The Wall (2017) Movie Script
1
[ Exhales ]
[ Bird squawking ]
[ Exhales ]
MATTHEWS: Nothin'...
Hit n' run...
Whoever it was... they're gone.
The war's over.
He got the memo.
[Sighs]
Ize.
[ Bird squawking ]
Allen.
Ize!
What?
We got no movement.
Not a sign of a shadow...
How long we been here, man?
18, plus?
- 20...
- MATTHEWS: Jesus.
[Sighs]
MATTHEWS: There's nobody
fucking out there, man.
'Less he's a pro.
MATTHEWS: A Haji?
ISSAC: I'm just saying, maybe.
MATTHEWS: Right.
ISSAC: Six construction guys
on that pipeline.
Two-man security escort.
MATTHEWS: Yep.
Look at 'em.
MATTHEWS: What?
Not one body
near to anything resembling cover.
That's just fuckin' weird to me.
Don't mean shit, man.
Means he took 'em out
pretty fuckin' fast.
[ Making clicking noises ]
And I think they're all
fuckin' headshots, too.
Oh, fuck off, look...
...check out our boy
with the radio,
he got the call out?
[Sighs]
ISSAC: Yep.
MATTHEWS: That ain't a headshot Ize.
Okay, fine, so one
without a fucking headshot.
[ Matthews chuckles ]
I mean, eight guys,
thirty seconds.
You're sayin' a Haji
went in there with a semi-auto?
Said he might be a pro.
Oh, right.
We're dealing with Juba now?
Might be.
[Sighs]
I'm just saying.
That Wall's cursed...
It's a wall, man.
You're scared of a fuckin' wall?
Nah, I'm scared
of what's behind it.
Could be two Hajis,
sucking each other off
behind that thing.
MATTHEWS: Hey.
What's there is there.
Rest of that shit's
in your head,
you understand?
[Wind blowing]
Ize?
ISAAC:
Mm-hmm?
What's your vote now,
got anyone out there?
Nah, I mean,
I was 60 percent sure,
now I'm like 80...
I don't think so...
or... yep, he's a pro.
MATTHEWS:
Oh, fuck off.
Probably the same
as it always is.
Four or five Hajis
came in and bushwhacked 'em.
ISAAC:
Mm-hmm.
That would make sense.
[Sighs]
Maybe.
[ Isaac stifling laughter]
Or... he's a pro.
[Isaac laughs]
I'm fuckin' hot.
I'm calling it.
ISAAC:
Ah, see, fuck you, man.
I knew that's what
you wanted to do...
I'm fucking with you, man!
What, are you
fucking hungry again?
Already had four or five MREs,
gorilla fuck.
I'm not fuckin' sitting here
dancing around
your super-theories
that a fuckin' super-sniper's
down there, bro.
No fuckin' way a Haji
sticks around this long.
You shittin' me?
I'm fuckin' hot as shit.
My balls have
melted into one fuckin' ball...
Later you're on duty,
you're gonna pry these apart,
all right?
Oh, yeah,
if I can fuckin' find it.
And you're gonna
fuckin' like it, too.
[ Exhales ]
I shoulda joined
the fuckin' Air Force.
No, you're too fuckin' big
for the Air Force.
You'd bring
the whole thing down.
Hey, I'm serious, man...
get down.
I'm serious, too.
I'm goin' down there,
grabbing that guy's radio,
comin' back up here,
and we are getting
the fuck gone.
Yeah, Roger that.
- [ Radio beeps ]
- Comm' check.
Yup, yup, check, check.
[Wind blowing]
Where've you gone?
Oh, yep.
MATTHEWS:
Movement?
You look fuckin'
rigid as shit...
How's that one ball?
Oh, real nice, real smart!
MATTHEWS: You'll always be
number one to me, my man.
[ Isaac chuckles]
- [ Radio beeps ]
- You got eyes on that wall?
ISAAC: I got eyes on your ass...
Uh, shake that booty.
Uh, yeah, there it is.
Uh... Ooh, there we go,
there it is.
I think your tampon
just fell out.
MATTHEWS: Damn right,
that'd usually cost you 25 bucks.
I'll make love to you
Like you want me to
[ indistinct radio chatter]
ISAAC:
You're clear 360.
Keep them eyes open.
Just watch my six.
ISAAC:
Roger that.
Yep, we're fuckin' solo
out here.
Lonely as fuck.
[Wind blowing]
[ Flies buzzing ]
Fuck.
MATTHEWS:
I'm getting closer here...
you got eyes on that wall?
ISAAC:
Roger that.
Shit.
MATTHEWS:
What?
ISAAC: Ah, this...
Man, this fuckin' thing's
foggin' up, man.
MATTHEWS: You have got
to get rid of that shit.
It was Dean's.
MATTHEWS: Fuck Dean.
Dean was a bitch.
Yeah, fuck Dean.
Dean was a bitch.
MATTHEWS:
Bad juju carrying around
a dead man's scope.
[ Flies buzzing ]
Something's not right.
What?
Talk to me, man, talk to me.
What's going on down there?
MATTHEWS:
Ize. They are headshots, man.
ISAAC: Can you tell
where they came from?
You know what, fuck it.
Get the hell out of there, bro.
Hey, Ize, just check the...
- [ Gunshot]
- [ Groans ]
[ Gunshot reverberating ]
MATTHEWS: Ah, shit, I'm hit!
Fuck, man, fuck, I fucked up...
ISAAC:
Fuck!
[ Gasping ]
Fuck! Shit!
Hang on, buddy, I'm coming down.
[ Softly]
Oh, shit.
[ Panting ]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
- [ Bullet ricocheting ]
- Ah!
They see me out there.
They see me out there.
MATTHEWS: Back up! Back up!
Take cover!
They see you out there.
MATTHEWS: Take cover!
What are you doing, man?
- Go, get away from me, man!
- [ Gunshots ]
Go! Go!
- Go!
- [ Isaac groans ]
Back up! Ah, fuckin' shit!
[Gunshot]
[ Isaac groans ]
MATTHEWS:
Take cover!
Get down!
[Groaning]
[ Panting ]
Fuck!
Oh, shit! Fuck!
[ Continues panting ]
Fu... Fuck!
[ Groans ]
[ Matthews groaning ]
Sar'nt! Sar'nt Matthews!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ah, shit!
[ Groaning ]
Fuck, I'm sorry!
- [ Indistinct radio]
- Shit.
MATTHEWS: No fucking Way!
Ah, shit! Okay, uh...
...my brother, fuckin' tell RJ,
you gotta tell him, okay?
What about RJ?
RJ. Tell fuckin' RJ that...
I got, I got fuckin'...
I got fuckin' 22 grand, man.
22 grand...
Stop... Stop... Stop talking, bro.
MATTHEWS:
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to fuckin' do.
[ Matthews groans ]
[ Panting ]
Tourniquet...
use your fucking tourniquet...
Fuck. Tourniquet...
use your fucking tourniquet!
[ Metal clanging ]
Come on, show me somethin'.
Send it, bitch.
[ Gasping ]
I lied to everybody.
I lied to every single person.
Except you. A fuckin' Haj.
[Grunting ]
[ Radio static ]
Isaac, are you there?
Ize...
Ize, I need
your fuckin' help, man.
I can't! You know that...
MATTHEWS: No, no, no, no,
fuckin', the radio, the radio!
[ Groans ]
Okay.
[ Gasping ]
All right,
you stupid motherfucker.
Bite on this,
you fuckin' Haji bitch.
[Chuckling]
[ Sobbing ]
[Wind rustling]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[ Panting ]
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...
MATTHEWS: You got it?
Fuck.
MATTHEWS:
Fuck, man, you got it?
One second!
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
Oh... Oh, God!
Come on.
Breaker! Breaker! Do I...?
- Aw, shit!
- [ Indistinct radio chatter]
Break, break, break,
Spartan Thirty Tree,
requesting extraction.
Fuck!
What the fuck?
Shit.
Shit.
No, no, no, no.
No, no, no.
No, no, no, fuck.
You fuckin' piece of shit.
Oh, fuck!
Fuckin' fuck!
Break, break, break,
Spartan Thirty Tree,
requesting extraction!
Break, break, break,
Spartan Three Tree,
requesting extraction!
MATTHEWS:
Radio com?
He hit my fuckin' antenna!
He hit the fucking antenna, man.
[Wind rustling]
Fuck.
You got eyes on him?
I think I got a shot.
What?
MATTHEWS: I'm goin' for it, man.
You got eyes?
Fuckin'... Sar'nt Matthews?
Sar'nt Matthews!
Sar'nt!
No, no, no, no, no... he'd shoot you
before you even get...
Sarn't Matthews, you hear me?
MATTHEWS:
I'm here.
Hang in there.
Please fuckin' hang in there.
MATTHEWS:
You got eyes on him?
Come on, man.
Where'd it come from?
I don't fuckin' know...
I don't know.
MATTHEWS: Crack bang.
What's the distance?
Okay... Crack bang...
Crack bang...
MATTHEWS: Didn't you hear it?
Crack bang, how many seconds?
[ Indistinct]
MATTHEWS:
Ize... you didn't fuckin' gauge?
Listen, man,
I got one shot at him.
Don't fuckin' touch that rifle, man!
The second you touch
that fucking rifle, you're dead.
Hold on!
[ Panting ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck!
[Wind blowing]
[ Screams ]
Fuck!
[Groaning]
All right.
Shane, I got eyes on...
Sar'nt Matthews?
Sar'nt Matthews,
you fuckin' hear me?
Shane!
Oh, man... God.
You didn't bleed out...
Come on, man, get up...
...get up
and dress that wound, man...
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
Fuck. Fuck.
[ Groans ]
[ Muffled groaning ]
[ Muffled screaming ]
[Whimpering]
[ Sobbing ]
You fucker.
Fuck. Fuck it.
Fuck.Fuck.
God!
[ Gasping ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Last transmission...
Come in... How do you copy?
Come in...
Last transmission...
Come in...
How do you copy?
How do you read us?
[ Static ]
Last transmission...
How do you copy?
How do you copy?
This is Spartan Thirty Tree.
How copy?
MAN ON RADIO:
Reading you Lima Charlie, over.
This is Spartan Thirty Tree...
...receiving enemy fire.
Requesting dust off...
I got a man down...
There's a shooter...
got us pinned,
me, got me pinned...
requesting medevac, I repeat,
I repeat, requesting medevac.
MAN ON RADIO:
What's your position, over?
Uh... Uh, Grid Hotel Whiskey
seven, two, zero, three.
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that. Stand by.
[ Groans ]
[ Exhales ]
Oh, God.
Hey, Shane,
we're goin' home, buddy!
[Sighs]
[Wind rustling]
[ Chuckles ]
About fuckin' time...
[ Radio static ]
[ Exhales ]
All right, come on.
This is Spartan Tree Tree...
are you there, over?
Okay.
MAN ON RADIO:
Reading you, Lima Charlie.
You're on a radio feed,
and we do not want
to move beyond range
of your signal.
Do you copy?
Beyond range of my signal?
You're already
in my local radio.
Are you close?
MAN ON RADIO:
Need a confirm on your ID, over.
This is Sar'nt Allen Isaac,
51st ODA.
I have Staff Sar'nt
Shane Matthews here with me,
but he's down, possibly KIA...
I don't know.
He's not responding, so...
Over.
MAN ON RADIO:
We copy Spartan Tree Tree.
Prepping medevac.
[ Softly ]
Okay.
[ Exhales ]
Oh, Jesus Christ.
All right,
you little fucker, you.
[ Exhales ]
Fucking NATO round.
Goddamn.
7.62 by 51...
No, we got a shooter,
high-caliber weapon.
Requesting UAV.
MAN ON RADIO:
We need your challenge code
before we send in medevac.
Whoa, wait.
Say that again?
MAN ON RADIO:
Requesting your challenge code.
What the fuck is...?
No, but... umm...
Who is this?
MAN ON RADIO:
This is Captain Otis Simmons.
I need your challenge code
if I'm going to get you
and your Staff Sar'nt medevac.
Uh, Romeo... no...
No, wait, I didn't say
I needed medical assistance.
Do you copy?
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that. I assumed.
But this is protocol.
[ Radio static ]
Well, fuck me,
how do I know that?
Huh? That you are
who you say you are?
Allen Isaac.
You and your Staff Sergeant
Shane Matthews
made an overnight worm
into a killzone
to investigate a potential sniper
and report back to us.
Okay, okay...
All right, I'm sorry.
I'm a little fucked up.
Uh, listen, you gotta bring
a heavy escort...
This guy's a fucking asshole.
[Wind blowing]
[ Exhales ]
[ Radio static ]
Where do you keep goin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
Do you have a flare, sergeant?
Do you copy?
Uh, yeah, no, I don't...
I have an M4 and a sidearm.
MAN ON RADIO:
I need you to stand
And fire into the air.
We need to get
a lock on your position.
What the fuck?
This ain't ranger school!
The fuckin' shooter'll get
a fuckin' lock on my position.
MAN ON RADIO:
Well, I can't help you
unless I know your location.
Do you copy?
Fuck it.
A lotta fuckin' help, you've been
so fuckin' far, motherfucker.
This is fuckin' stupid.
This ain't fuckin' protocol.
MAN ON RADIO:
Sergeant,
We need your exact location
to send in medevac.
Say that again?
MAN ON RADIO:
I need your location.
No, my rank, what's my rank?
[ Accented ]
MAN ON RADIO: Sergeant.
[ Scoffs ]
You, uh...
You got an accent.
Not American.
MAN ON RADIO: You have
seen through my camouflage.
The fuck are you talking 'bout?
MAN ON RADIO: I'm talking
about hiding behind words...
like you're hiding
behind that wall.
You...
Motherfu...
Oh, shit.
[ Groans ]
You... fuck!
MAN ON RADIO:
I've got a question for you.
Your friend, is he dead?
He looks-He looks dead to me.
This is Spartan Thirty Three,
sending in the blind.
MAN ON RADIO:
But maybe he is just unconscious.
I got a man down!
MAN ON RADIO:
Shall I make sure?
I got a sniper,
I got an enemy sniper...
Requesting medevac!
MAN ON RADIO:
Shall I shoot him in the head?
I repeat, I repeat,
requesting...
MAN ON RADIO:
Does he have a wife? Children?
[ Stones falling ]
Will they enjoy a closed casket,
if I take his face off?
All right, all right,
shut the fuck up, man.
All right stop, stop,
stop, stop.
[Sighs]
Is there something
that you want?
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes.
Well, I don't know nothin'.
I'm a buck sar'nt.
They don't tell me shit,
so... fuck you.
MAN ON RADIO:
That's not what I want.
Oh, what do you want?
You want fuckin' twelve virgins
or somethin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
I want to get to know you.
I just want to get to know you.
Will you allow that?
[ Gasping ]
Hey, you're fucking with me.
MAN ON RADIO:
I was.
But you figured it out.
So now, let's be real.
It's just you and me out here.
So what do you say?
Yeah, I'll talk to you.
MAN ON RADIO:
Good.
Where are you from?
No, listen, I don't know
shit about you,
so why don't you go first?
MAN ON RADIO:
Me?
There is nothing to say.
No story.
ISAAC: Uh, you're the one
who wants to get chatty, bro.
Why ain't you saying anything?
Huh?
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay. I'll start.
I am just...
a regular Iraqi man.
A civilian.
A civilian, my ass.
Crack bang.
One, two, three, four, five...
[ Exhales ]
Okay, one, two, three,
four, five...
One, two, three, four, five...
One, two, three, four, five...
Okay, one, two, three,
four, bang.
Four plus four...
Four plus four...
eight hundred plus...
[Sighs]
Okay.
Bullet... 45, 50, 60,
60 degree angle.
9... 950, 950 plus.
That gives me, 1,500.
Okay, okay.
At the wall, me, Matthews.
Crane, construction site,
trailers, flagpole.
MAN ON RADIO:
And you?
What about me?
MAN ON RADIO:
Are you a regular American?
ISAAC:
Uh, yeah. Regular Joe.
MAN ON RADIO:
A regular G.I. Joe...
Army ranger or marine?
You worked
in our fuckin' ranks, huh?
Had our training,
then you fuckin' backstab us.
Look, these fuckin' guys
were building pipelines.
Building up your fuckin' economy,
you asshole.
[ Groans ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Pipelines, huh?
For our economy?
Yeah, that's fuckin' money.
Infrastructure,
education, schools.
These guys
were fucking contractors.
Not here to fight.
War's over, bro.
MAN ON RADIO:
Bro?
Whatever, man.
MAN ON RADIO: It's an interesting
choice of words.
And yet I disagree with you,
bro.
The war's not over...
Definitely not for you.
You say... you say a lot
of fuckin' fancy words.
What are you, Haji Shakespeare
or some shit?
MAN ON RADIO:
Shakespeare?
Military lingo is all poetry.
Battle rattle, ghetto grip...
Johnny Jihad, friendly fire...
It's your turn, Isaac.
Or should I say Ize?
What?
What... what do you mean,
it's my turn?
What do you want me to say?
MAN ON RADIO:
Tell me where you're from.
Where's your family?
I'm not talking
'bout fucking family.
Oh, God!
[ Gasps ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay, then tell
about your brothers and sisters
at arms.
That's a negative, too, bro.
MAN ON RADIO: I don't want
any military secrets.
Just stories.
Eat a dick.
MAN ON RADIO: I will shoot
Matthews if you don't talk.
Go ahead.
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes?
[Grunting ]
He is your second loss...
...first, Dean, now Matthews.
How the fuck
do you know about Dean?
MAN ON RADIO:
Keep talking.
No. Fuck you. How?
[ Gasping ]
MAN ON RADIO:
You carry his scope around.
What was it your sergeant said?
A dead man's scope?
[ Gasping ]
How old are you?
MAN ON RADIO:
Just tell me something, Isaac.
Tell me about your comrades.
Or I will shoot Matthews' face off.
[Coughing]
Okay.
[Continues coughing ]
Uh... yeah.
Uh, we, uh, we play ball.
MAN ON RADIO:
I beg your pardon?
Uh...
Yeah, me and the squad.
We, uh, play in the afternoon.
Uh, get baked in the Iraqi sun.
Uh, nothing else to do.
No war to fight.
MAN ON RADIO:
Baked... what does that mean?
Baked, like, you know, tanned.
MAN ON RADIO:
Go on.
Go on?
MAN ON RADIO:
What about Sergeant Matthews,
did he get baked?
Did Dean?
I ain't talking
about fuckin' Dean with you.
You dirty fuckin' Haji.
MAN ON RADIO: If I were you,
I would start talking, Isaac.
Tell me about Dean.
What's the obsession, huh?
What the fuck?
MAN ON RADIO:
It's interesting to me.
The bond between you
and your brothers.
And I will shoot Matthews
if you do not speak.
I'm looking at him right now.
It would be so easy
to tear his face off.
His family won't even
recognize him.
Is that what you want, Ize?
[ Bird squawking ]
[Sighs]
You should just answer
my questions.
All right, all right.
[Wind blowing]
MAN ON RADIO:
So, tell me about Dean's scope.
Oh, shit.
Oh... Oh, fuck.
MAN ON RADIO: I can see it
at the base of the wall there.
Why do you keep it?
Fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
Now, you said it's broken.
Why would you carry around
a broken scope, Isaac?
Oh, shut the fuck up, man.
How's this end?
How the fuck this end?
MAN ON RADIO:
I'm sorry?
I said, how the fuck's it end?
What's the fuckin' endgame?
MAN ON RADIO:
There's no endgame.
I'm just enjoying
our conversation.
No, stop!
Fuckin' stop, all right?
You're not gonna
get to know me.
MAN ON RADIO: I feel
like I know you better already.
No, you fucking don't!
You don't know shit!
MAN ON RADIO: You're dehydrated,
I know that.
That's why I aimed
at your water bottle.
No, you didn't...
You fuckin'
was trying to hit me.
MAN ON RADIO:
No, the water bottle.
[ Scoffs ]
Nobody's that fuckin' accurate.
MAN ON RADIO:
And your antenna.
No fucking way.
MAN ON RADIO:
And your knee.
I know the popliteal vein
in your leg
carries enough blood
that no matter what kind
of bandaging you have,
you will still be sitting
in a puddle of plasma.
You're feeling fatigued,
lightheaded.
And you will bleed out
before nightfall.
What the fuck is going on
with this shit...
...you fucker?
[Grunts]
You psychotic motherfucker.
What do you want from me, huh?
Oh, fuck!
[Grunting ]
[Groaning]
Fuckin' flank me?
Fuckin' Haji.
[ Radio static ]
Hey, where'd you
keep fuckin' going, huh?
No, no, you're tryin' to fuckin'
circle my wall, ain't you?
Huh?
Tryin' to circle round my wall,
motherfucker?
MAN ON RADIO:
That's ironic.
Yeah, I'm right, huh?
MAN ON RADIO:
You say "my wall".
The very wall your country
came here to knock down,
you now try desperately
to keep from falling.
Oh, you find that
fuckin' funny, huh?
MAN ON RADIO: You should know:
that wall you are hiding behind,
was actually part of a school.
Yeah, well, I'll piss on it.
That's what I think
about your fuckin' wall.
MAN ON RADIO: You're hiding
in the shadow of Islam.
No, I'm hiding in the shadow
of fuckin' death.
I'm in the fuckin' shadow
of death.
[ Gasping ]
Nice try.
That's gotta be a 20 mag...
[ Continues gasping ]
So all the guys...
...it's gotta be a 20 mag.
One in Matthews, 3 in me...
That 7.62...
That 7.62 by 51 NATO round
is U.S. issued?
Hey. Motherfucker.
You wanna talk?
Come on, man.
What's up?
MAN ON RADIO: You want to know
the weapon I'm using?
M-24?
Mark 11?
MAN ON RADIO: I would prefer
an M96 Windrunner any day.
I thought we were being honest?
I know you're using a Mark 11.
MAN ON RADIO: No, you believe
that's what I'm using.
But you don't know
anything for certain.
You don't know shit.
Is that how you say it?
You don't know shit?
Say that again...
...I can't hear you.
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay...
you...
don't...
know... shit.
ISAAC:
I don't know shit, huh?
Well, go on. Please.
Educate me, man.
Come on, I'm listenin'...
[ Indisctinct ]
MAN ON RADIO:
You Americans.
You think you know it all.
You think it's simple.
That I am your enemy.
But we are not so different,
you and I.
ISAAC: Yeah, 'cept
I ain't a fuckin' terrorist.
MAN ON RADIO:
And you think I am?
You are the one who has come
to another man's country,
[ Metal clanging ]
Camouflaged yourself
in his land,
in his soil.
No fuckin' way...
MAN ON RADIO:
From where I'm sitting,
you look very much
like the terrorist.
[Wind blowing]
You're in the fuckin' trash?
No fucking way...
'less he's a pro.
You're him.
You're Juba.
The ghost.
MAN ON RADIO:
A hundred men out there
call themselves Juba.
I'm just a man.
35 U.S. casualties,
angel of death.
That's why they never find you.
Damn.
You must've been days
in that fuckin' shit heap.
So, we trained you, obviously.
Learn how to shoot,
trajectory, zeroing the rifle,
no reloads between shots.
Learn all that shit
and then betrayed us?
MAN ON RADIO:
Depends on the angle
you look at it from.
Only one angle.
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes, as I'd expect you to say.
No.
Tell me you're my enemy, fine,
I'll respect that.
We kill, We kill.
But say you're my friend...
and shoot me in the back?
The only angle I see
is a fuckin' snake.
MAN ON RADIO: But if this friend
shoots you in the back,
and you survive,
is it okay to shoot him back?
I want you
to tell me something, Isaac.
Why are you here?
Why are you still here, Isaac?
How many tours
have you done now?
[Sighs]
Why do you keep coming back?
[Sighs]
Is it because of Dean?
Please, God...
How the fuck did I get here?
MAN ON RADIO:
Is that why?
Be honest with me, Isaac.
Is it because of Dean?
Just tell me... How...?
How'd you know that name?
MAN ON RADIO:
Tell me one thing about him.
Just one thing.
[Wind blowing]
We were
from 'round about the same area.
His cousins...
...went to same school as me.
My dad knows his...
Seen his kid.
Held him.
More than Dean's ever done.
Clem works
by the fuckin' Stop n' Shop...
MAN ON RADIO:
Clem?
Clementine, his wife.
[Sighs]
No fuckin' way. I can't...
I can't go back to that.
Fuckin' day in, day out shit.
[ Sighs ]
And them, looking at me.
And they would.
They'd look at me, and they'd...
They'd see me.
Fuck...
Nope.
I can't go. I can't.
I can't do that.
Can't go back.
This...
Oh, God.
[Groaning]
Fuck it.
You happy now, huh?
Now you know everything.
You're fucked up,
you know that?
MAN ON RADIO:
Why is that?
'Cause you gotta mess
with my fuckin' head, too?
[Wind rustling]
MAN ON RADIO:
Isaac, when this is over,
the skin will be cut
from your face.
Your eyes will be gouged.
Fuckin' shoot me, you prick.
MAN ON RADIO: Your lying tongue
will be stapled to your chest.
[ Chuckles ]
Just fucking shoot me, man,
and get it over with.
MAN ON RADIO: But I will
let them find your body.
Fuck it,
I might just shoot myself.
All right, you asshole.
Where are you?
[ Metal clanging ]
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO:
That was foolish, Isaac.
I could've shot you.
I could've easily shot you.
[Sighs]
Ize!
I just want to have
a conversation with you, Isaac.
[ Groans ]
Why are you trying
to get yourself killed?
Oh, fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
Isaac.
Isaac.
The radio you
risked your life for? It's dead.
[Sighs]
Are you dead, too?
You missed.
I'm still here.
You're not that fucking good.
MAN ON RADIO:
Ha! He speaks!
Tear up the planks!
Here, here!
It is the beating
of his hideous heart.
What's that, one
of your gay-ass Haji poems?
MAN ON RADIO:
American.
- [ Radio breaking up]
- Tell Tale Heart.
Edgar Allen Poe.
I didn't catch a fuckin' word
you're sayin', man.
MAN ON RADIO:
Edgar Allen Poe. Don't you...?
[ Radio breaking up]
What's wrong
with your fuckin' radio, man?
What is that?
MAN ON RADIO:
You must've studied his work.
He's an American great.
His writing is really...
- [ Radio breaking up]
- What is it?
Don't look at fuckin' me.
MAN ON RADIO: Did you know
that he was an orphan?
He tried to be a soldier,
but didn't get very...
[ Radio static ]
[Wind blowing]
Shane...
Shane, that you?
MAN ON RADIO: He was
a better writer than a soldier.
[ Groans ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Once upon a midnight dreary,
[ Groaning continues]
while I pondered
weak and weary...
ISAAC:
Sar'nt Matthews!
MAN ON RADIO:
Suddenly there came a tapping...
ISSAC:
Is that you?
MAN ON RADIO:
...rapping at my chamber door.
In there stepped
a stately raven,
from the saintly days of yore.
Take thy beak
from out of my heart,
and take thy form
from off my door.
Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."
Or perhaps you would
prefer Robert Frost?
"A voice said, 'Look me in the stars
And tell me truly'..."
I see you, man!
MAN ON RADIO:
"Men of earth...
I knew you were taking a nap!
MAN ON RADIO:
If all the soul-and-body scars...
ISAAC:
I found that fucking weasel!
MAN ON RADIO: ...were not
too much to pay for birth."
ISAAC: 12 o'clock.
In the fucking trash heap!
MAN ON RADIO:
His poetry is so beautiful.
[Wind blowing]
[Chuckling]
[ Gasping ]
So, uh... you studied, huh?
Uh... studied, uh...
you studied here or abroad?
ISSAC:
Like, um...
I know they got those, uh...
study-abroad programs
or whatnot?
[ Matthews groans ]
ISAAC: Hey!
A shot from that distance,
he's gotta be at least
25, 30 feet up, man!
He's over 1,500 meters,
1,550 maybe.
Right?
Huh?
Why ain't you talking, man?
Come on, you there?
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
[ Gasping ]
Are you there, man?
[Wind blowing]
It's just, you know a lot
about books and shit.
I just thought,
I might even learn
some Haji Shakespeare
or some shit.
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO: Shakespeare?
Is that the only poet you know?
I studied English.
Boy, you, uh...
you minor in sniping
or somethin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
I was a teacher in Baghdad.
But a bomb hit my school.
ISAAC:
You got it? Shane?
MAN ON RADIO: I got shrapnel
in my left elbow, still hurts.
ISAAC: Fucking trash heap,
behind the white trailer.
[ Groans ]
1550.
MAN ON RADIO: It reminds me
of the students I lost.
ISAAC: Come on, baby!
Come on, baby,
let's do this!
[ Groans ]
Is that why you shoot
civilian contractors?
MAN ON RADIO:
As the scripture says,
an eye for an eye.
That's bullshit.
You're no more
religious than I am, man.
That's just a fuckin' excuse
to shoot up some Americans.
You're good, man!
Just keep going slow, baby,
real slow!
MAN ON RADIO:
Is that a question, Isaac?
Slow is smooth,
smooth is fast!
Yeah. That's right.
See, that's what I don't get.
How does
an educated person like you
become a fuckin' terrorist?
MAN ON RADIO:
You tell me.
Oh, shut your fuckin' mouth.
MAN ON RADIO:
You're fading, Isaac.
You like to hear yourself talk,
don't you?
I'm fuckin' fantastic.
I'm chillin' like a villain baby.
MAN ON RADIO:
You are not fantastic.
You have no water.
You're dehydrated.
The sun is...
the sun's baking you.
[Groaning]
You're bleeding to death.
[Sighs]
[ Hoarse ]
Cap'.
Cap'.
Captain Albright.
MAN ON RADIO:
What's that?
Our legend.
Trained me.
Trained Dean, too.
[ Groans ]
He's coming for us.
MAN ON RADIO:
For your bodies.
We don't report in,
he's on your ass.
MAN ON RADIO: Judging from your
and Matthews' performances,
I'm not concerned.
Fuck you.
He's coming for us.
[ Gasping ]
He trained us...
...trained us to survive.
MAN ON RADIO:
And won't he be disappointed.
ISAAC: You didn't win shit.
You hear me, motherfucker?
You didn't win shit!
[ Matthews grunting ]
From a place you will not see
comes a sound you will not hear.
Just a flash of fucking light.
Boom.
MAN ON RADIO: When I'm done
with you and Matthews,
everyone will know
who the winner is.
[ Gasps ]
ISAAC:
Shane!
[Sighs]
Hold still, man, hold still!
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO: Should I take
Sergeant Matthews' head off?
Shit.
Hold still, man!
Don't fuckin' move!
MAN ON RADIO: Will you
take something from Matthews?
Like your broken scope?
He's in my crosshairs right now.
I've got eyes on him.
ISAAC:
What?
MAN ON RADIO: I don't
make empty threats, Isaac.
I'm going to tear his face off.
Wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait...
I carry around the scope...
because it reminds me...
of why I can't hold a...
hold a rifle again.
[Spits]
Okay?
You listening to me?
[ Gasping ]
Dean dropped it...
the scope... in the line of duty.
He fell over trying
to pick it up, and I missed it.
I missed the sniper.
Okay?
You fuckin' listening to me?!
I didn't see him.
That's how he got hit.
It was my fault!
Goddamn it,
you fuckin' listening?!
[ Groans ]
Slower, man.
Slower, slower!
MAN ON RADIO:
Slower what?
What's going on?
Who are you talking to?
[ Groans ]
Who am I talking to?
[ Gunshots ]
I'm talking to fucking God!
He's 90 feet up!
In the trash somewhere!
I don't fucking know.
I'm sorry, man!
[ Gunshots ]
Give me, max plus four...
...six mils right!
Send when ready!
[ Gunshots ]
[ Gunshots ]
Did you get him?
[ Gasping ]
Please tell me you got him!
- [ Gunshot]
- [ Groans ]
Oh, fuck!
[ Matthews screaming ]
You bastard, you fucker!
Just fuckin' let him go,
you piece of shit!
Shane! Get up man!
He ain't a threat
to you anymore,
just fuckin' let him go!
MATTHEWS:
Goddammit. Fuck!
ISAAC: Don't fucking stop,
don't fucking stop!
Just like that,
just like that baby, let's go!
Fuck, come on, man!
Come on!
Keep comin', man,
you're almost there!
Come on!
Just like that, man!
Reach for me.
Reach for me!
[Gunshot]
[ Gunshot reverberates ]
[Coughing]
[ Coughing continues ]
Wake up... wake...
[Wind blowing]
Wake up.
[ Sobbing ]
I wanna go home.
I wanna go fuckin' home,
motherfucker!
MAN ON RADIO:
So go. Walk away.
You'll just fuckin' shoot me.
MAN ON RADIO:
No, I won't.
Yes, you fuckin' will.
Why wouldn't you?
MAN ON RADIO:
Because that's not really
what you want.
What?
MAN ON RADIO:
You don't want to go home,
do you?
What the fuck's that mean, man?
MAN ON RADIO: The war's over,
you're still here.
Why?
I killed him.
I did.
He went
to go confirm a kill.
Enemy sniper.
Guy was playing possum.
Started shooting at Dean.
I tried shooting back, but the bullet
went right through Dean.
[Sobbing ]
Oh, man, I lied...
I fuckin' lied so much.
Tryin' to keep
the story straight.
[ Radio static ]
Are you there?
Listenin' to me?
D'you hear me?
[ Metal clanging ]
Oh, fuck!
[ Panting ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck.
[Wind rustling]
[Wind blowing]
[Gunshot]
Oh, shit.
[Gunshot]
[Yelling]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Fuck.
[Grunting ]
Where are you, man?
Where do you keep goin'?
[ Radio static ]
No, something's off.
[ Gasping ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck.
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Spartan Thirty Three,
this is Mobile HQ...
Spartan Thirty Three,
this is Mobile HQ Actual...
[Chuckling]
This is Spartan Thirty Tree,
how copy?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Spartan Thirty Three,
confirm name and rank, over?
Sar'nt Allen...
MAN ON RADIO:
Sar'nt Allen Isaac.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Roger that.
Good to hear you again, Sar'nt.
What the fuck?!
No, no, no, no, no,
hey, Cap', Cap'!
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
...the shooter in the last hour?
- MAN ON RADIO: No, still quiet.
- No, no, no.
MAN ON RADIO: We're chillin'
like villains, Cap'.
Cap', Cap', Cap',
this is Sar'nt Allen B. Isaac!
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
What's Matthews' status?
MAN ON RADIO:
It's stable, sir.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Copy that Spartan Tree Tree.
'Kay, bravo.
MAN ON RADIO:
All due respect, Cap',
that's what y'all said
an hour ago.
Can I get an updated ETA?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
ETA, about an hour twenty.
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that.
Oh, fuck. Don't do this.
MAN ON RADIO:
We're gettin' baked out here,
little out of it.
You fuckin' bastard.
[ Indistinct radio chatter]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
...Hotel Whiskey seven two
in approximately six zero mikes.
[ Chuckles ]
So that guy called for us...
MAN ON RADIO:
Fuckin' Hajis.
Just hoping you get here
before nightfall.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Scared of the dark now, Sar'nt?
How many times have you
done this, you motherfucker?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Could've fooled me.
Sure you don't need
a little Vagisil
for the problem areas?
Construction guys
call for security detail.
Security detail calls for us,
and I...
I call for them.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
I hear that.
We'll see you in 80...
stay out of trouble.
Camouflage yourself in me,
you fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
We'll do our best Cap'.
Over and out.
[Sighs]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Out.
Fuck you...
Oh, fuck you.
[Wind blowing]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[ Raven squawking ]
Fuck off, will ya?
Hey... Damn it!
[ Raven squawking ]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[Wind rustling]
Hey. You fuckin' there?
You can't shoot 'em.
You know that, right?
You shoot, you'll give away
your position.
And they'll fuckin' find you.
They will.
You listenin' to me?
[Wind blowing]
You there?
[Wind continues blowing ]
[ Gasping ]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[Wind blowing]
I'm gonna shut you the fuck up.
[Grunting ]
[ Exhales ]
I ain't afraid of dyin'.
[Grunting ]
[ Heavy breathing ]
[ Isaac breathing heavily]
[ Helicopters approaching ]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[ Helicopters approaching ]
[ Gasping ]
[ Indistinct soldier chatter]
Check it.
RANGER:
We got you. Just breathe.
Check the trash.
RANGER 2:
All clear. Perimeter clear.
PILOT:
Helo One Seven, wheels up.
PILOT 2:
Three Five, wheels up.
PILOT:
Bulldog flight is on the way.
Coming right,
heading two three zero.
PILOT 2:
Three Five, copy.
Heavy blood loss! Tourniquet!
Keep clear!
Try to relax, Sergeant.
It's gonna be all right.
Tourniquet's holding. Copy?
Vitals' are stable.
[ Indistinct]
I've set up the oxygen.
He's going through it
pretty fast,
so, prep a backup tank.
[ Indistinct chatter]
You got that?
Copy that.
[Gunshot]
Fuck!
RANGER: Holy shit!
- RANGER 2: Holy shit!
- [ Gunshot ]
- RANGER 3: Taking fire!
PILOT: Bulldog One, shift west.
Shift west.
[ Indistinct yelling ]
He's in the fucking trash!
- Hold on!
- He's in the trash!
[Gunshot]
[ Helicopter beeping ]
Oh, God!
Fuck! No!
PILOT: Under fire.
Under fire.
RANGER: Brace! Brace!
PILOT: We're going down.
[ Crashing ]
[ Radio static ]
BAGHDAD COMMAND:
Helo Bulldog One Seven,
Helo Bulldog Three Five,
this is Baghdad Command,
how copy?
Bulldog One Seven, how copy?
[ "Wall Song" by RYKEYZ
playing ]
MAN ON RADIO:
This is Bulldog One Seven,
reading you Lima Charlie, over.
[ "Wall Song" by RYKEYZ
continues playing ]
[ Exhales ]
[ Bird squawking ]
[ Exhales ]
MATTHEWS: Nothin'...
Hit n' run...
Whoever it was... they're gone.
The war's over.
He got the memo.
[Sighs]
Ize.
[ Bird squawking ]
Allen.
Ize!
What?
We got no movement.
Not a sign of a shadow...
How long we been here, man?
18, plus?
- 20...
- MATTHEWS: Jesus.
[Sighs]
MATTHEWS: There's nobody
fucking out there, man.
'Less he's a pro.
MATTHEWS: A Haji?
ISSAC: I'm just saying, maybe.
MATTHEWS: Right.
ISSAC: Six construction guys
on that pipeline.
Two-man security escort.
MATTHEWS: Yep.
Look at 'em.
MATTHEWS: What?
Not one body
near to anything resembling cover.
That's just fuckin' weird to me.
Don't mean shit, man.
Means he took 'em out
pretty fuckin' fast.
[ Making clicking noises ]
And I think they're all
fuckin' headshots, too.
Oh, fuck off, look...
...check out our boy
with the radio,
he got the call out?
[Sighs]
ISSAC: Yep.
MATTHEWS: That ain't a headshot Ize.
Okay, fine, so one
without a fucking headshot.
[ Matthews chuckles ]
I mean, eight guys,
thirty seconds.
You're sayin' a Haji
went in there with a semi-auto?
Said he might be a pro.
Oh, right.
We're dealing with Juba now?
Might be.
[Sighs]
I'm just saying.
That Wall's cursed...
It's a wall, man.
You're scared of a fuckin' wall?
Nah, I'm scared
of what's behind it.
Could be two Hajis,
sucking each other off
behind that thing.
MATTHEWS: Hey.
What's there is there.
Rest of that shit's
in your head,
you understand?
[Wind blowing]
Ize?
ISAAC:
Mm-hmm?
What's your vote now,
got anyone out there?
Nah, I mean,
I was 60 percent sure,
now I'm like 80...
I don't think so...
or... yep, he's a pro.
MATTHEWS:
Oh, fuck off.
Probably the same
as it always is.
Four or five Hajis
came in and bushwhacked 'em.
ISAAC:
Mm-hmm.
That would make sense.
[Sighs]
Maybe.
[ Isaac stifling laughter]
Or... he's a pro.
[Isaac laughs]
I'm fuckin' hot.
I'm calling it.
ISAAC:
Ah, see, fuck you, man.
I knew that's what
you wanted to do...
I'm fucking with you, man!
What, are you
fucking hungry again?
Already had four or five MREs,
gorilla fuck.
I'm not fuckin' sitting here
dancing around
your super-theories
that a fuckin' super-sniper's
down there, bro.
No fuckin' way a Haji
sticks around this long.
You shittin' me?
I'm fuckin' hot as shit.
My balls have
melted into one fuckin' ball...
Later you're on duty,
you're gonna pry these apart,
all right?
Oh, yeah,
if I can fuckin' find it.
And you're gonna
fuckin' like it, too.
[ Exhales ]
I shoulda joined
the fuckin' Air Force.
No, you're too fuckin' big
for the Air Force.
You'd bring
the whole thing down.
Hey, I'm serious, man...
get down.
I'm serious, too.
I'm goin' down there,
grabbing that guy's radio,
comin' back up here,
and we are getting
the fuck gone.
Yeah, Roger that.
- [ Radio beeps ]
- Comm' check.
Yup, yup, check, check.
[Wind blowing]
Where've you gone?
Oh, yep.
MATTHEWS:
Movement?
You look fuckin'
rigid as shit...
How's that one ball?
Oh, real nice, real smart!
MATTHEWS: You'll always be
number one to me, my man.
[ Isaac chuckles]
- [ Radio beeps ]
- You got eyes on that wall?
ISAAC: I got eyes on your ass...
Uh, shake that booty.
Uh, yeah, there it is.
Uh... Ooh, there we go,
there it is.
I think your tampon
just fell out.
MATTHEWS: Damn right,
that'd usually cost you 25 bucks.
I'll make love to you
Like you want me to
[ indistinct radio chatter]
ISAAC:
You're clear 360.
Keep them eyes open.
Just watch my six.
ISAAC:
Roger that.
Yep, we're fuckin' solo
out here.
Lonely as fuck.
[Wind blowing]
[ Flies buzzing ]
Fuck.
MATTHEWS:
I'm getting closer here...
you got eyes on that wall?
ISAAC:
Roger that.
Shit.
MATTHEWS:
What?
ISAAC: Ah, this...
Man, this fuckin' thing's
foggin' up, man.
MATTHEWS: You have got
to get rid of that shit.
It was Dean's.
MATTHEWS: Fuck Dean.
Dean was a bitch.
Yeah, fuck Dean.
Dean was a bitch.
MATTHEWS:
Bad juju carrying around
a dead man's scope.
[ Flies buzzing ]
Something's not right.
What?
Talk to me, man, talk to me.
What's going on down there?
MATTHEWS:
Ize. They are headshots, man.
ISAAC: Can you tell
where they came from?
You know what, fuck it.
Get the hell out of there, bro.
Hey, Ize, just check the...
- [ Gunshot]
- [ Groans ]
[ Gunshot reverberating ]
MATTHEWS: Ah, shit, I'm hit!
Fuck, man, fuck, I fucked up...
ISAAC:
Fuck!
[ Gasping ]
Fuck! Shit!
Hang on, buddy, I'm coming down.
[ Softly]
Oh, shit.
[ Panting ]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
- [ Bullet ricocheting ]
- Ah!
They see me out there.
They see me out there.
MATTHEWS: Back up! Back up!
Take cover!
They see you out there.
MATTHEWS: Take cover!
What are you doing, man?
- Go, get away from me, man!
- [ Gunshots ]
Go! Go!
- Go!
- [ Isaac groans ]
Back up! Ah, fuckin' shit!
[Gunshot]
[ Isaac groans ]
MATTHEWS:
Take cover!
Get down!
[Groaning]
[ Panting ]
Fuck!
Oh, shit! Fuck!
[ Continues panting ]
Fu... Fuck!
[ Groans ]
[ Matthews groaning ]
Sar'nt! Sar'nt Matthews!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ah, shit!
[ Groaning ]
Fuck, I'm sorry!
- [ Indistinct radio]
- Shit.
MATTHEWS: No fucking Way!
Ah, shit! Okay, uh...
...my brother, fuckin' tell RJ,
you gotta tell him, okay?
What about RJ?
RJ. Tell fuckin' RJ that...
I got, I got fuckin'...
I got fuckin' 22 grand, man.
22 grand...
Stop... Stop... Stop talking, bro.
MATTHEWS:
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to fuckin' do.
[ Matthews groans ]
[ Panting ]
Tourniquet...
use your fucking tourniquet...
Fuck. Tourniquet...
use your fucking tourniquet!
[ Metal clanging ]
Come on, show me somethin'.
Send it, bitch.
[ Gasping ]
I lied to everybody.
I lied to every single person.
Except you. A fuckin' Haj.
[Grunting ]
[ Radio static ]
Isaac, are you there?
Ize...
Ize, I need
your fuckin' help, man.
I can't! You know that...
MATTHEWS: No, no, no, no,
fuckin', the radio, the radio!
[ Groans ]
Okay.
[ Gasping ]
All right,
you stupid motherfucker.
Bite on this,
you fuckin' Haji bitch.
[Chuckling]
[ Sobbing ]
[Wind rustling]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[ Panting ]
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...
MATTHEWS: You got it?
Fuck.
MATTHEWS:
Fuck, man, you got it?
One second!
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
Oh... Oh, God!
Come on.
Breaker! Breaker! Do I...?
- Aw, shit!
- [ Indistinct radio chatter]
Break, break, break,
Spartan Thirty Tree,
requesting extraction.
Fuck!
What the fuck?
Shit.
Shit.
No, no, no, no.
No, no, no.
No, no, no, fuck.
You fuckin' piece of shit.
Oh, fuck!
Fuckin' fuck!
Break, break, break,
Spartan Thirty Tree,
requesting extraction!
Break, break, break,
Spartan Three Tree,
requesting extraction!
MATTHEWS:
Radio com?
He hit my fuckin' antenna!
He hit the fucking antenna, man.
[Wind rustling]
Fuck.
You got eyes on him?
I think I got a shot.
What?
MATTHEWS: I'm goin' for it, man.
You got eyes?
Fuckin'... Sar'nt Matthews?
Sar'nt Matthews!
Sar'nt!
No, no, no, no, no... he'd shoot you
before you even get...
Sarn't Matthews, you hear me?
MATTHEWS:
I'm here.
Hang in there.
Please fuckin' hang in there.
MATTHEWS:
You got eyes on him?
Come on, man.
Where'd it come from?
I don't fuckin' know...
I don't know.
MATTHEWS: Crack bang.
What's the distance?
Okay... Crack bang...
Crack bang...
MATTHEWS: Didn't you hear it?
Crack bang, how many seconds?
[ Indistinct]
MATTHEWS:
Ize... you didn't fuckin' gauge?
Listen, man,
I got one shot at him.
Don't fuckin' touch that rifle, man!
The second you touch
that fucking rifle, you're dead.
Hold on!
[ Panting ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck!
[Wind blowing]
[ Screams ]
Fuck!
[Groaning]
All right.
Shane, I got eyes on...
Sar'nt Matthews?
Sar'nt Matthews,
you fuckin' hear me?
Shane!
Oh, man... God.
You didn't bleed out...
Come on, man, get up...
...get up
and dress that wound, man...
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
Fuck. Fuck.
[ Groans ]
[ Muffled groaning ]
[ Muffled screaming ]
[Whimpering]
[ Sobbing ]
You fucker.
Fuck. Fuck it.
Fuck.Fuck.
God!
[ Gasping ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Last transmission...
Come in... How do you copy?
Come in...
Last transmission...
Come in...
How do you copy?
How do you read us?
[ Static ]
Last transmission...
How do you copy?
How do you copy?
This is Spartan Thirty Tree.
How copy?
MAN ON RADIO:
Reading you Lima Charlie, over.
This is Spartan Thirty Tree...
...receiving enemy fire.
Requesting dust off...
I got a man down...
There's a shooter...
got us pinned,
me, got me pinned...
requesting medevac, I repeat,
I repeat, requesting medevac.
MAN ON RADIO:
What's your position, over?
Uh... Uh, Grid Hotel Whiskey
seven, two, zero, three.
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that. Stand by.
[ Groans ]
[ Exhales ]
Oh, God.
Hey, Shane,
we're goin' home, buddy!
[Sighs]
[Wind rustling]
[ Chuckles ]
About fuckin' time...
[ Radio static ]
[ Exhales ]
All right, come on.
This is Spartan Tree Tree...
are you there, over?
Okay.
MAN ON RADIO:
Reading you, Lima Charlie.
You're on a radio feed,
and we do not want
to move beyond range
of your signal.
Do you copy?
Beyond range of my signal?
You're already
in my local radio.
Are you close?
MAN ON RADIO:
Need a confirm on your ID, over.
This is Sar'nt Allen Isaac,
51st ODA.
I have Staff Sar'nt
Shane Matthews here with me,
but he's down, possibly KIA...
I don't know.
He's not responding, so...
Over.
MAN ON RADIO:
We copy Spartan Tree Tree.
Prepping medevac.
[ Softly ]
Okay.
[ Exhales ]
Oh, Jesus Christ.
All right,
you little fucker, you.
[ Exhales ]
Fucking NATO round.
Goddamn.
7.62 by 51...
No, we got a shooter,
high-caliber weapon.
Requesting UAV.
MAN ON RADIO:
We need your challenge code
before we send in medevac.
Whoa, wait.
Say that again?
MAN ON RADIO:
Requesting your challenge code.
What the fuck is...?
No, but... umm...
Who is this?
MAN ON RADIO:
This is Captain Otis Simmons.
I need your challenge code
if I'm going to get you
and your Staff Sar'nt medevac.
Uh, Romeo... no...
No, wait, I didn't say
I needed medical assistance.
Do you copy?
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that. I assumed.
But this is protocol.
[ Radio static ]
Well, fuck me,
how do I know that?
Huh? That you are
who you say you are?
Allen Isaac.
You and your Staff Sergeant
Shane Matthews
made an overnight worm
into a killzone
to investigate a potential sniper
and report back to us.
Okay, okay...
All right, I'm sorry.
I'm a little fucked up.
Uh, listen, you gotta bring
a heavy escort...
This guy's a fucking asshole.
[Wind blowing]
[ Exhales ]
[ Radio static ]
Where do you keep goin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
Do you have a flare, sergeant?
Do you copy?
Uh, yeah, no, I don't...
I have an M4 and a sidearm.
MAN ON RADIO:
I need you to stand
And fire into the air.
We need to get
a lock on your position.
What the fuck?
This ain't ranger school!
The fuckin' shooter'll get
a fuckin' lock on my position.
MAN ON RADIO:
Well, I can't help you
unless I know your location.
Do you copy?
Fuck it.
A lotta fuckin' help, you've been
so fuckin' far, motherfucker.
This is fuckin' stupid.
This ain't fuckin' protocol.
MAN ON RADIO:
Sergeant,
We need your exact location
to send in medevac.
Say that again?
MAN ON RADIO:
I need your location.
No, my rank, what's my rank?
[ Accented ]
MAN ON RADIO: Sergeant.
[ Scoffs ]
You, uh...
You got an accent.
Not American.
MAN ON RADIO: You have
seen through my camouflage.
The fuck are you talking 'bout?
MAN ON RADIO: I'm talking
about hiding behind words...
like you're hiding
behind that wall.
You...
Motherfu...
Oh, shit.
[ Groans ]
You... fuck!
MAN ON RADIO:
I've got a question for you.
Your friend, is he dead?
He looks-He looks dead to me.
This is Spartan Thirty Three,
sending in the blind.
MAN ON RADIO:
But maybe he is just unconscious.
I got a man down!
MAN ON RADIO:
Shall I make sure?
I got a sniper,
I got an enemy sniper...
Requesting medevac!
MAN ON RADIO:
Shall I shoot him in the head?
I repeat, I repeat,
requesting...
MAN ON RADIO:
Does he have a wife? Children?
[ Stones falling ]
Will they enjoy a closed casket,
if I take his face off?
All right, all right,
shut the fuck up, man.
All right stop, stop,
stop, stop.
[Sighs]
Is there something
that you want?
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes.
Well, I don't know nothin'.
I'm a buck sar'nt.
They don't tell me shit,
so... fuck you.
MAN ON RADIO:
That's not what I want.
Oh, what do you want?
You want fuckin' twelve virgins
or somethin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
I want to get to know you.
I just want to get to know you.
Will you allow that?
[ Gasping ]
Hey, you're fucking with me.
MAN ON RADIO:
I was.
But you figured it out.
So now, let's be real.
It's just you and me out here.
So what do you say?
Yeah, I'll talk to you.
MAN ON RADIO:
Good.
Where are you from?
No, listen, I don't know
shit about you,
so why don't you go first?
MAN ON RADIO:
Me?
There is nothing to say.
No story.
ISAAC: Uh, you're the one
who wants to get chatty, bro.
Why ain't you saying anything?
Huh?
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay. I'll start.
I am just...
a regular Iraqi man.
A civilian.
A civilian, my ass.
Crack bang.
One, two, three, four, five...
[ Exhales ]
Okay, one, two, three,
four, five...
One, two, three, four, five...
One, two, three, four, five...
Okay, one, two, three,
four, bang.
Four plus four...
Four plus four...
eight hundred plus...
[Sighs]
Okay.
Bullet... 45, 50, 60,
60 degree angle.
9... 950, 950 plus.
That gives me, 1,500.
Okay, okay.
At the wall, me, Matthews.
Crane, construction site,
trailers, flagpole.
MAN ON RADIO:
And you?
What about me?
MAN ON RADIO:
Are you a regular American?
ISAAC:
Uh, yeah. Regular Joe.
MAN ON RADIO:
A regular G.I. Joe...
Army ranger or marine?
You worked
in our fuckin' ranks, huh?
Had our training,
then you fuckin' backstab us.
Look, these fuckin' guys
were building pipelines.
Building up your fuckin' economy,
you asshole.
[ Groans ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Pipelines, huh?
For our economy?
Yeah, that's fuckin' money.
Infrastructure,
education, schools.
These guys
were fucking contractors.
Not here to fight.
War's over, bro.
MAN ON RADIO:
Bro?
Whatever, man.
MAN ON RADIO: It's an interesting
choice of words.
And yet I disagree with you,
bro.
The war's not over...
Definitely not for you.
You say... you say a lot
of fuckin' fancy words.
What are you, Haji Shakespeare
or some shit?
MAN ON RADIO:
Shakespeare?
Military lingo is all poetry.
Battle rattle, ghetto grip...
Johnny Jihad, friendly fire...
It's your turn, Isaac.
Or should I say Ize?
What?
What... what do you mean,
it's my turn?
What do you want me to say?
MAN ON RADIO:
Tell me where you're from.
Where's your family?
I'm not talking
'bout fucking family.
Oh, God!
[ Gasps ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay, then tell
about your brothers and sisters
at arms.
That's a negative, too, bro.
MAN ON RADIO: I don't want
any military secrets.
Just stories.
Eat a dick.
MAN ON RADIO: I will shoot
Matthews if you don't talk.
Go ahead.
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes?
[Grunting ]
He is your second loss...
...first, Dean, now Matthews.
How the fuck
do you know about Dean?
MAN ON RADIO:
Keep talking.
No. Fuck you. How?
[ Gasping ]
MAN ON RADIO:
You carry his scope around.
What was it your sergeant said?
A dead man's scope?
[ Gasping ]
How old are you?
MAN ON RADIO:
Just tell me something, Isaac.
Tell me about your comrades.
Or I will shoot Matthews' face off.
[Coughing]
Okay.
[Continues coughing ]
Uh... yeah.
Uh, we, uh, we play ball.
MAN ON RADIO:
I beg your pardon?
Uh...
Yeah, me and the squad.
We, uh, play in the afternoon.
Uh, get baked in the Iraqi sun.
Uh, nothing else to do.
No war to fight.
MAN ON RADIO:
Baked... what does that mean?
Baked, like, you know, tanned.
MAN ON RADIO:
Go on.
Go on?
MAN ON RADIO:
What about Sergeant Matthews,
did he get baked?
Did Dean?
I ain't talking
about fuckin' Dean with you.
You dirty fuckin' Haji.
MAN ON RADIO: If I were you,
I would start talking, Isaac.
Tell me about Dean.
What's the obsession, huh?
What the fuck?
MAN ON RADIO:
It's interesting to me.
The bond between you
and your brothers.
And I will shoot Matthews
if you do not speak.
I'm looking at him right now.
It would be so easy
to tear his face off.
His family won't even
recognize him.
Is that what you want, Ize?
[ Bird squawking ]
[Sighs]
You should just answer
my questions.
All right, all right.
[Wind blowing]
MAN ON RADIO:
So, tell me about Dean's scope.
Oh, shit.
Oh... Oh, fuck.
MAN ON RADIO: I can see it
at the base of the wall there.
Why do you keep it?
Fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
Now, you said it's broken.
Why would you carry around
a broken scope, Isaac?
Oh, shut the fuck up, man.
How's this end?
How the fuck this end?
MAN ON RADIO:
I'm sorry?
I said, how the fuck's it end?
What's the fuckin' endgame?
MAN ON RADIO:
There's no endgame.
I'm just enjoying
our conversation.
No, stop!
Fuckin' stop, all right?
You're not gonna
get to know me.
MAN ON RADIO: I feel
like I know you better already.
No, you fucking don't!
You don't know shit!
MAN ON RADIO: You're dehydrated,
I know that.
That's why I aimed
at your water bottle.
No, you didn't...
You fuckin'
was trying to hit me.
MAN ON RADIO:
No, the water bottle.
[ Scoffs ]
Nobody's that fuckin' accurate.
MAN ON RADIO:
And your antenna.
No fucking way.
MAN ON RADIO:
And your knee.
I know the popliteal vein
in your leg
carries enough blood
that no matter what kind
of bandaging you have,
you will still be sitting
in a puddle of plasma.
You're feeling fatigued,
lightheaded.
And you will bleed out
before nightfall.
What the fuck is going on
with this shit...
...you fucker?
[Grunts]
You psychotic motherfucker.
What do you want from me, huh?
Oh, fuck!
[Grunting ]
[Groaning]
Fuckin' flank me?
Fuckin' Haji.
[ Radio static ]
Hey, where'd you
keep fuckin' going, huh?
No, no, you're tryin' to fuckin'
circle my wall, ain't you?
Huh?
Tryin' to circle round my wall,
motherfucker?
MAN ON RADIO:
That's ironic.
Yeah, I'm right, huh?
MAN ON RADIO:
You say "my wall".
The very wall your country
came here to knock down,
you now try desperately
to keep from falling.
Oh, you find that
fuckin' funny, huh?
MAN ON RADIO: You should know:
that wall you are hiding behind,
was actually part of a school.
Yeah, well, I'll piss on it.
That's what I think
about your fuckin' wall.
MAN ON RADIO: You're hiding
in the shadow of Islam.
No, I'm hiding in the shadow
of fuckin' death.
I'm in the fuckin' shadow
of death.
[ Gasping ]
Nice try.
That's gotta be a 20 mag...
[ Continues gasping ]
So all the guys...
...it's gotta be a 20 mag.
One in Matthews, 3 in me...
That 7.62...
That 7.62 by 51 NATO round
is U.S. issued?
Hey. Motherfucker.
You wanna talk?
Come on, man.
What's up?
MAN ON RADIO: You want to know
the weapon I'm using?
M-24?
Mark 11?
MAN ON RADIO: I would prefer
an M96 Windrunner any day.
I thought we were being honest?
I know you're using a Mark 11.
MAN ON RADIO: No, you believe
that's what I'm using.
But you don't know
anything for certain.
You don't know shit.
Is that how you say it?
You don't know shit?
Say that again...
...I can't hear you.
MAN ON RADIO:
Okay...
you...
don't...
know... shit.
ISAAC:
I don't know shit, huh?
Well, go on. Please.
Educate me, man.
Come on, I'm listenin'...
[ Indisctinct ]
MAN ON RADIO:
You Americans.
You think you know it all.
You think it's simple.
That I am your enemy.
But we are not so different,
you and I.
ISAAC: Yeah, 'cept
I ain't a fuckin' terrorist.
MAN ON RADIO:
And you think I am?
You are the one who has come
to another man's country,
[ Metal clanging ]
Camouflaged yourself
in his land,
in his soil.
No fuckin' way...
MAN ON RADIO:
From where I'm sitting,
you look very much
like the terrorist.
[Wind blowing]
You're in the fuckin' trash?
No fucking way...
'less he's a pro.
You're him.
You're Juba.
The ghost.
MAN ON RADIO:
A hundred men out there
call themselves Juba.
I'm just a man.
35 U.S. casualties,
angel of death.
That's why they never find you.
Damn.
You must've been days
in that fuckin' shit heap.
So, we trained you, obviously.
Learn how to shoot,
trajectory, zeroing the rifle,
no reloads between shots.
Learn all that shit
and then betrayed us?
MAN ON RADIO:
Depends on the angle
you look at it from.
Only one angle.
MAN ON RADIO:
Yes, as I'd expect you to say.
No.
Tell me you're my enemy, fine,
I'll respect that.
We kill, We kill.
But say you're my friend...
and shoot me in the back?
The only angle I see
is a fuckin' snake.
MAN ON RADIO: But if this friend
shoots you in the back,
and you survive,
is it okay to shoot him back?
I want you
to tell me something, Isaac.
Why are you here?
Why are you still here, Isaac?
How many tours
have you done now?
[Sighs]
Why do you keep coming back?
[Sighs]
Is it because of Dean?
Please, God...
How the fuck did I get here?
MAN ON RADIO:
Is that why?
Be honest with me, Isaac.
Is it because of Dean?
Just tell me... How...?
How'd you know that name?
MAN ON RADIO:
Tell me one thing about him.
Just one thing.
[Wind blowing]
We were
from 'round about the same area.
His cousins...
...went to same school as me.
My dad knows his...
Seen his kid.
Held him.
More than Dean's ever done.
Clem works
by the fuckin' Stop n' Shop...
MAN ON RADIO:
Clem?
Clementine, his wife.
[Sighs]
No fuckin' way. I can't...
I can't go back to that.
Fuckin' day in, day out shit.
[ Sighs ]
And them, looking at me.
And they would.
They'd look at me, and they'd...
They'd see me.
Fuck...
Nope.
I can't go. I can't.
I can't do that.
Can't go back.
This...
Oh, God.
[Groaning]
Fuck it.
You happy now, huh?
Now you know everything.
You're fucked up,
you know that?
MAN ON RADIO:
Why is that?
'Cause you gotta mess
with my fuckin' head, too?
[Wind rustling]
MAN ON RADIO:
Isaac, when this is over,
the skin will be cut
from your face.
Your eyes will be gouged.
Fuckin' shoot me, you prick.
MAN ON RADIO: Your lying tongue
will be stapled to your chest.
[ Chuckles ]
Just fucking shoot me, man,
and get it over with.
MAN ON RADIO: But I will
let them find your body.
Fuck it,
I might just shoot myself.
All right, you asshole.
Where are you?
[ Metal clanging ]
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO:
That was foolish, Isaac.
I could've shot you.
I could've easily shot you.
[Sighs]
Ize!
I just want to have
a conversation with you, Isaac.
[ Groans ]
Why are you trying
to get yourself killed?
Oh, fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
Isaac.
Isaac.
The radio you
risked your life for? It's dead.
[Sighs]
Are you dead, too?
You missed.
I'm still here.
You're not that fucking good.
MAN ON RADIO:
Ha! He speaks!
Tear up the planks!
Here, here!
It is the beating
of his hideous heart.
What's that, one
of your gay-ass Haji poems?
MAN ON RADIO:
American.
- [ Radio breaking up]
- Tell Tale Heart.
Edgar Allen Poe.
I didn't catch a fuckin' word
you're sayin', man.
MAN ON RADIO:
Edgar Allen Poe. Don't you...?
[ Radio breaking up]
What's wrong
with your fuckin' radio, man?
What is that?
MAN ON RADIO:
You must've studied his work.
He's an American great.
His writing is really...
- [ Radio breaking up]
- What is it?
Don't look at fuckin' me.
MAN ON RADIO: Did you know
that he was an orphan?
He tried to be a soldier,
but didn't get very...
[ Radio static ]
[Wind blowing]
Shane...
Shane, that you?
MAN ON RADIO: He was
a better writer than a soldier.
[ Groans ]
MAN ON RADIO:
Once upon a midnight dreary,
[ Groaning continues]
while I pondered
weak and weary...
ISAAC:
Sar'nt Matthews!
MAN ON RADIO:
Suddenly there came a tapping...
ISSAC:
Is that you?
MAN ON RADIO:
...rapping at my chamber door.
In there stepped
a stately raven,
from the saintly days of yore.
Take thy beak
from out of my heart,
and take thy form
from off my door.
Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."
Or perhaps you would
prefer Robert Frost?
"A voice said, 'Look me in the stars
And tell me truly'..."
I see you, man!
MAN ON RADIO:
"Men of earth...
I knew you were taking a nap!
MAN ON RADIO:
If all the soul-and-body scars...
ISAAC:
I found that fucking weasel!
MAN ON RADIO: ...were not
too much to pay for birth."
ISAAC: 12 o'clock.
In the fucking trash heap!
MAN ON RADIO:
His poetry is so beautiful.
[Wind blowing]
[Chuckling]
[ Gasping ]
So, uh... you studied, huh?
Uh... studied, uh...
you studied here or abroad?
ISSAC:
Like, um...
I know they got those, uh...
study-abroad programs
or whatnot?
[ Matthews groans ]
ISAAC: Hey!
A shot from that distance,
he's gotta be at least
25, 30 feet up, man!
He's over 1,500 meters,
1,550 maybe.
Right?
Huh?
Why ain't you talking, man?
Come on, you there?
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
[ Gasping ]
Are you there, man?
[Wind blowing]
It's just, you know a lot
about books and shit.
I just thought,
I might even learn
some Haji Shakespeare
or some shit.
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO: Shakespeare?
Is that the only poet you know?
I studied English.
Boy, you, uh...
you minor in sniping
or somethin'?
MAN ON RADIO:
I was a teacher in Baghdad.
But a bomb hit my school.
ISAAC:
You got it? Shane?
MAN ON RADIO: I got shrapnel
in my left elbow, still hurts.
ISAAC: Fucking trash heap,
behind the white trailer.
[ Groans ]
1550.
MAN ON RADIO: It reminds me
of the students I lost.
ISAAC: Come on, baby!
Come on, baby,
let's do this!
[ Groans ]
Is that why you shoot
civilian contractors?
MAN ON RADIO:
As the scripture says,
an eye for an eye.
That's bullshit.
You're no more
religious than I am, man.
That's just a fuckin' excuse
to shoot up some Americans.
You're good, man!
Just keep going slow, baby,
real slow!
MAN ON RADIO:
Is that a question, Isaac?
Slow is smooth,
smooth is fast!
Yeah. That's right.
See, that's what I don't get.
How does
an educated person like you
become a fuckin' terrorist?
MAN ON RADIO:
You tell me.
Oh, shut your fuckin' mouth.
MAN ON RADIO:
You're fading, Isaac.
You like to hear yourself talk,
don't you?
I'm fuckin' fantastic.
I'm chillin' like a villain baby.
MAN ON RADIO:
You are not fantastic.
You have no water.
You're dehydrated.
The sun is...
the sun's baking you.
[Groaning]
You're bleeding to death.
[Sighs]
[ Hoarse ]
Cap'.
Cap'.
Captain Albright.
MAN ON RADIO:
What's that?
Our legend.
Trained me.
Trained Dean, too.
[ Groans ]
He's coming for us.
MAN ON RADIO:
For your bodies.
We don't report in,
he's on your ass.
MAN ON RADIO: Judging from your
and Matthews' performances,
I'm not concerned.
Fuck you.
He's coming for us.
[ Gasping ]
He trained us...
...trained us to survive.
MAN ON RADIO:
And won't he be disappointed.
ISAAC: You didn't win shit.
You hear me, motherfucker?
You didn't win shit!
[ Matthews grunting ]
From a place you will not see
comes a sound you will not hear.
Just a flash of fucking light.
Boom.
MAN ON RADIO: When I'm done
with you and Matthews,
everyone will know
who the winner is.
[ Gasps ]
ISAAC:
Shane!
[Sighs]
Hold still, man, hold still!
[Sighs]
MAN ON RADIO: Should I take
Sergeant Matthews' head off?
Shit.
Hold still, man!
Don't fuckin' move!
MAN ON RADIO: Will you
take something from Matthews?
Like your broken scope?
He's in my crosshairs right now.
I've got eyes on him.
ISAAC:
What?
MAN ON RADIO: I don't
make empty threats, Isaac.
I'm going to tear his face off.
Wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait...
I carry around the scope...
because it reminds me...
of why I can't hold a...
hold a rifle again.
[Spits]
Okay?
You listening to me?
[ Gasping ]
Dean dropped it...
the scope... in the line of duty.
He fell over trying
to pick it up, and I missed it.
I missed the sniper.
Okay?
You fuckin' listening to me?!
I didn't see him.
That's how he got hit.
It was my fault!
Goddamn it,
you fuckin' listening?!
[ Groans ]
Slower, man.
Slower, slower!
MAN ON RADIO:
Slower what?
What's going on?
Who are you talking to?
[ Groans ]
Who am I talking to?
[ Gunshots ]
I'm talking to fucking God!
He's 90 feet up!
In the trash somewhere!
I don't fucking know.
I'm sorry, man!
[ Gunshots ]
Give me, max plus four...
...six mils right!
Send when ready!
[ Gunshots ]
[ Gunshots ]
Did you get him?
[ Gasping ]
Please tell me you got him!
- [ Gunshot]
- [ Groans ]
Oh, fuck!
[ Matthews screaming ]
You bastard, you fucker!
Just fuckin' let him go,
you piece of shit!
Shane! Get up man!
He ain't a threat
to you anymore,
just fuckin' let him go!
MATTHEWS:
Goddammit. Fuck!
ISAAC: Don't fucking stop,
don't fucking stop!
Just like that,
just like that baby, let's go!
Fuck, come on, man!
Come on!
Keep comin', man,
you're almost there!
Come on!
Just like that, man!
Reach for me.
Reach for me!
[Gunshot]
[ Gunshot reverberates ]
[Coughing]
[ Coughing continues ]
Wake up... wake...
[Wind blowing]
Wake up.
[ Sobbing ]
I wanna go home.
I wanna go fuckin' home,
motherfucker!
MAN ON RADIO:
So go. Walk away.
You'll just fuckin' shoot me.
MAN ON RADIO:
No, I won't.
Yes, you fuckin' will.
Why wouldn't you?
MAN ON RADIO:
Because that's not really
what you want.
What?
MAN ON RADIO:
You don't want to go home,
do you?
What the fuck's that mean, man?
MAN ON RADIO: The war's over,
you're still here.
Why?
I killed him.
I did.
He went
to go confirm a kill.
Enemy sniper.
Guy was playing possum.
Started shooting at Dean.
I tried shooting back, but the bullet
went right through Dean.
[Sobbing ]
Oh, man, I lied...
I fuckin' lied so much.
Tryin' to keep
the story straight.
[ Radio static ]
Are you there?
Listenin' to me?
D'you hear me?
[ Metal clanging ]
Oh, fuck!
[ Panting ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck.
[Wind rustling]
[Wind blowing]
[Gunshot]
Oh, shit.
[Gunshot]
[Yelling]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Fuck.
[Grunting ]
Where are you, man?
Where do you keep goin'?
[ Radio static ]
No, something's off.
[ Gasping ]
[ Groans ]
Fuck.
[ Groans ]
[ Continues groaning ]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Spartan Thirty Three,
this is Mobile HQ...
Spartan Thirty Three,
this is Mobile HQ Actual...
[Chuckling]
This is Spartan Thirty Tree,
how copy?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Spartan Thirty Three,
confirm name and rank, over?
Sar'nt Allen...
MAN ON RADIO:
Sar'nt Allen Isaac.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Roger that.
Good to hear you again, Sar'nt.
What the fuck?!
No, no, no, no, no,
hey, Cap', Cap'!
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
...the shooter in the last hour?
- MAN ON RADIO: No, still quiet.
- No, no, no.
MAN ON RADIO: We're chillin'
like villains, Cap'.
Cap', Cap', Cap',
this is Sar'nt Allen B. Isaac!
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
What's Matthews' status?
MAN ON RADIO:
It's stable, sir.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Copy that Spartan Tree Tree.
'Kay, bravo.
MAN ON RADIO:
All due respect, Cap',
that's what y'all said
an hour ago.
Can I get an updated ETA?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
ETA, about an hour twenty.
MAN ON RADIO:
Copy that.
Oh, fuck. Don't do this.
MAN ON RADIO:
We're gettin' baked out here,
little out of it.
You fuckin' bastard.
[ Indistinct radio chatter]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
...Hotel Whiskey seven two
in approximately six zero mikes.
[ Chuckles ]
So that guy called for us...
MAN ON RADIO:
Fuckin' Hajis.
Just hoping you get here
before nightfall.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Scared of the dark now, Sar'nt?
How many times have you
done this, you motherfucker?
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Could've fooled me.
Sure you don't need
a little Vagisil
for the problem areas?
Construction guys
call for security detail.
Security detail calls for us,
and I...
I call for them.
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
I hear that.
We'll see you in 80...
stay out of trouble.
Camouflage yourself in me,
you fuck.
MAN ON RADIO:
We'll do our best Cap'.
Over and out.
[Sighs]
CAPTAIN ALBRIGHT:
Out.
Fuck you...
Oh, fuck you.
[Wind blowing]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[ Raven squawking ]
Fuck off, will ya?
Hey... Damn it!
[ Raven squawking ]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[Wind rustling]
Hey. You fuckin' there?
You can't shoot 'em.
You know that, right?
You shoot, you'll give away
your position.
And they'll fuckin' find you.
They will.
You listenin' to me?
[Wind blowing]
You there?
[Wind continues blowing ]
[ Gasping ]
[ Helicopters in the distance]
[Wind blowing]
I'm gonna shut you the fuck up.
[Grunting ]
[ Exhales ]
I ain't afraid of dyin'.
[Grunting ]
[ Heavy breathing ]
[ Isaac breathing heavily]
[ Helicopters approaching ]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[ Helicopters approaching ]
[ Gasping ]
[ Indistinct soldier chatter]
Check it.
RANGER:
We got you. Just breathe.
Check the trash.
RANGER 2:
All clear. Perimeter clear.
PILOT:
Helo One Seven, wheels up.
PILOT 2:
Three Five, wheels up.
PILOT:
Bulldog flight is on the way.
Coming right,
heading two three zero.
PILOT 2:
Three Five, copy.
Heavy blood loss! Tourniquet!
Keep clear!
Try to relax, Sergeant.
It's gonna be all right.
Tourniquet's holding. Copy?
Vitals' are stable.
[ Indistinct]
I've set up the oxygen.
He's going through it
pretty fast,
so, prep a backup tank.
[ Indistinct chatter]
You got that?
Copy that.
[Gunshot]
Fuck!
RANGER: Holy shit!
- RANGER 2: Holy shit!
- [ Gunshot ]
- RANGER 3: Taking fire!
PILOT: Bulldog One, shift west.
Shift west.
[ Indistinct yelling ]
He's in the fucking trash!
- Hold on!
- He's in the trash!
[Gunshot]
[ Helicopter beeping ]
Oh, God!
Fuck! No!
PILOT: Under fire.
Under fire.
RANGER: Brace! Brace!
PILOT: We're going down.
[ Crashing ]
[ Radio static ]
BAGHDAD COMMAND:
Helo Bulldog One Seven,
Helo Bulldog Three Five,
this is Baghdad Command,
how copy?
Bulldog One Seven, how copy?
[ "Wall Song" by RYKEYZ
playing ]
MAN ON RADIO:
This is Bulldog One Seven,
reading you Lima Charlie, over.
[ "Wall Song" by RYKEYZ
continues playing ]