Saving private Ryan

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Saving Private Ryan

Saving Private Ryan

by

Robert Rodat

&

Frank Darabont


     FADE IN:

     CREDITS:  White lettering over a back background.  The

     THUNDEROUS SOUNDS OF A MASSIVE NAVAL BARRAGE are heard.  The

     power is astonishing.  It roars through the body, blows back

     the hair and rattles the ears.

     FADE IN:

     EXT. OMAHA BEACH - NORMANDY - DAWN

     The ROAR OF NAVAL GUNS continues but now WE SEE THEM FIRING. 

     Huge fifteen inch guns.

     SWARM OF LANDING CRAFT

     Heads directly into a nightmare.  MASSIVE EXPLOSIONS from

     German artillery shells and mined obstacles tear apart the

     beach.  Hundreds of German machine guns, loaded with tracers,

     pour out a red snowstorm of bullets.

                          OFFSHORE

              SUPERIMPOSITION:

                          OMAHA BEACH, NORMANDY

              June 6, 1944

                          0600 HOURS

              HUNDREDS OF LANDING CRAFT Each holding

              thirty men, near the beaches.

                          THE CLIFFS

              At the far end of the beach, a ninety-

              foot cliff.  Topped by bunkers. 

              Ringed by fortified machine gun nests. 

              A clear line-of-fire down the entire

              beach.

                          TEN LANDING CRAFT

              Make their way toward the base of

              the cliffs.  Running a gauntlet of

              explosions.

                          SUPERIMPOSITION:

              THE FOLLOWING IS BASED ON A TRUE

              STORY THE LEAD LANDING CRAFT Plows

               through the waves.

     THE CAMERA MOVES PAST THE FACES OF THE MEN

     Boys.  Most are eighteen or nineteen years old.  Tough. 

     Well-trained.  Trying to block out the fury around them.

     A DIRECT HIT ON A NEARBY LANDING CRAFT

     A huge EXPLOSION of fuel, fire, metal and flesh.

     THE LEAD LANDING CRAFT

     The Motorman holds his course.  Shells EXPLODE around them. 

     FLAMING OIL BURNS on the water.  CANNON FIRE SMASHES into

     the bow.

     THE MOTORAMAN IS RIPPED TO BITS

     BLOOD AND FLESH shower the men behind him.  The mate takes

     the controls.

                          A YOUNG SOLDIER

              His face covered with the remains of

              the motorman.  Starts to lose it. 

              Begins to shudder and weep.  His

              name is DeLancey.

     THE BOYS AROUND HIM

     Do their best to stare straight ahead.  But the fear infects

     them.  It starts to spread.

                          A FIGURE

              Pushes through the men.  Puts himself

              in front of DeLancey.

     The figure is CAPTAIN JOHN MILLER.  Early thirties.  By far

     the oldest man on the craft.  Relaxed, battle-hardened,

     powerful, ignoring the hell around them.  He smiles, puts a

     cigar in his mouth, strikes a match on the front of DeLancey's

     helmet and lights the cigar.

     DeLancey tries to look away but Miller grips him by the jaw

     and forces him to lock eyes.  Miller smiles.  DeLancey is

     terrified.

     Delancey Captain, are we all gonna die?

     Miller Hell no, two-thirds, tops.

     Delancey Oh, Jesus...

     Miller I want every one of you to look at the man on your

     left.  Now look at the man on your right.  Feel sorry for

     those to sons-of-bitches, they're going to get it, you're

     not going to get a scratch.  A few, including DeLancey, manage

     thin smiles.  Miller releases his grip on DeLancey who moves

     his jaw as if to see if it's broken.  Miller pats him on the

     cheek and moves on to the bow.

                          MILLER

              Looks over the gunwale at THE HELL

              IN FRONT OF THEM.

     PAN DOWN TO MILLER'S HAND

     It quivers in fear.  Miller glances around, sees that none

     of the men have noticed.  He stares at his hand as if it

     belongs to someone else.  It stops shaking.  He turns his

     eyes back to the objective.

     THE LEAD LANDING CRAFT HITS THE BEACH

     The six surviving boats alongside.

     EXPLOSIVE PROPELLED GRAPPLING HOOKS FIRE

     From the landing crafts.  Arc toward the top of the cliffs.

     THE LEAD CRAFT RAMP GOES DOWN

     A river of MACHINE GUN FIRE pours into the craft.  A dozen

     men are INSTANTLY KILLED.  Among them, DeLancey.

                          MILLER

              Somehow survives.  Jumps into the

              breakers.

                          MILLER

              MOVE, GODDAMN IT!  GO!  GO!  GO!

                          EXPLOSIONS EVERYWHERE

              THE GERMANS On the edge of the cliff. 

              Rain down MACHINE GUN FIRE and

              GRENADES.

                          THE AMERICANS

              Struggle through the surf.  FIRING

              up as best they can.  Making for the

              base of the cliffs.

     INCENDIARY GRENADES, HURLED FROM ABOVE,

     EXPLODE, SPREADING FIRE

                          MILLER

              Ignores the EXPLOSIONS and BULLETS. 

              Uses hand signals and curt orders.

                          MILLER

              THERE!  THERE!  HOOKS THERE!  FIRE

              SQUAD, THOSE ROCKS!

                          THE MEN

              Obey instantly.  Set the grappling

              hooks.  Take position.  Return fire.

     THE SOUNDS OF BATTLE

     Drown out most voices.  Except the SCREAMS OF THE WOUNDED

     AND DYING.

                          THE MEN

              Know what they have to do.  Start up

              the ropes.  Into the teeth of the

              German defenders.

                          MILLER

              Back-straps his Thompson sub-machine

              gun.  Starts climbing with the first

              group.

                          THE CLIFF FACE

              The Americans swarm up the ropes. 

              Taking turns firing up at the Germans.

     MILLER SEES A STALLED CLIMBER

     A soft-faced boy.  Grabs him by the back of his collar. 

     Roughly yanks him up.  Nearly choking him.  They boy climbs

     on.

                          HALF-WAY

              An American private is HIT.  FALLS,

              taking two others with him.  All

              three land on the rocks below. 

              Another way to die.

                          NEAR THE TOP

              Less steep.  They leave the ropes. 

              Free climb, scrambling up the rocks.

                          MILLER

              Joins half-a-dozen pinned down men. 

              Others bottleneck behind them.  Miller

              scans the route and the defenders.

     Sees an open gap.  Deadly.  Beyond is a protective overhang. 

     With a clear line to the top.

                          MILLER

              That's the route.

     Miller motions to six men huddled near him.

                          MILLER

              Go!

                          THE SIX MEN

              Take an instant to get ready.  Then

              SCRAMBLE into the gap.

     MILLER AND THE OTHERS

     Do their best to cover them.  POUR FIRE up at the Germans. 

     Bad angle.  No Germans are hit.

                          THE SIX MEN

              Are CUT TO RIBBONS by MACHINE GUN

              FIRE.  All KILLED.  They fall to the

              rocks below.

     SARGE, mid-twenties, experienced, Miller's right arm and

     best friend, dives into the rocks next to Miller.

     Sarge That's a goddamned shooting gallery, Captain.

                          MILLER

              It's the only way.

                          MILLER

              Turns to the next half-dozen men.

                          MILLER

              YOU'RE NEXT!

                          THE SECOND SIX

              Move to the head of the gap.  Miller

              moves for a better angle against the

              machine guns.  Calls to JACKSON, a

              tall, gangly Southern country boy,

              sharp-shooter.

                          MILLER

              JACKSON, PICK OFF A FEW OF THEM,

              WILL YOU?

                          JACKSON

                        (heavy Southern accent)

              You betcha, Captain.

     Miller signals others where to direct their cover fire. 

     Turns to the second six.

                          MILLER

              GO!

                          THE SECOND SIX

              Take deep breaths.  Head into the

              gap.

     MILLER AND OTHERS BLAST SURPRISING FIRE

     JACKSON, NAILS a pair of Germans.  MILLER CUTS DOWN two more. 

     SARGE gets one.  Not enough.

                          THE SECOND SIX

              Are RAKED BY MACHINE GUNS.  All are

              KILLED.

                          MILLER

              Turns, looking for the next six. 

              His eyes fall on Sarge and REIBEN

              who is a cynical, sharp, New Yorker. 

              Reiben smiles.

                          REIBEN

                        (heavy Brooklyn accent)

              Captain, can I put in for a transfer?

                          MILLER

              Sure, meet me at the top, we'll start

              the paperwork.

                          THE THIRD SIX

              Moves into place.  Sarge and Miller

              exchange a look.  They both see the

              madness of what they're doing.

     MILLER AND THE OTHERS

     OPEN UP on the Germans.

                          MILLER

              GO!

                          SARGE

              Rolls his eyes, takes a breath. 

              Scrambles into the gap.  The other

              five right behind.

                          IN THE GAP

              BULLETS EVERYWHERE.

     Three are HIT.  Then another.  POTATO MASHER GRENADES bounce

     down.  EXPLODE below.

     THE GERMAN MACHINE GUN swings toward Sarge and Reiben.  Miller

     sees them about to get it...  MILLER STEPS OUT INTO THE OPEN.

     A perfect target.  Captain's bars glinting.  FIRING.  TRYING

     TO DRAW THE GERMAN FIRE.

     THE GERMAN MACHINE GUNNER

     SEES MILLER STANDING IN THE OPEN.  Too much to pass up.  He

     swings the machine gun away from Sarge and Reiben, toward

     Miller.

     A ROW OF GERMAN BULLETS approaches Miller...he's an instant

     from death.

     SARGE AND REIBEN DIVE

     Under the overhang to safety.

     MILLER DIVES BACK TO COVER, BARELY MAKES IT, HIS BOOT HEAL

     IS BLOWN OFF.

     UNDER THE OVERHANG Sarge and Reiben untangle themselves.

                          REIBEN

              I'll be Goddamned!  I'm not dead!

     Sarge hollers back to Miller.

                          SARGE

              CAPTAIN, IF YOUR MOTHER SAW YOU DO

              THAT, SHE'D BE VERY UPSET!

                          MILLER

              I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY MOTHER.

     Quick smiles.  MILLER AND HIS RANGERS lean out and FIRE. 

     HIT more Germans.

     SARGE AND REIBEN run up the path, under the overhang.  Stop

     near the top.  Pull pins on grenades.  Count.  Both throw

     long, arcing over the crest, perfectly aimed.

     THE TWO GRENADES EXPLODE.

     Putt out the two worst machine gun nests.

                          MILLER

              Crosses the gap.  His men follow.

                          AT THE CREST

              The Americans swarm over the top. 

              FIRING.

     TWO DOZEN GERMANS FIRE BACK as they retreat.

     Abandoning the perimeter defense of the bunkers.  The Germans

     are CUT DOWN.

     MILLER motions to WADE, a small, wide-eyed, demolition man

     who's struggling under the weight of half-a dozen satchel

     charges.

                          MILLER

              Okay, Wade, your turn.

     Wade Captain, I love it when you say that.

     Miller, Sarge, Reiben and Jackson cover Wade as he races to

     the first of three bunkers.  Dodging bullets from inside. 

     Wade tosses a SATCHEL CHARGE into a gun port.  A HUGE, MUFFLED

     EXPLOSION, rocks the bunker.

                          MILLER AND SARGE

              Survey the field.

                          SARGE

              What the hell were you doing?  Drawing

              fire!

                          MILLER

              Worked, didn't it?

                          SARGE

              You tryin' to get yourself killed?

                          MILLER

              Don't need to, the Krauts go that

              covered.

     Sarge shakes his head at Miller, then he looks over the cliff

     at the scores of men, their shattered, burning bodies covering

     the rocks and the beach below.  He's clearly affected.

     Miller coldly glances at the dead and wounded.  Then he moves

     on, leading his surviving men toward the two remaining German

     bunkers.  The SOUNDS OF BIG GUNS and MACHINE GUNS FIRE

     surround him.  DISSOLVE TO:

     EXT. WAR DEPARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

     The SOUND OF CLATTERING MACHINE GUN FIRE SEGUES TO that of

     CLATTERING TYPEWRITERS.  A huge government building stands

     in the heart of Washington, D.C.

                          SUPERIMPOSITION:

              WAR DEPARTMENT WASHINGTON, D.C.

     JUNE 8, 1944

     INT. COMMUNICATIONS OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

     Very busy.  A dozen, somber military clerks work behind desks,

     quickly and efficiently.  No small talk.

                          A CLERK

              Older than the others, sad-eyed,

              adds a sheet of paper to a large

              pile in his out-box.

                          CLOSE SHOT

              An outgoing telegram.  It reads: 

              "We regret to inform you...killed in

              action...heroic service..."  This is

              the paperwork of death.

                          THE CLERK

              Pulls out a file.  Reads.  Finds

              something troubling.  Quickly shuffles

              through some other papers.  Finds

              what he's looking for.  Rises from

              his desk and hurries out of the

              office.

     INT. LIEUTENANT'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

     Seen through the glass wall.  The clerk speaks to a YOUNG

     LIEUTENANT who is visibly shaken by what he is being told. 

     He motions to the clerk to follow and he strides out of the

     office with the clerk on his heels.

     INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

     Again, seen through a glass wall.  The Young Lieutenant speaks

     to a YOUNG CAPTAIN who, like the Lieutenant is clearly

     bothered by what he's being told.  The Captain takes the

     papers from the Young Lieutenant and strides out.

     INT. COLONEL'S OFFICE - WAR DEPT. - DAY

     A busy office.  Aides and secretaries scurry about.  The

     walls and tables are covered with maps of Normandy and complex

     deployment charts.  A ONE-ARMED COLONEL with a chest full of

     ribbons pours himself another cup of coffee.  He clearly

     hasn't slept in a long time.  The Young Captain, his staff

     officer, walks in.

     Young captain Colonel, I've got something you should know

     about.

     One-armed colonel Yes?

     Young captain Two brothers died in Normandy.  One at Omaha

     Beach, the other at Utah.  Last week in Guam a third brother

     was killed in action.  All three telegrams went out this

     morning.  Their mother in Iowa is getting all three telegrams

     this afternoon.

     The life drains from the Colonel.  Others in the room hear

     and freeze.

     One-armed colonel Oh, Jesus.

     Young captain There's more.  There's a fourth brother.  The

     youngest.  He parachuted in with the Hundred-and-First

     Airborne the night before the invasion.  He's on the front.

     One-armed colonel Is he alive?

     Young captain We don't know.

     The Colonel regains his bearings.  Stands and motions curtly

     to the Captain.  One-armed colonel Come with me.

     The Colonel regains his bearings.  Stands and motions curtly

     to the Captain.

     One-armed colonel Come with me.

     The Colonel strides from the room with the Captain on his

     heels.  The aides and secretaries watch them go.

     EXT. FARM ROAD - IOWA - DAY

     A black car drives along a dirt road, a cloud of dust rising

     behind.  Passing through an endless expanse of ripening corn.

     EXT. RYAN FARM - IOWA - DAY

     A whit farmhouse.  A barn.  A stand of trees.  Cornfields as

     far as the eye can see.

                          IN THE YARD

              A tire swing.  A bushel basket nailed

              to the barn over a dirt basketball

              court.

                          A PORCH SWING

              Sits empty.  Moves slightly.

     ON THE GLASS OF THE FRONT DOOR

     Four American flag decals.  Each one, a man in service.

                          MARGARET RYAN

              Steps out.  Around sixty.  Her face

              shows the lines of a life of hard

              work and mother hood.  A good woman.

     She wipes her hands on her apron and looks out across the

     fields.  Far in the distance she sees the dust rising behind

     the black car.

     She watches the car get closer, then sees it turn toward her

     house.  She starts to grow uneasy.

     As the black car approaches, her breath comes hard.  She

     reaches out and steadies herself on the porch post.

     The car pulls up to the house.  She sees three men get out,

     one wearing a clerical collar.  The first of her tears come.

     INT. GENERAL MARSHALL'S OFFICE - WAR DEPARTMENT - DAY

     Another busy office filled with aides and secretaries. 

     GENERAL GEORGE MARSHALL, Army Chief of Staff, stands next to

     his conference table, reading the Ryan brother' files.  Half-

     a-dozen subordinates, among them the one-armed Colonel and

     the Young Captain, wait.  General Marshall puts down the

     file.

                          GENERAL MARSHALL

                        (softly)

              Goddamn it.

     One-armed colonel All four of them were in the same company

     in the 29th Infantry but we split them up after the Sullivan

     brothers died on the Juneau.

                          GENERAL MARSHALL

              Any contact with the fourth brother,

              James?

     One-armed colonel No, sir.  He was dropped about thirty miles

     inland, near Ramelle.  That's still deep behind German lines.

     General Marshall hardens.

                          GENERAL MARSHALL

              Well, if he's alive, we're going to

              send someone to get him the hell out

              of there.  That's just what the

              General's staff wanted to hear.

     EXT. NORMANDY - CRATER FIELD - DAY

     NEAR CONSTANT MORTAR EXPLOSIONS.  HEAVY MACHINE GUN FIRE. 

     Miller's Ranger company is pinned down by a superior force

     of German troops.  The Americans hug the bottoms of the

     craters, FIRING BACK as best they can.  BIG GUNS THUNDER in

     the distance.

                          SUPERIMPOSITION:

              Normandy 1300 hours June 9

                          MILLER

              Trailed by a RADIOMAN, dashes through

              the fire and dives into a sludge-

              filled crater.  He surfaces, sees

              Sarge and Reiben, and reels from a

              horrific smell.  Their conversation

              is repeatedly broken by FIRING And

              DUCKING GERMAN FIRE.

                          MILLER

              Jesus Christ!  What the hell are we

              swimming in?

                          REIBEN

              Shit, sir.

                          SARGE

              Fertilizer, Captain, I think we're

              in a cranberry bog.

                          REIBEN

              Out of the frying pan, into the

              fucking latrine.

                          MILLER

              Look at the bright side, the Krauts

              sure as hell don't want to advance

              and hold this cesspool.

     Miller barks to his RADIOMAN.

                          MILLER

              Get Fire Control, we need some

              artillery...

     Radioman Trying, sir.

     MORE EXPLOSIONS.  They all duck.  Reiben's worried.

                          REIBEN

              Sir, what if they send some other

              company into Caen ahead of us while

              we're pinned down here?

                          MILLER

              Don't worry, we're the only Rangers

              this side of the continent, we've

              got to be first into Caen.

                          SARGE

              Who cares?

                          REIBEN

              I care.  Don't you know what Caen's

              famous for, Sarge?

                          SARGE

              Frogs?

                          REIBEN

              Lingerie.

                          SARGE

              Yeah?  So?

     THE GERMAN FIRE diminishes for an instant.  Miller, Sarge

     and Reiben immediately rise and POUR FIRE at the German

     positions.  GERMAN MACHINE GUN FIRE RESPONDS and they duck

     down again.

                          REIBEN

              So, you ever heard of employee

              discounts?  My uncle sells shoes,

              gets twenty-five percent off

              everything in the line, got a closet

              filled with the best looking shoes

              you ever seen.

     MORE MORTAR EXPLOSIONS.

                          REIBEN

              Just picture some French number been

              spending all day, every day, making

              cream-colored, shear-body negligees

              with gentle-lift silk cups and

              gathered empire waists, what the

              hell you think she wears at night?

                          MILLER

              Reiben, how the hell do you know so

              much about lingerie?

                          REIBEN

              Lingerie is my life, sir.  My mother's

              got a shop in Brooklyn, I grew up in

              it, from the time I could crawl, we

              carry Caen lingerie, it's the best

              there is, it's all I been thinking

              about since the invasion.

     Another pause in the German shelling.  Reiben rises and BLASTS

     HIS B.A.R, then ducks as the GERMANS RETURN FIRE.

                          MILLER

              There's a war on, good chance they're

              not still making lingerie in Caen.

                          REIBEN

              Oh, Captain, they'll always make

              lingerie, it's one of the three basic

              needs of man -- food, shelter, silk

              teddies.  Miller Dream on, private.

                          REIBEN

              Happy to, sir.

     Radioman Captain, I've got Command, they want you back at

     H.Q., right away.

                          MILLER

              Maybe the war's over.

     A MORTAR SHELL EXPLODES VERY CLOSE.  After the debris stops

     falling, Sarge and Reiben rise, spitting out sludge.  Reiben

     looks dubiously at Miller.

                          REIBEN

              I don't think so, Captain.

                          MILLER

                        (to Radioman)

              Stay at it until you get fire control.

                        (to Sarge)

              Keep 'em down, wait for the navy.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     Miller waits for a pause in the MORTAR BARRAGE, then scrambles

     out of the crater and takes off in a crouch-run.

     EXT. NORMANDY - FIELD H.Q. - 19TH INFANTRY - DAY

     Chaos.  Under fire.  INTERMITTENT MORTARS, SOME BIG GERMAN

     SHELLS and fairly close SMALL ARMS FIRE.

                          MILLER

              Runs over the broken ground and makes

              it to the sandbagged H.Q.  He stumbles

              down the make-shift stairs.

     INT. H.Q. SANDBAGGED BUNKER - DAY

     Sand and dirt falls with the closest of the EXPLOSIONS which

     continue through the scene.  Miller salutes a Major.

                          MILLER

              Miller, Company B, Second Rangers.

     Major Go on in.

     Miller goes deeper into the H.Q. bunker where he finds a

     dozen officers with as many aides, runners and radiomen. 

     Very busy.  A field map dominates the center of the small

     space.

     The men in the room note Miller, a few nod to him

     respectfully.  He's clearly someone special.

     COLONEL SAM ANDERSON is in command, talking on a field-phone. 

     He's about fifty, firm and steady, the calm at the eye of

     the storm.  He sees Miller and motions for him to wait.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

                        (into field-phone)

              ...I understand your problem, but if

              we don't get those tanks off-loaded

              by 0600, we're going to have an entire

              division up at Caen with its ass

              hanging out of its pants...

     A LIEUTENANT steps up to Miller and hands him a sheet of

     paper.

     Lieutenant Captain, here's your company address list.

                          MILLER

              My what?

     Lieutenant For letters to the families of your killed-in-

     action.

     Miller hands the list back to the Lieutenant.

                          MILLER

              Find a chaplain.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

                        (into field-phone)

              ...alright, let me know when.

     Anderson hangs up, speaks to an AIDE.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Have the Second and Third Regiments

              hold at St. Michel until we get those

              tanks.  Aide Yes, sir.

     Colonel Anderson turns to Miller.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Report.

                          MILLER

              Sector four is secured, we put out

              the last three German one-fifty-fives,

              found them about two miles in from

              Ponte du Hoc.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Resistance?

                          MILLER

              A company, Wehrmacht, no artillery,

              we took twenty-three prisoners, turned

              them over to intelligence.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Casualties?

                          MILLER

              Fourty-four, twenty one dead.

     An instant of SILENCE, all hear, none look.

                          MILLER

              They didn't want to give up those

              one-fifty-fives, sir.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              It was a hard assignment, that's why

              you got it.

                          MILLER

              Yes, sir.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Where are your men now?

                          MILLER

              Pinned down, a mile east of here,

              waiting for some help from the navy

              guns.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              I'm sending Simpson to take over for

              you, the division is going to Caen,

              you're not coming with us, I have

              something else for you.

                          MILLER

              Sir?

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              There's a Private James Ryan who

              parachuted in with the Hundred-and-

              First near Ramelle.  I want you to

              take a squad up there.  If he's alive,

              bring him back to the beach for

              debarkation.  Take whoever you need,

              you've got your pick of the company.

                          MILLER

              A private, sir?

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              He's the last of four brothers, the

              other three were killed in action. 

              This is straight from the Chief of

              Staff.

                          MILLER

              But, sir...I...I...

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Spit it out, Captain.

     MILLER HESITATES, THEN:

                          MILLER

              Respectfully, sir, sending men all

              the way up to Ramelle to save one

              private doesn't make a fucking,

              goddamned bit of sense.

                        (beat)

              Sir.

     The other officers freeze, listening without turning.  Colonel

     Anderson glares at Miller.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              You think just because you hold the

              Congressional Medal of Honor, you

              can say any damn thing you please to

              your superior officers?

     Miller considers the question, then smiles.

                          MILLER

              Yes, sir, more or less.

     Colonel Anderson looks as if he's about to bit Miller's head

     off, then he smiles, too.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Alright, I'll give you that. 

              Continue.

                          MILLER

              The numbers don't make sense, sir. 

              His brothers are dead, that's too

              bad, but they're out of the equation. 

              Sending men up there is bleeding

              heart crapola from three thousand

              miles away.  One private is simply

              not worth a squad.  Colonel anderson

              This one is.  He's worth a lot more

              than that.  Which is why I'm sending

              you, you're the best field officer

              there is.

     Miller Shrugs.

                          MILLER

              Yes and no, sir, what about Morgan? 

              Fine officer, regular church goer,

              writes poetry, he might like a mission

              like this.

                        (beat)

              And he's taller than me.

     Colonel Anderson listens with amused tolerance, but it's

     time to get back to business.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              That's enough, Captain, you have

              your orders.  Major Thomas will fill

              you in.

     Miller knows when to back off.  He salutes.

                          MILLER

              Yes, sir.

     Miller and Colonel Anderson exchange a private look.

                          COLONEL ANDERSON

              Good luck, John.

                          MILLER

              Thank you, sir.

     Miller joins Major Thomas at one of the smaller map tables. 

     Colonel Anderson watches Miller for an instant, then notices

     the other officers in the tent watching.  A glare and they

     go back to work.

     EXT. BATTLESHIP - DAY

     A MASSIVE BARRAGE of fifteen-inch shells BLASTS from the

     deck of the enormous ship.

     EXT. CRATER FIELD - CRANBERRY BOG - DAY

     HUGE EXPLOSIONS.  The big naval shells SLAM into the German

     position on the far side of the cranberry bog crater field.

                          IN THE CRATERS

              Miller's Ranger company ducks and

              covers.  The BARRAGE SUBSIDES.  The

              Rangers rise, FIRING, leap-frogging

              from crater to crater, advancing

              against the remaining Germans who

              return SMALL ARMS FIRE.

                          MILLER

              Crouch-runs and dives into a crater

              with Sarge.

                          MILLER

              Put on your traveling shoes, Sarge,

              we're heading out.

                          SARGE

              Caen?

                          MILLER

              I wish.  You and I are taking a squad

              up to Ramelle on a public relations

              mission.

                          SARGE

              You?  Leading a squad?

                          MILLER

              Some private up there lost three

              brothers, got a ticket home.

                          SARGE

              What about the company?

                          MILLER

              Simpson.

                          SARGE

              Simpson?  Jesus Christ on a fucking

              pogo stick!

                          MILLER

              I want Reiben on B.A.R; Jackson with

              his sniper rifle; Beasley, demolition.

                          SARGE

              Beasley's dead.

                          MILLER

              Okay, Wade.  Translators?

                          SARGE

              Fresh out.

                          MILLER

              What about Talbot?

                          SARGE

              Twenty minutes ago.  Miller Damn,

              I'll go see if I can find another

              one.  You get Reiben, Jackson and

              Wade, meet me at transport.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     They wait for a lull in the firing, then scramble out of the

     crater and crouch-run in opposite directions.

     EXT. TRANSPORT H.Q. - NINETEENTH INFANTRY - DAY

     Just in from the beaches.  DISTANT ARTILLERY AND EXPLOSIONS. 

     Nothing close.  Dust.  Confusion.  Vehicles of every sort

     moving out.  Tanks, half-tracks, troop trucks.  In the middle

     of the mess, a cigar-chewing SUPPLY SERGEANT works at a make-

     shift desk made out of crate.  He yells at a PRIVATE.

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              GET THOSE GODDAMNED HALF-TRACKS OUT

              OF THERE!

     Private They're blocked in!

                          SERGEANT

              THEN UNBLOCK 'EM!

     SARGE< REIBEN, JACKSON AND WADE

     Wait nearby.  Reiben is beside himself, pacing, muttering. 

     The others are relaxed.

                          MILLER

              Strides through the chaos, avoiding

              the passing vehicles.  He sees his

              men and walks toward them.  Reiben

               hurries up to Miller, pleading.

                          REIBEN

              Please, sir, you can't take me to

              Ramelle, I gotta go to Caen, sir,

              please, I told you, they make Caen

              lingerie there, it's beautiful, it's

              the best there is, it's...oh, please,

              sir...

                          MILLER

              Sorry, I need a B.A.R. man, you're

              the best.

                          REIBEN

                        (desperate)

              No, I'm not, Kaback is, honest.  Or

              what about Faulkner?  Or that little

              guy with the glasses?

                          MILLER

              Trust me, you're the best.

                          REIBEN

                        (whimpering)

              But, sir...

     Miller jerks his head for his men to follow and he strides

     off toward the Supply Sergeant's table.  Sarge falls in next

     to Miller.

                          SARGE

              You get a translator, Captain?

                          MILLER

              I've got a line on one.

                          TRANSPORT OPERATIONS TABLE

              Chaos.  Vehicles THUNDERING by.  The

              Supply Sergeant juggles runners and

              paperwork.  Miller steps up to him.

                          MILLER

              Sergeant, I need a truck.

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              Sorry, sir, fresh out of trucks, how

              'bout a '38 Ford Roadster, hard-top,

              red with black interior.

                          MILLER

              White-walls?

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              No white-walls, sir, there's a war

              on.

                        (to the Private)

              NOT THERE, YOU GODDAMNED IDIOT, OVER

               THERE!

                        (to Miller)

              I can't help you, sir.

                          MILLER

              A half-track, anything.

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              Sorry, sir.  Division is using

              everything on wheels to get up to

              Caen.

                        (notices Miller's

                        shoulder patch)

              How come you guys aren't going?

     Miller ignores the question.  He spies a jeep.

                          MILLER

              How about that jeep?

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              That's General Gavin's.  His lap dog

              told me if anyone breathes on it,

              I'll get busted and if anyone so

              much as touches it with their little

              finger, I'll get court marshaled. 

              If you were to take it, they'd shoot

              me.

                          JACKSON

              Cap'n, does that mean we got to walk

              all the way up to Ramelle?

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              What's at Ramelle beside a lot of

              Germans.

                          MILLER

              A paratrooper named Ryan.  He's going

              home, if he's alive.

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              Senator's son?

                          MILLER

              No, three brothers of his were killed

              in action.  Command wants him out of

              there.

     The Supply Sergeant grunts as if punched in the belly.

                          SUPPLY SERGEANT

              Damn...I got a couple brothers...

     Miller looks at him, noting his reaction coldly.  The Supply

     Sergeant shifts his eyes toward General Gavin's jeep.

     EXT. ROAD LEADING FROM TRANSPORT - DAY

     Miller and his men drive off, fast, in General Gavin's jeep. 

     Sarge is at the wheel, weaving and bouncing through the bedlam

     of men and vehicles.  Miller rides shotgun.  Reiben, Jackson

     and Wade are crammed in the back.

     The SUPPLY SERGEANT Watches them go.  Behind him, GENERAL

     GAVIN, pure piss and vinegar, strides up, trailed by his

     huge staff.  He looks around for his jeep, comes up empty.

                          GENERAL GAVIN

              SERGEANT, WHERE THE HELL IS MY

              GODDAMNED JEEP!?

     The Supply Sergeant puffs his cigar with a smile and turns

     to take his lumps.

     EXT. ROAD - DAY

     Miller and his men weave through the chaos of the American

     staging area.

                          MILLER

              We've got to make one stop.

     Miller points the way for Sarge.

     EXT. INTELLIGENCE TENT - DAY

     Miller and his men skid to a stop in front of a perfectly

     white, taut-lined tent.  A steady stream of ROARING vehicles

     and CHATTERING men move out around them.  DISTANT GUNS RUMBLE. 

     SPORADIC MEDIUM-DISTANCE EXPLOSIONS BOOM.  Miller hops out.

                          MILLER

              Wait here.

     He strides into the tent.

     INT. INTELLIGENCE TENT - DAY

     Three bookish corporals hover over map tables like studious

     nerds the day before finals.  They're breaking down and

     gridding field maps and covering them in plasticine.  Tedious,

     detailed work.

     One of them is TIM UPHAM, a thin, twenty-four year old,

     patrician with gentle, thoughtful eyes behind his thick

     glasses.  He nervously jumps at the sound of a VERY DISTANT

     EXPLOSION, then he forces himself to concentrate on his work. 

     Miller strides in.  Miller I'm looking for Corporal Upham.

     Upham raises his eyes from his map and re-focuses.

     Upham Sir, I'm Upham.

                          MILLER

              I understand you speak French and

              German.

     Upham Yes, sir.

                          MILLER

              Do you have an accent?

     Upham A slight one in French.  My German is clean.  It has a

     touch of the Bavarian.

                          MILLER

              Good, you've been re-assigned to me,

              we're going to Ramelle.

     Upham knows enough geography to know what that means.

     Upham Uh, sir, there are Germans up at Ramelle.

                          MILLER

              That's my understanding.

     Upham Lots of them.

                          MILLER

              Do you have a problem with that,

              Corporal?

     Upham Sir, I've never been in combat.  I make maps.  I

     translate.

                          MILLER

              I need a translator, all mine have

              been killed.

     Upham But, sir, I haven't held a gun since basic training.

                          MILLER

              It'll come back to you.  Get your

              gear.

     Upham hesitates.

     Upham Sir, may I bring my typewriter?

     Miller looks at him closely, not sure if he's joking.

     Upham I'm writing a book and I...

     Miller's expression gives him his answer.

     Upham Uh, how about a pencil?

                          MILLER

              A small one.

     Miller shoos him off.

                          MILLER

              Go, go...

     Upham scurries away.  Miller sighs.

     EXT. ROAD LEADING FROM INTELLIGENCE TENT - DAY

     Miller and his men peel out, now with Upham crammed with the

     others in the back of the jeep.  As they drive off, the CAMERA

     CRANES UP to reveal the vast tableau of the biggest invasion

     in military history.

     The scope of the operation is stunning.  The beach is covered

     with mountains of supplies.  A steady stream of vehicles

     winds up the dunes.  Hundreds of barrage balloons, anchored

     by heavy steel cables, hover over the entire scene.  Off-

     shore, a massive Mulberry port is under construction, workers

     swarming over it like ants.  Beyond that, thousands of ships

     and boats of every type and description.  The smoke of

     hundreds of fires rises on the horizon.  EXPLOSIONS, some

     distant, some close, BOOM and RUMBLE.

     It's an awesome, breathtaking sight.  Miller and his tiny

     band of men, weave their way through the middle of it,

     speeding away from the beach, heading inland, leaving the

     bulk of the American Army behind.  Ext. french road - day

     Miller and his men drive fast passing American vehicles and

     infantrymen moving forward.  The sides of the road are

     littered with the debris of burning German vehicles, abandoned

     equipment, bodies.

     Sarge drives.  Miller reads a map.  Upham, cradling a pristine

     M-1 rifle, is all eyes and ears.  Jackson and Wade calmly

     take in the view.  Reiben checks out the close quarters in

     the back of the jeep.

                          REIBEN

              Captain, can I ask you a question?

                          MILLER

              Sure, Reiben.

                          REIBEN

              Where are you planning on putting

              Private Ryan, sir?

     Miller doesn't raise his eyes from the map.

                          REIBEN

                        (continuing)

              It's just that it's kind of crowded

              back here, I was wondering if you're

              expecting to have more room on the

              way back?

     Miller points out a turn to Sarge.

                          MILLER

              Left.

     Sarge makes the turn.  Miller folds up the map and pockets

     it.

                          MILLER

              Now we've got a straight shot, due

              north, to Ramelle, twenty-six miles,

              two villages between here and there,

              St. Mere, then Bernay.  We'll take

              the jeep as far as we can, then go

              on on foot.

                          SARGE

              We in radio contact with anybody up

              there?

                          MILLER

              Somebody put the wrong crystals in

              every one of the Hundred-and-First's

              radios the night before the drop,

              not one of them works.  We're going

              in blind.

                          REIBEN

              I usually like surprises.

                          SARGE

              What are we likely to run into?

                          MILLER

              A fucking mess, two maybe three Kraut

              divisions, no fronts, no lines, the

              drops were completely fouled up,

              we've got little pockets of

              paratroopers all over the place,

              trying to hang on.  Command says we

              hold St. Mere, but north of that,

              it's all Krauts.  Even if Ryan's

              where he's supposed to be, he's more

              than likely dead.

                          SARGE

              Hell of a mission.

                          MILLER

              Yep, hell of a mission.

     IN THE BACK OF THE JEEP

     Upham avidly takes in everything.  He notices Reiben staring

     at him, grows nervous under his look and offers a hopeful

     smile.

     Upham Hi.  So, uh, you're all Rangers?

     Reiben, Jackson and Wade look at Upham as if he were an

     insect.

     Upham I'm Upham.

     (pointing at his corporal's stripes)

     Ignore these, please, I know all that breaks down in combat. 

     Their jaws drop.

                          REIBEN

                        (to Wade)

              You want to shoot him, or should I?

     Wade It's not my turn.

                          REIBEN

                        (politely)

              Jackson?

                          JACKSON

              Hell, no, last time I shot a corporal,

              Cap'n Miller near bit my head off.

     Upham reacts to the metion of Miller's name.

     Upham Miller?

                          MILLER

              I don't want anybody to shoot him,

              that's an order.  He speaks French

              and his German has a touch of the

              Bavarian.

     Upham Sir, are you Captain John Miller?

     Miller sighs, he knows what's coming.

                          UPHAM

                        (continuing)

              ...who won the Congressional Medal

              of Hon...?

     Upham's words are frozen in his throat by the warning glances

     of Miller's men.  Miller himself remains relaxed but stone-

     faced.

     No one speaks for a few seconds, then the moment passes as

     if it had never happened.

                          REIBEN

              Captain, I gotta tell you, the irony

              of this mission is fucking killing

              me.

                          MILLER

              Yeah, how so?

                          REIBEN

              I should be on my way to Caen, sir. 

              It's like Beethoven, the guy's one

              of the greatest composers ever lived

              and he goes deaf.  Go figure, I mean,

              who'd he piss off?  And here I am,

              the Beethoven of ladies foundation

              garments, one step away from Caen,

              the center of the known lingerie

              universe and instead, I'm going to

              Ramelle to save some fucking private

              who's probably already dead.

                          MILLER

              There's to be a bright side, look

              for it.

                          REIBEN

              Sir, you know what Ramelle is famous

              for?  Cheese.  The rest of the company

              is going to Caen and we're going to

              the goddamned cheese capital of

              France.  There is no bright side.

                          MILLER

              There's always a bright side.

                          REIBEN

              I'm listening, sir.

                          MILLER

              Well, I, for one, like cheese.

     Wade pipes up cheerfully.

     Wade Hell, I don't mind going to Ramelle, as long as there's

     something up there for me to blow up.

                          REIBEN

              Well, you're a happy idiot.

     THEY ROUND A TURN

     SKID TO A STOP AT A:

     BOTTLENECK OF AMERICAN VEHICLES

     A LIEUTENANT is roadmaster.  Miller calls to him.

                          MILLER

              How's the road up to St. Mere?

     Lieutenant Bad, sir.  There're some eighty-eights hiding

     somewhere, knocking the hell out of our traffic.

                          MILLER

              Anybody getting through?

     Lieutenant The lucky ones.

     Miller nods to Sarge who floors it.  They take off, spraying

     gravel behind them.  Ext. St. Mere Road - day The jeep barrels

     down the road, fast.  The road is pock-marked with craters. 

     They pass the wreckage of a pair of American jeeps.  Direct

     hits.  Sarge swerves around them without slowing.

     AN AMERICAN TROOP TRUCK SMOLDERS

     On the side of the road, surrounded by the charred bodies of

     a dozen American troops.  It's a nightmare vision.  Upham

     grows weak at the sight.  Miller takes note of Upham's

     reaction.

                          IN THE BACK

              The men bounce up and down like

              stuffed animals, doing their best to

              not be thrown out.

                          REIBEN

              Hell, this is better than Coney

              Island!

                          A HUGE BUMP

              Bounces Reiben up and slams his back

              down on his shovel.  He HOLLERS IN

              PAIN.

                          MILLER

              Just trying to make room for Ryan.

     Reiben shoots Miller a smile and shifts his belt, moving his

     shovel from under his bruised ass.

     THEY ROUND A BEND

     See a long, straight stretch of road.  Half-a-dozen burning,

     obliterated American vehicles.  A gauntlet to run.

     AN EIGHTY-EIGHT SHELL SCREAMS IN

     Lands right behind them.  BLOWS A NEW CRATER

                          MILLER

                        (sweetly)

              Sarge?

     SARGE FLOORS IT.  Everyone hangs on.

                          ANOTHER SHELL EXPLODES

              Thirty yards ahead of them.

                          MILLER

              Directs Sarge off the road.

                          MILLER

              They've got the road zeroed.

                          SARGE

              Yanks the wheel, driving the jeep

              off the road.

                          THE JEEP BOUNCES

              Off the shoulder.  Nearly throwing

              everyone out.  Somehow they hang on. 

              The jeep tears along the rutted field.

                          ANOTHER EXPLOSION

              Just behind them.

                          SARGE DRIVES MADLY

              Not slowing down.  Trying to avoid

              the biggest ruts and bumps.

                          ANOTHER EXPLOSION

              Close on their side.  Showers them

              with debris.

                          SARGE

              Jesus Christ!

     MILLER SCANS THE TERRAIN

     Sees a cluster of buildings about half-a-mile ahead.

                          MILLER

              They've got a hell of a spotter

              somewhere.

                          ANOTHER EXPLOSION

              Even closer.  The jeep's PEPPERED

              WITH SHRAPNEL.  They BARREL THROUGH

              the smoke.

                          MILLER

              S-curves, Sarge.

                          SARGE

              Turns shallow curves without slowing

              down.

     SUDDENLY SEES A CRATER

     Tries to avoid it.  Too late.  Brakes.  PLOWS into overturned

     earth.  STOPS SHORT.

     REIBEN, UPHAM, WADE AND JACKSON

     THROWN from the jeep.  TUMBLE into the dirt.  Not hurt.

                          SARGE AND MILLER

              Hang on.  Stay in the jeep but are

              battered.  All stunned.  MILLER Is

              first to regain his bearings.  Jumps

              up.  Checks out the jeep.  Undamaged. 

              Deep in the soft dirt.

     AN EIGHTY-EIGHT SHELL SCREAMS IN EXPLODES THIRTY YARDS LEFT

                          MILLER

              Sarge!  Reverse!

     Sarge puts his head back on and throws the jeep into gear. 

     The wheels spin.  Miller throws his shoulder into the jeep. 

     Yells to the others.

                          MILLER

              COME ON!  YOU WANNA WALK?

                          STILL DAZED

              Reiben, Wade, Jackson, Upham screw

              their heads back on.  Shoulder into

              the jeep.  Push for all they're worth. 

              The WHEELS STILL SPIN.

     ANOTHER EIGHTY-EIGHT SHELL LANDS EXPLODES THIRTY YARDS RIGHT

                          MILLER IGNORES IT

              He's the only one who does.

                          SARGE

              Captain, they got us zeroed.

     Upham is very nervous.

                          UPHAM

              That's bracketing, right?

     They all ignore him.

                          UPHAM

              I know about bracketing.  I read

              about it.  The next one is going to

              land right on us.

                          MILLER

              FORWARD!  FORWARD!

                        (beat)

              NOW REVERSE!

     Sarge SLAMS THE JEEP INTO REVERSE.  Rocks it.  SLAMS IT BACK

     INTO FORWARD.  Makes progress.

     ALL THE MEN PUSH, ALL EYES UP.  WAITING FOR THE NEXT SHELL.

                          SARGE

              Uh, Captain...

                          MILLER

              PUSH!

                          SARGE

              Uh, Captain...

                          THE TIRES SCREAM

              A bit more progress.  It's almost

              out.

     THEY ALL PUSH LIKE MANIACS

     Knowing the shell is coming any second.  Upham is beside

     himself.

                          SARGE

                        (sweetly)

              Oh, Captain...

                          ONE MORE PUSH

              The jeep rocks back in, deeper.

                          MILLER

              SHIT!

     THEY HEAR THE SCREAM OF THE SHELL MILLER BARKS TO HIS MEN

                          MILLER

              GO!

                          THE MEN

              Instantly take off.  Away from the

              jeep.  As fast as they can.

     THE SHELL SCREAMS IN

     The men hit the dirt.

                          DIRECT HIT

              OBLITERATING THE JEEP

                          THE MEN

              Barely out of the BLAST PERIMETER. 

              STUNNED by the concussion.  SHOWERED

              with dirt, rock and debris.

                          MILLER

              Is first up.  Sarge and the men

              struggle to their feet.  Hear MORE

              INCOMING.  Miller grabs Upham by the

              collar and pulls him up.

                          MILLER

              HERE COME THE MORTARS!

     THEY ALL TAKE OFF

     Running as fast as they can.

     THE FIRST OF THE MORTAR SHELLS COME IN

     The eighty-eight is big, with pauses spaces between.  But

     there must be a dozen mortars firing.  The shells are almost

     constant.

                          THE FIELD

              The six Americans run madly, in zig-

              zag patterns through the gauntlet of

              MORTAR EXPLOSIONS.  BOOM

                          RUNNING, STUMBLING

              BOOM, BOOM, BOOM

     UPHAM IS THROWN TO THE GROUND

     Miller yanks him up.  Half-drags him to the edge of the field.

     THEY MAKE IT TO THE TREES

     Keep running.  Through the bushes and brambles.  Thirty yards

     in.

                          THE EXPLOSIONS STOP

              THE MEN ALL STOP Panting.  Struggling

              to catch their breath. Check their

              body parts.  Everything's there. 

              They have their weapons, most of

              their gear.

     Reiben looks back through the trees at THE JEEP, which is

     nothing more than a burning carcass.  He shakes his head.

                          REIBEN

              General Gavin is going to be very

              irritated at you, Captain.

                          MILLER

              Stands on the edge of the woods,

              almost in a trance.

                          UPHAM

              Captain, I...

                          SARGE

              Sssssh!

     Miller, far away, quickly shifts his eyes and ears from

     position to position.

                          MILLER

              Sarge, maps.

     Sarge quickly opens up the map case.  The men are dead silent,

     frozen in place.

                          MILLER

              Two eighty-eights, just under two-

              and-a-half miles, that way, vector

              from the jeep, through those two

              trees at the base of the hill.  The

              mortars came from behind that rise,

              there, four of them.

     Sarge quickly starts vectoring on the map.  Miller snaps out

     of it.

                          MILLER

              Wade, the radio.

     Wade instantly starts cranking it up.  Upham is amazed.

                          UPHAM

              You can tell all that, just by the

              sound, sire?

                          MILLER

              That's not all.  There were nine

              gunners on the eighty-eights, one

              had a broken heel on his boot, two

              had bratwurst for supper last night,

              one of them is named Fritz, the other,

              Hans, maybe, I don't know, it's hard

              to tell.

                          JACKSON

              Corporal, you have just seen one of

              Captain Miller's many God-given

              talents.  If, by some miracle, you

              survive, you will witness many more

              of them.

     Sarge finished vectoring.

                          SARGE

              Got it, sir.  We gonna go take care

              of those eighty-eights?

                          MILLER

              That's not what we're here for.

                          WADE

                        (re. radio)

              I've got command, Captain.

     Miller takes the handset from Wade and the map from Sarge.

                          MILLER

                        (into radio)

              This is Baker Charley One, fire mark,

              sector three, foxtrot quadrant, four-

              three by baker-three.  Two eighty-

              eights.  Tell our boys to come in

              low from the east in case the Krauts

              have ack-ack.  Good hunting.  Over.

     A VOICE ON THE RADIO SIGNS OFF through the static.  Wade

     packs up the radio.  Miller folds up the map.  Jackson Sir,

     wouldn't take us but a minute to put out them eighty-eights.

                          SARGE

              He's right, Captain, it might be

              kind of dangerous for those flyboys.

                          MILLER

              Tell that to Private James Ryan. 

              We've got our orders.  Let's go.

     Miller heads off without pausing or looking back.  The rest

     of the men don't like it, but they follow.  Upham trails,

     amazed at Miller.

     EXT. WOODS - DAY

     Miller walks point.  His men follow warily.  Upham falls in

     alongside Reiben.

                          UPHAM

              So, where are you from?

                          REIBEN

              Get lost.

     Upham smiles lamely and moves on to Jackson.

                          UPHAM

              So, where are you from?

                          JACKSON

              You writin' a book or somethin'?

                          UPHAM

              As a matter of fact, I am.

                          JACKSON

              Figured.

     Wade overhears and smiles at Upham.

                          WADE

              I'm Wade, that's spelled, W-A-D-E,

              I'm small but wiry, with piercing,

              steel-gray eyes, and a rough-hewn

              but handsome face, I'm from Colorado,

              my father's a mining engineer, don't

              you take notes?

     Upham shakes his head.

                          UPHAM

              Demolition, right?

                          WADE

              Since I was nine years old.  They

              got a lot of explosives around mines. 

              Me and my little brother could get

              into any warehouse you ever saw. 

              Damn, we had fun!

     Jackson shrugs.

                          JACKSON

              I'm Jackson.  I'm from West Fork,

              Tennessee.  My pappy's a preacher. 

              Him and his two brothers got a

              ministry, The Blessed Church of the

              Wandering Gospel.

                          UPHAM

              In West Fork?

                          JACKSON

              In the back of a nineteen and thirty-

              one stretch Hudson with a big ole'

              trailer.

                          UPHAM

              No kidding.

                          JACKSON

              I don't make jokes about things of,

              or related to, the preaching of the

              Holy Gospel, including the ministerial

              calling of my family.

                          UPHAM

              So they travel around from place to

              place and preach?

                          JACKSON

              We got us a tent, forty-two feet

              across, eighteen feet at center,

              hundred-and-ten foldin' chairs. 

              Circuit's eleven towns, covers all

              'a Hasset County and most 'a Weller

              County.  I expect that upon completion

              of my military service I will be

              joinin' said ministry.

                          UPHAM

              What about the Captain?  Where's he

              from?

     They all shake their heads.  Miller's out of earshot.

                          JACKSON

              You figure that out, you got yourself

              one nice prize.

                          SARGE

              Over three hundred bucks, last I

              heard.  Wade Company's got a pool,

              five bucks gets you in, whoever

              guesses where the Captain's from and

              what he did as a civilian gets it

              all.

                          JACKSON

              The whole kit and caboodle.

                          UPHAM

              But everybody's heard of him, he won

              the Congressional Medal of Honor, he

              saved a dozen men.

                          REIBEN

              We know.

                          UPHAM

              Somebody must know where he's from,

              what he did for a living.

                          SARGE

              Somebody probably does.

                          UPHAM

              Why don't you just ask him?

                          JACKSON

              The Captain prefers not to discuss

              certain aspects of his life, in

              particular, everything up to and

              including his enlistment in the United

              States Army.

                          SARGE

              I've been with him since Anzio.  I'm

              closer to him that I am to my own

              brother but I don't even know what

              state he's from.  Somewhere in the

              Northeast as near as I can figure. 

              I don't even have a clue what he did

              for a living as civilian.

     Reiben shakes his head.

                          REIBEN

              No one's gonna win the money for the

              simple reason that the Captain never

              was a civilian.  They assembled him

              at O.C.S. out of spare body parts

              from dead G.I.'s.  I know this for a

              fact.

                          JACKSON

                        (defensively)

              You got somethin' against the Cap'n?

                          REIBEN

              Hell, no.  I think he's the best

              officer in the whole goddamned army,

              bar none.

     They all nod in assent, no argument there.

                          JACKSON

              You got that right.

     Miller walks on ahead, unaware of their conversation.  Upham

     watches Miller, with even more curiosity.

     EXT. HEDGEROW FIELD - DAY

     Miller and his men walk along a hedgerow that parallels a

     country cow path.  They're staying close to the cover of the

     brush.  Miller walks tall now.

                          JACKSON

              Captain, my feet are most

              uncomfortable.  If I'd 'a known we

              was gonna have to walk all the way

              to Ramelle, I never would 'a

              volunteered for this here mission.

                          MILLER

              You didn't volunteer, Jackson.

                          JACKSON

              I most likely would have, sir, had I

              been given the opportunity.

                          REIBEN

              If we find Ryan and he's still alive,

              that son-of-a-bitch is gonna carry

              this goddamned B.A.R. back to the

              beach for me.

                          JACKSON

              Army life is too dang easy, my feet

              have gone soft.  Back home, we go

              out squirrel huntin', I walk forever

              and a day and then some, don't even

              raise a blister.

                          REIBEN

              You know what a B.A.R. weighs? 

              Nineteen and a half pounds, not

               counting ammo.

                        (re. ammo bandoleers)

              And you think these things are

              comfortable?  They may look good but

              they weigh twelve pounds each, that's

              thirty-six pounds, right there.

                          WADE

              So what?  I've got three satchel

              charges, six gammon grenades, a dozen-

              and-a-half pineapples, and all my

              regular gear.  You don't hear me

              complaining.

                          REIBEN

              That's because, as I have pointed

              out on numerous occasions, you are a

              happy idiot.

                          WADE

              No, I just happen to take the

              Captain's advice and look at the

              bright side of things.

                          UPHAM

              How do you do it?

                          WADE

              It's easy, it runs in my family,

              take my grandfather, for example...

                          REIBEN

              Oh, Christ, now we gotta listen to

              that grandfather thing again.

                          WADE

              As I was saying, before I was so

              rudely interrupted, my grandfather

              got old, as grandfathers tend to do. 

              He needed someone to take care of

              him.  We move around all the time,

              going from one mine to another, so

              we had to put him in a home.  Nice

              enough place but kind of depressing. 

              But not for Granddad.  He just

              convinced himself he was on a cruise

              ship, going to Tahiti, he had his

              own cabin, first class, with room

              service.  It just so happened that

              the weather was always lousy, so he

              never bothered to go up on deck. 

              Happiest guy you ever saw until the

              day he died.

                          UPHAM

              You think he really believed it?

                          WADE

              Who knows?  It worked.

                          REIBEN

              Fine, you convince yourself you got

              a pack full of feathers and goddamned

              Private James Ryan can carry my

              fucking gear.

                          WADE

              Reiben, you can be very unpleasant

              to be around sometimes.

                          REIBEN

              You want unpleasant?  Just wait, I

              can do much better than this.

                          WADE

              Look at Upham, you don't hear him

              complaining.

     Upham, feeling bold and a bit naughty, decides to give it a

     shot.

                          UPHAM

              Well, as a matter of fact, I was

              just thinking...

     The men roll their eyes, expecting the worst.

                          UPHAM

                        (continuing)

              That I'm so fucking tired of this

              goddamned walking, I'd pay a thousand

              dollars to see that bastard Ryan

              crawl on his belly over an acre of

              broken glass to hear my great-aunt

              Martha fart through a field-phone.

     The men are stunned.

                          REIBEN

              Jesus Christ, he's a natural!

                          MILLER

              Upham, are you sure you've never

              been in combat?

     Upham wiggles with pride.  Upham Positive, sir, I'm certain

     I'd remember.

     Miller eyes Upham respectfully and nods to the men.

                          MILLER

              He's good.

     They walk on.

                          JACKSON

              Cap'n, my feet are most uncomfortable.

     Miller smiles, situation normal.

     EXT. ST. MERE - LATE AFTERNOON

     A small town has been reduced to rubble and is still an active

     battlefield.  HEAVY SMALL ARMS FIRE.  GRENADE AND MORTAR

     EXPLOSIONS.  MEDIUM ARTILLERY BEYOND.  American soldiers

     crouch in doorways, FIRING at well-placed Germans.

     Some French civilians dash across a street.  A man and a

     couple of women, one carrying a child.  They make it across

     and disappear into the remains of a building.

     Miller runs up and flattens himself against a wall at a

     corner.  Sarge and the other men follow in leap-frog, spread

     out down the block behind him.

     Miller glances around the corner, taking a quick mental

     picture of a GATHERING OF G.I.'s crouching in the cover of

     an alley across the street and down the block.  They are

     CAPTAIN HAMILL, about Miller's age, and HIS MEN.

     As Miller ducks back behind the corner, A GERMAN BULLET

     SMASHES into the bricks where his head was an instant before.

     Miller motions Jackson across first.

                          MILLER

              Stay low.

     Jackson gathers himself, takes off.  GERMAN BULLETS BLAST,

     kicking up the cobblestone behind him.  Jackson zig-zags and

     makes it to the cover of the far side.

                          JACKSON

              Dang!  That was close!

     Miller nods to Upham.

                          MILLER

              Your turn.

     Upham, scared shitless, doesn't move.  Miller speaks to him

     very gently.

                          MILLER

              Zig-zag, change your pace a couple

              times, you'll be alright.

     Upham's frozen.  He can barely breathe.  Miller sighs.

                          MILLER

              Okay, I'm going to draw fire for

              you.

                        (sternly)

              But if I do, you goddamned well better

              go.

     Upham nods.  Miller gathers himself, takes a deep breath.

     CLOSE SHOT:  MILLER'S HAND quivers.

                          MILLER

              Looks to Upham

                          MILLER

              Ready?

     Upham nods, still terrified.

     MILLER STEPS INTO THE OPEN

     Stands motionless, presenting himself to the German snipers.

                          MILLER

              Go.

     Upham runs.

     A GERMAN BULLET HITS THE BRICKS NEAR MILLER.

     He doesn't budge.

     UPHAM TEARS ACROSS THE STREET very, very fast.

     REIBEN watches Upham run.

                          REIBEN

              Hey, that guy can move.

     A GERMAN BULLET WHIZZES PAST Miller's ear.  UPHAM gets to

     the far side.

     MILLER DUCKS BACK around the corner.  Reiben and Wade don't

     even react to what Miller has just done.  Sarge is pissed. 

     He shakes his head at Miller, like an irritated parent.

                          SARGE

                        (under his breath so

                        only Miller can hear)

              Damn fool.

                        (beat)

              Sir.

                          REIBEN

              Captain, he's fast!

                          MILLER

                        (glances at Sarge,

                        speaks to Reiben)

               Glad of it.

                          UPHAM

              On the other side of the street,

              crouches in a doorway with Jackson. 

              Upham is a bit in shock, less from

              the nearness of the bullets than

              from what Miller just did for him.

                          MILLER

              DASHES across the street.

     GERMAN BULLETS TRAIL HIM, shattering the cobblestones, inches

     behind him.

     HE MAKES IT across.  Calls back to Sarge.

                          MILLER

              Bring 'em over.

     UPHAM, tries to thank Miller.

                          UPHAM

              Captain, I...

     Miller ignores him, motions to Sarge, Reiben and Wade.

                          MILLER

              One at a time.

                          MILLER

              Ducks out of the doorway and crouch-

              runs down the block.  He passes a:

                          BOMBED OUT BUILDING

              Out of the line of fire.  A dozen

              dead American soldiers lined up on

              the ground.  The battered, bloody

              bodies, only partially covered by

              ponchos.

     Some badly wounded G.I.'s are being treated next to the dead. 

     Blood puddles have spread out onto the sidewalk.

                          MILLER

              Sees the dead and wounded, shows no

              reaction.  Runs to:

                          AN ALLEY

              Captain Hamill and his men are bunched

              there, out of the line of fire. 

              He's sending off a squad to continue

              their door-to-door.

     Captain hamill Fundamentals, short runs, double up at the

     corners, one man close, one man wide.  Be careful.  Go.

     The squad takes off.  Captain Hamill sees Miller.  The two

     captains glance at the bars on their shoulders, then speak

     familiarly.

     Captain hamill How was the road in?

                          MILLER

              We had a jeep until a few hours ago,

              a nice one, it had a cute little

              flag with a couple of stars on it.

     Captain hamill Oh, what a shame.

     One by one, Miller's men join them in the alley.

                          MILLER

              We called in a strike on the eighty-

              eights that took it out, but it's

              the Kraut spotter that counts,

              wherever the hell that bastard is.

     Captain Hamill points across a wide field toward a distant

     chateau that has a private chapel with a fifty-foot steeple.

     Captain hamill That's where your boy is.  We've been trying

     to get him since this morning.  He killed two of my men trying

     to get close enough for a shot.  Miller eyes the distant

     steeple.

                          MILLER

              Jackson.

     Jackson steps up.  Miller points to the steeple.  Jackson

     knows what he's supposed to do.  He puts down his M-1 and

     takes off the long, zippered, leather sheath, strapped to

     his back.

     He spits a massive bullet of tobacco juice, then calmly and

     methodically unzips his leather case and pulls out a very

     unusual, long-barrel, rifle.

     Miller and his men give him some room.  Hamill and his men,

     along with Upham, watch curiously.

     Jackson opens a two-foot tripod with a flick of his wrist,

     sits down and carefully attaches the rifle to it.  Then he

     takes a scope from a narrow wooden box and mounts it.  He

     adjusts the eye-piece and clicks in the bolt-action.  Upham

     is fascinated.

                          UPHAM

              What is that?

     Jackson pulls back the bolt and loads a single, over-sized

     shell.

                          JACKSON

              Thirty-ought-six, Norton long-barrel

              with dual-groove, parallel rifling,

              elevated three-glass scope and a

              single-throw hammer.

                          UPHAM

              The Army gave you that?

                          JACKSON

              Yep.

                          UPHAM

              You must be a hell a shot.

                          JACKSON

               Not where I come from.

     Jackson sights on a tree about a thousand yards away and

     FIRES.  Evaluates.  Calibrates the scope.  He re-loads.

     Jackson FIRES AGAIN.  Evaluates.  Perfect.  He wipes the

     dirt and sweat from his forehead, puts his eye to the sight

     and waits, absolutely motionless.

                          UPHAM

              That must be four thousand yards.

                          JACKSON

                        (without taking his

                        eye from the scope)

              Forty-two-hundred, I figure.

                          UPHAM

              You take account of the wind?

     Jackson doesn't dignify that with an answer but he looks

     back with an expression that clearly says, "What are you,

     some kind of fucking idiot?" Reiben puts himself between

     Upham and Jackson.

                          REIBEN

                        (put-on Southern accent)

              Dang right, he take 'count of the

              wind, ain't ya'll ever heard a

              Kentucky windage?

     Jackson keeps his eye to the scope and his finger on the

     trigger.

                          JACKSON

              Reiben, how many time I got to tell

              you, I'm from Tennessee.

                          REIBEN

              They got squirrels there, too, right?

     Jackson FIRES.  Waits.  A tiny smile.  He starts taking apart

     the rifle.  A very impressed Captain Hamill barks to his

     radioman.  Captain Hamill Get a hold of Command, tell them

     the St. Mere road is open.

     The Radioman cranks up his radio.  Captain Hamill turns to

     Miller.

     Captain Hamill How far back is the rest of division?

                          MILLER

              Very far, they're not coming this

              way, they're going to take Caen first.

     Captain Hamill Goddamn it, I was afraid of that.  We're in a

     lot of trouble up here, and it's gonna get worse before it

     gets better.  How many men did you bring?

                          MILLER

              Five, but we not staying, we're on

              our way to Ramelle.

     Captain hamill Shit, are you the guys going up to find Private

     Ryan?

                          MILLER

              Yeah, you know about that?

     Captain hamill Command radioed, wanted to know if he came in

     with the early wounded or dead.

     Several of CAPTAIN HAMILL'S MEN, among them a GENTLE-FACED

     PRIVATE, prick up their ears at the mention of Private Ryan.

     Captain hamill We're supposed to tell you, they intercepted

     a German transmission after you left.  The Krauts have two

     companies on their way to Ramelle to take back that bridge,

     they'll be there sometime late tomorrow.

                          MILLER

              Wonderful.

     Captain Hamill If Ryan's alive, you'd better get him the

     hell out of there before those Krauts show up.

                          MILLER

              How do we get out of here?

     Captain hamill You don't, until tonight, we're hemmed in

     real tight.  After dark you try to slip out to the east.  If

     you tip-toe, stay off the main roads and roll a few sevens,

     you've got a fair chance of making it up to Ramelle by

     tomorrow night.

     Miller processes the information.  Captain Hamill shakes his

     head.

     Captain hamill Tough, huh?  Three brothers?

     Miller shrugs.

     Captain hamill We sure as hell could use your help here, but

     I understand what you're doing?

                          MILLER

              Yeah?

     Captain hamill Good luck.

                          MILLER

              Thanks.

     Captain hamill I mean it.  Find him.  Get him home.

     Miller is a bit taken aback by Captain Hamill's forceful

     sincerity.  Then he shakes it off and motions to his men.

                          MILLER

              Let's find someplace to hole up.

     Miller nods to Captain Hamill, then, as he moves to the head

     of the alley, Miller passes Upham.

                          UPHAM

              Sir, I'm sorry about what happened,

              I...

                          MILLER

                        (interrupting)

              It was nothing.

                          UPHAM

              But you could have gotten killed and

              I...

                          MILLER

                        (interrupting)

              Like I said, it was nothing.

                        (to the men)

              Don't bunch up.

     He takes off, crouch-running back down the block.  Upham

     watches him go.

                          UPHAM

              Did you see what he did, back there? 

              He stepped right into the open, so I

              could get across.

                          JACKSON

              Shit, that was no big deal.

                          WADE

              They can't kill him.

                          SARGE

              Like hell they can't.

                          REIBEN

              Wade's right, it's some kind of

              scientific, magnetic thing, I can't

              explain it, but I've seen it.

                          WADE

              We all have, he's got nine lives, or

              he's bulletproof, or some damn thing.

     The men are equal parts joking and admiring.  Sarge is

     neither.

                          SARGE

              No one's bulletproof.  No one.

                        (beat)

              C'mon, stay low.

     Sarge takes off after Miller.

     EXT. ST. MERE CATHEDRAL - DUSK

     Miller and his men are bivouaced in the middle of the ruins

     of a medieval church.  Miller, settled into a comfortable

     spot in the debris, eating his K-rations, looks very relaxed. 

     Reiben paces.

                          REIBEN

              Captain, could you please explain

              the math of this mission to me?

                          MILLER

              Sure, what do you want to know?

                          REIBEN

              Well, sir, in purely arithmetic terms,

              since when does six equal one?  What's

              the sense in risking six guys to

              save one?

                          MILLER

              Ours is not to reason why.

                          REIBEN

              Huh?

                          MILLER

              Never mind, don't worry, we'll pick

              up this kid, high-tail it back to

              division, everything'll work out

              fine.

                          REIBEN

              I'd much rather die in Caen than

              Ramelle, sir.  It's a personal thing.

                          MILLER

              Reiben, there's a fairly good chance

              you're not going to die at all.

                          REIBEN

              Easy for you to say, sir.

                        (beat)

              Fucking James Ryan, I'd like to wring

              his fucking neck.

                          SARGE

              Jesus, Reiben, think of the poor

              bastard's mother.

                          REIBEN

              Hey, I got a mother.  Jackson, you

              got a mother?

                          JACKSON

              Last I knew.

                          REIBEN

              Wade, Sarge, Corporal Insect, all of

              us, hell, I'll bet even the Captain

              has a mother.

     Miller smiles.  Reiben eyes him and reconsiders.

                          REIBEN

              Well, maybe not the Captain, but the

              rest of us have mothers.

                          MILLER

              You have orders, too.

                          JACKSON

              Sir, I have an opinion on this matter.

                          MILLER

              I'd love to hear it.

                          JACKSON

              Seems to me, Cap'n, this mission is

              a serious misallocation of valuable

              military resources.  Miller Go on.

                          JACKSON

              Well, sir, by my way a thinkin' I am

              a finely made instrument of warfare. 

              What I mean by that is, if you was

              to put me with this here sniper rifle

              anywhere up to and includin' one

              mile from Adolf Hitler, with a clear

              line of sight, war's over.

     Miller nods.

                          MILLER

              Reiben, I want you to listen closely

              to Jackson.  This is the way to gripe. 

              Jackson, continue.

                          JACKSON

              Yes, sir.  It seems to me, sir, that

              the entire resources of the United

              States Army oughta be dedicated to

              one thing and one thing only, and

              that is to put me and this here weapon

              on a rooftop, smack-dab in the middle

              of Berlin, Germany.  Now I ain't one

              to question decisions made up on

              high, sir, but it seems to me that

              saving one private, no matter how

              grievous the losses of his family,

              is a waste of my God-given talent.

                          MILLER

              Wade?

                          WADE

              Hell, I don't mind this mission,

              sir, as long as there's something up

              at Ramelle for...

                          REIBEN

                        (finishing Wade's

                        sentence)

              ...for you to blow up, yeah, yeah,

              we heard that.

                          MILLER

              Upham?

                          UPHAM

              Pass.

                          MILLER

              Sarge?

                          SARGE

              I'm just here to keep a bunch of

              numb-nuts, including one certain,

              frequently suicidal, tempter-of-fate,

              from getting themselves killed.

     Reiben eyes Miller.

                          REIBEN

              And what about you, Captain?

     Miller looks at Reiben, shocked.

                          MILLER

              Reiben, what's the matter with you? 

              I don't gripe to you.  I'm a captain. 

              There's a chain of command.  Griping

              goes one way, up, only up, never

              down.  You gripe to me, I gripe to

              my superior officers.  Up, get it? 

              I don't gripe to you, I don't gripe

              in front of you.  How long you been

              in the army?

                          REIBEN

              I'm sorry, sir, I apologize.

                        (beat)

              But if you weren't a captain, or if

              I were a major, what would you say?

     Miller considers his response.

                          MILLER

              In that case, I would say this is an

              excellent mission, with an extremely

              valuable objective, worthy of my

              best efforts.

     Reiben rolls his eyes.  Miller plays it straight, with no

     obvious sarcasm.

                          MILLER

                        (continuing)

              In addition, as I pointed out earlier,

              I have a fondness for cheese and I

              hope to have the opportunity to sample

              some of the Ramelle products, when

              we arrive there, to see if they live

              up to their excellent reputation. 

              Moreover, I feel heartfelt sorrow

              for the mother of Private James Ryan

              and I'm more than willing to lay

              down my life, and the lives of my

              men, especially you, Reiben, to help

              relieve her suffering.  The men

              thoroughly enjoy the performance.

                          REIBEN

              Sir, if you were not a captain, I

              would compliment you, now, for being

              an excellent liar.

                          MILLER

              But I am a captain.  If I were not a

              captain, I would thank you for the

              compliment and tell you that the

              ability to lie comes from being a

              top-notch poker player, which I am,

              having learned at the side of my

              mother who is, by popular acclaim,

              the best poker player in...

     The men all  learn forward expectantly, believing they're

     about to find out Miller's home town.  Miller smiles.

                          MILLER

                        (continuing)

              ...my home town, which shall remain

              un-named.

     The men ease back, disappointed.

                          MILLER

              Any further thoughts on the subject?

                          REIBEN

              Yes, sir, as a final note, I'd like

              to say, fuck our orders, fuck Ramelle,

              fuck the cheese capital of France

              and while we're at it, fuck Private

              James Ryan.

                          MILLER

              I'll make a note of your suggestions

              but I'll leave that last one to you,

              especially if he's already dead.

     The men wince and laugh.  Miller checks his watch and gets

     serious.

                          MILLER

              We move out in two hours, try and

              get some sleep.

     The men know when to can it.  Without another word, they all

     settle down into the debris, close their eyes and try to

     follow Miller's order.  Upham looks around at these strange

     men, then, a simple, hard glare from Miller makes him follow

     suit.

     Miller looks at his men, then pulls out his map case and his

     flashlight.  He turns it on, in the dim glow of the light,

     he studies his maps while his men rest.

     EXT. ST. MERE CATHEDRAL - NIGHT (LATER)

     Dark.  ARTILLERY RUMBLES IN THE DISTANCE.  Reiben, Jackson,

     Wade and Upham sleep.  Miller still sits in the glow of his

     flashlight, studying his maps.  Sarge lies near him, awake,

     watching him.  Sarge notices some unopened envelopes in

     Miller's map case and speaks quietly to him.

                          SARGE

              You ever going to open those letters? 

              Miller keeps his eyes on the maps.

                          MILLER

              Maybe.

                          SARGE

              It's not normal, not reading letters

              from home.

                          MILLER

              Since when have things been normal?

                          SARGE

              You got me.  Afraid of bad news?

                          MILLER

              Nope.

                          SARGE

              Good news?

     Miller looks at Sarge.  A moment passes between the two of

     them, then miller takes refuge in the maps.  Sarge looks at

     the men.

                          SARGE

              You think they'll be alright?

                          MILLER

              They're fine.  As long as they can

              gripe, they'll be alright.

                          SARGE

              And what about you?

     Miller considers the question, doesn't answer.

                          MILLER

              They guys here aren't going to be

              able to hold out until battalion

              shows up.

                          SARGE

              Nope.

                          MILLER

              Command isn't going to let them

              withdraw and the Germans sure as

              hell aren't going to let them

              surrender.

                          SARGE

              Three for three.

                          MILLER

              If we stayed, we could make a

              difference.

                          SARGE

              You're kidding yourself.

                          MILLER

              You never know.

     They sit in silence for a moment.

                          SARGE

              I hope this boy Ryan is worth it.

                          MILLER

              Now you're the one kidding yourself.

                        (beat)

              Hell of  a mission.

                          SARGE

              Yup, hell of a mission.

     Miller looks at his watch, rises and barks at the men.

                          MILLER

              Rise and shine, boys.  Let's go.

     Grumbling, the men get up and start shouldering up their

     gear.

     EXT. ST. MERE STREET - NIGHT

     SMALL ARMS FIRE ECHOES through the village.  DISTANT ARTILLERY

     BOOMS.  Miller leads his men from the ruins of the cathedral

     toward the outskirts of town.  They're just a small squad,

     but these six, heavily-armed men, in full battle gear, are

     very formidable-looking.

     EXT. ST. MERE - OUTSKIRTS - NIGHT

     Miller's men are getting ready to move out.  Captain Hamill

     and a few of his men are there to see them off.  Suddenly:

     A FLASH OF LIGHT APPEARS ON THE HORIZON

     Then REPEATED FLASHES OF LIGHT.  The sky is on fire.  The

     AIR TREMBLES.  A FAR OFF RUMBLING THUNDER ROLLS over the

     countryside like a tidal wave.

     Then, THE OPPOSITE HORIZON LIGHTS UP AS WELL.

     IT'S A MASSIVE ARTILLERY BATTLE.  The MAGNITUDE OF THE FURY

     is incredible, strange, other-worldly.

     EVERY MAN THERE IS TRANSFIXED.

     Frozen in place.  The lights play on their faces.

     MILLER looks down and sees his hand quivering.

     SARGE notices, says nothing.

     MILLER stares at his hand, forcing it to stop.  Their eyes

     go back to the BLAZING SKY.

                          SARGE

                        (awe-struck)

              Makes you feel small, doesn't it?

                          MILLER

              It doesn't take this.

     Upham's face shows more fear than awe.

                          UPHAM

              I wasn't made for this.

                          MILLER

                        (bitterly)

              You think the rest of us were?

     Upham recoils.  Miller instantly regrets his words.  He turns

     to Upham and sees that he's really scared.  Miller get a

     hold of himself and speaks gently.

                          MILLER

              Don't worry, Upham, God'll protect

              you, this shit's gonna keep him up

              all night, anyway.

     Upham manages a slight smile.  Miller watches the lights for

     a moment more, then he pretends to shrug it off.

                          MILLER

              Let's go, this ain't what they pay

              us for.

     Captain Hamill is next to snap himself out of it.  He points

     the way.

     Captain hamill Along the wall, about thirty yards, there's a

     gate, on the other side, a drainage ditch, stay low until

     you clear the second field, then you'll hit the woods.

     As Miller and his men shoulder their gear and prepare to

     move out, on of Captain Hamill's men, the Gentle-Faced Private

     who was so interested in the talk of Private Ryan, steps up

     with a couple bandoleers of B.A.R. ammo.  He offers them to

     Reiben.

     Gentle-faced private Here.

     Reiben looks at the bandoleers and is about to give a smart-

     ass response, when a look at the Gentle-Faced Private's

     vulnerable expression stops the comment dead.

     Gentle-faced private My older brother was killed at

     Guadalcanal...these might come in handy.

     Reiben takes the ammo.

                          REIBEN

                        (gently)

              Just what I need.

     Miller steps over, takes the bandoleers from Reiben and hands

     them back to the Gentle-Faced Private.

                          MILLER

              Thanks, but you may need these more

              than us, or Ryan.

     Captain Hamill nods to the Gentle-Faced Private who takes

     the ammo back.

                          MILLER

              Let's move out.

     Miller and his men head off along the wall into the darkness,

     lit intermittently by the distant flashes.  Captain Hamill

     and his beleaguered men, watch them go with dread and a

     strange bit of hope.

     EXT. FRENCH COUNTRY SIDE - NIGHT

     The FINAL RUMBLES of the DISTANT ARTILLERY fade away.  The

     night is dark.  The band of six Americans makes their way

     warily along a French cart path.  Sarge eases up alongside

     Miller and speaks quietly to him.  The others don't overhear. 

     Sarge How long's your hand been shaking?

                          MILLER

              A couple of weeks.  It started in

              Portsmouth when they brought us down

              for loading.

                          SARGE

              Is it getting worse?

                          MILLER

              No.  It comes and goes.  It stops

              when I look at it.

                          SARGE

              You may have to find yourself a new

               line of work, this one doesn't seem

              to agree with you anymore.

                          MILLER

              I'll be alright.

     Sarge looks at Miller, closely, evaluating him, they walk

     on.

     EXT. FRENCH CART PATH - NIGHT (LATER)

     Farther along.  The men are tired but alert.  Jackson is at

     point.  Miller behind him.  The others at intervals.  Sarge

     brings up the rear.

     A SOUND.  Jackson stops.  No one speaks, they communicate

     only with hand signals.

     JACKSON SIGNALS to Miller, ten, twenty, thirty men coming.

     MILLER SIGNALS for the men to get off the path.  They ease

     into the brush.  An instant later, a PAIR WARY GERMAN INFANTRY

     MEN appear.

     REIBEN grips his B.A.R. and looks to Miller for permission

     to open up.  Miller shakes his head and signals, "let them

     go." A moment later AN ENTIRE PLATOON OF GERMANS rounds the

     bend.  Fifty men.  Heavily armed.  REIBEN breathes a sigh of

     relief and lowers hi B.A.R.

     THE GERMAN PLATOON passes, their boots no more than two feet

     from the faces of the hidden Americans.  Upham is wide-eyed

     with fear.  The others are stone-faced.

     THE GERMANS PASS.

     MILLER MOTIONS for his men to hold their positions.

     UPHAM doesn't see the signal.  He stands, breathing a sigh

     of relief, just as a GERMAN WHIP-TAIL SQUAD appears, trailing

     the platoon by thirty meters, protecting their rear.

     UPHAM FREEZES.  He's standing, barely in the shadows, nearly

     exposed.  Shitting bricks.

     Pissed, MILLER prepares to fire.  The Whip-tail squad

     approaches.

     Then, the GERMANS PASS, miraculously, not seeing Upham in

     the shadows.  They walk on and disappear.  Upham is weak-

     kneed, amazed that he's still alive.

     MILLER shoots a devastating glare at him, then signals the

     rest of the men to follow him into the woods.  Upham scurries

     after Miller, staying close on his heels.

     EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

     The little band of Americans walks along the edge of a field,

     parallel to a cart path.  Wary.

     Miller notices Jackson and Wade drifting too close to each

     other.  He SNAPS HIS FINGERS, getting their attention, and

     motions curtly for them to open it up a bit.  They do so.

     EXT. CROSSROADS - NIGHT

     Dark.  FAINT DISTANT ARTILLERY.  Miller checks the map as

     Sarge shines a red flashlight on an array of directional

     signs.  One of them reads:  "Ramelle 16 Km." Miller puts

     away the map.  Checks the horizon.  The first glow of dawn

     is visible.

                          MILLER

              It'll be light, soon.  Let's pick it

              up.

     EXT. FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE - DAWN

     First light.  The SOUND OF DISTANT GUNS has been replaced by

     the CHIRPING OF BIRDS.  The Americans are taking five.

     Miller stands, a bit apart from the others, looking out at

     the view.  It's lovely.  Dew shimmers on the long grass. 

     The war is far away.

     Upham walks next to him.  They look out at the view together

     without speaking for a moment.

                          MILLER

              It looks like a Renoir.

                          UPHAM

              Yes.  Do you know Sibelius' Fourth

              Symphony, The Normandy?

                          MILLER

              I've been humming it.

                          UPHAM

              I heard.

                          MILLER

              It seemed appropriate.

                          UPHAM

              You know classical music?

                          MILLER

              Some.

                          UPHAM

              Where are you from, Captain?

     Miller smiles.

                          MILLER

              What's the pool up to?

     Upham smiles, caught.

                          UPHAM

              Over three-hundred.

                          MILLER

              I'll tell you what, if I'm still

              alive when it hits five-hundred,

              I'll let you know and we'll split

              the money.

                          UPHAM

              If that's the way you feel, why don't

              we wait until it's up to a thousand.

                          MILLER

              I don't expect to live that long.

     Upham looks closely at Miller and sees that he means it.

                          UPHAM

              Five hundred, then.

     Miller takes a last look at the view and allows himself to

     feel an overwhelming wave of sadness.  Then he turns himself

     back into a commander and barks at Upham.

                          MILLER

              Let's go, private.

     Miller strides away.  Upham watches him, trying to figure

     him out, then he simply follows him.

     EXT. HEDGEROW LANE - DAWN

     The seven Americans walk along a hedgerow lane, untouched by

     war.  Spreading trees arch gently over the lane which is

     lined with hedgerows, thick, rooted masses, impenetrable,

     hundred of years old.

     Miller sees SMOKE AHEAD.  He motions to the men.  They

     advance.  Ext. french farm - day A burning house and barn. 

     An old FRENCH FARMER kneels on the ground, weeping, next to

     this SLAUGHTERED FAMILY, two adult women, an adult male and

     a boy, no more than ten.  His animals, a pair of cows and a

     draft horse and some pigs are dead as well, shot to pieces. 

     A DEAD AMERICAN PARATROOPER lies sprawled in the dirt with

     empty shell casings around his body.

     Miller and his men approach carefully.  Miller motions to

     Upham who squats down next to the French Farmer and speaks

     gently to him in French.

     The FARMER SPEAKS SOFTLY as if in a trance.  Upham stands

     and translates.

                          UPHAM

              Five nights ago, he found this

              paratrooper caught in a tree with a

              broken leg.  The leg got infected. 

              Last night he went to Ville Cholet

              to get a doctor.  The doctor refused

              to come and when he got back, this

              is what he found.  The Krauts must

              have shown up while he was gone.

                          MILLER

              Did he see any sign of them?

     Upham gently asks.  The FARMER ANSWERS.

                          UPHAM

              No, but he heard firing, just east,

              less that a kilometer.

                          MILLER

              Thank him and tell him we're sorry

              about his loss.

     Miller heads off without glancing back.  The men hesitate. 

     Sarge jerks his head for them to move out.  They do so.

     Upham squats down and speaks softly to the Farmer, puts his

     hand on the man's shoulder, then rises and follows the others.

     EXT. HEDGEROW FIELD - DAY

     A beautiful, hedgerow-lined field of tall grass.  The last

     of the dew and morning mist is just burning off.

     The six Americans walk carefully through the woods to the

     edge of the field.

     Miller notices something.  He silently signals stop, crouches

     and scans the field and the hedgerow on the far side.

     Sarge and Jackson ease up next to him.  Jackson points to

     some trees nearby, freshly shattered and pock-marked with

     bullets.

     Wade calls quietly from a tangle of roots and brush.

                          WADE

              Captain.

     Staying low, they join Wade who has found:

     TWO DEAD AMERICAN PARATROOPERS

     A trail of blood and flattened grass leads from the field.

     MILLER, SARGE AND JACKSON

     Crawl to the edge of the field, scan the far hedgerow.  The

     others crawl up behind them.

                          MILLER

              Where?

                          JACKSON

              In the shadow by those two trees.

                          MILLER

              My guess, too.

                          UPHAM

              What is it?

                          MILLER

              A machine gun.

     Miller eases back from the edge of the field into the cover

     of the brush.  He stands and takes off his pack.

                          REIBEN

              Sir, I've got an idea, let's go

              around.

                          MILLER

              We can't leave it here.

                          JACKSON

              We left them eighty-eights.

                          MILLER

              They don't send planes to put out

              machine guns.

                        (beat)

              Two flank runners with surpressing

              fire.  I'm going right, whoever goes

               left has to be fast.

     Upham steels himself and steps forward.

                          UPHAM

              Sir, I ran the 220 in high school.

                          REIBEN

              He's fast, Captain, I saw him.

     Miller takes Upham's measure.  Wade laughs with a sneer.

                          WADE

              How fast?

                          UPHAM

              Twenty-four-five.

                          WADE

              Shit, that's nothing, I ran twenty-

              two flat.

                          MILLER

              Wade goes left.

     Wade joins Miller in peeling off his extra gear.  Upham is

     impressed.

                          UPHAM

              Twenty-two flat?

     Wade takes a grenade from Upham's chest strap.

                          WADE

              I would have won the states if some

              bastard hadn't tripped me in the

              finals.

     Miller points the others to their firing positions.

                          MILLER

              Sarge, Upham, here.  Jackson, Reiben,

              ten yards, either side.

     As they take their positions, Miller and Sarge speak quietly,

     out of earshot of the men.

                          SARGE

              Rule of thumb, Captain, says you

              ought to detail this one, instead of

              going yourself.

     Miller looks at the two dead paratroopers.

                          MILLER

              Yeah?  What rule of thumb is that?

                          SARGE

              How about I go right, sir?

                          MILLER

              How about you take your position?

     Sarge hesitates.

                          SARGE

              How about...?

                          MILLER

                        (interrupting)

              How about you shut up and take your

              position?

     Sarge nods.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     Sarge finds a spot.  Miller joins Wade.  Miller waits near

     Upham as the other men settle into their firing positions.

                          UPHAM

              Good luck, Captain.

                          MILLER

              Don't need it, I'm a cat, I've got

              five lives.

                          UPHAM

              The men said, nine.

                          MILLER

              What do they know?

                        (beat)

              I had nine, but I feel through the

              ice when I was seven, my brother

              pulled me out.  Then I used one when

              a grenade landed in my foxhole in

              Sicily, it was a dud.  I figure one

              on the beaches, one on the cliffs

              and two getting here.

                          UPHAM

              That only leaves three.

                          MILLER

              Plenty.

     Miller sees that the men are in position.  He nods to Wade.

                          MILLER

              Ready?

                          WADE

              Yes, sir.

     Miller and Wade take deep breaths.  Miller Now.

     MILLER AND WADE TAKE OFF AT FULL RUNS.

     Onto opposite sides of the field.  Nothing happens for a

     moment.  Then:

     A HEAVY GERMAN MACHINE GUN OPENS UP.  MURDEROUSLY LOUD.

     SHATTERING THE QUIET.

                          IN THE NEST

              A squad of Germans, dug deep, BLASTING

              THE MACHINE GUN, a BIG SCHWARZLOSE

              8MM, a stunningly powerful weapon. 

              Four Germans in the nest, four more

              outlying riflemen.

                          MILLER

              Takes the FIRST FIRE.  He HITS THE

              DIRT.  The BULLETS SCREAM just over

              him.

     THE MACHINE GUN SWINGS TOWARD WADE MILLER JUMPS UP AND SPRINTS

     WADE HITS THE DIRT

     The BULLETS GRAZE the back of his helmet.

     SARGE, REIBEN, JACKSON, UPHAM

     Zero the machine gun.  FIRE fast as they can.  Their BULLETS

     THUD INEFFECTUALLY into the hedgerow.

     THE MACHINE GUN SWINGS BACK TOWARD MILLER WADE JUMPS UP AND

     SPRINTS MILLER HITS THE DIRT

     Bullets SMASH into the ground all around Miller.

                          SARGE

              FIRES A LONG BURST from his Thompson. 

              No effect.  Pissed.  POPS THE CLIP. 

              SLAMS in another.  FIRES.

     THE MACHINE GUN SWINGS FROM MILLER

     He rises and runs.  Fast.  Almost to the far hedgerow.

                          WADE

              Ten more yards.  Too slow.  A deadly

              row of BULLETS KICK UP DIRT toward

              him.

                          MILLER

              Makes it to the far side.  Scrambles

              up the roots.  Dives through the

              brush.

                          WADE

              On a slight rise.  Can't hit the

              dirt.  A line of bullets.  Desperately

              sprints.

     WADE IS HIT.  HEAVY BULLETS RIP APART HIS BELLY.  He spins. 

     Goes down.

     SARGE, UPHAM AND THE OTHERS are horrified.  FIRE at the nest.

                          MILLER

              STRUGGLES through the hedgerow. 

              Stumbles onto the path.  Rolls to

              his feet, running.  Swings his

              Thompson into firing position.  Racing

              toward the nest.

     SARGE AND THE OTHERS POUR FIRE at the nest.

                          MILLER

              Tearing along the path.  Sees a German

              rifleman.  FIRES A BURST.  CUTS HIM

              DOWN.  Runs over the body without

              breaking stride.

     SARGE STEPS INTO THE OPEN, INTENTIONALLY DRAWING THE GERMAN

     FIRE from Miller.

     The GERMANS ZERO SARGE.  BULLETS THUD all around him.  Somehow

     he's not hit.

                          MILLER

              TEARS THROUGH THE TREES.  BLASTS his

              Thompson.  CUTS DOWN two more German

              riflemen.  Grabs a grenade.  Pulls

              the pin.

                          THE NEST

              The Germans see Miller coming.  Wheel

              from Sarge.  Too late.

                          MILLER

              THROWS the grenade, VEERS and DIVES.

     THE GRENADE EXPLODES.  The four Germans in the nest are

     KILLED.

     SARGE hollers to the others.

                          SARGE

              HOLD YOUR FIRE!

                          MILLER

              Rolls to his feet.  FIRE another

              BURST.  KILLS the last of the German

              riflemen.  Doesn't pause.  RUNS onto

              the field.

     SARGE AND THE OTHERS

     See Miller running toward Wade.  They instantly RACE onto

     the field.

                          WADE

              Lies in the grass.  Holding his belly. 

              Astonished by the pain.

     ALL THE AMERICANS RUN

     Converging on Wade.  Miller points, and yells, without slowing

     down.

                          MILLER

              REIBEN, UPHAM, PERIMETER!  COVER!

                          REIBEN AND UPHAM

              Stop instantly.  Turn toward the

              perimeter of the field.

                          SARGE

              Roots through his medical kit as he

              runs.  Dropping and scattering

              inessentials behind him.

                          WADE

              Wide-eyed.  Not even writhing.  Too

              much pain.

     MILLER AND SARGE GET TO WADE

     Throw themselves onto the ground next to him.  They both

     tear out sulfa-packs.  Sarge frantically fumbles.  Ripping

     one open.  Powder spills.

     REIBEN AND UPHAM repeatedly glance back at Wade.

                          SARGE

              Pulls Wade's hands from the wound. 

              Pours sulfa powder.

                          MILLER

              About to pour his sulfa.  Sees the

              wound.  Stops.  Knows it's fatal.

                          MILLER

              Damn it!

     Throws the sulfa aside.  Quickly pulls out a morphine pack.

                          SARGE

              Fumbles with a second sulfa bag.

                          SARGE

              Sulfa, more sulfa...

                          WADE

              Frozen in agony.  Looks at Miller. 

              Sees him preparing the morphine shot. 

              They both know.

                          WADE

              Yeah...morphine...make it a

              double...huh...Captain...?

                          MILLER

              SHOVES THE NEEDLE into Wade's neck. 

              Thick vein.  Pumps the morphine

              straight to Wade's brain.  Motions

              impatiently to Sarge.

                          MILLER

              More morphine, hurry up, come on,

              come on...

                          SARGE

              Hesitates.  Then drops his sulfa. 

              Fumbles in his pack.  Finds the

              morphine.

                          MILLER

              Snatches the morphine from Sarge. 

              Quickly and efficiently prepares a

              second shot.  He's done this before.

                          REIBEN

              On guard, glancing back.  Pissed

              off.

                          REIBEN

              Goddamn it...Goddamn it...Goddamn

              it...

                          UPHAM

              Freaked out.  Trying to keep his

              eyes on the perimeter.  Can't.

                          JACKSON

              Watching.

                          MILLER

              Gives Wade the second shot.

                          WADE

              Feels the effects of the first shot. 

              He sees Upham and manages a pained

              smile.

     WADE LOCKS EYES WITH MILLER.  Looking at him without blame,

     without forgiveness.  Drifts with the morphine.  Then: WADE

     DIES

     ALL ARE FROZEN IN PLACE

     UPHAM begins to weep.

     REIBEN FURIOUSLY MUTTERS:

                          REIBEN

              Goddamn it...Goddamn it...Goddamn

              it...

                          MILLER

              Is silent.  Motionless.  He gently

              closes Wade's eyes.  His hand quivers

              slightly as he unclips one of Wades

              dogtags.  He fumbles and drops it. 

              Sarge notices.

     Miller stares at his hand and steadies it before the men

     see.  He picks up the dogtag and pockets it.

     Then Miller carefully re-packs the un-used morphine and sulfa,

     rises and picks up his Thompson.

     Upham shakes his head.

                          UPHAM

              That was no twenty-two flat.

     Miller SLAMS A FRESH CLIP into his Thompson.

                          MILLER

              He lied.  Let's move out.

     Miller turns and walks away without looking back.  The men

     hesitate, then slowly follow him.

     EXT. FRENCH COUNTRY COW PATH - DAY

     A narrow footpath, arched over by trees, almost a tunnel. 

     The five G.I.'s walk, spread out.

                          REIBEN

              Fuck Private James Ryan, fuck him,

              just fuck the goddamned son-of-a-

              bitch.

                          JACKSON

              Shut up, will you?

                          REIBEN

              You shut up, this is the most fucked

              up mission I ever heard of.  Goddamned

              Ryan, fuck the little bastard.

                          JACKSON

              Just shut up, Ryan didn't kill Wade.

                          REIBEN

              The hell he didn't.

     Miller motions to them curtly.

                          MILLER

              Keep it down.

     They shut up.  Miller falls in step to Sarge.  Speaks quietly,

     the men don't hear.

                          MILLER

              We've got to find someplace to hole

              up for a bit.

     Sarge looks at Miller closely.

                          SARGE

              You alright?

                          MILLER

              Let's just find someplace.

     EXT. NARROW GULLY - DAY

     Miller leads the men into a heavily overgrown gully.  A good

     hiding place.

                          MILLER

              Rest.  One hour.  Jackson, Reiben,

              perimeter.  Keep your eyes open. 

              I'm going to re-con.

     Miller speaks authoritatively and says the right things, but

     there's something missing.  It's subtle.  Only Sarge notices. 

     He watches Miller head off into the brush alone.

     EXT. SMALL CLEARING - DAY

     Miller walks into a small clearing, slows then stops.  The

     life drains from him.  He stands there, looking at the dirt,

     tilting his head, this way and that, as if listening for

     faint, distant voices.  His face shows a battle raging within,

     as he fights to keep from losing it entirely.  Behind him,

     Sarge steps to the edge of the clearing and watches.  Miller

     senses his presence, turns and looks at him if he were a

     thousand miles away.  Sarge sits down on a log and waits.

                          MILLER

              What was the name of that kid at

              Anzio, the one who got his face burned

              off?

                          SARGE

              Vecchio.

                          MILLER

              Yeah, Vecchio, I couldn't remember

              his name, he was a good kid, remember

              how he used to walk on his hands and

              sing that song about the man on flying

              trapeze?

                          SARGE

              Yeah.

                          MILLER

              You know why I'm such a good officer? 

              Because of my mother.  Have I ever

              told you about her?

                          SARGE

              Bits and pieces.

                          MILLER

              She's the best poker player you ever

              saw.  My father used to go to these

              Saturday night games and lose his

              shirt.  Finally, my mother gave him

              an ultimatum, either she gets a

              regular seat at the table or she

              locks him in every Saturday night. 

              He squawked and so did his buddies

              but after a while they gave in and

              from the first night she sat down,

              she never lost.  She could read those

              cocky bastards like they were playing

              open hands.  And he bluffs?  He had

              sixteen levels of bullshit.  Her

              eyes, the tone of her voice, her

              bets, her jokes, the way she sipped

              her coffee, she was a master.  She

              won more money on shit hands than

              anyone in the history of the game. 

              Every Saturday night, my father would

              lose two, three hundred bucks and

              she'd win it all back and then some. 

              And I'd stand there, glued to her

              shoulder, from the time I was five

              years old, watching every hand, every

              move, studying how she did it.

                        (beat)

              That's why I'm such a good officer,

              I can look at a man's face and tell

              you exactly what he's holding, and

              if it's a shit hand, I know just

              what cards to deal him.

                          SARGE

              And what about your own hand?

                          MILLER

              No problem.  A pair of deuces?  Less? 

              So what?  I bluff.  It used to tear

              me apart when I'd get one of my men

              killed, but what was I supposed to

              do?  Break down in front of the ones

              who were standing there waiting for

              me to tell them what to do?  Of course

              not, so I bluffed, and after a while,

              I started to fall for my own bluff. 

              It was great, it made everything so

              much easier.  Sarge Is that why your

              hand's been shaking?

                          MILLER

              It could be worse.  You know the

              first thing they teach you at O.C.S.? 

              Lie to your men.

                          SARGE

              Oh, yeah?

                          MILLER

              Not in so many words, but they tell

              you you can have all the firepower

              in the world and if your men don't

              have good morale, it's not worth a

              damn.  So if you're scared or empty

              or half-a-step from a Section Eight,

              do you tell your men?  Of course

              not.  You bluff, you lie.

                          SARGE

              And how do you bluff yourself?

                          MILLER

               Simple, numbers.  Every time you

              kill one of your men, you tell

              yourself you just saved the lives of

              two, three, ten, a hundred others. 

              We lost, what, thirty-one on the

              cliffs?  I'll bet we saved ten times

              that number by putting out those

              guns.  That's over three hundred

              men.  Maybe five hundred.  A thousand. 

              Then thousand.  Any number you want. 

              See?  It's simple.  It lets you always

              choose mission over men.

                          SARGE

              Except this time, the mission IS a

              man.

                          MILLER

              That's the rub.  I liked Wade.  Who's

              Ryan?  If they're both standing in

              front of me and I have to shoot one

              or the other, how do I choose?  Look

              at my hand, there it goes again.

                          SARGE

              John, I've got to tell you, I think

              you're about used up.

                          MILLER

              I think you're right, Keith.

                          SARGE

              You want me to take over?

     The question helps Miller pull himself back together.  He

     looks at his hand and forces it to stop shaking again.

                          MILLER

              No, but if I get any worse, you'll

              have to relieve me.

                          SARGE

                        (sighs)

              Just what I want to do.

     They share a smile.

                          MILLER

              You know Wade was the eleventh of

              the twelve, you're the last one still

              alive.

                          SARGE

              I know.

                          MILLER

              Don't let yourself get killed, if

              you do, they might make me give back

              the medal and then I won't be able

              to lip off to colonels anymore.

                          SARGE

              I'll do my best.

     They shake their heads at the madness of it all.  Miller

     Hell of a...

                          (BEAT)

              Ah, forget it.

     Miller picks up his Thompson and looks around, re-orienting

     himself.  He's about ninety-five percent there.

                          MILLER

              Thanks for drawing that machine gun

              off me.

                          SARGE

              You're welcome, John.

                          MILLER

              But, that's my personal brand of

              stupidity, I feel kind of proprietary

              about it, if you do it again, you're

              busted.

     Sarge allows himself a slight smile.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     Miller jerks his head for Sarge to follow.  They head back

     to the men.

     EXT. CLEARING - DAY

     The men are all in their private worlds, thinking of Wade. 

     No talk.  Miller and Sarge walk back into the clearing. 

     Miller barks at the men.

                          MILLER

               Up.  We're moving out.

                          REIBEN

              I thought you said we had an hour,

              sir?

                          MILLER

              Well now I'm saying we're moving

              out.  Get off your ass.

     The men get up.  Jackson is a bit slow.

                          MILLER

              What the hell's the matter with you,

              Jackson?

                          JACKSON

              Sir, I ain't feeling so chipper on

              account of Wade.

                          MILLER

              Who's Wade?

     No one responds.

                          MILLER

              I said, who the hell is Wade?

     The men exchange looks.  Jackson speaks for them.

                          JACKSON

              Sir, I understand what you're doin',

              but I respectfully request permission

              to grieve in my own manner.

                          MILLER

              You'll grieve the way I tell you to

              goddamned grieve.  There is no Wade,

              there was one, but he died a long

              time ago, he's been dead for so long

              you can hardly remember his name,

              you understand?

                          JACKSON

              Sir, I understand.  I don't like it,

              but I understand.

                          MILLER

              Good, now get your goddamned gear.

     The men pick up their equipment and prepare to move out. 

     Sarge and Miller exchange a silent look.  Miller shakes his

     head to himself, amazed that the men still allow this shit

     to work.  He knows they have no choice.

     EXT. FRENCH ROAD - DAY

     Miller and his men walk along the road.  The men are silent,

     grim.

     EXT. FRENCH PATH - DAY

     Miller checks his map.  figures out where they are.  Folds

     up the map, points the way and they move out.

     EXT. FRENCH FIELD - DAY

     More progress.  The men are still grim.

                          REIBEN

              You know what the best possible thing

              that could happen is?

                          JACKSON

              Yep, you step on a rusty nail, get

              lockjaw, never say another word as

              long as you live.

     Miller laughs.  Miller I'll bite, Reiben.

                          REIBEN

              I've given this a lot of thought,

              sir.  The best thing that could happen

              is, we find Ryan and he's dead.

                          MILLER

              Why's that?

                          REIBEN

              Well, sir, consider the possibilities. 

              A:  Ryan is alive.  We have to take

              him back to the beach.  Knowing you,

              you don't let him carry my gear,

              even though he really should, and we

              all get killed, trying to keep him

              alive.

                          MILLER

              Except for the last part, that one's

              not bad.

                          REIBEN

              B:  Ryan is dead.  He's been blown

              up by the German equivalent of Wade,

              whose name I know you don't want me

              to mention.  There's nothing to find. 

              The biggest piece is the size of a

              pea.  We wander around, looking for

              him until the Germans pick us off,

              one after another.

                          MILLER

              I don't like that one.

                          REIBEN

              Neither do I, sir.  C:  And this is

              the worst one, we find Ryan and he's

              wounded.  Not only does he not carry

              my gear, we have to carry his gear. 

              And him.

                          MILLER

              But we accomplish the mission.

                          REIBEN

              Maybe.  But what if he dies on the

              way back?  you see what I'm saying,

              sir?  The best possible situation

              is, he's dead, we find his body,

              more or less intact, we grab one of

              his dog-tags and high-tail it back

              to the beach, or better yet, we head

              over to Caen and catch up with

              division.

                          MILLER

              Has anyone ever told you, you're

              officer material?

                          REIBEN

              No, sir.

                          MILLER

              That's a mystery to me.

     No one smiles, but they trudge a bit less.

     EXT. CROSSROADS - DAY

     The SOUND OF HEAVY FIRING.  Miller checks a map in the brush

     near the crossroads.  A sign reads:  "Ramelle 3 Km."  Miller

     folds up the map.

                          SARGE

              Looks like we're going to beat those

              Kraut companies to Ramelle.

     Suddenly Miller stops dead.  He listens, hearing something

     the others don't hear.  He motions for them to freeze, they

     do.  The SOUND grows louder.  It's an OMINOUS RUMBLE.

                          MILLER

              I don't think so.

     EXT. FRENCH ROAD - DAY

     THE RUMBLE turns into the ROAR OF A BIG GERMAN CONVOY.  Troop

     trucks, armored personnel carriers, a regiment of crack

     Wehrmacht troops.  Heavily armed.  Imposing.  Crossing a

     bridge.

     CAMERA PANS DOWN TO REVEAL

     Miller and his men crowded into a culvert under the bridge. 

     Brush and debris partially shield the ends of the culvert.

                          GERMAN FLANK SQUADS

              Hurry along the fields on either

              side of the road, trying to keep up

              with the vehicles.  MILLER AND HIS

              MEN Catch a glimpse of an approaching

              German Flank Squad.  They flatten

              themselves into the mucky water. 

              Ready their weapons.  Prepare to

              fire.

                          THE GERMAN SQUAD

              Approaches the bridge.

     PAIR OF GERMAN PRIVATES

     See the culvert obscured by brush.  Move to check it out.

                          MILLER

              Is just about to open up on them.

                          THE GERMAN SERGEANT

              Sees his Flank Squad lagging behind

              and CALLS to them.

                          THE GERMAN PRIVATES

              Obey.  Hurry after the rest of the

              convoy.

                          IN THE CULVERT

              The Americans breathe again.

                          UPHAM

              I wonder where they're going.

                          MILLER

              Same place we are.

     Jackson, at the mouth of the culvert, motions that the coast

     is clear.  They head out.

     EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF RAMELLE - DAY

     A gently-sloped valley with scattered farm cottages and small,

     cultivated fields, bordered by ancient, moss-covered stone

     walls.  The twos is visible beyond.

     Miller and his men crouch-run to the cover of one of the

     stone walls.  Miller pulls out his binoculars.

     ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE FIELD

     There's a large gathering of German troops and vehicles.

                          MILLER

              Scans the Germans with his binoculars.

                          REIBEN

              Looks like tea time, maybe they're

              Brits.

                          UPHAM

              I sure hope so.

                          SARGE

              What do you think they're waiting

              for, Captain?

     Just then they hear an OMINOUS RUMBLE, deeper and more

     threatening that that of the convoy.  The sound gets LOUDER

     and LOUDER.  Miller and his men exchange looks.  They know

     that sound, they don't like it.

     FOUR MASSIVE GERMAN TANKS

     Appear down the road, heading for the German soldiers who

     greet them enthusiastically.  The tanks are tigers, huge,

     far bigger than an American Sherman.  Each one, sixty-two

     tons, with a big 88-mm gun, four heavy machine guns and

     impregnable armor.  Each one, an infantryman's nightmare. 

     There are four of them.

                          MILLER

              Puts away the binoculars and jerks

              his head for his men to follow, low,

              along the wall.  The men are happy

              to do so, looking back nervously at

              the German tanks.

     EXT. TOWN SQUARE - RAMELLE - DAY

     The SOUNDS OF SPORADIC SMALL ARMS FIRE.  The town square is

     a deserted battlefield, littered with burning debris, shell

     casings and bodies, German and American and a few French

     civilians.  Miller and his men enter the square, weapons

     ready, leap-frogging from doorway to doorway.

     Miller and Sarge crouch-run to the cover of some overhanging

     debris.  They listen, trying to pinpoint the exact source of

     the firing.

     Sarge motions his guess.  Miller nods in agreement.  He

     signals for the men to follow him around, not toward, the

     firing.

     They move on, dashing from cover to cover.

     EXT. BRIDGE - RAMELLE - DAY

     A dozen AMERICAN PARATROOPERS on the bridge exchange SPORADIC

     FIRE with a few German snipers hidden in the buildings near

     the bridgehead.  The bridge has clearly been the scene of

     heavy fighting.  Craters, burning debris and shell casings

     are everywhere.  The bridge is intact, only slightly damaged. 

     There are dozens of German bodies along the riverbank on

     both sides of the bridge.

     MILLER AND HIS MEN

     Crouch-run and take cover as they get within sight of the

     bridge.

                          REIBEN

              Looks like they've been having a

              hell of a party, here, Captain.

                          MILLER

              ON THE BRIDGE!  WE'RE COMING IN.

     A YOUNG BUT GRIZZLED VOICE calls back.

                          VOICE FROM BRIDGE

              KISS MY ASS, FRITZ.

                          MILLER

              YOU FIRE AT US AND I'LL DO A HELL OF

              A LOT MORE THAN THAT.

                          VOICE FROM BRIDGE

              WHO WON THE '38 ARMY-NAVY GAME?

     Miller turns to his men.  They all come up empty.

                          MILLER

              I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.  HERE WE

              COME.

                        (to his men)

              Cover me.

                          REIBEN

              What if our guys open up, sir?

                          MILLER

              You're only allowed to shoot at

              Germans, that's one of the rules.

                          REIBEN

              Have it your way, Captain.

     Miller takes a breath, then DASHES out into the open, toward

     the bridge.

     THE GERMAN SNIPERS OPEN UP

     Bullets SMASH INTO THE GROUND around Miller.

                          MILLER'S MEN

              POUR FIRE at the German positions,

              SURPRESSING THE GERMAN FIRE.

                          ON THE BRIDGE

              The Paratroopers pour a HEAVY STREAM

              OF BULLETS at the German positions.

     Miller makes it to the bridge and DIVES over a defensive

     jumble of crates, sandbags and bodies.

     He finds himself next to SERGEANT BILL FORREST who was the

     young but grizzled voice that called out.  With Forrest are

     some very worn-out, young AMERICAN PARATROOPERS.  Miller

     catches his breath.  Forrest Navy, sir, twenty-one to

     nineteen.  They won on a field goal in overtime.

                          MILLER

              I'll keep it in mind.

                        (calls to Sarge)

              OKAY, SARGE, ONE AT A TIME.

     Miller and the paratroopers FIRE COVER for Miller's men as

     they come in.  Miller and Forrest alternately take and FIRE.

     Forrest Are we glad to see you, sir, we were supposed to

     hold this bridge for twenty-four hours, it's been six days.

                          MILLER

              Things are tough all over.  We're

               looking for a Private James Ryan.

     Forrest Ryan?

                          MILLER

              Is he here?

     Forrest motions to one of the paratroopers.

     Forrest Go get Ryan.

                          (TO MILLER)

              What do you want him for, sir?

     Miller doesn't answer.  Jackson leaps over the barricade and

     scrambles to them.

                          MILLER

              Jackson, get a hold of command.

     Jackson cranks up the five-thirty-five.  Miller turns to

     Forrest.

                          MILLER

              How many men do you have?

     They pause to FIRE, covering Sarge, the last of Miller's men

     to leap over the barricade.

     Forrest Eleven, sir.  We started with thirty-six.  The bridge

     was easy to take but the Krauts have been coming back at us

     ever since.  They must want it intact or we'd be long gone.

     Jackson speaks into the radio handset, repeating Miller's

     hailing I.D.   No response.

                          JACKSON

              Not yet.

                          MILLER

              Keep trying.

     Forrest Sir, what do you want with Ryan?

     Miller doesn't answer, he looks past Forrest and sees:

                          PRIVATE JAMES RYAN

              Dashing from cover to cover, making

              his way toward them.  Ryan is an

              American classic, nineteen years

              old, earthy, handsome, sharp, cocky. 

              Though he's exhausted, unshaven, and

              smeared with dirt and blood, he's

              very alive.  His eyes shine, his

              face has a spark.  You can't help

              but love this kid.

                          MILLER'S MEN

              All watch Ryan run toward them.

                          JACKSON

              So, that's Ryan.

                          REIBEN

              Looks like a flaming asshole to me.

     Their eyes remain glued to Ryan as he makes it to the

     barricade.  He salutes Miller.

                          REIBEN

              I'm Ryan, sir.  You wanted to see

              me?

     Miller looks at Ryan for a moment, amazed that he's finally

     face-to-face with him.  Ryan waits.  Miller hesitates,

     searching for words.  Then he speaks gently but clearly. 

     Miller Private, I've got some bad news for you.  Your brothers

     have been killed in action.

     The life instantly drains from Ryan.  His breath comes hard. 

     Somehow he remains upright.

     Ryan All three?

                          MILLER

              Yes.

     Ryan sways.  Miller grabs him and eases him back, leaning

     him against some sandbags.

                          THE PARATROOPERS

              Are stunned at the news.  They look

              at Ryan, there's nothing else they

              can do.

                          MILLER'S MEN

              Also look at Ryan, but then, one

              after another, they turn away,

              adverting their eyes, looking a their

              own boots, the debris on the bridge,

              the sky, anything other than Ryan.

                          MILLER

              We've been sent to get you out of

              here.  You're going home.

     Ryan weakly waves Miller off.  Miller motions to his men and

     the paratroopers to move away.  They do so, giving Ryan a

     little room.

     Forrest Three brothers, the poor son-of-a-bitch.

                          MILLER

              Sergeant, we're moving out and I'm

              taking you and your men with me.

     Forrest But, sir, our orders are clear, we're to hold this

     bridge until we're relieved by forward elements of the Twenty-

     ninth Division.

                          MILLER

              I'm giving you new orders, Sergeant.

     Forrest Sir, you can't do that, these orders are from command.

                          MILLER

              I'm not going to leave you and your

              men here to get killed.  Get them

              together, we're moving out.

     A VOICE from behind them speaks simply, clearly, firmly.

                          RYAN (O.S.)

              No, sir.

     They all turn and see Ryan standing there.  Miller is about

     to automatically rip Ryan a new asshole for contradicting

     him, but he quickly calms himself, gently touches Ryan on

     the arm and speaks softly to him.

                          MILLER

              Come on, Private, you're going home.

     Ryan jerks away from Miller.

                          RYAN

              No, sir.

     All eyes are on Miller and Ryan.  Miller remains patient.

                          MILLER

              Private.  I'm sorry about your

              brothers but staying here and getting

              yourself killed isn't going to help.

                          RYAN

              Sir, if the Krauts are holding this

              bridge when division shows up, our

              guys are going to be sitting ducks.

                          MILLER

              This bridge cannot be held.  The

              Germans have two companies less than

              three miles from here.  They have

              tanks.

     That news clearly affects Ryan and the other paratroopers,

     but Ryan holds his ground.  Ryan Sir, I'm still not going.

     Miller speaks with restrained, but growing, anger.

                          MILLER

              Private, if you want to commit

              suicide, that's your choice, but

              you're going to have to wait until

              after I get you back to the beach. 

              And you're not going to take these

              men with you.

     Ryan stands eye-to-eye with Miller.

                          RYAN

              I'm not leaving, sir.

     Miller starts to boil over.

                          MILLER

              The hell you aren't, you're comin'

              with me if I have to drag you every

              inch of the way.  You hear me,

              Private?

                          RYAN

              I hear you sir, but I'm not leaving.

     Miller grabs Ryan by the lapels and shakes him.  Ryan doesn't

     resist.

                          MILLER

              Listen you little son-of-a-bitch

              you're coming with me or

              I'll...I'll...

     Ryan speaks softly.

                          RYAN

              What are you going to do, sir, shoot

              me?

     Miller considers it.  Then REIBEN SPEAKS UP from behind

     Miller.

                          REIBEN

                        (politely)

              Uh, excuse me, Captain.

     Miller slowly turns and glares.

                          REIBEN

                        (continuing)

              So, what are a few tanks, sir?

     Miller's more amazed than pissed off.  Reiben smiles.

                          REIBEN

                        (continuing)

              He's right, we can't shoot him...well,

              we could but we'd get in an enormous

              amount of trouble.  And he's right

              about the bridge, it's a hell of a

              lot more important than he is.

     JACKSON STEPS FORWARD.

                          JACKSON

              Cap'n...?

     Miller turns his glare on Jackson.

                          JACKSON

                        (continuing)

              Seems to me, we got us a opportunity,

              here, to kill two birds with one

              stone.  Command seems to think keepin'

              this boy alive is worth somethin'. 

              If we was to do that and hold this

               bridge, good chance we'd get us a

              bucket full of medals.  I might even

              get me one 'a them big, fancy ones

              like you got, so's I could sass any

              officer in the whole dang army, you

              included.

     Miller does a slow burn.

     UPHAM STEPS FORWARD

                          UPHAM

              I'd like to stay, too, Captain.

                          MILLER

              You don't count.

     SARGE STEPS UP

                          SARGE

              I do and personally, I'd rather get

              the hell out of here, but somebody's

              got to stay and take care of you and

              these pin-head privates of yours.

     Miller looks at FORREST AND THE PARATROOPERS.

     Forrest We weren't planning on going anywhere, sir.

     Reiben smiles.

                          REIBEN

              See, Captain?  The vote's unanimous.

     Miller's eyes almost pop out of his head.  Miller The vote? 

     What the hell are you talking about?  We don't vote.  This

     isn't a democracy.  This is the army, I give orders, you

     follow them.  We don't vote!

                          REIBEN

              Yes, sir, of course, sir, I was merely

              speaking hypothetically.  IF this

              was a voting situation, then the

              vote would have been unanimous.  But

              of course, it's not a voting

              situation, you're the captain, and

              you give the orders, sir.

                          MILLER

              You're goddamned right, I give the

              order.  Vote!  Jesus Christ!  Listen

              to me, you little pissant pieces of

              shit, I am the ranking officer here

              and what I say goes, is that clear?

     They all quickly nod.

                          JACKSON

              Yes, sir.

                          REIBEN

              Of course, sir.

     All the others Yes, sir.  Yes, sir.

     Miller looks from face to face.

                          MILLER

              In that case...

                        (beat)

              I vote we stay.

     That's what they wanted to hear.  Miller doesn't give them

     time to enjoy it, he immediately starts barking orders.

                          MILLER

              Reiben, the B.A.R., there.  Jackson,

              get up on the bridgekeepers hut with

              your sniper rifle.  Sarge, you and

              Upham move that machine gun so it

              can cover the left flank, it's

              worthless where it is.  Forrest, I

              want a full inventory of all your

              weapons, ammo and ordnance.  Go.

     They all hurry off, except for Ryan who locks eyes with Miller

     for a moment.

                          RYAN

              Thank you, sir.

                          MILLER

                        (gruffly gentle)

              Yeah, yeah.  I want you right next

              to me, no matter where I go, you

              understand?

     Ryan salutes.

                          RYAN

              Yes, sir.

                          MILLER

              Alright, come with me.

     Miller shakes his head at himself and strides off to check

     the defensive perimeter with Ryan at his side.

     EXT. BRIDGE - DAY

     Miller and Reiben watch as Forrest, Ryan and a couple other

     paratroopers lay out their weapons and ammo inventory.

     Forrest Two machine guns, twenty-two grenades, two Gammon

     grenades, six satchel charges, twenty-six M-1's, eight Tommy

     guns and about sixty rounds per man.

                          MILLER

              That's it?

     Reiben looks at the sparse array of weaponry.

                          REIBEN

              Sir, can I change my vote?

     Miller sighs, worried.

     EXT. BRIDGEKEEPER'S HUT - DAY

     Jackson, perched on the bridgekeepers hut, protected by a

     crescent of sandbags.  His eye is at his scope.  He FIRES.

                          A GERMAN SNIPER

              Falls from a window on the edge of

              town, dead.

                          UPHAM

              Sits beside Jackson with a pair of

              binoculars, searching for another

              target.  The German sniper fire has

              subsided for now.  Ext. bridge - day

              Miller watches as Ryan and several

              other paratroopers dig a series of

              trenches across the street, leading

              to the bridge.

     Reiben, Jackson and Upham, stone-faced, watch Ryan.

     Miller eyes the buildings near the bridge head.  He speaks

     to Sarge who holds several satchel charges.

                          MILLER

              Sarge, see what you can do to make

              those buildings inhospitable.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     Just then they hear the sound of A BIG GUN FIRING IN THE

     DISTANCE.  They all turn at the sound.

                          UPHAM

              Eighty-eights, right?

     Miller nods.

                          UPHAM

              I can tell what the gunners had for

              dinner.

                          MILLER

              Those guns are close.

     Forrest Just south of town.  The Krauts have a two gun

     emplacement, we saw it on the way in.  That's how we knew

     they wanted the bridge intact, they didn't blow the crap out

     of us.

                          MILLER

              Let's hope they don't change their

              mind.

     Upham listens to the eighty-eights with particular interest.

     INT. BUILDING - DAY

     Within sight of the bridge.  Sarge carefully plants a wire-

     triggered satchel charge at the door of the building.  He

     sets the wire, then carefully backs away.

     EXT. BRIDGE - EVENING

     Reiben and Ryan pile sandbags, finishing a forward machine

     gun nest.  Miller looks around, evaluating, Sarge and Upham

     at his side.

                          SARGE

              What do you think?

                          MILLER

              Well, if we had ten times the men

              and a lot more ammo, we might stand

              a chance, but not against those tanks.

                          SARGE

              What are we going to do?

                          MILLER

              We're going to hope like hell the

              tanks were on their way somewhere

              else.

                          REIBEN

              Maybe Caen.

                          MILLER

              Let's hope, because we're sure as

              hell not going to do any damage to

              them with what we have here.

                          UPHAM

              What about our grenades?

                          MILLER

              Those are Tigers, they have six-inch

              armor, they don't even notice

              grenades.

                          UPHAM

              Would they notice and eighty-eight?

                          MILLER

               Sure, you got one?

                          UPHAM

              The Germans do.

     Miller is stone-faced, then he smiles.

                          MILLER

              Upham, go find Jackson, he and I are

              going hunting.

     Upham runs off.  Sarge shakes his head.

                          SARGE

              Uh, oh.

                          MILLER

              Out of the mouth of babes.

     EXT. BRIDGEHEAD - NIGHT

     Dark.  Miller, Jackson and Forrest darken their faces with

     blackening soot.  The rest of Miller's men and several

     paratroopers, including Ryan, look on.  Upham is distressed. 

     Upham It was my idea, sir, you've got to let me go.

                          MILLER

              Upham, you've got to learn the

              difference between whining and

              griping.  You can't just rely on

              natural ability, you've got to study

              and practice.

                          UPHAM

              But, sir...

                          MILLER

               There you go again, that's whining,

              that's not okay.

                          UPHAM

              Goddamn it, sir...

                          MILLER

              That's better, but you've still got

              a long way to go.  Talk to Reiben,

              he's a natural and works at it, he'll

              give you some pointers.

                          REIBEN

              Leave him to me, Captain, I'll have

              him pissing and moaning with the

              best of us.

                          MILLER

              See to it.

     RYAN Steps up to Miller.

                          RYAN

              I'd like to go, sir.

                          MILLER

              No, private, I want you to stay here,

              keep your head down, don't do anything

              brave or stupid.

                          REIBEN

              Aren't they the same thing, sir?

     Miller smiles.

                          MILLER

              Reiben, I don't know what I'd do

              without you.  Sarge, keep Ryan close

              to you and alive.

                          SARGE

              Yes, sir.

     Miller checks Jackson and Forrest.

                          MILLER

              You ready?

     Forrest Yes, sir.

                          JACKSON

              You betcha, sir.

     Miller, Forrest and Jackson prepare to move out.

                          REIBEN

                        (southern accent)

              Y'all come back.

                          JACKSON

              Reiben, are you makin' fun 'a the

              way I talk?

                          REIBEN

                        (heavy southern accent)

              Hell, no!

     Jackson shoots him a glare, then he follows Miller and Forrest

     into the darkness.  Sarge, Ryan and the other watch them go.

     EXT. GERMAN EIGHTY-EIGHT EMPLACEMENT - NIGHT

     A German eighty-eight FIRES, sending its big shell into the

     night.  It's eight-man crew re-loads.

                          IN THE DARKNESS

              A slight movement.  It's Miller.  He

              crawls to the edge of the emplacement

              and freezes in the shadows.

     A moment later he's joined by Forrest.  A moment after that,

     Jackson silently crawls up to them.

                          MILLER

              Eyes the emplacement.  Looks for a

              weakness.  There is none.  He motions

              to Forrest and Jackson to wait.  The

              three of them settle into the

              darkness.

     EXT. MACHINE GUN NEST - BRIDGE - NIGHT

     Sarge, Upham and Reiben sit with Ryan in the darkness.  Ryan

     is lost in thought, far away.  One after another, Miller's

     men eye him.

                          SARGE

              Private, I'm sorry about your

              brothers.

     Ryan nods.  Then, with some difficulty, he makes the trip

     from Iowa back to France.  He turns to Sarge.  Ryan What was

     the name of the guy who got killed coming up here?

                          SARGE

              Wade.

                          RYAN

              Wade.  Huh, he died coming up here

              to keep me alive...I never met

              him...he didn't know me from Adam,

              strange.  What was he like?

                          SARGE

              A good man, kind of cheerful, Reiben,

              here, used to call him a happy idiot.

                          REIBEN

              Like hell, I did.

                          RYAN

              My brothers would be mighty pissed

              off at me, if they knew I let some

              guy get killed trying to keep me

              alive.

                          SARGE

              You didn't let anybody get killed,

              you didn't even know we were coming

              up here.

                          RYAN

              Sure, I know, but...

                        (sighs)

              Goddamn it all...

     The others nod in agreement.  They look closely at Ryan.

     EXT. GERMAN EIGHTY-EIGHT EMPLACEMENT - NIGHT

     Dark.  No firing.  Two German soldiers on watch.

                          A SHADOW

              It's Miller.  Easing through the

              darkness.  Closer to one of the

              sentries.

     Miller sees Jackson easing up behind another sentry.  Miller

     nods to Jackson.  They move at the same moment.  Behind the

     sentries.  SLIT THEIR THROATS.

                          BEHIND THE EIGHTY-EIGHT

              Forrest removes the wheel-blocks.

                          A GERMAN SENTRY

              Approaches.  He sees Forrest.  Just

              as he's about to open up with his

              sub-machine gun, Miller grabs him

              from behind, STABS him, eases the

              body silently to the ground.

                          MILLER AND JACKSON

              Join Forrest at the eighty-eight.

     Together they attach the eighty-eight's carriage to the

     German's truck.

                          ANOTHER GERMAN SENTRY

              Rounds a corner.  Sees them.  OPENS

              UP WITH HIS SUB-MACHINE GUN.

     Forrest DIVES, FIRES BACK.

                          OTHER GERMANS

              Race over, FIRING.

                          JACKSON

              Covering them, OPENS UP.  Kills the

              advancing Germans.

     MILLER frantically attaches the eighty-eight to the truck.

     FORREST CUTS DOWN, several more Germans.

     JACKSON TAKES A GRAZING SHOT IN THE SHOULDER.

     Spins.

     Still FIRING.

     Giving Miller cover.

     MILLER LEAPS into the cab of the truck.

     JACKSON AND FORREST LEAP into the back.

     JACKSON FIRES into the approaching Germans.

                          THE WINDSHIELD

              Is shattered by bullets.

     Glass flies everywhere, cutting Miller on the face and hands.

                          FORREST

              In the back of the truck.

     Spraying the Germans with his Thompson.

     MILLER FLOORS IT.

     The truck DRIVES through the Germans.

     The Germans FIRE at the truck and trailing eighty-eight. 

     MILLER, JACKSON AND FORREST Drive into the night.

     The Germans FIRING after them.

     EXT. ROAD LEADING TO THE BRIDGE - NIGHT

     Miller, Jackson and Forrest barrel down the road through a

     gauntlet of Germans.  As they approach the bridge, the other

     American's FIRE COVER for them.

     Miller drives the truck onto the bridge.

     SMASHES INTO THE SANDBAGS

     THE OTHER AMERICANS, with Ryan in the lead, leap over the

     barricade and drag the captured eighty-eight onto the bridge.

                          MILLER

              RYAN!  GET BACK THERE!

     Ryan ignores him.  They get the eighty-eight safely behind

     the barricade.  Miller grabs Ryan.

                          RYAN

              Sorry, sir.

     Miller fumes.  he sees Reiben, Sarge and Upham, shrugging,

     clearly not pissed at Ryan.

                          MILLER

              Don't do that again.

                          RYAN

              I won't need to sir, it's already

              here, behind the barricade so...

     Miller GROWLS.

                          RYAN

              Yes, sir.

     Miller glares at Ryan, then strides off.

     EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

     Miller and Upham carefully dig up a German mine.  Very

     gingerly they place it on a growing pile of other mines.

     EXT. ROAD LEADING TO BRIDGE - NIGHT

     Miller and Ryan lay a mine into the dirt.  They cover it and

     step back carefully.

     Then they proceed with the next.  Upham is covering their

     tracks while Jackson is digging the holes in which they'll

     place the rest of the mines.

     EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT

     Quiet.  Dark.  Everything is ready.  There's nothing to do

     now but wait.

     ON THE BRIDGEKEEPERS HUT

     Reiben and Jackson sit behind the sandbags.  They can see

     Ryan sitting in the moonlight about twenty yards away, manning

     the rear machine gun nest with Sarge.

                          REIBEN

              What do you think?

                          JACKSON

              I think I'm we got that eighty-eight.

                          REIBEN

              I mean, Ryan, what do you think of

              him?

     Jackson shrugs.

                          JACKSON

              He ain't half-bad, I guess.

                          REIBEN

              I guess.

     They're quiet for a moment.

                          JACKSON

              He ain't Wade.

                          REIBEN

              Nope, he ain't Wade.

     Their eyes keep coming back to Ryan.

                          MILLER

              Crouch-runs through the shadows and

              stops at the bridgekeepers hut.

                          MILLER

              Reiben...

     Miller points, directing Reiben to the forward machine gun

     nest.

                          REIBEN

              Yes, sir.

     REIBEN jumps down and moves forward.

     MILLER runs across the bridge and joins Sarge and Ryan in

     the rear machine gun nest.

                          MILLER

              You set?  Sarge nods.

                          RYAN

              Yes, sir.

     Miller and Sarge exchange a look.  Then Miller slips off to

     check the others.

     EXT. BRIDGE - DAWN

     First light.  The Americans are ready for battle.  WE SEE

     them in their positions:

                          REIBEN AND UPHAM

              Manning the forward machine gun nest.

                          JACKSON

              Behind the sandbags, on top of the

              bridgekeeper's hut.

     FORREST AND THE PARATROOPERS

     Behind the second of two barricades set up between the forward

     and the rear machine gun nests.

                          RYAN AND SARGE

              Manning rear machine gun.

                          MILLER

              At the bridgehead, waiting.

     SOUND FROM DOWN THE ROAD

     All eyes turn.

     SINGLE GERMAN SOLDIER

     Dashes across the street.  Exposed only for an instant. 

     Then another.  And another.

                          MILLER

              Cocks his Thompson.  Settles down

              behind some sandbags.

                          MILLER

              HERE THEY COME!

     A RUSH OF GERMANS ADVANCE, BLASTING AT THE BRIDGE.

     THE AMERICANS RETURN FIRE

                          REIBEN

              OPENS UP with the MACHINE GUN.

                          THE GERMANS

              At least fifty of them, advancing on

              the bridge.  Running from cover to

              cover.  A squad pushing a French

              truck, using it as a shield.

                          JACKSON

              Calmly picking off the attacking

              Germans.

                          THE GERMAN INFANTRYMEN

              Make their way down the streets. 

              Along the riverbank.  Through the

              houses.  There are GERMANS FIRING

              from all directions.

     REIBEN FIRES IN ARCS.

                          MILLER

              Sees Reiben and Upham being cut off. 

              Grabs the B.A.R., stands and fires.

                          REIBEN AND UPHAM

              Running out of ammo.  See that there's

              nothing else they can do.

                          REIBEN

              Time to go.

     Reiben rolls out of the nest, carrying the fifty caliber. 

     Upham follows, carrying the ammo boxes.  They run as fast as

     they can.

     THE OTHER AMERICANS FIRE COVER

     REIBEN takes a glancing slug.  Falls.  Rolls and gets up. 

     Bleeding from the side, but not mortal.  Upham helps him.

     They MAKE IT TO THE SANDBAGS of the first barricade.

     DIVE OVER.  The Germans are almost on them.

                          RYAN IS FIRING

              With the rear MACHINE GUN.  Drops

              several Germans.

                          GERMANS EVERYWHERE

              They swarm over the first barricade.

                          MILLER

              FIRES A BURST into a German's belly. 

              HITS another with the stock of his

              Thompson.

     HAND-TO-HAND.

     FORREST AND THE OTHER PARATROOPERS

     FIRING COVER for Miller, Reiben and Upham, don't see a

     flanking Germans squad easing along the riverbanks.  Two of

     the Germans LOB POTATO MASHERS among the paratroopers.  THE

     PARATROOPERS see the grenades.  Too late.

     THE POTATO MASHERS EXPLODE KILLING FORREST AND THE OTHER

     PARATROOPERS RYAN SEES FORREST AND THE OTHERS DIE

     No time to react.

                          HAND-TO-HAND FIGHTING

              Half a dozen Germans break through.

     Miller KILLS TWO MORE WITH A BURST.

                          RYAN

              Is jumped on by one.  Upham FIRES. 

              KILLS the German.

                          MILLER

              Struggling with a pair of Germans.

                          JACKSON

              FIRES.  Drops one of the Germans on

              Miller with a head shot.  Cuts open

              Miller's face with bits of skull.

                          RYAN

              Leaps onto the final German attacking

              Miller.  That German raises his rifle

              on Ryan.

     UPHAM AND REIBEN AND JACKSON

     All see it.  SIMULTANEOUSLY SHOOT the German.

                          THE STUNNED GERMAN

              About to kill Ryan.  Torn apart by

              bullets from three directions.

                          UPHAM

              I got him.

                          REIBEN

              Like hell you did, I got him.

                          JACKSON SMILES

              He got him.

     MILLER SLAMS in a fresh clip.  FIRES an arc.  DROPS four

     Germans.  Sees an oncoming RUSH OF GERMANS.  BARKS to Reiben

     and Upham:

                          MILLER

              BACK!  LET'S GO!

     They retreat, firing back as best they can, trying to make

     it to the barricade.

                          SARGE

              Sees them in deep trouble.  Leaves

              Ryan firing the rear machine gun. 

              Grabs the B.A.R. ADVANCES, FIRING

              COVER.  Exposed.

                          BULLETS EVERYWHERE

              MILLER, REIBEN, UPHAM make it to the

              barricade.  Dive over.

                          SARGE

              Sees they've made it.  FIRES A FINAL

              BURST.  Races for cover.  A trail of

              bullets right behind him.

     THE OTHER AMERICANS FIRE for all they're worth.  Trying to

     cover Sarge.  Too many Germans.

     SARGE TAKES A SHOT IN THE BACK.  FALLS.  MILLER AND THE OTHERS

     continue to fire, horrified.

     SARGE STRUGGLES TO HIS FEET

     Cradling the B.A.R.  Stumbling toward cover.  Slowing. 

     Bleeding.

                          THE AMERICANS

              Desperately trying to cover him.

                          THE GERMANS

              Open up with a volley.

                          SARGE

              Is almost there.

     ALL THE AMERICANS STAND AND FIRE

     As best they can.  Right past Sarge.  It's not enough.

                          SARGE

              Five feet from the sandbags, his

              back is TORN APART by Germans fire. 

              He looks down, stunned at his chest. 

              Amazed to see GAPING HOLES.  An

              instant of surprise, more than fear.

     He looks to Miller.  Takes two more stumbling steps.  Falls

     onto the sandbags.  Dropping the B.A.R. over the edge.  Dies. 

     THE AMERICANS FIRE MADLY, CONTINUOUSLY

                          THE GERMANS

              Who killed Sarge are killed.  The

              others back off for now.

     REIBEN, UPHAM, JACKSON, RYAN fire at the retreating Germans.

                          MILLER

              Grabs Sarge and pulls him over the

              barricade.  Sees that he's dead.

     THE GERMANS RETREAT.

     Around the corner.

                          MILLER

              Stunned, lays Sarge down, kneeling

              next to him.

                          THE OTHERS

              Watch, start to gather.

                          REIBEN

              Goddamn it...Goddamn it...Goddamn

              it...

                          MILLER

              Get back to your positions!

     They hesitate.

                          MILLER

              Go!

     They follow the order.  All except Ryan, who doesn't move. 

     He can't take his eyes off Sarge.

                          MILLER

              Doesn't move.  He just stares at

              Sarge's body.

                          RYAN

              Looks at Miller, sees him growing

              weak, starting to sway.  He gently

              tries to move Miller aside.

                          RYAN

              I'll take care of Sarge...

     Miller looks up at Ryan, then back at Sarge's body.  Miller

     grows cold, making the same startling transformation he made

     as he kneeled over Wade's body.

                          MILLER

              Sarge?  Who's Sarge?

     But this time it doesn't work.  He can't make it stick.  The

     hard expression, disappears.  He drifts, utterly lost.  He's

     called his own bluff.

     EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT

     Dark.  Quiet.  The distant guns are silent for once.

     Waiting.  Reiben, Upham, Jackson, Ryan and Miller have

     tightened their perimeter.

     Miller is in a trance.  The others glance at him nervously.

     They eat in silence.  K-rations.  Some bread.  A last supper.

     Then, from out of nowhere, Miller speaks:

                          MILLER

              English teacher, Addley, Pennsylvania.

     Slowly, Miller's men turn to him.

                          UPHAM

              What'd you say, Captain?

                          MILLER

              I teach English at Addley High School

              in Addley, Pennsylvania.

                          REIBEN

              Well, I'll be goddamned, I knew it.

                          JACKSON

              Like hell, you did.

                          UPHAM

              Captain, what about our deal?

                          MILLER

              I changed my mind.

                          REIBEN

              What deal?

                          MILLER

              I coach the baseball team, too.

                          JACKSON

              No kiddin'?

                          REIBEN

              What deal?

                          UPHAM

              Forget it.

     They all sit in silence.

                          MILLER

              You know that cruise ship Wade's

              grandfather was on?

     They all nod, except Ryan who doesn't know what Miller's

     talking about.

                          MILLER

                        (continuing)

              I wonder if his cabin is still

              available?

                          REIBEN

              That's not where I am.  Miller No? 

              Where are you?

                          REIBEN

              I'm in a dressing room with Mrs.

              Rachel Troubowitz, our super's wife. 

               She's an easy forty-four, double E,

              but I've convinced her she's a thirty-

              eight D and I'm watching her try and

              squeeze herself into a side-stay,

              silk-ribboned, three-panel girdle

              with s Helf-lift brassiere.

                        (smiles)

              She's having a devil of a time,

              getting into that thing.

     They all share Reiben's dream for a moment.  Then Jackson

     smiles.

                          JACKSON

              Me?  I'm walking with my hound, Lucy,

              it's about an hour 'fore sunrise and

              we're out huntin' coon.  I got me a

              flask of pure Kentucky mash whiskey...

                          REIBEN

              Jackson, how many times I got to

              tell you, you're from Tennessee.

                          JACKSON

              I am, but I like imported whiskey. 

              So there I am and I hear the biggest

              ole' coon you ever did hear, 'a

              rustlin' right there in front of me. 

              That ole' boy comes right out of the

              brush, I got a clear shot and he

              knows he's 'bout to meet his maker. 

              I aim, I got my finger tight on the

              trigger and then I just smile and

              say to that ole' coon, go on, now,

              you get out 'a here.  Then I sit

              down on a hollow log and take me a

              right long pull a' that mash whiskey.

     Upham smiles.

                          UPHAM

              I don't know, I kind of like Wade's

              idea about the cruise ship.  I've

              never been to Tahiti.

                          REIBEN

              What about you, Captain?

     Miller smiles.  He knows exactly where he is.

                          MILLER

              I'm in my backyard, lying in my

              hammock, with my arm around my wife,

              listening for the sound of breaking

              glass.

                          JACKSON

              Say what, Cap'n?

                          MILLER

              You see, I've got the best house in

              all of Addley.  It's not the biggest

              house, but it's got the best location,

              right next to the junior high baseball

              field.  The garage windows face left

              field.  The guy who owned the house

              before me had these heavy screen S

              put over them.  The first thing I

              did when I bought the place was take

              off those screens.  Two-hundred-twenty-

              two yards from home plate to my garage

              windows.  It takes a hell of a junior

              high kid to hit a ball that far.  I

              look at my garage windows as a

              Motivator and a way to scout the

              kids coming up, the ones who are

              going to give us a shot at the state

              championship.  I lay there in my

              hammock and every time I hear the

              sound of breaking glass, I know we're

              one step closer to winning it all.

                          JACKSON

              Don't that get kind of expensive,

              Cap'n?

                          MILLER

              It's worth it.

                          JACKSON

              To each, his own.

     They're all silent for a moment.  Then Miller turns to Ryan.

                          MILLER

              How about you, James?

     Ryan sighs.

                          RYAN

              I'm home, playing basketball with my

              brothers, it's evenin' time, we're

              trying' to get in a few more points

              before it's too dark to see the ball. 

              That's where I am.

     They all nod.  Miller tears off a piece of bread and passes

     it to Ryan who tears off a bit and passes it on.  They all

     eat in silence.

     EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF RAMELLE - DAWN

     First light.  Lovely.  Dew shimmers.  A ground fog drifts. 

     A SOUND.  Louder.  And louder.  A GERMAN TIGER TANK RUMBLES

     toward the village.

     EXT. BRIDGE - RAMELLE - DAWN

     All are awake.  At their positions.  Waiting.

                          MILLER

              Hears the FAINT DISTANT RUMBLE OF

              THE TANK.  Barely has time to react. 

              Sees:

     THE GERMANS ADVANCING AGAIN

                          MILLER

              Here they come.

                          REIBEN

              FIRES a burst.  Germans drops.

                          MILLER

              FIRES a burst.  More Germans drop.

     THE GERMANS KEEP COMING

     Lots of them.  Moving from cover to cover.  FIRING.

                          MILLER

              Manning the forward machine gun. 

              Way out front.  Sees that he's going

              to be cut off.  He grabs the hot

              gun.  The barrel burns into his flesh. 

              He ignores the pain and RUNS BACK

              toward the bridge.

     HE DIVES over the sandbags.  barely makes it.  TRAILED BY

     BULLETS.

                          THE GERMANS

              Take positions near the bridge. 

              Moving in.  FIRING.  Overwhelming. 

              They're everywhere.

                          THREE GERMANS

              Break through the perimeter.

     RYAN SHOOTS one.  GRAPPLES with the other two.

                          REIBEN

              Sees Ryan.  Races over.  SHOOTS one

              German.  STABS the other.

     RYAN FALLS BACK.  Stunned, unhurt.

     REIBEN only gives him a quick look.  Gets to the MACHINE

     GUN.

     OPENS UP against the Germans who are still coming.  FIRES A

     LONG BURST.  Germans drop.

                          MILLER

              FIRES again.  More Germans drop.

                          THE GERMANS

              Take positions in the building near

              the bridge.

     They start working their way to the tops of the nearby

     buildings.

     Making their way along the riverbanks.

                          REIBEN AND RYAN

              Forward.  Reiben FIRING.  Ryan feeding

              the ammo belt.

                          REIBEN

              MORE AMMO!

                          UPHAM

              Hears that.  Doesn't hesitate.  He

              grabs a pair of ammo boxes.  RUNS

              toward Reiben and Ryan.

     SEVERAL GERMANS ZERO UPHAM

     OPEN UP on him.

     BULLETS TRAIL UPHAM.  He's outrunning them.  Almost there.

                          UPHAM

              TAKES HALF-A-DOZEN SLUGS.  Torn apart. 

              Stumbles the final few steps to the

              machine gun nest.  Falls on the

              sandbags, giving Reiben and Ryan the

              ammo.  UPHAM'S DEAD.

     RYAN STUNNED.

     For just a micro-second.  No time.  Grabs the ammo.  REIBEN

     FIRING.  Ryan clips the new ammo belt onto the tail of the

     one almost out.

                          REIBEN

              Continues FIRING.  CUTTING DOWN the

              advancing Germans.

     THE GERMANS START TO FALL BACK

                          MILLER

              Knows what that means.  He hears the

              RUMBLE OF THE TANKS.

                          MILLER

              TIGHTEN IT UP!  HERE THEY COME!

                          RYAN AND REIBEN

              Immediately grab the machine gun and

              ammo and race back to the rear nest.

     Then RYAN AND MILLER converge at the eighty-eight.  THE FIRST

     TANK APPEARS Huge.  Terrifying.  Clanking.  Trailed by two

     German infantry platoons.

                          JACKSON

              On the bridgekeeper's hut.  Picking

              off German soldiers who follow the

              tank.

     A GERMAN INFANTRYMAN SPOTS JACKSON.  Hollers into the tanks

     voice-tube.

                          THE TANK

              Stops.  Grinds its gears.  Turning

              it's turret towards the bridgekeepers

              hut.

                          MILLER

              JACKSON!

                          JACKSON

              Knows what's coming but he holds his

              position, continuing to pick off

              German soldiers.

                          THE TANK BLASTS

              THE BRIDGEKEEPER'S HUT AND JACKSON

              ARE OBLITERATED IN THE EXPLOSION.

                          MILLER AND RYAN

              SEE JACKSON DIE.  A bare moment to

              react.  Then, they turn their

              attention back to the eighty-eight. 

              Frantically turning the aiming cranks. 

              Lowering the barrel to point blank.

     TANK AGAINST EIGHTY-EIGHT.

     Which can fire first.

                          MILLER AND RYAN

              Win the race.

                          FIRE THE EIGHTY-EIGHT

              BLAST THE LEAD TANK DESTROY IT IN A

              SHOWER OF METAL AND FLAMES

                          MILLER AND RYAN

              Quickly reload the eighty-eight. 

              FIRE AGAIN.

     DESTROY THE SECOND TANK.

                          MILLER

              Shoves the FINAL SHELL into the breech

              of the eighty-eight.  Pats Ryan on

              the back.  Grabs a SATCHEL CHARGE.

     RUNS down the bridge.  Right toward the two advancing tanks.

                          RYAN

              FIRES THE EIGHTY-EIGHT.

     DESTROYING THE THIRD TANK.

                          MILLER

              Races through the debris.  Trailed

              by BULLETS.

                          REIBEN

              With the machine gun.  Covers Miller. 

              Keeping most of the German infantry

              down.

     RYAN jumps behind the second machine gun.  Opens up.  Helping

     to cover Miller.

     THE LAST GERMAN TANK

     Turret spins.  Turning toward the fast approaching Miller. 

     Ready to blow him to bits.

                          MILLER

              Is almost there.  He arms the satchel

              charge.

     THE TIGER'S MACHINE GUNS OPENS UP ON HIM.

     BLASTS A TRAIL OF BULLETS

                          MILLER

              Throws the satchel charge under the

              tank.  Rolls off the edge of the

              bridge.  Lands on the embankment

              below.

     THE LAST TIGER TANK EXPLODES

     MILLER, RYAN, REIBEN continue FIRING.

     Almost out of ammo.

     MILLER SCRAMBLING UP THE EMBANKMENT, back onto the bridge,

     hears something over the SOUNDS OF FIRING.

                          MILLER

              HOLD IT!  HOLD IT!

     Ryan and Reiben cease firing.  Now they hear it, too.

     A RUMBLE, DEEPER AND MORE OMINOUS than any they've heard

     yet.

                          MILLER

              Goddamn it!

                          REIBEN

              More tanks...  Ryan Lot's of them

              The fear on their faces turns to

              resignation.  They know that they

              are dead men.  They settle into their

              positions, and prepare to fire and

              die.

     They wait.  The RUMBLE GETS LOUDER AND LOUDER.

     THEN MILLER'S FACE STARTS TO CHANGE...a hint...of a

     smile...then a real smile...

     AN AMERICAN SHERMAN TANK APPEARS from over the rise.  Then

     ANOTHER...AND ANOTHER...AND ANOTHER...

     MILLER, REIBEN AND RYAN

     Stand there, stunned, watching tank after tank appear, along

     with scores of heavily-armed American soldiers.

     They keep coming and coming.  American tanks, with wave after

     wave of U.S. infantrymen, looking for targets.  They find a

     few among the departing Germans.

                          THE ADVANCING TROOPS

              Run onto the bridge and start to

              secure the position.  A SERGEANT and

              a few of HIS MEN look around,

              curiously eyeing Miller, Reiben and

              Ryan, battered and bloody, standing

              among the bodies.

     A MAJOR strides up.

     Major Report, Captain.

                          MILLER

              Miller, Company B, Second Rangers,

              that's Private Richard Reiben and

              that's Private James Ryan, Hundred-

              and-First Airborne.

     The Sergeant and several other soldiers overhear.

                          SERGEANT

              Ryan?

     One of the soldiers speaks quietly to another.

     Soldier That's him, that's Ryan.

     The Major puts his hand on Ryan's shoulder.

     Major Command is looking for you, son.  You're going home.

     Ryan looks up, tired.  He nods.

     EXT. RAMELLE BRIDGE HEAD - DAY

     American tanks and hundreds of fresh troops stream down the

     road and over the bridge.

     MILLER, RYAN AND REIBEN

     Watch.  In a small area, cleared of the debris, the bodies

     of Jackson, Upham, Sarge, Forrest and the other paratroopers

     are laid out, neatly, respectfully, covered.

     Miller and Reiben stay protectively close to Ryan, as if

     they don't want to risk him being bumped into or run over by

     any of the advancing troops or vehicles.

                          MILLER

              Walks to the bodies.  He kneels down

              next to Sarge and looks at him for a

              long moment.  Then, with a steady

              hand, he takes one of Sarge's two

              dog-tags.  Then he does the same to

              Jackson and Upham.

     REIBEN AND RYAN watch silently.

                          MILLER

              Stands and walks back to Reiben and

              Ryan.  He hands the dog-tags to Ryan

              who grips them tightly and nods in

              thanks.

     Miller takes a last look at the bridge and the bodies, then

     he shoulders his gear.  Miller Let's move out.

     Reiben and Ryan gather up their gear.  They walk with Miller

     down the road, away from the bridge.

                          CAMERA CRANES UP

              The three dirty, bloodied, tired men

              walk down the road, ignored by the

              fresh troops marching in the opposite

              direction.

                          RYAN

               Captain?

                          MILLER

              Yes, Private.

                          RYAN

              Upham and Jackson, what were they

              like?

                          MILLER

              Upham?  Good kid, smart, he was

              writing a book.

                          RYAN

              Yeah?

                          REIBEN

              Yeah, and he was fast, too, ran the

              220 in twenty-four-five.

                          RYAN

              No kidding.

                          MILLER

              Jackson was from West Fork, Tennessee,

              he was going to be a preacher, his

              father and uncles have a traveling

              ministry out of the back of a stretch

              Hudson.

                          RYAN

              And Sarge?

                          MILLER

              Sarge?

                        (beat)

              He was the best friend I ever had.

                        (smiles)

              Lemme tell you about Sarge...

     They walk on, disappearing in the distance among the hundreds

     and hundreds of American soldiers who are marching down the

     road and over the bridge.

     Fade out.

     THE END -