BELGIUM DECEMBER 16, 1944
On the other side of the world,
the Allied forces are pounding the Germans with relentless force.
We do not expect to have a winter lull in Europe.
We expect to keep striking...
HEADQUARTERS BATTALION V CORPS
1944, December.
I was miles from the front, and a stranger to war.
Troops, fuel dumps, enemy units.
They were pins on a map to me.
Champagne? Are you trying to score a few points?
Just trying to aid the war effort, Hart.
- Tom? - Sir?
The captain needs a lift back to the 106th. Can you find him a driver?
- I can take him, sir. - Funny. I had a feeling you'd say that.
- There isn't much movement today, sir. - So I see. Captain.
Oh, don't forget, sir. You wanted to send some of that champagne along as well.
Yes. Thank you for reminding me, Tom.
The general should get a kick out of that.
Sir.
...are now fighting along a battle line of 300 miles
in northern France and Germany.
Within ten weeks after the first landings in France last June,
the Allies had landed nearly two million men.
You know what this army could use, sir? Snowplough service.
We could use half a million gallons of gasoline
and a road or two that wasn't paved with Bouncing Betties.
- German S-mines. - Yes, sir.
You really ought to spend a night on the line sometime, Lieutenant.
- I know that, sir. - Of course, it's not too likely, is it?
- Sir? - Colonel says your father is a senator.
So I guess you won't spend too many nights in a foxhole, will ya?
It's nothing to be ashamed of, son. That's a hell of a father to have.
- Where to, sir? - St Vith.
I'm afraid you're going the wrong way, sir. St Vith is due west.
I'm pretty sure St Vith is due east, Sergeant. Straight ahead.
Can I see that, sir?
I drove this route yesterday, Sergeant.
Get your hands up!
Up!
See what's in the box.
It's nailed shut. Could be wine or champagne.
Halt!
Are you in great pain?
First Lieutenant Thomas Hart.
Serial number
1841287.
Would you care for a cigarette?
Your train is an eight-kilometer march from here.
Of course, with some shoes on you might be all right.
First Lieutenant Thomas Hart.
Serial number 1841287.
Thank you, Lieutenant. But we both know there is much more to you than that.
Show me the locations of the fuel dumps.
Just point, and we can end all this.
Get the lieutenant's uniform.
I'll have your clothes returned to you immediately.
When you are dressed we'll have another chat. A last one, I hope.
Smile, Joe. For you, the war is over.
Lieutenant. This'll help against the cold.
No, thanks, soldier. I'll be all right.
No, you won't. Come on, take it. Just till you warm up.
Take it, sir.
Hey, Captain, does somebody tell our folks about us being captured?
The Germans give a list to the military, the military notifies the families.
Is that voluntary, sir?
How do you mean, Lieutenant?
I mean, can you ask them not to?
I don't think so.
Have to put some straw in there.
Straw. In your shoes.
For frostbite.
Another slave detail, sir.
Hey, ladies! Next batch of shells you turn out, nothing but duds this time, all right?
Mortars no boom-boom, ja?
Captain! P-51, incoming!
- Ours? - Everybody get down!
Everybody stay down! Keep low!
- Captain, why are they shooting at us? - They can't read the roof.
Unhook the engine!
All right, get the doors! Everybody, get the doors!
Hart, help them!
Get to the other cars! Get those men out! We're spelling out!
Round up your men now! We're spelling out!
Hart! Get that man clear of here! All right, men, get in line!
Assemble on me!
Move it! Move it!
We're spelling out!
All right, men! Let's get back in line!
Don't you fuckin' die on me. Oh, God.
Aw, Christ.
OK, keep looking at me. Look at me. Look at me.
- Shit. Shit. - I couldn't get to him, sir.
You're all right. It's all right.
Stand still!
Easy, son. Easy.
They're telling us to march.
Probably ought to take his boots, Lieutenant.
Lieutenant! Take his boots! Cos either you or some Jerry's gonna get 'em.
Take 'em, sir, while you still got feet to put 'em on.
His socks, too. Ain't gonna help him any.
Stay together. Six abreast.
All right, let's do what they say.
I'm sorry.
STALAG VI A AUGSBURG, GERMANY
Once again,
I'm forced to remind you,
escape is not a sport.
Think of it this way.
Now these Russians have a chance at a Happy New Year.
Those are dogs you're saluting, Colonel.
Animals.
Untermenschen.
My country doesn't make those kind of distinctions, Colonel.
They don't make such distinctions.
They're our allies, Colonel.
Oh, yeah, you and your allies.
Let me tell you about you and your allies.
The Ministry of War has released figures from our offensive in the Ardennes.
200,000 Allied killed or captured.
Your Third Army, Patton, in full retreat.
And the Wehrmacht has captured enough abandoned fuel to retake Paris,
perhaps even drive your troops back to the sea.
Might be a bit crowded around here this winter.
- Major Fussel? - Take them to de-lousing.
Turn around, Joe. Yeah, that's it. Turn around.
Ross? Hart?
Ross and Hart?
Captain Ross.
Major Clary.
- Lieutenant Hart. - Lieutenant.
Debriefing, gentlemen. Officers' hut. On the double.
...German offensive on the American front is still going on.
The entire front, stretching about 30 miles south of Monschau, is in motion.
Countermeasures are being taken...
Got a pack of Chesterfields. I'll trade you.
- Sure. - This is a major German effort.
Some of the best units in the German army are involved in this penetration.
At ease, soldier. Sit down.
Thank you, sir.
So tell me, Lieutenant, how come you're not dead?
Sir?
First you survive crashing that Jeep, then Hans and Fritz take your boots.
You got a rabbit's foot in your pocket?
Two horseshoes and a four-leaf clover, sir.
Attaboy.
And by the way, you might want to take it easy on that bread.
You've had nothing solid for a while. Don't want you to end up in the infirmary.
I don't know, sir.
After the march I just made, an infirmary might look like the Waldorf to me.
Well, stomach can shrink quite a bit in 17 days.
That's the number, isn't it? 17 days?
Six days on the train, another six days of marching.
What was it, Joe? Five days of interrogation?
No, sir.
Three days.
Well, anyway, easy does it.
Yes, sir. Thank you.
So, this interrogator they threw at ya. His name wasn't Schumann, was it?
No, sir.
Lutz.
Schumann was a real prick.
Almost broke me in two.
Goon up.
- Not much for small talk, I guess. - Yeah, you'll come to appreciate that.
Smoke, Lieutenant?
Would you care for a cigarette?
Again, Lieutenant, I need to ask you.
The fuel dumps?
Thank you.
So this Captain Lutz, he know much about your operations at the chateau?
He knew everything, sir.
Fuel dump locations? Troop movements?
Sir, he knew what I'd had for breakfast the morning of my capture.
Point, and we can end all this.
Just name, rank, and serial number.
Good enough. You're excused, Lieutenant.
Unfortunately, we won't be able to quarter you here. Full up.
Gonna have to put you in Barracks 27.
Isn't Barracks 27 for enlisted men, sir?
Yes. But as you can see, the Germans are doing rather brisk business these days.
You'll be comfortable there.
Yes, sir.
- Lieutenant. - Sir.
Point!
Point! Or say hello to stumps for the rest of your life!
Good.
Donny, you in? I call.
Hold your water, Joe. Looks like a whole division just surrendered.
Who's in charge here?
- All right, how many we up to? - Three lovely ladies, big shot.
Excuse me. I'm looking for who's in charge here.
From the looks of things, I'd say Adolf Hitler.
I'm Lieutenant Tom Hart.
It's OK, fellas.
Staff Sergeant Vic Bedford. Good to meet you.
- You, too. - You just come in from Ardennes?
Yeah. Colonel sent me over to bunk in here. Officers' barracks are full.
Well, in that case, welcome to Rio.
Hope you don't mind, sir, all we have is this middle bunk right here.
Middle's fine.
- I'm betting you're a Lucky Strike man. - You bet right.
Care for some hooch? Ringing in the new year.
No, thanks.
It's fermented raisins, mostly. A little turpentine for flavor.
- I'm fine. - We got anybody left on the front, sir?
- How are you, Lieutenant? - It's all the guards talk about.
- What the hell happened, sir? - Give him a break. He just got here.
Guard 'em with your life. They double for cash here, especially with the guards.
- Thanks, Sergeant. - Excuse me a second.
Fellas! Listen up.
Lieutenant Hart here is gonna be staying with us for a while.
Men.
Say, what's it take to get in that poker game?
- I expect we can work something out. - Good.
Sir, you about a size ten?
Why? They got a Woolworths behind one of these barracks?
You never know.
Just piss on him, sir. It's the only thing that gets 'em moving.
Happy New Year.
Raus! Raus!
Happy New Year!
It's 1945!
Happy New Year!
10½½½ was the best I could do
with the holiday season and all.
Look at the smile on this guy.
Socks, too. Could've used those in the Hürtgen.
- What, you don't like trench foot? - Sure.
It's just once my toenails turned black, I didn't have a single purse that matched.
Major Fussel.
- Square 'em up, Major. - Yes, sir.
Barracks, attention!
Look at this. Got those poor bastards going around the clock now.
See that factory out past the north tower?
Germans making bombs right under our noses.
Supposed to be a shoe factory. Instead, they got Russians making mortar shells.
What the hell is that?
- Oh, they're fliers. - They got niggers flying airplanes now?
332nd Fighter Squadron. Read about 'em in Yank magazine.
I'll be damned. Well, we got us some nigger officers.
Fuckin' Jerry's right. We must be losing this war.
...five, six, seven, eight.
Lift. Lift.
Lieutenant.
Sir.
- Looks like it'll be a good show. - Yeah, it does.
It's high stakes around here, sir.
What do you mean?
Half the smokes in camp are riding on where you're putting the new men.
Where do you think we should put 'em?
I think I'd give 'em their own billet tent, sir.
Well, we can't do that.
I was thinking about putting them in 27 with you.
No, sir, wouldn't they be better off in the officers' barracks?
They don't carry enough weight to move two officers out of 22.
I can't make them the only two officers in the enlisted men's barracks.
You're in 27. Figure you could keep an eye on 'em for me.
Sir, I'm still new to that barracks. I don't carry a lot of weight with the men yet.
You got bars on your shoulder, Lieutenant.
That ought to be weight enough.
- What do you got? Come on. - I got two pair.
- Tastes like chicken, right? - No. No. Maggots.
- It's protein. Eat. - You call?
- What do you got? - Three pair.
Gonna have to make some room in here, fellas. Come on in, men.
We got two more guests.
Second Lieutenants Lamar Archer and Lincoln Scott.
You got to be kidding, sir. They're gonna live here?
Two officers just entered the barracks. Where's your salute?
What's the big idea, sir? I mean, we're all full up in here.
- Not any more. Croutch? Krasner? - Yes, sir?
You're reassigned. Barracks 28. Colonel wants you situated before lockdown.
Goon up.
- What were you flying? - P-51 bomber escorts.
Must be a shitload of dead bomber crews scattered across Europe.
See these bars, Sergeant?
Don't make you fit to share with white folks, boy.
- Bedford! - That's "Lieutenant Boy". You got that?
Call yourself whatever you want. You're still just a nigger to me.
- I didn't quite catch that, Sergeant. - All right! That's enough.
Something like that, OK? And you're gonna do a "stop and go". All right?
Set! Go!
Over here!
Nice, Johnny! Nice!
Ready? Go.
Uh-oh. Deadline.
Lieutenant! You mind grabbing that, boy?
Come on, let's go.
Cromin? Come here.
Do your route. Do your route. Do your route.
- I'm going. I'm going. - Halt, Kriegie! Halt! Halt!
- Nice one, sir. - Cookie! Hey! More bread. More bread.
- Das ist verboten! - Touchdown! Touchdown!
Das ist verboten, Bedford!
Bon appétit!
Shit.
Son of a bitch.
Nobody moves.
- How bad, Sergeant? - It's just a nick. I'll be fine.
- You all right? - Yeah.
Joe, right here!
Fuck 'em.
- Go get that hand looked at. - Yes, sir.
Hey, Bedford. Cigarettes?
You're a regular bank, Vic.
Mm-hm.
- How's the hand? - That really what you came to ask me?
No. Major Clary told me that you went to see him to lodge a complaint.
- Yeah. - About Lieutenants Archer and Scott.
I'm sure he'll take it up with Eisenhower the first chance he gets.
They don't belong here.
Nobody belongs here. But this is where the colonel put them.
Yeah. I bet you wish the colonel had given you that open bunk
in the officers' barracks right about now, huh, Lieutenant?
I mean, this is hardly the Waldorf. Ain't that right?
We're not gonna have a problem about this. Understood?
What'd you do before the war?
For a living.
I was in law school. Second year.
- Harvard? - Yale.
- Meet many coloreds up there? - A few.
Yeah, well, I dealt with their kind.
Two years I was on the police force in East St Louis, and I know what they are.
So let's not pretend we're fuckin' neighbors.
- You finished, Sergeant? - No, I'm not finished.
We never did set on a price, did we, for them boots and socks?
It might be as cold as the North Pole here but that don't make me Santa Claus.
What do you want?
I'll take your watch.
This was a gift from my father.
I'm bettin' your daddy can afford you another one.
This gonna buy me a little civility, Sergeant?
Tons.
Oh, that was great.
Oh, baby.
Not much of a picture, is it?
Well, we do feel a little misled, sir.
The guard told us they'd be showing The Life and Times of Jesse Owens.
You know, you men can sit up front with everyone else.
We're fine, sir.
Nobody's gonna bother you.
I said we're fine, sir.
Take your places!
Barracks, attention!
- How was that? - Nice, DW. That was 18 inches.
- Come on, Joe. It was two feet at least. - Hey, either way, my record still stands.
- Up! Up! Up! Raus! Raus! - Everybody, out of your beds!
- Out! - Raus!
- Out! Out of beds!
Attention at the bunks! Attention at the bunks! Now, now, now! Now!
Who is the ranking man in here?
Lieutenant Thomas Hart.
One of your men was out on the compound tonight, Lieutenant.
He was spotted on the east field removing a spike from one of the billet tents.
Your men are aware of this camp's policy
concerning the possession and concealment of weapons, are they not?
Major, no one has left this barracks.
- Wait a minute. What the...? - Quiet!
- This is a plant! Somebody put that in... - Quiet. Quiet!
- Mitkommen. Mitkommen! - You bastard, I heard you go out!
- I shoulda seen this coming! - Where are you taking him?
Examples must be made, Lieutenant. We take the safety of our men very seriously.
- Major! - Where are y'all taking him to?
What did he do?!
Lamar!
Hey, Lamar!
Lamar!
Fire!
I'll fuckin' kill you.
I'll fuckin' kill you, Bedford! You put that spike there!
- Watch your mouth, nigger! - He put that spike there! Get off of me!
- Lincoln, look at me. Lincoln, look at me. - Get off of me! Get off of me!
Can I let you go? Lincoln?
It was a minor offence, Colonel. This man deserved 15 days in the cooler.
- Not execution. - He attempted to escape.
Bullshit. You dragged him out of his barracks, barely clothed.
Your men lined him up and shot him.
He wasn't trying to escape
any more than those Russians you hung the other day. Was he a dog?
A lesser race?
There's a word you Americans use, as I remember.
But, of course, your country doesn't make such distinctions.
And neither do you, I'm sure.
He was an officer. A lieutenant in the Army Air Corps.
Yeah.
That's why you were so eager to welcome him and the other one into your barracks.
Look at that, Colonel. We had every right to question a man
for concealment of a dangerous weapon.
This man had rights too. The Geneva Convention specifically forbids...
Take a look around you, Colonel.
This is not Geneva.
- Where are you going? - To check on my men.
You're welcome to do so, of course.
In the meantime, I'll be looking in on your barracks
to listen to what's on the BBC this evening.
"Goon up!"
Now,
go see your men, Colonel.
Good night.
Excuse us, Captain.
How's Scott holding up?
It's hard to tell. He isn't saying much.
He was asking about the body. And there were some personal effects.
Dog tags.
- Come on! - Get him!
- Come on, boys! - Yeah!
- How does that taste, you bastard? - Careful, Bedford.
That's a nigger you're rooting for. Tail's painted red.
Means he's 99th. Right out of Tuskegee, boy.
Clear the barracks!
- Come on! Let's get him out! - Get him out of there!
The theatre! Get on top of the theatre!
Get him to the doc, now!
Come on! I want men down here!
- Get this! Come on! - Come on! Come on!
Go over the top. Let's go!
We need some more buckets! Quick! Come on!
Come on!
Let's go!
- Move it around this corner. - Yes, sir.
You know where I wish I'd never been?
- Where's that? - The goddamn Waldorf.
It's not personal. He just can't stand being lied to.
- I never lied to him. - Don't.
You hung yourself the minute he debriefed you.
That guy Lutz they threw you in with? He was a level-one interrogator.
McNamara had him, too.
When a guy won't talk, they just keep kicking him up the ladder.
Level two, level three. It takes weeks.
He was in there for a month. The only guy you saw was Lutz.
And he spit you out of there in three days.
- All I gave him was name, rank... - See, the colonel's not like you and me.
He's West Point, fourth-generation. He was raised on all this.
So crap like this, catching a junior officer in an obvious lie...
All it does is remind him of how far away he is from the real war.
The one he's supposed to be fighting.
You see?
- Knock it off, huh? - What the hell is he doing?
- What you doing, Lieutenant? - Goddamnit, Lincoln.
We shoulda sold some tickets for this one.
Halt, Kriegie! Hands up! Stop!
Halt!
Raus! Raus!
Move it. Move it.
Two of your men dead in two days, Colonel.
It seems you've lost control of your company.
Will Lieutenant Scott be granted the right to stand trial?
Major Fussel saw him standing over the body. I would say he's had his trial.
Any prisoner accused of a crime against another has a right to a trial.
And if the boy were being held in Alabama, there wouldn't be any trial.
Is this not so?
Yeah, maybe you're right, Colonel.
Maybe we should just forget the trial. Let's just drag him out
and shoot two holes in his chest like you did with Lieutenant Archer.
A trial.
A court martial,
like in your American movies?
Yes?
Yeah, something like that.
That should be fun.
Yeah.
All right, Colonel.
You may conduct it in your theatre here.
Take him away.
Colonel, my men are in this theatre every day.
We'd like to erect a billet tent to house the proceedings.
No. Your theatre will do nicely. You have until the end of the week for your trial.
It's a capital charge. The trial will take more than a few days.
1,000 American prisoners from the Ardennes will arrive over the weekend,
- and I'm putting them in your theatre. - Colonel, I just explained...
Colonel!
Saturday, your theatre is mine.
Take the body to the morgue.
Wait. Colonel!
This is a murder site.
- I beg your pardon, Lieutenant? - I said this is a murder site.
The body and everything around it are now evidence.
This area cannot be disturbed until everything is photographed.
Of course.
Leave everything alone.
I'm appointing you counsel for Lieutenant Scott.
- Sir, I'm not a lawyer. - You sounded like one a minute ago.
I could be a material witness. I mean, I heard the lieutenant going out.
The lieutenant needs our help. I've appointed you counsel.
Understood?
- Yes, sir. - Dismissed, Lieutenant.
Sir.
And this guy that's prosecuting me, this Captain Sisk.
Is he a real lawyer?
- Yes. - That sounds about right.
I think we have to paint this thing as a fight, Scott. That's all.
Just a fight that got a little out of hand.
You're supposed to ask me if I did it first.
Look, I came here to kill Nazis.
If it was crackers I wanted to kill, I'd have stayed in Macon.
- Fussel ID'd you standing over the body! - Fussel is a Nazi!
No. Fussel is a witness.
And he's enough to hang you.
Look, all I'm saying is if it was a fight that got a little out of hand, it's not murder.
It's manslaughter. Do you understand that?
Man, oh, man.
Can I fire you?
- Now, look, Scott, I'm just trying... - If it's a colored guy on trial,
and it's a white man who's been murdered,
there's no such thing as manslaughter.
Don't you know that?
Or is that something that they teach you in the third year of law school?
What did you expect from me, anyway?
"Y-Yessir, boss!"
"Thank you, boss. You're mighty kind."
Is that the way a railroaded colored man acts where you're from?
- Nobody's railroading you. - The only real lawyer is prosecuting me,
and I'm stuck with you defending me!
That's how the colonel wanted it.
Yeah, but I ain't being railroaded.
Barracks, fall out!
- I'll meet you back at the barracks. - Yes, sir.
- Well, Lieutenant? - I'm going to need a few things, sir.
- Who has Bedford's personal effects? - We do.
I'll need to see them. And the photographs that were taken of the scene.
And, of course, his body.
What did Scott tell you?
Sir?
You were with him all day. What did he tell you?
- I'm sorry, sir. I can't reveal that. - Sure you can.
Attorney-client privilege, sir.
Only an attorney has attorney-client privilege.
I need to be briefed on everything that Scott intends to testify to.
Sir, you're president of the court martial.
How can I possibly discuss our case with you?
Are you suggesting that I would betray Lieutenant Scott?
That I would share details of his case with the prosecution?
No, sir.
Scott followed Bedford out through the night latrine.
If he testifies to it, the Germans will know how we get out of barracks after dark.
And every man in this camp would be compromised. Are you following this?
- Yes, sir. - Good.
Scott will testify that he went out through a hole beneath the stove in the barracks.
And you will make certain that he is clear on that. Do we understand each other?
We do, sir.
Dismissed.
- Permission to speak, sir? - Speak freely.
Scott thinks this is all just for show.
He thinks you passed sentence as soon as the body hit the ground.
Is he right?
Bedford's footlocker is in my barracks.
I'll make sure you get it.
Not much to look at, is he?
Did you know him?
No, not personally.
But my guards certainly seemed to.
These are for you.
Thank you.
- How well? - Hm?
Your guards. You said they knew him. How well?
Well, you'll have to ask them about that.
This is yours too, I believe.
We found it on his wrist.
But with the inscription and new boots on your feet, I made the assumption.
It's a little hard to imagine, Colonel. Your guards sitting for an interview.
I can arrange it. I can arrange anything you like.
It seems only fair, what with your colonel throwing you to the wolves.
- I'm not sure I follow you. - Really?
Yale isn't in the habit of accepting halfwits.
At least, it wasn't when I was studying there.
Oldest member of the class of '28.
My fellow students voted me "Hardest Worker".
But we can swap stories some other time, can't we?
Right now you've got a trial to prepare for.
It's a sincere offer, Lieutenant.
Anything I can do to help.
Truly.
Exactly where were you, Major Fussel, on the night in question?
I was walking the area behind this theatre and the Australian compound.
- At about what time? - Maybe about one o'clock in the morning.
And can you tell the court what you saw?
The Schwarze Lieutenant Scott was kneeling over the body.
It looked to me like he was checking that the man was dead.
- I blew my whistle, and he started to run. - And what did you do next?
Ja, I would have shot, but it was dark.
And so was he.
- How well did you know Sgt Bedford? - A little, I think.
- You traded with him regularly. - "Traded"?
Bartered. Cigarettes for a pair of boots. Chocolate for some spare parts.
No, I never did this.
A Kriegie trading with a German soldier? I never saw it.
May I repeat what he actually said, Captain?
You may, Private.
Lieutenant Scott said "I'll kill you. I'll fuckin' kill you, Bedford."
Corporal, have you ever heard any other man threaten a fellow soldier?
"I'll kill you if you touch my cigarettes again." That sort of thing?
- Yes, sir. - I bet you've made such a threat yourself.
I suppose so.
Did you ever actually kill any of the men you threatened in this manner?
No, sir.
But I'm not colored. I can control myself.
So you, too, heard the threats made by the accused against Sgt Bedford?
Your Honour, this being the fourth witness called to testify on this matter,
if the defense stipulates that the accused did threaten Sergeant Bedford,
could we dispense with any further testimony to it?
Sgt Webb is being called as an eyewitness to the crime itself.
- He's what? - Is that right, Sergeant?
- Yes, sir. - Sir, that's a lie!
Your Honour, the Sergeant will testify that he saw through a window in Barracks 27
as Lt Scott accosted Sgt Bedford outside the theatre and broke his neck.
Your Honour, I was with Sgt Webb at the exact time of the murder. He saw nothing.
The hell I didn't. You don't know what I saw.
Sir, I request that you instruct this witness as to the consequences of perjury!
He put his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth.
- Objection, Your Honour! - Sit down, Lieutenant.
- His bias alone demands... - Lieutenant!
Sit down, please.
I'll catch up with you.
Webb? You're a lying sack of shit. You know that?
- You ought to mind your own business... - This doesn't concern you, West. Or you.
- George S Patton just showed up. - Return to your barracks, Corporal.
Take your two friends with you.
It's OK.
So, what is it, Webb? Up there, today?
What, do you think you owe it to Vic?
Why are you so bent about that flying bellhop?
- He's a soldier. - Vic Bedford was a soldier. He fought.
He had courage. But you wouldn't know much about that, would you, Lieutenant?
You lied in there today. You didn't see what happened any more than I did.
I didn't have to.
- I know it. - Not good enough.
It's good enough for McNamara.
Sorry about what happened in there today, Lincoln. I didn't see it coming.
That's the first time you've seen a man lie through his teeth
holding his hand on the Bible?
I was writing a letter to my father. I figured I should tell him first.
He was part of the 369th Infantry in the last war.
"The Old Fifteenth".
They was the first Negro troops
to go into action in France.
Did your father serve?
Mm. My father was in headquarters.
He had an eight on his shoulder, too. His father made sure of it.
That's how we do things in our family.
That's a shame.
Got your testimony to prepare.
Yeah.
Oberst Visser will Sie sehen.
Lieutenant. How are you?
Not too well, I imagine.
Come on up.
That was quite a beating you took today.
It's warm inside.
You read Mark Twain? He's wonderful.
- Colonel, I have witnesses to prepare for. - Yes, I know.
It's why I wanted to see you.
We keep a library of all American military manuals.
I thought this one might be of particular use to you.
I can't accept this. We have a policy...
Lieutenant, without this, your client will face the firing squad.
Would that be better?
Your son?
Yes.
Where's he fighting?
He is not any more.
The Russian front. Novgorod.
Horrible place.
I'm sorry.
I killed my share of English and French, I suppose.
In the First War.
They had fathers, too.
It's verboten, you know?
Negro jazz.
These might be the only copies of their kind in the entire Reich.
But I'm quite fond of them.
Nice to read by, anyway.
Takes a man right back.
Take a seat.
Thank you for your time, Colonel.
Lieutenant.
Enjoy the manual.
Order, gentlemen. Captain Sisk, is the prosecution ready to call its next witness?
- We are, Your Honour. - Begging the court's pardon, sir.
- Yes, Lieutenant? - Before we continue, Your Honour,
the court may have overlooked a few procedural matters yesterday.
Referring to the US Army Manual for Courts Martial,
chapter 12, sections 57 and 58.
Make your point.
According to these sections, the court must ask the accused
if he wishes to challenge members of the court for disqualification
before any pleas are entered.
A little late in the game for that, isn't it?
Nevertheless, it is a right specifically granted to the defendant.
Very well.
Does the accused wish to challenge any member of the court?
We do, Your Honour.
You, sir.
Request denied. Proceed, Captain Sisk.
Sir, according to chapter 12, section 58D,
defense is allowed one challenge, not subject to any ruling by the court itself.
- Request denied, Lieutenant. - Then the court must address section 58E
which states the defense may disqualify a member of the board for cause
if that member has displayed a bias toward the accused.
- This court has shown no bias. - This court has demonstrated,
in ex parte conversations before this hearing,
a distinct prejudice against the accused, his case,
and his counsel, sir.
Very well. Court will take a short recess to consider the matter.
Lieutenant Hart? Could I see you outside for a moment, please?
Sir?
Listen to me, you pampered little shit. I will not be laughed at.
- Not by him. - Sir, I'm just trying to protect my client.
Your client's about to lose his lawyer, Lieutenant.
- Sir? - Article 32, contempt of court.
Article 70, intentional delay.
I know the book, too. Forwards and backwards.
- Well, then you must know, sir, that... - Shut up and listen to me, Lieutenant.
You will not accept anything from that commandant again. Is that clear?
You will not allow him to participate in these proceedings. Is that clear?
And you will never set foot in his office again without my permission.
Do we understand each other?
...and propaganda poured into the ether as by the Germans over Strasbourg.
One minute you can hear Himmler himself announcing that he will be in Strasbourg
by January 30th, the anniversary of the Nazis coming to power in Germany.
The next, the Nazis are claiming that two new divisions
are advancing on Strasbourg and that the Americans are in full flight from Alsace.
The closer they get, the more violent become the Nazi menaces,
and the more honeyed their promises.
Come in. Have a seat.
...are turning in our favor. We've checked the Germans along the Moder river.
They'll come again, of course, but the city now knows it can hope.
- Have a drink? - Sure.
You can help me decipher some of this code coming through the BBC tonight.
I don't think you need my help, Colonel.
It seems pretty clear what they're saying.
It would seem so.
Or perhaps it's all propaganda.
How about that?
The citizens can't do much themselves with their simple guns and rifles.
But they're standing up to, and winning, the other war.
Strange thing about war wounds.
The older you grow,
the less proud you become of them.
- You got another of these around here? - Of course.
Good. Why don't you and I take a walk out on your compound
and have ourselves an old-fashioned duel?
That would be fitting, wouldn't it?
But surely you can think of a more clever way out of this camp than that. Yes?
You think the war will wait for you?
Is that it, Colonel?
It won't, you know.
They never do.
You're drunk.
Yeah.
But I'm seeing things very clearly.
You know, sometimes I think your Lieutenant Scott
might have been better off in Alabama.
Lynchings are over in minutes.
The kind of justice he's suffering here is far crueler.
Is that why you gave Lieutenant Hart the manual?
I was merely trying to help the lad.
He's got enough to worry about without providing you with amusement.
Yes.
And he's got you to worry about, hasn't he?
Stay out of our business.
Forgive me, Colonel,
but you're hardly in the position to hand out orders.
Especially to me.
For now.
Unless, of course, you think that's just the sound of propaganda falling out there.
Well, the idea was to follow Bedford and catch him on the compound.
I wanted to drag him under the barracks and put his face in the mud.
But by the time I got to him, he was already dead, behind the theatre.
His neck had been snapped. That's when everything blew up.
Dogs, you know, "Hands up!", and that was that.
Lieutenant, did you apply anything to your face or hands before going out?
- Shoe polish? Soot? - No.
Defense exhibit one, Your Honour.
Photos of the deceased taken in the camp morgue.
The court will note black smudges on Bedford's right cheek and jaw.
Your Honour, what is the relevance of this?
To demonstrate to the court that whoever killed Vic Bedford was white.
I'd like the court's permission to conduct a demonstration.
I'd also ask the trial judge advocate to rise, if he would.
Proceed.
Based on Bedford's wounds and the fact nobody reported hearing him cry for help,
we have to assume he was either friendly with his assailant,
or whoever killed him did so from behind, the position being like this.
Captain, if you wouldn't mind grabbing at me, at my face, to get me to stop.
Now, of course, the killer had the benefits of leverage and surprise.
So the neck was snapped and Bedford fell.
And the smudge went with him. It was also on his fingers. Captain?
I would like the court to note the following - whoever killed Vic Bedford
had such a substance on his face on the night of the murder.
Which raises two questions:
First, what call would Lincoln Scott have for darkening his face?
To look more black?
Second, if he had done so, when did he take it off?
Your Honour, you stood face-to-face with him after his capture. His face was clean.
I think it's fair to conclude that whoever killed Vic Bedford was not only white,
but was waiting behind this theatre,
face blackened to avoid detection by the guards.
Nothing further, Your Honour.
Lieutenant, you say that Sgt Bedford sneaked out
through a loose board beneath the barracks stove.
Is that right?
Yes, sir.
And you took that same route on the night in question after he'd gone out?
Yes, I did, sir.
- What did you find down there? - Excuse me, sir?
What was down there on the ground?
Mud, right?
You stated that it had been your intention to put the victim's face in the mud
until he begged you to stop.
So there was mud down there. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?
- I suppose so. - And a fair amount of soot from the stove.
So it's possible that Sgt Bedford, having descended through a hole lined with soot
and then having crawled face down beneath a barracks wet with mud,
might have emerged with mud and soot on his face.
Nothing further, Your Honour.
Thank you, Captain Sisk. You may step down, Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Scott?
You know how hard they tried to wash us out of flight school? The colored fliers?
Your testimony's been entered, Lieutenant. You can step down.
It was test after test.
I mean, anything they could come up with
to turn us into the cooks, or the drivers, or the shit-shovellers.
- Your Honour, this is unnecessary... - But I refused to wash out.
So did Archer. I mean, come hell or high water, we hit the books.
We were just determined that we were not gonna spend the war
- being some niggers. - That's enough. You will take your seat.
With all due respect, sir, I would like to exercise my right and address this court.
Now I've been "sitting down" ever since I got here.
I shoulda stood up and said something when you threw us in with enlisted men
instead of quartering us properly as officers.
But it's OK.
Colored men expect to have to jump through a few hoops in This Man's Army.
Archer knew that. We all did.
There's a camp, right outside of Macon, where I'm from.
And there the army sends the German POWs.
Puts 'em to work picking cotton.
But what's strange is, once in a while we'd see them walking through town,
going to movies, eating in diners.
But if I wanted to go to those same movies, I had to sit way off in the balcony.
And those diners were closed to me, even in uniform.
But German POWs were allowed to sit there and eat.
And this must have happened to at least half the guys at Tuskegee.
But the thing is, we just kept telling ourselves that no matter what,
as long as we did our jobs, it'd all be worth it.
Because, hey, the war would end, and we could go home
and be free to walk down any street in America,
with our heads held high, as men.
So that's what we did. We did our jobs.
We served our country, sir.
Archer and I.
And what you let happen to him,
what you allowed to happen to him,
was appalling.
And so is this.
At ease, Lieutenant.
How are they treating you?
No worse than the men in my barracks, sir.
- I could find you another blanket. - No, I'm fine.
Here.
- Come to order. - Before you proceed, Your Honour,
the defense hasn't rested yet. I'd still like to call one last witness.
Defense calls Oberst Werner Visser.
- This some kind of joke, Lieutenant? - He's material to our case, sir.
Unless, of course, the colonel refuses to testify.
He does not.
Colonel, tell us the nature of your relationship with Vic Bedford.
I'll be happy to. I didn't have one.
And what about your guards, Colonel?
Major Fussel, for instance. Were you aware of his dealings with Vic Bedford?
At night? After lockdown?
That would be impossible in this camp, Lieutenant. The policy forbids.
Do you remember the conversation we had in the camp morgue four days ago?
Vaguely.
I asked you if you knew Vic Bedford, and you said
"No, but my guards certainly seem to."
- Perhaps. - So, in your words,
no guard ever traded with Vic Bedford and yet he was able to acquire winter boots,
thick socks, fresh milk, and parts for a hidden radio.
Isn't that a fact?
Lieutenant, I'm sitting here as a gesture of military courtesy.
If it is your intention to paint me as a liar...
No, Colonel. It is my intention to establish that Vic Bedford
built up enough of a rapport with your Majors Wirtz and Fussel
to engage in the framing of Lamar Archer,
conspiring with them in the tent spike incident, which resulted in Archer's death.
Lieutenant Archer was shot while attempting escape.
No, Colonel. Lieutenant Archer was executed
in return for information.
Archer dies.
Five minutes later, Colonel Visser and Major Wirtz enter Barracks 22,
and destroy a hidden radio that they had been trying to locate for months.
Can you tell the court anything about these items, sir?
Identification papers, some currency. What of them?
Perfect German-made ID papers. And Reichsmarks.
2,000 of them.
More than enough cash to make it through the country.
Bedford kept those beside his bunk.
Tell the court the nature of your relationship with Vic Bedford.
I did not have one...
Then do you have any idea how he may have gotten these items, sir?
If they didn't come from you, and if he never had any dealings with the guards...
The fact is, Colonel, Bedford traded with you and your men regularly.
- Objection, Your Honour! Objection! - He came up dry so you had him killed.
Lieutenant Hart,
I thought you tried marvelously
to establish that the killer had blackened his face with soot.
Now, if any of my guards, or even I, wanted to kill one of my prisoners,
Vic Bedford in this case,
we would hardly need to blacken our faces to do it.
Would we?
Move. Get in the corner, Webb.
Captain?
You see?
German uniforms. Explosives.
Yes, Captain. I see.
The trial's got nothing to do with Lincoln Scott, does it?
No.
It's the way it had to go.
We're out of time, Hart. We lose this theatre tomorrow.
Uh-huh. And I keep Visser and his men distracted while half the camp goes out?
Is that it, Captain?
I'm asking the wrong fuckin' guy.
I've just seen the tunnel, Colonel.
In here, Lieutenant.
Everything in this place is a lie. Everything.
Jesus Christ.
First he told the Germans about the radio.
It was only a matter of time before he told them about the tunnel.
You killed Bedford.
That's right.
And if you fuck with this operation in any way, I'll kill you, too.
You will sit in that courtroom as Captain Sisk drags out these proceedings.
Make whatever summation you like. But that's it.
When that board breaks to deliberate, 35 men go under the wire.
- And Lincoln Scott will be dead. - That's war.
- The war's at the front. We're not in it. - Speak for yourself!
You know those Russians they march in and out of here?
- Know where they go? - Munitions plant.
The army thinks it's a goddamn shoe factory.
Look,
I don't want to see Scott dead any more than you do.
But if one man has to be sacrificed to take out that target, that's the way it has to be.
- I agree completely, sir. - Good.
But I think that one man should be you.
Don't worry, I'll play my part. But at the end of the trial,
you're going to tap your little gavel,
you're going to stand up and confess to the murder. Your duty demands that!
Fuck you, Hart! What the fuck would you know about duty?
I'll see you in court, sir.
- Was ist los? - "Was ist los"? I got a better question.
What was in that goddamn soup last night? I got 20 men with food poisoning.
Colonel! Whoa! Colonel.
You're in no shape for the trial, sir.
I'm fine. I'm fine.
Here we go.
We'll convene as scheduled, after the Appell.
Square 'em up.
Barracks! Attention!
Come to order, gentlemen.
Captain Sisk,
is the prosecution ready to present its summation?
We are, Your Honour.
Very well.
I'm sorry, gentlemen. Court needs a five-minute recess before summations.
Colonel? Colonel?
Let's get him back to the barracks. Get his coat.
- You should get some rest, sir. - All right. Come on. Back to the barracks.
- We need an extension. He's very ill. - The agreement was the end of the week.
- It's a matter of courtesy, Colonel! - The agreement was today!
I need to talk to you.
You any good at poker, Lincoln?
There's an escape going to take place later on this afternoon.
Escape? How's that?
Down a tunnel, through that burned theatre wing.
While the jury's in deliberations.
You mean this whole thing's been a joke?
Yes.
But Archer and Bedford are dead for real.
- Is that part of this big joke, too? - Look, we haven't got time now.
During deliberations you're going out under the wire with 35 other men.
Is McNamara, too?
Yeah. McNamara, too.
It's funny. I was just writing my son.
And in the letter I was trying to explain to him what the word "honor" means.
Be a hell of a thing, wouldn't it?
To find out that your father helped 35 men escape from a place like this.
- Wouldn't it? - You're going out too. You got that?
I can't do that, Tommy.
Suppose the board comes back and there's nobody in the defendant's chair.
- It doesn't matter. You'll be out. - Then the search begins.
And all those men, they won't have a chance.
- Lincoln, if you stay, you'll be convicted. - If I stay,
those men are gonna have a chance.
And you'll be executed.
- Lincoln, listen to me. Please. - Everything's fine, Tommy.
Everything's really OK.
Just as long as he knows what happened here.
As long as there's somebody to tell him.
How far could I get, anyway?
A colored man running through the German countryside.
It'd be target practice.
It started with a noble idea.
Letting colored men join the fight.
But no one in the Air Corps considered what might happen
if one of those Tuskegee men ever got shot down.
No one ever asked what would happen if a colored officer was suddenly captured
and sent to a stalag like this one.
But Lincoln Scott was shot down, and he was sent to a stalag.
And once here, he wasn't just thrown in amongst white enlisted men,
he was quartered with them. Men like Staff Sergeant Vic Bedford.
Bedford, the real Bedford, was a man unknown to us.
Hateful, vengeful, with a bigotry that ran bone-deep.
A man who couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a roof with colored officers.
So he badgered Scott, baited him, even refused to respect Scott's rank,
then conspired to kill the only friend Scott had in this camp.
That's why Scott followed Bedford out
on the night in question, crept up behind him,
and snapped his neck.
Members of the board, we take no pleasure in prosecuting Lieutenant Scott.
But a capital charge requires that we put aside our passions and sympathies,
wedding ourselves solely to the truth.
It is this:
Lt Scott was positively, unimpeachably identified at the scene of the crime.
He had motive, he had opportunity, and he had an animus for the victim
which was confirmed even by his own testimony.
Lincoln Scott is an officer.
He is a soldier.
But he is also a murderer.
There's a tenet that was drummed into all of us from our first day in basic.
Sometimes one man must be sacrificed for the good of the men around him.
Someone has to be first to hit the beach, or to jump on a grenade,
or to draw enemy fire so coordinates can be drawn for mortar teams.
Vic Bedford learned that tenet, too. Except Vic got it backwards.
Vic thought sometimes a few hundred must be sacrificed for the good of one.
Him. For Vic, the watchword was expediency.
One day, he'd trade with our captors to get hard-to-find parts for a radio,
earning the loyalty of our commanding officer.
Then Vic would tell the Germans where to find that radio,
in exchange for the murder of Lamar Archer.
The army has its share of cowards.
And Vic Bedford was one of them.
It also has heroes. Soldiers like Lincoln Scott,
who wanted nothing more than to serve his country. And serve he did.
Nine downed German fighters. 30 missions.
Until one of those missions landed him here. Stalag 6A.
Where Vic Bedford and the sad sacks Bedford called friends were lying in wait.
Scott was a target from the second he got here.
He suffered insults, threats.
But he did not retaliate.
He did not kill Vic Bedford.
No.
Someone beat him to it.
It could have been any number of people.
A guard who thought that Bedford had cheated him.
A fellow Kriegie who discovered Bedford's treachery.
Even one of our officers as punishment for ratting out that radio.
So this, then, is our victim.
A bigot.
A traitor.
A rat.
Enemy of every Kriegie in camp.
The question is, who hated him enough to kill him?
Colonel.
I did.
- What are you saying, Lieutenant? - I killed Vic Bedford, sir.
Come on, Colonel. Come on.
I want every man in the compound present
for the execution of Lieutenant Hart.
- Very brave, ami. Very brave indeed. - Colonel, this man has rights.
- Not any more. - This court has to deliberate...
- I am the court now! - Out! Get 'em up. Get 'em up. Get 'em up.
Get out, get out, get out.
Herr Oberst!
We have a problem with the count.
How many are missing?
The first count is 35.
Ready the execution.
McNamara is not in his barracks.
Herr Oberst.
I want every man who participated in that court martial removed from the line!
- Colonel, I demand... - Silence!
Line them up for execution!
- Line them up! Now! - These men knew nothing, Colonel!
That's quite a comfort. Thank you. Line them up!
- You first! - These men knew nothing.
- You will be the first! - Colonel, they knew nothing!
Shoot them all! This one first!
Herr Kommandant!
So, your men are saboteurs as well.
No, Colonel. They're just soldiers.
They were following my orders. I assume complete responsibility.
That's very noble of you.
Seems you've won our duel after all, Colonel.
No.
We both lose, don't we?
Yeah.
And now you wish to trade your life for theirs?
Yes, I do.
Very well.
We buried the colonel in a marked grave behind the camp.
Three months later, the German army surrendered.
Our stalag was liberated. The war was over.
We returned home to America, to our families,
where Lincoln Scott got the chance to explain the word "honor" to his son.
Honour and courage.
Duty. Sacrifice.
Lincoln's son came to understand those words.
And so have I.