highest scores...

on the intelligence test...

and requisitioned us as a squad.

Of course, six of us are dead.

So what's intelligence?

Jesus Christ, Knott.

Haven't you got them fucking sergeant stripes sewn on yet?

The supply sergeant says they're all out. They're waiting on a new shipment.

Well, get some staff sergeant stripes and cut 'em down.

That'd be destruction of government property, sir.

Well, I just hope to hell that son of a bitch Griffin doesn't see it.

It's amazing how much profanity goes on in the army...

when you're tuned to hear it.

Yeah, at ease, gentlemen.

Well done. And, Corporal, if we could...

I'd like the water a little warmer tomorrow.

Give that razor a fighting chance up there against the whiskers.

Okay. Lieutenant Ware, Sergeant Knott.

Gentlemen, I'd like you to disregard...

all the rumors you've been hearing around camp lately...

because now there's talk of a imminent all-out enemy offensive.

Of course, the natural route for any such offensive in this sector...

would obviously be up these two roads...

and through this path in the forest.

With that in mind, three days ago, I sent out a patrol.

Now, that patrol has not returned...

and, unfortunately, they have not reported back.

Accordingly, I've made the following decisions.

Sergeant Knott...

at this particular clearing in the forest...

is a house.

I'd like you to move into that house with your reduced squad.

Take yourself two jeeps and a week's rations.

And from that house...

you're to report on any and all enemy activity within that sector.

Lieutenant Ware...

you're to maintain constant radio contact with Sergeant Knott.

- Is that clear, gentlemen? - Yes, sir.

Sir, is there any evidence of enemy occupation at that house?

Well, now, Sergeant Knott...

that's something you're just gonna have to find out, isn't it?

Right, sir.

We drive for hours through the snow.

Mother and I haven't talked about our cross-country jaunt through the woods.

He just acts as if it never happened.

That's all right. Just thinking about something like that scares me.

What's going on, Mother?

I don't know. There's something up the road.

- What is it? - You can't see it from here.

All right, stay here.

What is it?

Miller.

Check it out.

Why do I always have to check it out?

Jimmy Brunowski from Griffin's patrol.

Looks like he finally found a date.

I don't get it.

What's going on?

Those filthy, Nazi...

Kraut-headed motherfucking bastards!

Give me a hand.

May God have mercy on your souls.

I don't see anything. No smoke, no movement.

What do you think? Head on up with the jeeps?

Actually, I thought maybe shoot through an eye.

We head down the road a ways, circle around the back...

then come down the front of the road and check for mines.

Is that okay with you?

- Yeah. We'll cover you. - Great.

If Mel hadn't gotten trench foot, he'd sure as hell be squad leader.

And that's the way it should be.

Or maybe he'd be dead.

I'm not exactly sure what country we're in.

It could be Belgium, Luxembourg, France or even Germany.

I don't know what day it is. I have no watch, so I don't know what time it is.

I'm not even sure of my name.

The next thing you know, they'll be making me a general.

We find four mattresses and satin-quilted covers...

along with some wine and cases of sardines.

The I & Rplatoon, or what's left of it...

will be living in luxury for a few days.

Wow. Sheets and pillows. I haven't had that since home.

Mel, come on. Show 'em how we did it for the old USO.

USO, huh?

They call it theJersey Bounce

The rhythm that really counts

The temperature always mounts

Whenever they play that crazy rhythm they play

It started onJournal Square

Somebody heard it there

They put it right on the air

And now you hear it everywhere

Uptown

Back at Camp Shelby, when we finally realized...

they really were going to ship us overseas...

we went into a mild state of panic.

The thing that bothered us most was that...

with the exception of Mother Wilkins, we were all eleven virgins.

I don't know if this was normal...

or if there's some sort of correlation between a lack of sexual precocity...

and what is known as intelligence.

I think Shutzer came up with the idea. Or maybe it was Eddie.

Eddie was the youngest of all of us.

Four of us managed a weekend pass and headed into town...

to find a nice, complacent whore who could put us out of our misery.

We kept it to four. We figured any more would be some kind of gang bang.

And, well, we had more romantic aspirations.

We had fifty dollars. We spent ten on the room...

and left the rest for the investment.

There was much discussion as to the kind of woman.

I think we were all scared that we'd end up with a real woman...

and not be able to manage it.

And the "B"girls in the bars were out.

We were well-conditioned by the army VD films.

Avakian and Shutzer were to handle the search.

Eddie and I waited.

What time is it?

- One. - You're kidding.

We got company, guys.

Oh, shit.

I know right then I won't be able to do it. I'm glad I'm third.

So we'd just about given up...

when we see this girl down by the bus station.

Just sitting there on one of those wooden benches.

Anyway, we got around to talking about what we'd been doing all night.

And right then, out of the blue...

she just volunteered to come back here with us.