Saving Private Ryan Movie Script

 


					

	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 -


 

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