Ernie Pyle's Story of G.I. Joe

Okay! Load 'em up!

Hey!

Hey, you!

Get that pooch out of here.

You want to get him killed?

All right. All right. Come on. Quit stalling.

Well, so long, Ayrab.

- What do you think about that? - So long, baby.

All right! All right! You heard the lieutenant!

What's the matter with the dog, huh?

What's the matter with him?

I don't understand why we can't keep that dog around.

Aw, you poor little fella.

He's gonna freeze out there.

Goodbye, Ayrab.

Well, thanks.

What do you want me to do--

Correspondent, huh?

Well, you want to get up to the front, don't you?

Well, get in.

No, no. Come on. Come on.

Get in! Make it snappy!

Here, make room for this guy.

He ain't a bad guy, is he?

Heya. You're back with us.

All right, let's get moving!

- - Boy, that's it.

Hey, Gawky!

What are you gonna call that pup, Betty Gordon?

Lay off the Gawk. He's my territory.

Yeah.

Who's Betty Gordon?

Ah, the kid's been waiting for a letter from her

ever since we left the States.

Guess you're getting off at the first air base, ain't you, Pop?

- Why? - Correspondent, ain't you?

The fliers are the guys you guys always write about.

The Hollywood heroes.

We're just the mugs along for the ride.

That's all. Just for the ride.

Ask Wingless. He'll tell you.

Yeah. Just one plane, and you're all dead ducks.

Just one plane, and it's...

[imitates plane descending and shooting]

All right, men. This is a break.

Unload.

Hey, how far up you going, mister, uh...

Pyle.

Probably end of the line, if it's all right with you.

Sure.

- Pyle? You say Pyle? - Mm-hmm.

Say, aren't you the fellow who writes that column

about, uh, weekend trips or something?

Mostly about something.

That's a pretty good-looking outfit you got.

Well, we're not an outfit yet.

Maybe by this time tomorrow, we will be.

Load 'em up!

All right. Come on, men.

On the truck. Load up.

Come on, on the double.

Say, come to think of it,

you know, my old man reads your column.

He thinks it's great.

Well, I'll be darned.

All right, men. Let's get on.

Hey, fellas, get a load of this... Artie Shaw!

[big-band music plays over radio]

Solid, Jack.

Out of this world.

Gee whiz, Murph. I wish you weren't so long.

It's sort of cold out here in the open.

I'll cut my legs off.

No, geez, you don't have to do that.

I hear we're getting in the real business tomorrow.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, they can deal me out.

The infantry ain't so worse.

Look, this is a modern war, ain't it?

And I'm a modern guy.

And the modern age is up in the air.

That's where I belong... Not down here.

They only washed you out 'cause you're too big. It ain't your fault.

I'll cut my legs off.

If you had to sneak something out of that village,

why didn't you bring something in skirts?

- Oh, I'm not... - Shh.

Don't interrupt the music.

Listen.

Murder.

- - Yah!

This is Berlin bringing you the jive music of Artie Shaw.

That's our Sally.

Nothing sweeter or hotter in the world, is there?

Remind you of Rosalind,

- Sylvia... -

...Phyllis,

Nancy,

Mary Ellen,

Daisy?

You bet it does.

Summer nights.

The jukebox down the road.

Cokes.

- Double malts. - Oh.

A girl's soft laughter in the moonlight.

Tomorrow, you boys of the 18th Infantry

will meet our armies for the first time,

armies that have beaten the world--

The French, the British, the Russians.

What chance do you stand?

Says you!

When we get through with you guys...

Why not be sensible?

Be sensible and surrender.

Oh, yeah?

Be my guests in Germany.

Dance with our lovely girls.

They know how to...

to entertain nice, young men like you.

Save one for me, sister! I'll be right there!

What a voice.

What a... bedroom.

What a...

I'll now sing Germany's latest hit,

with lyrics written especially for my handsome American friends.

There's a piece of furniture...

I'd love to push around.

Turn that radio off!

It was Nazi music.

Now it's mine. Our first German prisoner.

Hey, Pop!

Why wasn't you born a beautiful dame?

Or even an ugly one?

Oh, why don't you guys pipe down?!

All right! All right!

Tonight, boys...

Tonight, I dream in technicolor.

Ah.

Hey, how much further we got to go?

About 20 miles.

How far?

Twenty miles.

Then you get out and walk another 10,

you know, to get the stiffness out of you.

Where we going, China?

Hey, that's ours... 105s.

Theirs... 88s.

I thought you said 20 miles.

That's what I said, 20 miles.

Plane!

I didn't even see him.

Hey, what did I tell you guys about the air corps?!

- They stink! - Look at 'em scram!

Oh, the yellow bellies!

All right, men, in the truck.

Come on, make it snappy. The medics will take care of him.

Come on. Come on. On the double.

First death's always the worst.

I suppose so.

On the double, men. Let's get in.

I guess he won't ever get a letter

from that Betty Gordon dame now.

That makes 'em even.

She won't get no more from him neither.

What's, uh...