Scene
1 -
Mission Briefing: Tension and Camaraderie
EXT. SKY OVER LAOS – HIGH ALTITUDE – DAY
Silence.
A Phantom jet dives, slicing through the thin air, nose
pointed toward the valley floor.
BOMBS DROP. Below, a moment of stillness. Then — BOOM! The
valley erupts in a fireball of destruction.
The Phantom pulls up sharply. The SILENCE IS SHATTERED by the
deafening roar of an explosion. The JET SHAKES VIOLENTLY as
an explosion rips through the right engine.
WARNING ALARMS SHRIEK. Smoke floods the air. The control
stick JERKS in the pilot’s hands.
PILOT, BOXER 22 (V.O.
RADIO)(Panicked, urgent)
Boxer 22, you’re hit! Eject! Eject!
Eject!
FADE TO BLACK.
NARRATER (V.O.)
The rescue of Boxer 22 was a
mission shrouded in secrecy, deep
in the jungles of Laos - where the
war raged beyond official borders.
Though the world turned a blind
eye, some of the most brutal
battles of the Vietnam War were
fought here. When an aircrew went
down behind enemy lines, what
followed was the largest search-and-
rescue operation in U.S. Air Force
history - a desperate fight against
time, terrain, and an enemy that
never stopped hunting. For decades,
the details remained classified.
But this is the true story of
unwavering brotherhood, relentless
courage, and the unbreakable
promise to bring their own home.
FADE IN:
INT. 558TH TACTICAL FIGHTER WING, CAM RANH AIR BASE, SOUTH
VIETNAM
SUPERIMPOSE: “DECEMBER 5, 1969”
The sound of jet engines fades in the distance as flight
crews make their way to the briefing room.
The echo of footsteps fills the wood-paneled hallway. Framed
photographs and memorabilia line the walls, a silent
testament to the history of those who walked this path
before. At the end of the hall, they pass an American flag
and an aerial photo of the base. Crew members file into the
briefing room.
CUT TO:
INT. BRIEFING ROOM – DAY
A harsh fluorescent glow fills the room. Maps cover the front
wall. At the front, the FLIGHT OPERATIONS COMMANDER stands
behind a cluttered table with maps, papers, intelligence
reports scattered across the surface.
With a flick of his wrist, he stubs out his cigarette into a
green plaid bean bag ashtray — a small, personal touch in the
midst of professional chaos.
His gaze sweeps the room.
FLIGHT OPERATIONS COMMANDER
(Authoritative)
Morning, gentlemen. We’ve got a
busy day ahead.
(Scanning the room, his gaze
settling on Bergeron)
I do have a crew change. Lieutenant
Bergeron, you’re moving to Boxer 22
as the Radio Systems Officer.
You’ll be flying with Captain
Danielson. Your mission: wingman
for Boxer 21.
BERGERON and DANIELSON turn to each other, exchanging
nods—small, instinctive, yet loaded with understanding.
Danielson’s broad, easy-going smile makes him look like he
should be somewhere on a California beach, not in a war zone.
His neatly kept blond hair and relaxed confidence stand in
stark contrast to the tension hanging thick in the room.
Bergeron, by contrast, has short, dark, slightly tousled
hair. His bright eyes scan the room, always absorbing, always
assessing. There’s warmth in his expression, but there’s also
an energy.
Like he’s always ready for the next thing, whatever it may
be. His strong Louisiana accent adds an unmistakable rhythm
to his speech.
Bergeron and Danielson exchange a glance. A flicker of
acknowledgment, but it speaks volumes. A quiet understanding
passes between them, the unspoken bond of men who will soon
be trusting each other with their lives. A few subtle nods, a
slight smirk from Bergeron, then the moment is gone. The
briefing presses on, but the weight of what’s ahead lingers.
FLIGHT OPERATIONS COMMANDER (CONT'D)
(Grim, efficient)
The Ho Chi Minh trail continues to
be a key supply route for the North
Vietnamese. Your target is near Ban
Phanop. Intelligence estimates over
a thousand enemy troops in the
area. We need to disrupt their
supply line. Contact HILLSBORO once
airborne... Any questions?
The pilots exchange quick glances, but no one speaks. They
all know what’s ahead.
FLIGHT OPERATIONS COMMANDER (CONT'D)
Dismissed.
The pilots file out of the briefing room. Some light
cigarettes, others just shake their heads, letting out low
whistles at the briefing’s intensity.
LT. HARRIS
(Sarcastically)
Well, that was nice and vague.
Disrupt the supply line. No
problem. Maybe we just ask real
nice?
CAPT. ROGERS
(Smirking)
You volunteer to land and
negotiate, Harris? I’ll cover you
from 10,000 feet.
LT. EVANS
(Chuckling)
If Harris starts talking, they’ll
surrender just to shut him up.
LT. HARRIS
Hey, words are a powerful weapon.
My high school English teacher said
so.
LT. EVANS
Yeah? What’d your flight instructor
say?
CAPT. ROGERS (MOCK SERIOUS)
Please, God, let me retire before
this kid gets his wings.
The laughter lingers for a moment, then fades as the pilots
head towards the flight line. The mission looms ahead.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Wings of Responsibility
EXT. 558TH TACTICAL FIGHTER WING, CAM RANH AIR BASE, SOUTH
VIETNAM, EARLY MORNING
The flight line is alive. Engines roar, ground crews move in
controlled chaos, and the smell of jet fuel thickens the cool
morning air.
In the midst of the hustle, Danielson and Bergeron walk
toward their F-4C Phantom — tail number 444.
Danielson’s stride is unhurried, comfortable. Bergeron,
always scanning, soaks it all in—the way the morning sun
pierces the haze, the rhythmic clanking of tools, the low
rumble of distant takeoffs.
INTERCUT
DANIELSON
(Grinning, relaxed)
Mornin’, Woody. Always a good day
flyin’ with you.
Bergeron grins, his Louisiana accent rolling off his tongue
like a slow blues riff.
BERGERON
(Matching his grin)
Likewise, Ben. You’re the only
pilot I know who walks into combat
like he’s grabbin’ a cup of coffee.
Danielson exhales a quiet chuckle. For a moment, the weight
of the mission fades. His face softens — pride unmistakable,
but beneath it, something quieter. A shared understanding.
BERGERON (CONT'D)
So, how’s the family?
DANIELSON
(Proudly, warmly)
MARY’s holdin’ down the fort.
BRIAN’s eighteen months now —
growing too damn fast. I swear,
every picture I get, he looks
older. Like I’m missing a lifetime,
one snapshot at a time.
Bergeron chuckles, shaking his head as he runs a hand through
his hair.
BERGERON
That’s how they get ya. One minute
they’re learnin’ to walk, next
thing you know, they’re borrowin’
the car.
DANIELSON
(Laughing)
Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind fast-
forwarding to the part where I get
to go home.
Bergeron studies him. Danielson isn’t just talking about
missing them — he’s carrying the weight of how much they need
him. The kind of weight that doesn’t shake off, even with a
laugh.
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
(Curious, teasing)
How about you, Woody. Any thoughts
on settling down?
BERGERON
(Chuckling)
Someday, I hope. Just haven't met
the right one yet. I think about
it, though — settling down, raising
a family. But that’ll have to wait
‘til I get out of here.
DANIELSON
It’s nothin’ you couldn’t handle.
Bergeron smirks but doesn’t argue. Maybe Danielson’s right.
Maybe settling down isn’t a question of if, but when. Maybe
he’s just waiting for the war to give him the chance to find
out.
BERGERON
What about Mary? Is she stayin’ on
base?
Danielson exhales, his gaze drifting past the flight line, as
if he could see all the way home.
DANIELSON
(Quietly conflicted)
Nah, she went back to Kenyon. It’s
safer that way. She’ll have more
help with Brian.
(Pausing, long sigh)
It still feels wrong, like I left
her to handle it all alone.
BERGERON
(Reassuring)
Hell, man. You’re a world away,
doin’ what you gotta do. She knows
that.
DANIELSON
Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any
easier.
Bergeron nods, but something flickers in his expression —
something unspoken. Maybe he’s thinking about his own future.
Maybe he’s wondering if he’ll ever have something, someone,
worth missing this much.
BERGERON
(Raising an eyebrow)
Hopefully time will fly by for both
of us. By the way, where the hell
is Kenyon? Never heard of it.
DANIELSON
It’s a small town, southwest
Minnesota. I’d be surprised if
there’s more than 1,500 people. One
stoplight, a couple of churches, a
Main Street that rolls up at
sundown.
(Distant look in his eyes)
A perfect place to raise a family.
BERGERON
Sounds like my kinda place, except,
swap out the snow for a bayou.
(Nodding, thoughtful,
memories surfacing.)
I grew up in Napoleonville,
Louisiana. Tiny. Maybe a thousand
folks. Always plenty to do, though.
Just never took to the outdoors
much. Huntin’, fishin’— wasn’t my
thing. Had my sights set on the Big
Easy.
DANIELSON
(Smirking)
City boy, huh?
BERGERON
(grinning, but there’s
truth in it)
More like a dreamer. Never wanted
to be stuck in one place.
By contrast, Danielson longs for stability. Bergeron keeps
moving, afraid to be tied down. Two men, same war, different
battles.
DANIELSON
(Thoughtful)
You could have it too.
BERGERON
(Chuckling, shaking head)
Someday, maybe. Just hasn’t lined
up yet.
Danielson pulls out the photo of Mary, holding Brian, caught
mid-laugh. The warmth of the moment hits him, and he stares
at it, just long enough for the world around him to fade.
FLASHBACK: For a split second Danielson visualizes the day
the photo was taken.
A soft sigh. He presses a kiss to the corner of the photo,
his lips lingering for a fraction of a second more than
necessary. Then, with a careful hand, he tucks it near the
control panel, like a silent promise to keep them close.
DANIELSON
(Softly, reminiscing)
This is what keeps me goin’.
Bergeron watches, not just looking at the photo, but at
Danielson - at the life he has.
A life waiting for him, if he ever finds the right moment.
For a brief instant, the cockpit feels quieter, as if the
weight of that difference hangs between them.
Then, the sound of switches flicking and dials turning fills
the cockpit, pulling them both back to the present
BERGERON
Ben, all pre-flight checks are
complete. We're ready to go.
Danielson nods, adjusting his radio.
DANIELSON
(Confidently)
Thanks, Woody. It’s gonna be a
great day for flyin'.
(Danielson switches radio
frequencies)
Boxer 21, this is Boxer 22. Pre-
flight checks complete. We’re ready
for takeoff.
END INTERCUT
The pilot of Boxer 21 radios the control tower
CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR (V.O. RADIO)
Boxer 21 and 22, proceed to the
arming area. Once your weapons are
armed, you are clear to take off.
Ground crews move quickly, removing safety pins from the
weapons. Tension rises as the planes prepare for their
mission.
The planes race down the runway, engines screaming. Danielson
pushes the throttle forward. The aircraft lift off, heading
towards their objective.
HILLSBORO (V.O. RADIO)
Bravo 21 & 22, weather is poor in
your primary target location.
Procced to your alternate mission,
STEEL TIGER. Contact NAIL 12 for
targeting orders.
DANIELSON
(Shaking his head)
STEEL TIGER, again. Everyone's
hitting that area.
BERGERON
(Nodding)
Three-thousand-foot ridges, narrow
valley, possible guns...you ever
get the feeling we’re doin’ the
same mission over and over?
DANIELSON (MOCK BORED)
Yup. Wake me up when they come up
with somethin’ new, like a wide
open field with no threats.
BERGERON
Or maybe an enemy that just
surrenders at the first flyover.
That’d be nice.
DANIELSON (CHUCKLING)
Good thing we’re professionals.
Just two guys casually threading a
canyon with people shooting at us.
BERGERON
Yep. Just another day at the
office.
Once in the area, Nail 12 radios the operation order.
1LT THOMAS LEARD, PILOT NAIL 12 (V.O.
RADIO)
We've identified targets south of
Ban Phanhop along the Nam Gho River
in the Mu Gia Pass. The primary
target is the road west of the
river. The area is marked with
white phosphorus smoke. There are
reports of guns in the vicinity,
but I haven't seen any activity so
far today.
The calmness in the transmission contrasts with the tension
of the mission — familiar, but still dangerous.
The pass is in a canyon, with 3,000-foot ridges on either
side. Route 23 runs through the half mile wide valley floor,
running south to north. The karst walls rise 1,200 to 2,000
feet on both sides of the valley, barren, pockmarked with
hundreds of bomb craters.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. COCKPIT BOXER 22 - DAY
White phosphorus smoke billows below, marking the drop zone.
Boxer 21 dives first, releasing its ordnance. Explosions
bloom across the valley floor. Boxer 22 follows, slicing
through the sky.
BOOM. The cockpit shudders violently. ENEMY FIRE RIPS THROUGH
THE FUSELAGE. Tracer rounds flash past like searing-hot
needles, slicing the air.
INTERCUT
BERGERON
(Panicked)
WE'RE HIT! WE'RE HIT! Our right
engine is gone!
ALARMS SCREAM — a shrill, mechanical death cry. The
instrument panel glows red, warning lights flickering. Flames
and smoke choke the cockpit.
DANIELSON
(Gritting teeth, wrestling
the controls)
I CAN’T HOLD IT! I’M LOSING
CONTROL!
The stick shudders violently in his grip.
BERGERON
LEFT ENGINE’S DEAD! HYDRAULICS
GONE!
The plane bucks and tilts, spiraling toward the earth.
The pilot of Boxer 21 banks hard, his eyes locked on his
wingman’s burning aircraft.
BOXER 22 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Shouting)
Boxer 22, you're hit! EJECT! EJECT!
(Brief pause, then—)
Mayday! Boxer 22's been hit and is
going down!
Smoke fills the cockpit. Caution alarms howl, merging into an
unbearable, nerve-shredding symphony of destruction.
DANIELSON
(Strained)
PUNCH OUT—NOW!
The canopy EXPLODES away. A split second later, Danielson is
RIPPED from the cockpit, catapulted into the open sky. The
sudden force crushes the air from his lungs. Wind roars past
him, a violent, deafening whirlwind. His photo of Mary and
Brian flutters for half a heartbeat. Then, like a ghost, it’s
gone.
Bergeron is catapulted next. WHAM! 500 knots of wind slams
into him like a brick wall. His helmet smashes into his nose,
pain shooting through his face as blood erupts, blinding him.
Disoriented. Spinning. Free-falling. The sky and jungle twist
together in a nauseating, high-speed blur. Somewhere in the
chaos, his mind screams at him. Deploy the chute. But it’s
happening too fast.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Descent into Danger
EXT. SKY – MOMENTS LATER
Bergeron’s parachute deploys, then JERKS violently.
Something’s wrong. The canopy twists, the ground rushing up
too fast. A broken riser cable is causing his twisting
decent.
BERGERON
(Grimacing, straining)
C’mon, c’mon—
He stabs at the broken riser cable, each motion a desperate
fight against the chaos. The wind tears at him, rips past
him, pulling him in every direction. Finally, his fingers
find the cable, and with a roar of exertion he pulls, muscles
straining, fighting against the spin.
His eyes scan the terrain below — jungle. Thick. Unforgiving.
The river, his only chance. The decision hits him in a flash.
At 20 feet, Bergeron reaches for his harness, unclips, AND
DROPS. THWACK! His body slams into the earth, the shock of
impact rattling through him as he tumbles down a cold muddy
slope. He finally comes to rest at the river’s edge, gasping
for air, chest heaving. Pain flares through his ribs, but he
fights through it, focusing on the river.
His parachute and survival gear dangle in a tree, uselessly
out of reach.
Blood drips from his shattered nose, warm and sticky,
trickling down his face. He rips off his glove, pressing
fabric against the wound to fashion a crude tourniquet. His
chest heaves, but he takes a deep breath, pushing the pain
down, shoving it aside.
Survival mode kicks in. His fingers move quickly, patting his
survival vest — two radios, three batteries. A flicker of
relief, he’s got what he needs. He exhales, gripping the
radio like a lifeline.
Meanwhile, Danielson’s parachute deploys fully, but the
descent is too erratic. SNAP! The chute catches in a large
tree, yanking him to a brutal halt 40 feet up. He hangs
there, his body jerking, limbs flailing as he dangles in the
air. His breath is ragged, disoriented. The world spins,
adrenaline pounding through his veins, raw and real.
DANIELSON
(Under his breath)
Shit! Could be worse...but not by
much
He reaches for his tree lowering lanyard. One deep breath,
then he drops. His boots hit the ground hard, his ankle
twists beneath him.
PAIN. WHITE-HOT. SHARP. He stumbles, choking down a groan,
forcing himself upright. His gear still dangles above, out of
reach. There’s no time to dwell. Survival mode kicks in. He
limps into the thick scrub, jaw clenched, the pain shooting
through him with every step. He ignores it. Focused. Moving.
Bergeron drops to one knee, cupping his radio.
BERGERON
(Urgently)
Mayday. This is Boxer 22 Bravo. On
the ground, eastern side of the
river. No injuries. Limited
survival gear.
A beat of static. Then, Danielson’s voice, strained with
pain.
DANIELSON
(Strained, breathing hard)
Mayday. This is Boxer 22 Alpha. On
the ground, western side of the
river. Ankle injury. No survival
gear.
Both men fall silent, the enormity of their situation
settling in like a cold weight. The jungle presses in around
them, a relentless hum of unseen life — dangerous, patient.
The enemy is out there. Somewhere.
They’re alive, but that’s only the beginning. The fight to
stay that way has just begun.
END INTERCUT
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Operation Rescue: The Call to Action
EXT. SKY ABOVE VALLEY, DAY
The two parachutes stand out starkly against the valley
floor, fluttering in the morning wind. One on the eastern
side of the river, the other on the western side. Separated.
Vulnerable.
1LT THOMAS LEARD (V.O. RADIO)
(Relieved)
Boxer 22 Alpha and Bravo, I have
eyes on your chutes. Search and
Rescue is en route. Hold tight.
A tense pause. The pock-marked valley, looking more like the
moon conceals danger lurking beneath.
CUT TO:
INT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE (NKP) AIRBASE
OPERATIONS COMMAND CENTER
The 20x20 room is alive with phones ringing, voices
overlapping, the air thick with cigarette smoke and tension.
The harsh industrial lights overhead cast sharp shadows on
the consoles below.
At the far end, SGT STAFFORD, early 30s, sharp-eyed and all
business, answers a ringing phone.
MAJOR GUILFOYL (O.S.)
(Quick, authoritative)
This is Major Guilfoyl from Combat
Operations in Udorn. We've got an
aircraft down, callsign Boxer 22.
We need immediate SAR support.
Stafford processes the weight of the call. His jaw tightens.
SGT STAFFORD
(Turning, voice cutting
through the chaos)
CAPTAIN STARNES!
A flurry of movement. Capt. Starnes rushes over, eyes locked
on Stafford’s. No words needed. The two exchange a sharp nod
before Starnes grabs the phone.
SGT STAFFORD (CONT'D)
(Loud, commanding)
Listen up! We've got a plane down!
Notify Search and Air Rescue at
NKP.
The entire room shifts. Phones snap up, pens scratch across
maps, airmen relay coordinates. The calm is gone. Now it’s
action.
SUPERIMPOSE: “December 5, 1969 - 10:30”
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY ALERT SHACK, NKP FLIGHT LINE.
The Jolly Alert Shack is a cramped, palely lit room lined
with worn chairs and a couch. Flight gear is scattered around
the room. A coffee pot sits half-full on a metal table. The
air is thick with the scent of sweat, stale coffee, and
cigarettes. A radio hums softly in the background.
The room is calm — too calm. The stillness is shattered by a
BLARE! A klaxon erupts, shaking the air, drowning out the
radio.
The Jolly Green crews snap into action. Boots slam against
the floor. Gear yanked on, strapped down. Over the
loudspeaker—
OPERATIONS CLERK (V.O.SPEAKER)
(Urgent, rapid-fire)
Downed aircraft. Search and Rescue
requested. Launch the Jollys!
Repeat — Launch the Jollys!
Sgt. DOUG HORKA grabs his flight vest, grinning even as the
tension thickens around him. Ever the joker, he can’t help
himself.
SGT DOUG HORKA
(with a grin, to no one in
particular)
Who’s in the shit now?
PILOT (O.S.)
Yup. Somebody’s shit just went
sideways.
CUT TO:
EXT. NKP FLIGHT LINE, DAY
A-1 Skyraider pilots drive to their jets. Jolly Green crews
board their choppers near the shack. Weapons are armed, and
the planes prepare for takeoff. A whirlwind of activity.
CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR (V.O. RADIO)
(Steady, but urgent)
SANDY 1, this is the tower. Proceed
with full priority. Contact KING 1
once airborne.
Sandy 1 and Sandy 2 roar into the sky first, their powerful
engines shriek as they climb.
Behind them - Sandy 3 and Sandy 4 launch, circling the
airfield, their mission clear — escort the Jolly Greens.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 11:03”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Focused, determined)
King 1, Sandy 1 and Sandy 2 are
airborne and inbound for the SAR.
We’re standing by for additional
information.
KING 1 (V.O. RADIO)
(Calm, clear, tactical)
Proceed approximately three miles
south of the road junction at Delta
30 - at the mouth of the Mu Gia
Pass. Boxer 22 Alpha and Bravo are
down. The on-scene aircraft reports
two chutes on the ground and good
comms with both survivors.
LT GEORGE adjusts his heading and leads SANDY 1 and SANDY 2
towards the designated rescue site.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Rescue at Mu Ghia Pass
EXT. SKY ABOVE MU GHIA PASS – DAY
Sandy 1 and Sandy 2 arrive over the rescue area, circling
high over the valley. Parachutes are visible, two small dots
against the rugged terrain. They scan the area, making
contact with the survivors.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
Boxer 22 Alpha, this is Sandy 1,
how copy?
CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON’S POSITION, DAY
Danielson crouches low in the thick scrub, his chest rising
and falling rapidly, his heart pounding in his ears. Sweat
trails down his face, but he barely notices. His eyes are
fixed, unblinking, on the movement near his chute.
Just 15 meters away, enemy soldiers fan out, rifles raised,
scanning the area. His breath catches in his throat. His
fingers tighten on the radio—his only connection to survival,
to the outside world.
DANIELSON
(Hushed, urgent)
Sandy 1, this is Alpha. I have
enemy troops within 15 meters of my
chute on the west side of the
river. I need help.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (V.O. RADIO)
(Calm, controlled,
seasoned under fire)
I see‘em, Alpha. Keep your head
down. We’re comin’ in.
CUT TO:
INT. COCKPIT OF SANDY 1
LT. George is a seasoned pilot, his sharp eyes honed by years
of combat experience. He’s the kind of man who instinctively
knows when something’s off, even in the chaos of battle. His
reflexes are quick, his focus razor-sharp. But beneath the
surface, there’s a growing weight of responsibility. He feels
the pressure of the lives he’s in charge of, and it gnaws at
him in ways he can’t shake off. His tense demeanor often
reflects the constant second-guessing that haunts him. What
if the choice he makes is the wrong one?
He rarely speaks about home. It’s easier that way, to keep
his focus on the mission and nothing else. But in the quiet
moments between missions, when the adrenaline fades and the
ghosts of war start whispering, the weight of isolation pulls
him deeper. He wonders if he’ll ever feel the warmth of a
life outside of this endless cycle of combat. But there’s no
time for that. He’s needed here, and that’s all that matters.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Decisive)
Sandy 2, we’re gonna drop cluster
bombs and provide gun support. I’ll
cover Alpha to the west, you cover
Bravo to the east. How copy?
Danielson clenches his jaw, pressing himself flat against the
earth as the roar of engines grows deafening. The Sandys dive-
CLUSTER BOMBS DETONATE. The ground convulses, dirt and smoke
erupting into the sky. Enemy shouts turn to screams. The
blast wave rolls over Danielson, dust and debris hammering
his back. The smell of gunpowder fill the air.
DANIELSON
(Relieved, anxious)
Sandy 1, this is Boxer 22 Alpha.
The enemy has left my area. Good
shootin'.
He risks a glance. Smoke billows over the valley, obscuring
enemy positions. But it’s not over.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Desperate Call for Air Support
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
The Sandys climb sharply, banking hard. Enemy tracers explode
from the northern karst formations, streaking toward them.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Urgent)
Nail 12, heavy gun positions in the
northern karst! We need fast movers
in here to knock‘em out! How copy?
1LT THOMAS LEARD, PILOT NAIL 12 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Tense, clipped)
Received.
(MORE)
1LT THOMAS LEARD, PILOT NAIL 12 (V.O.
I’ll coordinate targeting when
additional aircraft arrive on-
scene.
CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
Enemy rounds rip into the dirt, too close, kicking up dust
that stings Danielson’s eyes. He presses lower, every breath
tight in his chest. A close-up shows the fear and
determination on his face as he sees them. The enemy
regrouping.
At the base of the karsts, cave mouths yawn open like the
throat of some beast. Then, FWOOMP-FWOOMP! Twin-barrel anti-
aircraft guns ignite, vomiting tracers skyward.
DANIELSON
(Urgently)
Sandy 1! Alpha and Bravo are taking
heavy fire!
He locks onto the source, seeing the glint of gun barrels in
the cave, half-hidden in shadow.
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
Southeast of Bravo’s position, twin-
barrel guns in a cave, base of the
karst!
LT. GEORGE grips the stick tight, sweat beading on his brow,
his knuckles white. Below, the battlefield unfolds like a
goddamn nightmare. Steep cliffs, jagged terrain, caves
lurking in the shadows, and gunfire flashing from positions
he can't even see.
His mind races, every movement in the jungle an unknown
threat. But he forces himself to stay locked in, to keep his
focus sharp. The weight of his crew’s lives presses harder
with every passing second, but he doesn’t let up — can’t let
up.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (V.O. RADIO)
Alpha, message received. A-1s are
inbound to target the area.
A deep, throaty ROAR fills the valley.
Danielson glances up Two A-1 Skyraiders drop into a dive,
their cannons chattering. Streams of lead rake across the
caves. BOOM! Explosions gut the mountainside, sending rock
and bodies flying.
For a moment-silence. Then, more tracers spit from the smoke.
The enemy’s still there.
DANIELSON
(Grimly)
Son of a bitch!
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Smoke and Strategy
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Lt. George’s knuckles tighten on the stick. His eyes scan the
battlefield. The karsts are too steep. The A-1s don’t have
room to maneuver.
A-1 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Strained, frustrated)
Sandy 1, I damn near scraped my
tailpipe dropping in. No room for
error.
George grits his teeth—thinks fast.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Quick thinking)
Boxer 22 Alpha and Bravo, A-1s
couldn’t clear the gun position,
they’re too protected. We can’t
risk iron bombs—Bravo’s too close.
(A beat—then he keys the
radio again.)
We’re gonna lay down a smoke chain
along the karst and north of your
position. That’ll buy you cover.
Once the smoke’s in place, we’re
bringing in a Jolly to extract you.
(A beat—dry, but
reassuring)
Then it’s back to base for a beer.
CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON’S POSITION, DAY
A round slams into the embankment above Bergeron, sending a
spray of dirt over his flight suit. He flinches, heart
hammering. Enemy tracers cut through the smoke—but they’re
not aimed at him. They’re tracking Danielson.
Bergeron’s jaw tightens. He grips his radio tighter, watching
the battle unfold ahead.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 12:40
LT GEORGE watches as plumes of white smoke begin unfurling
over the valley, curling through the air like ghosts.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (V.O. RADIO)
(Firm but calm)
Alpha and Bravo, smoke’s going down
on the gun batteries. Alpha, you’re
first.
Bergeron exhales slowly, fingers flexing around the radio.
He’s ready...for whatever comes next.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Thick smoke billows from the canisters dropped by the A-1s,
rolling through the valley in dense waves.
LT. GEORGE grips the stick, his eyes locked on the terrain
below. Through gaps in the swirling haze, he catches glimpses
of gunfire flashes. The enemy is still out there.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Eyes narrowing, focused
on the terrain below)
JOLLY 37, Sandys 1 and 2 will
escort. Alpha’s on the western side
of the river. Look for the chute.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. JOLLY 37 COCKPIT, DAY
The rotors thunder, sending tremors through the airframe as
Jolly 37 descends into the valley. The air is chaos — thick
with smoke, dust, and swirling debris.
The chopper dips lower as gunfire erupts below. Tracer rounds
streak through the haze like snakes of fire, forcing the crew
to maneuver. The sound of ricocheting off the chopper adds to
the stress. Inside the cabin, SSGT HOBERG, the Pararescueman
(PJ), braces against the door, his weapon rattling in
controlled bursts. Empty shell casings begin to cover the
floor.
CAPT HOILMAN, PILOT JOLLY 37,
(Shouting to crew)
Gas masks on!
The crew quickly secure their masks. Their visibility
shrinking to near zero in the choking haze.
The chopper moves cautiously, creeping toward Danielson’s
chute, but the smoke distorts everything.
SGT. HOBERG leans out, squinting into the murk. The wind rips
at his gear, his gloved hands gripping the doorframe tight.
Then, a flash of white.
SGT HOBERG
(Urgent, pointing ahead)
Alpha’s chute is 10 meters out, 10
o’clock! But I can’t see him!
Tracer rounds ERUPT from multiple directions. Bullets PEPPER
the fuselage.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Lt. George’s knuckles whiten on the stick as he watches Jolly
37 take heavy fire. The chopper is pinned down, rounds
sparking off its armor.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Urgent, commanding)
Sandy 40, get some ordnance down
there! The Jolly’s taking big hits!
SANDY 40 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Tense, clipped)
Sandys 41-45, target all visible
gun positions!
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 37, DAY
The airframe screams as bullets tear into the fuselage.
Hoberg ducks, his back pressed against the cabin wall as
rounds rip through the doorframe.
SGT HOBERG
(Yelling over gunfire)
We're taking fire from all sides!
Still no visibility on Alpha!
Explosions erupt across the ridgeline, shaking the cabin,
sending shockwaves that rock their position. The blasts tear
into enemy positions, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough.
The gunfire keeps coming, relentless and savage, tearing
through the chaos.
The warning lights flash. Red, frantic. The engine strain
whines through the cabin, the sound a metallic screech that
cuts through the pounding noise of the battle. The smell of
smoke and gunpowder fill the air.
CAPT HOILMAN, PILOT JOLLY 37,
(Gritting teeth)
Sandy 1, no visual on Alpha.
I’ve burnt the shit outta these
engines. We gotta RTB.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (V.O. RADIO)
(Exhaling sharply)
Jolly 37, proceed on a heading of
180 degrees. Clear the valley and
return to base.
CAPT HOILMAN, PILOT JOLLY 37,
(Grim, steady)
Sandy 1, received. Crawling out
now.
Hoilman yanks the cyclic, pulling the Jolly upward. Black
smoke trails from the engines.
The airframe shudders under the strain. Tracer rounds CHASE
them, slicing through the air until The chopper clears the
ridgeline.
Gunfire fades. Inside the cockpit, the crew finally exhales.
Down below, Danielson is still in the fight.
CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
Danielson watches as JOLLY 37 lumbers away, thick black smoke
belching from its engines. He watches, jaw clenched so tight
it aches. They were so close. Then a new sound. SCREAMING JET
ENGINES.
Danielson’s head snaps up just as two A-1 Skyraiders dive out
of the sun, low and fast. Canisters tumble in the air.
THUNK—THUNK—THUNK!
The first canister of “Vodka”(riot control gas)bursts on
impact. A tidal wave of white gas explodes outward, devouring
the valley. Danielson sucks in a sharp breath — then freezes.
Vodka gas. Every muscle in his body locks up.
He buries his face into his sleeve, pressing into the dirt,
his heart pounding in his chest. The mist surges over him,
thick and suffocating, clawing at his skin, choking his
throat. Burning. His lungs scream for air, the pressure in
his chest tightening, unbearable.
His instincts roar. MOVE. RUN. GET OUT. But he doesn’t. He
stays still, paralyzed by the gas, by the knowledge of what
it’s doing to him. He just waits.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Lt. George scans the battlefield below. The valley is now a
white abyss — shifting, swirling like a living thing. His jaw
is set, every muscle taut, as if willing the fog to clear.
Last time they came in here, it ended in disaster. His mind
flashes to the failed rescue attempt-the men left behind, the
air thick with the stench of failure. He can still hear the
echoes of their voices in his head. He pushes the thought
aside, focusing on the task at hand. There’s no room for
hesitation now.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Calm, steady—calculating)
22 Alpha, this is Sandy 1. What’s
your status?
DANIELSON (V.O. RADIO)
(Strained, breathing hard)
Enemy fire has trailed off. No
troops nearby.
George exhales slowly, his eyes locked on the battlefield.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Firm, but cautious)
Stand by. I have a Jolly in-bound.
Alpha’s first.
LT George switches frequencies, contacting the pilot of Jolly
09, CAPT PFANSCHMIDT.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (CONT'D)
Jolly 09, this is Sandy 1. Proceed
with your run. Two Sandys will
escort.
CUT TO:
EXT. SKY ABOVE THE VALLEY – DAY
Jolly 09 appears. A green beast against the sky. But
something’s wrong. Instead of a low, fast approach, Capt.
Pfanschmidt descends from 8,700 feet.
The downwash from the chopper churns the air. The white mist
unravels. The valley is revealed too soon. A grave mistake.
CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
The low thump-thump-thump of Jolly 09’s rotors fills the air.
Danielson’s pulse spikes. He signals desperately — arms out,
waving.
Then HELL ERUPTS. Tracer rounds rip through the sky,
screaming toward the chopper. Danielson ducks as enemy fire
tears into the brush around him.
Up above, Jolly 09’s door gunners unleash hell. Miniguns
spitting fire, the barrels glowing hot. But the enemy’s
firepower is overwhelming.
INT. JOLLY 09 COCKPIT, DAY
The cockpit is chaos. ALARMS SHRIEK. Rounds slam into the
fuselage, punching through metal like paper. The stick
vibrates violently in Pfanschmidt’s grip.
CAPT PFANSCHMIDT
(Straining to control the
aircraft)
Sandy 1, we can't stay here! We’re
takin’ heavy hits! We need to get
outta here!
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Lt. George watches, teeth gritted. The smoke screen is gone.
Enemy fire is too heavy. Jolly 09 is barely holding together.
Decision made.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Firm, decisive)
Jolly 09, Abort! Turn to heading
180 degrees and start an immediate
climb.
CAPT PFANSCHMIDT (V.O. RADIO)
(Grim)
Sandy 1, we’ve got engine burnout
and a transmission leak. We’re RTB
with Jolly 37.
The smell of hydraulic fluid and smoke fills the chopper,
thick and acrid. It clings to their gear, their skin a
constant reminder of how close the fight is.
Lt. George follows the chopper’s retreat with his eyes. Jolly
09 limps away, trailing smoke, the enemy’s tracers still
chasing. Until they clear the valley.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Desperate Measures
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
Danielson’s stomach sinks. Two rescue attempts — both failed.
Each one had been a chance, a glimmer of hope, now snuffed
out. The silence left behind feels heavier than the gunfire.
He swallows hard, forcing down the frustration clawing at his
throat. Nothing. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
FLASHBACK: Then, a flash of home. Mary’s tired smile. The
soft creak of the floorboards beneath her chair. His son’s
laughter, high and bright, as he toddled across their living
room, arms outstretched. A warmth so real he could almost
touch it.
Now, all of it feels like another lifetime. A different
world. He blinks, forcing himself back into the present.
Focus. Survive. That’s the only way he gets back to them.
INTERCUT
Bergeron ducks low, gripping his radio as Danielson’s
transmission crackles through.
DANIELSON
(Frustrated)
I’m havin’ a hard time finding
decent cover. It’s all scrub brush.
Do you have eyes on me?
Bergeron scans the valley — nothing.
BERGERON
(Reassuring)
I don’t, but that may be good news.
Danielson shifts, uneasy. Not seeing him means the enemy
might not either.
DANIELSON
I’ll dig in and lay low.
BERGERON
Can you make it to the river?
Danielson glances toward the distant riverbank. Too far. Too
exposed.
DANIELSON
(Grimacing)
If I move they’ll see me. Besides,
my ankle’s shot.
Bergeron grips his radio tighter, his jaw flexing. His eyes
sweep the valley, scanning for movement — for threats, for
hope.
BERGERON
(Firm, unwavering)
Don’t worry I’ve got your back.
Danielson exhales, leaning back against the dirt. Exhaustion
presses down like a weight.
DANIELSON (V.O.)
(Quiet, resigned)
How many more tries before they
give up? Before we’re killed... or
rescued?
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
LT. GEORGE surveys the valley below. Smoke thick, enemy fire
alive. Flashes of gunfire cut through the haze like
lightning.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Focused)
Alpha, Bravo — we’re hitting the
area hard before another attempt.
Dig in. Expect heavy strikes for
the next hour.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 13:04”
Below, the valley erupts. Mortars, rockets, and gunfire
collide in a deafening hellstorm.
A pilot’s voice cuts through the chaos—amped up, frustrated.
SANDY 40 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Impatient)
We’re screwing around when we’ve
got ordnance to drop. Let’s start
throwin’ some of this stuff around!
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Nodding in agreement)
All Sandys—let’s go to work.
Explosions ripple through the valley, shaking the karsts.
Enemy positions vanish in fire and dust.
George glances at his fuel gauge — dangerously low. He
switches frequencies.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1
(Urgent, matter of fact)
SANDY 3, I'm low on fuel. I need
you to take over as Lead.
CAPT Rounce agrees to be the Lead Sandy.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 1 (CONT'D)
All aircraft. Sandy 3 is now Lead.
(switching radio
frequencies)
Boxer 22 Alpha and Bravo. Sandy 3
is Lead. He’ll contact you at 14:00
with an update. Stay safe. Keep
your heads down.
Capt. Rounce is a battle-hardened leader, a man forged by
experience and responsibility. Rounce came up through the Air
Force as a natural leader, earning respect not just through
rank but through action. He has flown countless Combat Search
and Rescue (CSAR) missions, many deep into hostile territory
where survival was uncertain. When it comes to getting his
men out of enemy territory, he’ll push the envelope as far as
it needs to go.
Rounce has seen missions go south. Now, as Boxer 22’s rescue
unfolds, Rounce is in the pilot’s seat, leading the charge.
Failure isn’t an option. Not this time.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Tension on the Battlefield
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Bergeron remains hunched along the eastern riverbank, breath
controlled, body still. The ridge above, barely twenty feet
high, offers little protection. He knows it. He stays low.
His movements earlier had been slow, deliberate. Crawling
from bush to bush, inch by inch, trying to vanish into the
terrain. Now, he’s out of options.
A dull throbbing behind his eyes. He loosens the blood-
streaked bandage on his forehead. The bleeding’s stopped.
Good enough. The tourniquet disappears into his pocket.
He exhales, muscles tight. Then he listens. Distant echoes.
Gunfire. Voices. The war still hunting him.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 3 COCKPIT, DAY
CAPT. ROUNCE scans the smoke-choked battlefield below, eyes
sharp, calculating. The rescue window is closing.
CAPT ROUNCE, SANDY LEAD
(Commanding, focused)
All aircraft with smoke and “vodka”
- target the base of the karts to
build smoke walls.
A-1 Skyraiders sweep low, canisters tumbling from their
wings. THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. BOOM—HISS. Thick white gas erupts,
rolling through the valley like a living thing. It curls over
the ridgelines, smothering enemy positions in a blinding fog.
Rounce watches the smoke spread, hold. Then, he switches
frequencies.
CAPT ROUNCE, SANDY LEAD (CONT'D)
(Resolute)
It’s been a few minutes since the
last drop. The smoke walls are
holding. We’re giving this another
shot. Alpha, you’re up first.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 14:20”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 3 COCKPIT, DAY
The radio crackles, static hissing between transmissions.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy 3, King 6 is taking over as
Airborne Mission Command.
CAPT ROUNCE, SANDY LEAD
(Grim, frustrated but
professional)
King 6, received. Be advised that
Sandys 3 and 4 are getting low on
fuel and ammo. We need to return to
base.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
All aircraft. Be advised that SANDY
5 is the new Lead. Sandy 5 is the
new Lead.
CAPT. ROUNCE grips the stick tight, eyes locked on the
battlefield below. Smoke churns. Fire smolders. Tracers slice
through the haze like bolts of lightning. He banks left,
completing one final circle over the wreckage. The valley is
still alive with chaos.
A fresh burst of frustration coils in his chest. His right
hand clenches — THUD. He slams it against the cockpit frame.
The impact is dull, swallowed by the howl of the engines.
A moment of stillness. Fingers flex, then steadily switch
frequencies. His voice is clear, commanding.
CAPT ROUNCE, SANDY LEAD
22 Alpha and Bravo, this is Sandy
3. Be advised that Sandys 3 and 4
are returning to base for fuel and
ammo. Sandy 5 is now Lead. Hang in
there.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Final Descent
INT. JOLLY 76, DAY
JOLLY 76 (HH-53 Super Jolly Green Giant) hovers in the
staging area, three miles from the valley. Its rotors chop
through the thick air as it completes aerial refueling. The
last chance before diving back into the fire.
Inside, SGT JIM CORCORAN, the Flight Engineer, stares out the
open door. In the distance, tracer fire rips through the sky,
painting the ridgelines in violent streaks of red.
He turns to A1C DAVISON, his expression tight.
SGT CORCORAN
(Quiet, uneasy)
Hey, Davie...it’s lookin’ shitty
down there.
(A pause. Then, almost
hesitantly)
I wrote a letter. In case...I don’t
make it back.
He hands him a folded note. Davison glances at it, then tucks
it into his breast pocket.
A1C DAVISON
(grinning, dismissive)
Don’t worry about it, Jim. We’re
gonna get’em out and we’ll be just
fine.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD(V.O. RADIO)
Jolly 76, you and your escorts will
proceed from the south, heading due
north.
(MORE)
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD(V.O.
Alpha is the priority on the
western side of the river. How
copy?
CAPT BELL, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Steady and professional)
Received. We’re heading in.
The chopper drops fast and low, hugging the terrain. Then,
all hell breaks loose.
WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP—Enemy fire tears through the sky, rattling
the fuselage. The sharp crack of bullets punching into metal
echoes through the cabin, each impact sending vibrations
through the floor.
SGT CORCORAN grips the frame as anti-aircraft bursts detonate
just outside the right side of the chopper.
SGT CORCORAN
(Shouting over comms)
We’ve got AA fire! Matching
altitude and airspeed!
The explosions stay just far enough to avoid a kill shot, but
PING-PING-PING! Shrapnel hammers the fuselage. Then a hard
rattle. The chopper bucks sideways.
SGT CROWDER, the Pararescueman, grips his gun tighter.
SGT CROWDER, PARARESCUEMAN
We're takin’ fire from all
locations.
From the #3 gun position, Davison fires back.
A1C DAVISON
(Focused, determined)
I’m engaged! Heavy gun in the
karst. We’re takin’ hits!
A CRACK. A spray of red. Davison’s body slumps. Blood running
down his face. Corcoran and Crowder are unable to assist
Davison.
SGT CORCORAN
(Urgency)
Davison’s down! HE’S HIT!
The chopper shudders under fire. Corcoran scrambles to
Davison’s side.
CAPT BELL, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Panicked)
Sandy 3, we’re takin’ so many hits
it sounds like we’re in a popcorn
machine! I’ve got a man down. I
need a heading out!
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
(Frustrated)
Jolly 76, turn heading 180 degrees.
Jolly 72 and two Skyraiders will
escort you back to base.
The chopper banks hard, veering out of the kill zone. Smoke
pours from the engines. Enemy tracers chase them, ripping
through the sky, until they’re clear. But inside, it’s not
over.
The roar of wind drowns out alarms. Hydraulic fluid sprays
into the air, mixing with smoke. The floor is slick, shell
casings roll with every violent shudder of the aircraft.
Corcoran and Crowder kneel beside Davison.
Corcoran kneels and assesses Davison, but there’s nothing to
save. Crowder’s hands are stained crimson, his breathing
shallow and unsteady.
SGT CORCORAN
(Low, voice breaking)
Sir, Davison’s gone.
He...he got hit just below the eye.
We tried everything, but...
(voice trailing off)
We couldn’t save him.
On the opposite side, Corcoran’s gaze locks on the folded
paper still tucked into Davison’s breast pocket. He reaches
for it, hesitates. His hand hovers for a moment, then moves
to gently pull the paper free. As he holds it, a flash of
memory hits him.
FLASHBACK: Corcoran’s thoughts drift back to a rare, quiet
evening. It was after a long day of missions, and the base
was winding down. He and Davison had found a small patch of
grass behind the barracks, away from the noise. They cracked
open two beers, the cold cans a small but welcome luxury.
They didn’t say much at first, just sat side by side,
watching the last light of the day fade into a deep, dark
sky. It was one of those moments when the noise of the war
seemed distant, almost irrelevant.
Corcoran remembered how Davison had leaned back, kicking his
boots up on a nearby log, a small, satisfied grin on his
face. He didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to be anywhere
else. For just that moment, there was no mission, no orders,
just the simple act of sharing a beer. It was the closest
thing to peace they’d felt in a long time.
CAPT BELL and his co-pilot exchange a look. No words, just
the weight of loss settling in.
CAPT BELL, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Glancing back at the crew
compartment)
We’re having flight control issues.
Be ready to bail out.
SGT CORCORAN
(Jaw tight)
Keep it steady, every foot in the
air is better than on the ground.
(Turning to Crowder, voice
grim)
We may need to jump. We need a plan
for Davie if we gotta bail.
SGT CROWDER
If we jump, we jump with Davie.
SGT CORCORAN
(Conflicted, tense)
I know, but if we get
separated...what if he gets caught
in a tree?
If we secure him inside, at least
the crash site will be known, then
we can bring him home.
A brief, brutal silence. Crowder nods. He hates it, but he
understands.
SGT CROWDER
(Pained but accepting)
Then let’s just pray we make it
back to NKP. Let’s start prepping
in case we have to jump.
The pilots fight the controls, fingers moving swiftly over
switches. The airframe shudders, alarms blaring. Then a
sudden shift. The hydraulic system stabilizes. The chopper
levels out. A collective exhale.
CAPT BELL, JOLLY 76 PILOT
We got her back. We’re heading to
NKP.
Bell switches frequencies, voice steady but weighted.
CAPT BELL, JOLLY 76 PILOT (CONT'D)
King 6, this is Jolly 76.
Be advised we lost Airman Davison.
KIA during the rescue attempt.
The transmission hangs in the air.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Tension in the Skies
INT. KING 6 AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND – DAY
The radio crackles, the tension thick inside the King 6
aircraft. The Airborne Mission Commander sits motionless,
headset on. Then a quiet, steady reply.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
This is King 6. Copy. I’ll radio
ahead. NKP will be ready for you.
SUPERIMPOSE: "Time: 14:55"
CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
The Jolly Green vanishes beyond the ridgeline, smoke trailing
from its engines. Gone. Again.
INTERCUT
Danielson exhales sharply, shoulders slumping. His fingers
tighten around his radio before keying in.
DANIELSON
(Gritty, exhausted and
frustrated)
How you holdin’ up?
This place lights up like the
Fourth of July every time the
Jollys come in.
Three strikes already.
Startin’ to wonder if we’ll ever
make it out.
(A grim pause)
How’s your position? Got any decent
cover?
Bergeron, half-buried along the riverbank, grips his radio
tight. He scans the ridgeline, methodical. Always watching.
BERGERON
(Steady, reassuring)
I’m good. Got a few good spots near
the river. I know they’ll knock out
those guns. Then we’re gettin’ the
hell outta here.
Danielson shifts uncomfortably. Exposed. Too much open
ground. He scans for something — anything — but finds only
dirt and scrub.
DANIELSON
Finding cover’s my main worry.
Not much here to work with.
(Then, steadier)
But I’ll figure something out.
Bergeron adjusts his position, eyes never still. Always
searching. Always ready.
BERGERON
Stay sharp and keep low.
I’ll keep watch.
If I see trouble comin’, you’ll
know first.
Hang tight. They’ll be here soon.
DANIELSON
(Smiling)
Appreciate it. The beer's on me
once we're outta this mess.
Bergeron smirks. A small shift—the weight never leaving, but
held lighter for a moment. The radio goes quiet. But the
unspoken message lingers. Stay alive. I’ve got your back.
For a moment, only the sound of circling planes can be heard.
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Into the Fire: Jolly 69's Descent
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
A thunderous detonation. Then another.
Explosions ripple across the valley, sending shockwaves
through the air. He flinches, instinctively pressing himself
flat to the dirt.
Thick smoke and dust swirl, blinding. Bergeron moves fast,
scanning for any cover left standing.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD
Alpha, Bravo — listen up.
Jolly 69 will come in from the
north, heading down the river.
On my word make your way to the
river for pick-up.
Bergeron scans the smoke-cloaked valley, searching for
Danielson. Nothing. The haze is too thick.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 5 COCKPIT, DAY
Major Deneau is a seasoned, no-nonsense officer who exudes
authority with a quiet but firm demeanor. There's a weariness
to him. A man who has seen far too much of the ugliness of
war. He is a career officer, having enlisted right out of
high school, driven by a sense of patriotism and duty.
Deneau is in his late 30s, lean but strong, with sharp,
calculating eyes that don’t miss much. His face is rugged,
showing a few signs of age from the stress of combat. He
always wears a pair of aviator sunglasses, whether in the
cockpit or on the ground, almost as a personal trademark.
He holds a mentor-like position, particularly with the
younger pilots like Danielson and Bergeron, though his
relationship with them is more professional than personal.
Deneau circles the valley, scanning the battlefield below.
His voice is calm, but edged with urgency.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD
Sandy 7 and Sandy 8, you'll escort
Jolly 69. Stay close.
(A quick glance at the
terrain, calculating.)
When Jolly heads in, fire in shifts
at the karst and treeline.
(Then, final, firm)
Jolly 69, go. Enter the valley from
the north and head south down the
river.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 69, DAY
CAPT. BROWN is in his mid-20s, tall, with a lean, athletic
build.
His facial features are sharp, with a strong jawline, dark
hair always cropped neatly, and deep-set eyes that give him
an intensity that contrasts with his more easygoing demeanor
outside of combat.
His leadership style tends to err on the side of caution,
though this can make him seem less decisive compared to
others in combat situations.
He grips the controls tight, jaw clenched. His voice cuts
through the intercom, steady but charged.
CAPT BROWN, PILOT JOLLY 69
(Commanding, firm)
Okay, gentlemen, it’s go time. Man
your positions and stay alert.
We're bringing our guys back!
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 15:20”
Jolly 69 dives down the river, low and fast. Then, ALL HELL
BREAKS LOOSE.
A barrage of anti-aircraft fire erupts from the cliffs near
Mu Gia Pass. Heavy rounds streak through the smoke, ripping
past the fuselage.
CAPT BROWN, PILOT JOLLY 69 (CONT'D)
There’s too much smoke. Everyone
don your gas masks!
He yanks the stick, swinging the chopper 270 degrees to face
the survivors. Through the cockpit glass, enemy guns flash
red, their muzzles spitting fire from the caves. Rounds tear
through the air, ricocheting off the valley walls.
Inside the chopper, the crew unleashes hell. Miniguns roar,
tracers streaming into the caves.
SGT JECZALA, PARARESCUEMAN
(Shouting over the chaos)
We're takin’ hits from all sides.
BOOM! A violent explosion rocks the chopper. The entire
airframe shudders, lurching forward.
A1C NASH, PARARESCUEMAN
(Eyes wide, panicked)
I think the tail rotor is gone!
ALARMS SHRIEK. The instrument panel flares red. The chopper
bucks wildly.
CAPT THOMPSON, CO-PILOT
(Urgent, eyes locked on
the failing systems)
We’ve lost flight instruments and
comms!
A piercing impact ruptures a hydraulic line. Fluid sprays
onto exposed electrical panels. Then — BOOM.
A second explosion detonates in the rear. Flames engulf the
tail. Wires trail behind, whipping like fiery serpents.
SSGT HOWARD, FLIGHT ENGINEER
(Stern with urgency)
We’ve got a hydraulic leak and
fire. We gotta get us the hell
outta here!
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
Danielson lies flat on his back, gasping, staring skyward.
Jolly 69 flares hard, its tail engulfed in flames, dragging
smoke through the air. The radio crackles, static cutting
through the chaos.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD (V.O.
RADIO)
Jolly 69, ABORT! ABORT! There’s
fire in your rear section. Take a
heading of 045 degrees over the
west karst. You need to bail out!
The chopper veers, struggling to stay airborne. Fire and
smoke billow from its fuselage.
Inside the command aircraft, a tense silence. Then a crisp
radio call.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy 5, have Jolly 77 trail 69 in
case they need to bail out.
Danielson grits his teeth, fists clenching. The burning Jolly
disappears into the smoke. No choice. He pulls back into
cover, pressing himself into the dirt.
INTERCUT
Bergeron lays low, gripping his radio.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
Ben, are ya holdin’ up?
Danielson presses his forehead to his arm, frustration
boiling over.
DANIELSON
(gritted, exhausted)
Frustrated as hell. The enemy fire
won’t let up. Every Jolly’s getting
shredded.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
That last attempt was a real mess.
(exhaling hard)
I was worried you might’ve been
hit.
Danielson’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick to the distant enemy
caves, still spitting fire.
DANIELSON
I’m alright.
(voice edged with doubt)
But how many more times are they
going to do this before we’re outta
luck?
Bergeron shifts, scanning the ridgeline. Always watching,
always searching.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
I hear ya. Those caves are spitting
fire like crazy. They need a solid
plan to take out those guns and get
us the hell outta here.
FLAHBACK: As Bergeron crouches low in the jungle, his fingers
tight around the radio, a wave of longing washes over him. He
remembers the days spent on the porch of his family’s home in
Napoleonville, the evening air thick with humidity. The soft
rustling of the bayou, the distant hum of cicadas. For just a
moment, the weight of the war, the sweat on his brow, and the
distant rumble of gunfire all fade.
END INTERCUT
FADE OUT.
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
After the Fall
INT. JOLLY 76, DAY
Nakhon Phanom Air Base (NKP) looms ahead, shimmering in the
afternoon sun. Inside the cockpit, CAPT. BELL exhales,
shoulders tight. His knuckles remain white on the controls.
The rotors slow as Jolly 76 descends onto the tarmac. Medical
staff wait at the flight. Already prepared.
Inside, SGT. JIM CORCORAN sits rigid. Eyes hollow, fists
clenched. A FLIGHT SURGEON steps up to the open side door,
face set with professional concern.
FLIGHT SURGEON
(calm, direct)
We were told you have a casualty.
What’s the status?
SGT CORCORAN
(Raw)
Our PJ, Davison, is KIA. A round
went through his gas mask.
The Flight Surgeon steps inside, kneels beside Davison, and
conducts a brief exam. The answer is already clear, but he
still speaks it aloud. Soft but measured.
FLIGHT SURGEON
I’m sorry... My team will take good
care of him.
Outside, a crowd gathers. Pilots, ground crew, officers.
Watching. Waiting. Some holding cameras.
Corcoran’s eyes darken. His chest rises sharply. His hand
drops to his holster. Then, in one smooth motion, he draws
his service pistol.
SGT CORCORAN
(Raw, unfiltered rage)
We lost a man today-my friend!
(A sharp inhale, voice
shaking with fury)
I won’t let him be a goddamn photo
op! Get the fuck outta here, NOW!
A frozen silence. A few hesitant steps backward. The crowd
wavers. The Flight Surgeon steps in, voice calm but firm.
FLIGHT SURGEON
(Measured, but
authoritative)
Sergeant, holster your weapon.
A long, stretched moment. Corcoran’s breath is ragged. His
grip trembles. With a slow, shaky breath, he holsters the
pistol.
The Flight Surgeon turns to the crowd, his tone now edged
with command.
FLIGHT SURGEON (CONT'D)
(Sternly)
Everyone — back to your duties.
The crew needs time to decompress.
My team has everything under
control.
Slowly, the crowd disperses, but the weight doesn’t.
Corcoran’s chest heaves. Adrenaline still coursing. The
Flight Surgeon turns back to him, voice softer now.
FLIGHT SURGEON (CONT'D)
We’ll take care of him. But you
need to take care of your crew.
(His eyes level with
Corcoran’s)
Make sure they’re ready if they
need to go again.
Corcoran exhales slowly. His shoulders relax — just slightly.
SGT CORCORAN
(Rough, nodding)
Thanks, Doc. We just need a few
minutes...then we’ll be ready.
The Flight Surgeon nods, but his voice turns stern again.
FLIGHT SURGEON
(Pointed, unwavering)
Make sure you give everyone time to
regroup. That includes you.
A flicker of acknowledgment. Corcoran exhales. He nods.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 5 COCKPIT, DAY
Deneau grips the stick tighter. Sweat beads along his brow,
his breath shallow and uneven. His eyes dart over the
battlefield below. Smoke rising, tracers flashing, the
wreckage of the downed crew's aircraft a grim stain in the
jungle.
He swallows hard, his pulse thundering in his ears. Failure
presses against his chest like a weight, heavier than G-
forces in a dive.
He slams his fist against the cockpit wall. There is a long
silence.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD (V.O.)
Damn it...I can’t do this.
(steeling himself before
keying the radio)
Sandy 7, this is Sandy 5. I want
you to take control of the
operation.
He exhales sharply, then keys the radio. His voice, though
level, is weighted with defeat.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Taking Command
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
INTERCUT
COL. TRIPP blinks. His hand tightens on the throttle. For a
split second — disbelief.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
(Stunned)
Sandy 5, what’s going on?
Why?
The radio crackles. Deneau’s voice cuts through — measured,
yet weighted.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD
(low, heavy with
exhaustion)
We’re repeating the same mistakes.
(Raw honesty)
If we can’t silence those
guns...we’re gonna lose a crew.
(One last admission)
I can’t bear that responsibility.
The words echo in the cockpit, sinking in like cold steel.
The weight of command, of lives hanging in the balance,
presses harder with each passing second. It’s clear, the
stakes are more than just mission success.
Tripp inhales sharply. Absorbs the words. Then, his
expression hardens. He knows what he must do.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
(Firm, resolute)
Sandy 5, I’ll take control of the
mission.
Deneau nods to himself. His grip on the stick loosens
slightly. His voice returns to the comms — steadier now.
MAJOR DENEAU, SANDY 5 LEAD (V.O.
RADIO)
(Relieved)
All aircraft, be advised, Sandy 7
is now Lead. Sandy 7 is Lead.
A slow exhale. Relief washes over Deneau’s face. For the
first time in hours he lets himself breathe.
END INTERCUT
COLONEL TRIPP is the embodiment of military authority; calm,
commanding, and often distant. He's a leader who commands
respect not through loud speeches or overt displays of power,
but through experience, consistency, and an unwavering
dedication to his men and the mission.
While he has a reputation for being calm under fire, he’s
also a bit of an enigma. He rarely shows his emotions, but
there’s an undeniable intensity in his leadership style that
can either inspire or alienate.
Tripp is in his late 40s, with graying hair that’s always
perfectly combed back. His face is etched with age lines, the
result of years of stress, command, and long hours in combat
zones. He has a square jaw and a strong, almost regal posture
that commands attention, and his uniform is always
immaculate.
COL. Tripp grips the controls, eyes sharp, scanning the
battlefield below. Dark hair streaked with gray, he is the
picture of experience. Calm under fire, calculating in chaos.
The radio frequency is a storm of voices, overlapping,
urgent, almost frantic. Then — he’s had enough.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Sharp, Commanding)
This is Sandy 7, Lead.
Cut the chatter!
(Brief silence)
No talking until I get a handle on
the situation.
We’ve got 45 minutes before sunset.
Every minute counts.
Inside Sandy 8, the pilot reacts instantly.
SANDY 8 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
Sandy 7, this is Sandy 8. I’ll
contact King 6 to designate
channels for the mission.
Tripp nods to himself, approving. Quick thinking. The radio
crackles again. More intel coming in.
SANDY 8 PILOT (V.O. RADIO) (CONT'D)
Sandy 7, King 6 confirms.
All available aircraft are en
route. Their stacked up to 20,000
feet.
A Tiger Tanker is on-scene
refueling everyone.
If you need anything, call it in.
I’ll update you on the comms plan.
Tripp absorbs the information fast. Then a decision.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Jolly 68, this is Sandy 7 Lead. Are
you ready to make your run?
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Tension in the Valley
INT. JOLLY 68, DAY
CAPT. SCHANEBERG is in his late 20s to early 30s, with a
lean, angular build that reflects his disciplined lifestyle.
His face is often set in a neutral expression, giving him a
serious, almost stern appearance, especially when he's not
speaking. His eyes are sharp, almost calculating, and there's
a tension in his posture that hints at his constant
vigilance.
Schanenberg grips the controls. His knuckles are white, jaw
set like steel. His voice crackles through the radio.
Tripp watches Jolly 68 struggling in the valley below. After
another failed attempt, Tripp relays the order.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Abort! Turn to 180 degrees and
begin a climb to exit the valley.
Sandy 8 banks hard, sliding into formation alongside Jolly
68. The damaged chopper limps out of the valley, its fuselage
trailing smoke.
A controlled voice cuts through the radio.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy 7, this is King 6.
I’ve identified three frequencies
to keep comms clear.
I’ll handle it and relay to all
aircraft.
Tripp inhales deeply. A momentary relief.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Perfect timing.
(A quick glance at the
battlefield—tension
creeping back.)
Things are getting crazy.
(Brief pause)
Sandy 9 and 10, mark the northern
section with M-47 WP bombs.
(Brief pause)
Sandy 5 and 6, mark the southern
section.
The last rays of sunlight fade. Fighter jets roar overhead,
banking hard, diving toward their targets.
Tripp glances at his watch. Two hours until sunset. His voice
sharpens over the comms.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
F-4s - approach on a heading of 090
degrees and target the caves. Be
precise - no short rounds.
Survivors are in the area.
(His voice hardens)
We've got a lot of aircraft in the
vicinity. Stay sharp. Check for
anti-aircraft guns on the eastern
karst as you pull out.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 16:30”
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Command Under Fire
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Bergeron presses into cover, eyes locked on the sky. Above
him, controlled chaos. Fighter jets streak past. Explosions
hammer the karst walls. Rockslides crash down, burying
smaller caves. The ground trembles beneath him. He keys his
radio.
BERGERON
(Low, urgent)
Sandy 7, this is 22 Bravo. One bomb
overshot and hit halfway up the
cliff. The smaller caves are
buried.
Inside the cockpit, Tripp absorbs the update, eyes narrowing.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
Got it, Bravo. You’re now a forward
observer.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
The valley is a maelstrom of fire and smoke.
Aircraft crisscross the sky, their silhouettes flickering
against the setting sun. Gunfire flashes from enemy
positions. Tracer rounds slice through the haze. The air
vibrates with the roar of engines and earth-shaking
detonations.
Through the cockpit haze, Tripp surveys the battlefield,
shaking his head.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O.)
(Dry, unimpressed)
This is now officially a military
three ring circus.
He flips frequencies, voice sharpening. Final orders.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Crisp, commanding)
All forces — listen up.
Slow movers: Deploy napalm and hard
bombs on designated targets.
(MORE)
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
(checking watch)
Current time is: 17:00. Pick-up
window is 17:15.
Birds carrying "Vodka"— drop at
17:10.
(Break)
Jollys — approach from the west,
heading east. Fly low over the
karst.
Escorts - drop smoke to block enemy
visibility from the north and
south.
For egress, reverse course and exit
to the west.
He switches to the survivor frequency, voice steady as steel.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Alpha, pop the night end of your
flare when we’re in position.
If Alpha is picked up, I’ll have
Bravo pop smoke.
(steady as a rock)
Monitor radio for further
instructions.
Go time is 17:15.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Operation Sunset Rescue
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, LATE AFTERNOON
The valley glows orange in the fading sunlight. Shadows
stretch long over the terrain.
Bergeron adjusts his gear. Checks his smoke and flares.
Across the valley, Danielson’s position feels farther away
than ever. He keys his radio — one last time.
BERGERON
22 Alpha and Bravo, copy. Prepping
for the rescue.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, LATE DAY
Tripp’s jaw is set, his hands firm on the stick. The radio
crackles as he flips frequencies.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Firm, direct)
Sandys, head west.
(MORE)
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Pick up the Jollys.
Bring them in low over the karst.
Keep a straight line to the
survivors.
(Hard warning)
Do not deviate north or south.
Heavy gunfire is expected.
Tripp’s radio clicks to a new channel. His voice doesn’t
waver.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Boxer 68, lay down 20mm fire near
Alpha and Bravo.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Boxer 79, drop your Vodka close to
the survivors' positions.
LT CRUPPER, BOXER 79 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy 7, received. Give the
survivors a heads-up.
EXT. SKY – THE BOXERS STRIKE
The Boxers unleash hell. 20mm cannons rake enemy positions.
Napalm blooms. Fireballs roll over the karst, consuming the
ridgelines. Shockwaves tear through the valley. Debris
raining down.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time 17:15”
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT - LATE DAY
Tripp keys his radio. Eyes locked on the chaos below. His
voice is calm, but unyielding.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Jolly 79, start your run. Expect
heavy ground fire from the western
base of the karst.
(A warning)
We haven't taken out those
positions yet.
(MORE)
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
(Scanning the valley)
Daylight is fading, so there's no
time to target them.
The smoke will provide some
concealment. Have your gunners
ready. When you’re one minute from
the river, Alpha will pop a flare.
CAPT OLSON, JOLLY 79 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Measured, professional)
Sandy 7, we’re beginning our run.
Thanks for the heads-up.
Tripp switches channels again. His tone shifts — firm,
precise.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Sandy 9, escort Jolly 79. I'll
circle above Alpha's parachute.
(A pause—issuing the final
piece of the puzzle.)
Bring them in low over the karst.
Visibility will be tough with the
smoke.
SANDY 9 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Steady, locked in)
Sandy 7, this is Sandy 9. We’ll
make our entry coming from the
west.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. VALLEY, LATE DAY
The horizon bleeds red, the sky choked with smoke and fire.
Aircraft dart like predators, swooping in for the kill.
Below, explosions rip through the valley. Rockslides crash
down the karst walls.
Jolly 79 dives into the inferno.
INT. JOLLY 79, LATE DAY
The chopper shudders violently as it cuts through thick
smoke. Tracer rounds slice past. Then — THWACK!
A 37mm round punches through the fuselage. The aircraft
lurches, slamming crew members to the floor.
The rotor system vibrates violently. Hydraulic and fuel lines
rupture. Fluid sprays across the rear compartment.
MAJ CRUPPER, CO-PILOT
(Shouting, panicked)
WE'RE HIT! WE'RE HIT! MAYDAY!
MAYDAY! MAY...
(The radio dies mid-
transmission)
The crew scrambles for balance, their bodies thrown against
the walls of the aircraft as it spins out of control. The
floor is slick with hydraulic fluid, every step a struggle
for traction. Shell casings rattle across the cabin floor,
the relentless twisting of the chopper adding to the chaos.
Smoke pours in thick and fast, clouding their vision. The
low, violent hum of failing machinery reverberates through
the hull. The Jolly is dying.
A PJ’s eyes widen as he spots fuel spraying from a ruptured
line. His heart races as he lunges forward, adrenaline
pumping. His hands slam down over the leak, but the fluid
keeps coming, slick and unrelenting. He grits his teeth,
fighting against the flood, trying desperately to stem the
flow. Every second feels like a lifetime, the ticking clock
of their survival counting down to zero.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, LATE DAY
Danielson lies on his back, gasping. Above, Jolly 79 spirals,
black smoke pouring from its belly. He keys his radio.
DANIELSON
(Steadying himself,
urgent)
Sandy 7, this is Alpha. The Jolly’s
hit. Large hole in the bottom.
CUT TO:
INT. NAIL 14, LATE DAY
Inside Nail 14, CAPT. HARMAN spots Jolly 79 limping west.
Black smoke streams from its top. He flips frequencies —
static. No response.
With no other option, he switches to the Emergency IFF
(Emergency Transponder Squawk Codes), transmitting
coordinates back to base.
CAPT HARMAN, NAIL 14 PILOT
Sandy 7, this is Nail 14.
I’ve contacted Jolly 79 by Squawk
Code. I’ll escort them back to
base.
The chopper has a 2x4 foot hole in
the fuselage.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Race Against Darkness
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, LATE DAY
Tripp’s jaw tightens. His eyes track westward as the sun dips
low. Only ten minutes of daylight left. The urgency gnaws at
him, a ticking clock that feels too loud, too heavy.
A flash of memory cuts through Tripp's focus — another
mission, another failed attempt. The feeling of helplessness
had settled in deep that day. It wasn’t just a mission that
had failed-it was a piece of their resolve, fractured. That
failure still clung to him now, driving the need to make this
one right. They couldn’t afford to lose another. Not today.
Not this time.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 17:20”
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
Jolly 17, you're the next gladiator
on the list. Sandy 9 will escort.
LT COL LYLE, JOLLY 17 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Steely, focused)
Received. We’re heading in.
The Jolly and Sandys roar toward the valley of fire. Tripp
flips frequencies, his voice tight with urgency.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Quick, efficient)
Sandys, hose the west end of the
karst. Keep ordnance west of the
road.
He scans his map, calculating every move.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Jolly 17, come in west to east.
Fly over the karst, then drop into
the east side of the river.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Jolly 17, come in west to east on a
heading of 090 degrees. Fly over
the top of the karst, drop into the
east side of the river.
(Brief pause)
Alpha will pop his smoke when you
approach.
After picking up Alpha, turn back
west to grab Bravo.
I’ll mark Alpha’s position by
circling above him.
Notify me when you’re one minute
out.
Tripp banks sharply, circling Danielson’s position at 3,000
feet. Below—Sandy 9 leads Jolly 17 in on a northeast heading.
Tripp’s stomach knots. Something’s off. He grabs his radio.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
(Urgent, tense)
Jolly 17—come in due east! I
repeat, due east!
His eyes flick to the battlefield. A cold realization.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Strikes are north and south of you!
It’s getting dark—
Activate your tail rotor beacon.
(voice firm, no room for
argument.)
I know this is unusual, but we need
to avoid mid-air collisions.
Through the smoke—a beacon lights. A faint glow against the
darkening sky.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Desperate Rescue in the Jungle
INT. JOLLY 17, DAY
The engines scream, rotors slicing through thick smoke. Then,
hell erupts. Tracer fire storms around them. A deadly
blizzard of red streaks. Below, Danielson stands exposed,
waving his night flare wildly.
LT COL LYLE, JOLLY 17 PILOT
(Uneasy, voice tightening)
Sandy 7, the area just lit up.
We're taking heavy fire! We’re
engaging multiple targets.
We're hit bad, we need to abort!
Tripp’s stomach twists. He exhales sharply.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
Jolly 17, abort. Rotate 180 degrees
and egress west.
Jolly 17 banks sharply, guns still firing. Anti-aircraft
rounds chase them. Explosions detonate just shy of the
fuselage. Then—clear. They break past the ridgeline. A moment
to breathe.
LT COL LYLE, JOLLY 17 PILOT
(Voice grim)
Sandy 7—we spotted Alpha. 25 meters
north of his chute. Standing in the
open, waving his flare.
(A heavy realization)
I think he may have compromised his
position.
CUT TO:
BERGERON'S POSITION, LATE AFTERNOON
INTERCUT
Bergeron’s stomach knots. His fingers tighten around the
radio as he keys in.
BERGERON
Ben, this is Woodie.
The Jolly spotted you in the open.
They think you may have compromised
your position. You safe?
Danielson’s voice crackles through the radio, tinged with
frustration and exhaustion.
DANIELSON
(Steadying his breath)
I didn’t have a choice. I’m
surrounded by scrub brush.
Had to stand so they could see me.
(Grim reality setting in.)
I can’t make it to the river on
this ankle. I’ll dig in and lay
low. Just hope I won’t have any
visitors.
Bergeron scans the valley, eyes never stopping. The
battlefield is darkening fast.
BERGERON
(firm, reassuring)
I’ve got eyes on your location. If
I see anyone, I’ll let you know.
Just stay low, buddy.
The words hang in the air, an unspoken promise, even as the
jungle around them grows eerily still. The tension is
suffocating. They both know the risks—but they’re not giving
up. Not yet. Not until they have no other choice.
END INTERCUT
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 17:44”
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Navigating the Smoke
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, LATE DAY
Tripp rubs his temple, frustration mounting. The last attempt
failed. Minutes left before nightfall. He keys his radio,
voice tight, urgent.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
King 8, do you have any Jollys
left? We’ve got 20 minutes before
we have to call it off.
One final shot.
Do you have anyone?
Static. Then—a voice.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
(Measured, firm)
Sandy 7, Jolly 72 is standing by.
Tripp’s grip tightens on the stick. His voice snaps like a
whip.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
(Forcefully)
Jolly 72-you're up. Head in ASAP —
we’re losing daylight. Your escort
aircraft is Zorro.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 72, DUSK
Jolly 72 plunges into the valley. Smoke and dying light
turning the world into a murky inferno.
Inside, pilots grip controls tightly, scanning through thick,
dark smoke.
CAPT HORNE, JOLLY 72 PILOT
(Strained, gripping the
stick tight)
Sandy 7, this smoke is a goddamn
wall. Lost visual on my escort.
We’re flying blind here.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
(Calm, guiding)
Turn on your tail rotor beacon.
I’ll spot you.
Tripp locks on instantly.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO) (CONT'D)
I have you.
Follow my lead.
Head to the river.
Stay south of the smoke.
I’ll guide you in.
(A sharp breath—then,
commanding.)
All support aircraft—
we’re going in.
Cover us...
Watch for enemy fire.
We’re getting Alpha out—NOW!
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DUSK
Bergeron stares through the thickening twilight. Jolly 72
cuts through the haze—a black silhouette against the smoky
horizon. For the first time— silence.
No enemy fire. A flicker of hope.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Whispering to himself,
breathless with hope)
Holy crap! This is gonna be the
one! Keep on comin’...keep comin’.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 72, DUSK
The chopper hovers low. Feet from Danielson. For a
heartbeat—nothing. Then—an inferno erupts.
The sky erupts. A WALL OF RED TRACERS screams up from the
ridgeline. Smoke glows neon red. Rounds crisscross the air in
blinding streaks. Miniguns spit fury into the abyss.
SGT MCFARR, PARARESCUEMAN
(shouting over gunfire)
Solid walls of tracers!
Multiple positions lighting us up!
We’re taking huge hits!
Rounds slam into the fuselage. The metal SCREAMS.
CAPT HORNE, JOLLY 72 PILOT
(Stressed, anxious)
Sandy 7, we're taking tremendous
fire! We’re takin’ hits all over!
A brutal jolt—the aircraft shudders.
CAPT HORNE, JOLLY 72 PILOT (CONT'D)
We have major stability issues.
The rotor blades are shredded!
We’re getting the hell out!
The instrument panel blazes with warnings. Crew members brace
as the Jolly bucks wildly.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DUSK
Tripp watches helplessly. Jolly 72 writhes in the air,
trailing smoke. Then—it veers away.
Tripp’s jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together. His
knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the control stick,
but the frustration wells up in him like a dam about to
burst.
He can’t stop himself. His fist SLAMS into the cockpit wall.
The metal reverberates with the force of his anger, knowing
there’s little he can do but watch.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Raw, guttural roar)
GOD DAMN IT!
A quiet fury burns in his chest. He takes a deep, shuddering
breath. This was the last chance. The sky darkens. The valley
sinks into shadow. The despair settles in.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Dusk of Despair
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DUSK
The Jolly banks away, trailing smoke and sparks. Danielson
watches it disappear into the haze. His heart sinks. He keys
his radio, voice tight with exhaustion.
DANIELSON
(Low, drained)
Sandy 7, this is Alpha. We’re
losin’ daylight. Is there gonna be
another attempt?
Tripp closes his eyes. Just for a second. Then—his hand snaps
to the mic. His voice is steady, but laced with something
raw.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
(Deeply strained)
Stand by. I need a minute.
Danielson presses deeper into the dirt. Above, fighter jets
roar in formation, circling like predators in the twilight.
CUT TO:
BERGERON'S POSITION, DUSK
Bergeron watches the valley darken. One hand clenches his
radio. The other grips his survival vest—a tangible reminder
that the fight isn’t over.
INTERCUT
BERGERON
(Quiet, scanning the
surroundings)
It’s gettin’ dark.
My gut says no more attempts today.
DANIELSON
(Sighs, voice weary)
I hate to say it—
But I think you’re right.
(A slow breath—then, heavier.)
(MORE)
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
How many more times are they gonna
try before they call it off for
good?
The Jollys are gettin’ torn apart.
BERGERON
(Determined)
You and I both know—
They won’t call it off.
They just need a plan to take out
those damn guns in the caves.
DANIELSON
(Glancing around nervously)
I’m hopin’ for one more shot under
the cover of darkness. I don’t want
to be stuck out here overnight.
BERGERON
I know what ya mean...I’ve never
been a fan of campin’.
The weight of their situation settles between them. The
shadows stretch longer. Silence. Each man alone with his
thoughts.
Bergeron breaks a piece off his energy bar, chewing slowly.
His eyes never stop scanning.
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Mission Aborted: A Night of Uncertainty
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DUSK
Dim cockpit lighting casts sharp shadows on COL Tripp’s face.
A vein pulses at his temple — his frustration barely
contained.
Tripp’s expression hardens. A long, slow inhale. He forces
himself to accept the inevitable. Finally—he keys the radio.
His voice is steady. Heavy. Final.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Low, regretful but
certain)
Alpha and Bravo.
We discussed every option.
There’s no way.
It’s too damn dark.
We have to call it off for the
night.
(A beat—his voice tightens.)
(MORE)
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
We’re not leaving you.
We’ll keep you covered all night.
At first light—We’ll be back with
everything we’ve got.
Silence. The weight of the words lingers. His grip on the
radio tightens. When he speaks again, his voice is
calmer—final.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
(Firm)
The King and Nail birds will make
contact overnight.
Be ready to come up on beeper or
voice at first light.
Forces will be available all night
to keep you covered.
(A long breath—then, steady.)
Conserve your batteries.
Only use comms if you’re in
trouble.
(A final beat.)
Get bedded down.
Hang in there.
We’ll be back at first light.
CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DUSK
Bergeron exhales slowly, exhaustion settling in like a weight
on his chest. He pulls out his survival water bottle, takes a
slow sip. His hands shake slightly as he tears open an energy
bar.
A pause. Then—he keys his radio.
INTERCUT
BERGERON
Ben, how are ya holdin’ up?
Danielson’s voice crackles back—quieter now. Then, raw
honesty.
DANIELSON
(Quiet disappointment)
I’m not gonna lie. Pullin’ the plug
feels like a kick in the nuts.
(A pause—then, voice
tighter, harder)
I keep thinking about other pilots.
(MORE)
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
The ones who didn’t make it
overnight.
A long silence. Bergeron closes his eyes for a second.
Then—his voice comes through, calm. Unshakable.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
Forget that.
We’re not other pilots.
And this ain’t other situations.
(quieter but certain.)
We need to focus on the now.
Our guys will be here in the
morning with a solid plan.
I guarantee we’ll be having lunch
together tomorrow.
A long silence. Then, finally—Danielson exhales, just barely.
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Orders from Above
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DUSK
Tripp rubs his forehead, exhaustion pressing into his skull.
The radio hums with the last few scattered transmissions.
He keys the mic. His voice cuts through the static—final.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Steady, drained)
All aircraft — Stand down.
No more rescue attempts tonight.
All aircraft return to base.
Report to the Tactical Units
Operations Center for the debrief.
Tripp circles the valley one last time. Then, his radio
crackles.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
(Measured, firm)
Higher HQ has issued new survival
instructions.
Survivors are to don their Mae
Wests, inflate one side, camouflage
their heads, and float down the
river 10-15 miles.
They’re to come up on beeper at
first light.
Tripp curls his fingers into fist. His jaw tightens. His
pulse pounds in his ears.
Then—his voice cuts like a blade.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
(furious, barely
contained)
I’ve been over this valley all damn
day.
This plan is INSANE.
(A sharp breath—rage
creeping in.)
There are NO safe spots along the
river.
(His mind racing,
picturing the map)
It runs parallel to the main road.
Sending them downstream doesn’t
guarantee anything.
(Deadly serious)
It just makes them harder to find.
The water’s freezing. Radios could
short out.
Without communication-This isn’t a
rescue anymore. It’s a scavenger
hunt.
Silence. Tripp breathes hard. Then, finally—the cold,
measured voice of King 6.
KING 6, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
(Even, unmoved)
Your objections are noted.
Relay the orders. How copy?
A long, slow exhale. Tripp closes his eyes. His hand trembles
slightly as he keys the mic. When he speaks—his voice is
flat. Cold. Final.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 7 PILOT
You are ordered to don your Mae
Wests, float 10-15 miles downriver,
and come up on beeper at first
light.
Silence. Tripp waits. Nothing. No reply.
His shoulders slump. He sinks into his seat. Fatigue buries
deep into his bones. The cockpit hums. Outside—the valley
fades into black.
FADE TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Urgent Decisions in the Dark
INT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE (NKP) TACTICAL
UNITS OPERATIONS CENTER, NIGHT
A lone concrete building sits half a mile from the control
tower, its fluorescent glow cutting into the moonlit
darkness.
Inside, smoke lingers, curling from neglected ashtrays. The
briefing room is small, cramped, suffocating. Ten rows of
wooden chairs split by a narrow aisle
At the front—four curling maps cover the wall, marked with
enemy positions, river lines, and fire zones. Beyond a glass
partition, the operations center hums. Radios crackle. Phones
ring.
Every man inside knows two pilots are still out there.
The door bursts open. Heads snap up. Conversations die mid-
sentence. Tripp strides in, boots hammering the concrete, his
face set like stone.
COL TRIPP
(Sharp, commanding)
Take your seats. We've got a lot to
review.
Tripp crosses to the map, tracing his finger across the
river, the karsts, the valley floor. Then—he jabs at it
sharply.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
This rescue zone is like a goddamn
football stadium. The river runs
between each 30-yard line.
Alpha and Bravo are at opposite
goal lines.
Every seat in this stadium is
filled with an enemy soldier,
waiting to light up our Jollys.
A ripple of unease moves through the room.
LT COL Lyle is a seasoned, no-nonsense officer who has spent
years in the heat of combat. A highly respected leader in the
Air Force, his experience spans multiple successful missions,
many of them involving high-risk rescues. He is known for his
sharp tactical mind, a cool head under pressure, and an
ability to make the tough calls when lives are on the line.
His commitment to the mission is unwavering, but beneath the
exterior, there’s a quiet toll the war has taken on him-one
that he rarely allows others to see.
LT COL LYLE, JOLLY OPERATIONS OFFICER
(Quiet, measured, but
firm)
Excuse me Colonel. Fifteen Jollys
went in today.
Every one came out riddled with
holes.
Three are now unserviceable, and we
lost one of my PJs.
The room falls silent. No one moves. No one breathes. Lyle’s
voice hardens.
LT COL LYLE, JOLLY OPERATIONS OFFICER (CONT'D)
We’re damn lucky we didn’t lose a
whole crew today.
I’ve contacted the Joint Rescue
Coordination Center (JRCC). My men
on scene do not support sending in
more Jollys until we soften the
valley for another 24 hours. I’ve
asked the JRCC Commander to review
this ASAP.
A heavy pause. Tripp stares across the room, his jaw tight,
body rigid. The air thickens with unspoken tension. Finally,
he gestures to an officer near the back.
COL TRIPP
(Voice rough but
controlled)
Do we have a full report on today’s
action?
A young ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICER stands. He flips through a
notepad streaked with ink smudges and coffee stains. Clears
his throat.
ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICER
Today's operations included: 49 jet
fighters, 55 A-1s, 15 Jollys, 7
Forward Air Controllers, 3 Kings,
and a refueler.
(A breath—then, the
hardest part.)
A total of 130 aircraft. Four crew
members were wounded, 1 PJ KIA.
The final words land hard. The officer nods quickly, steps
back. Tripp presses his fingers against the table. He
inhales. Exhales. Then—his voice drops to a deep, deliberate
tone.
COL TRIPP
(measured, but
unbreakable)
We have two survivors on the
ground, and they’re counting on us.
(His voice like iron)
We won't stop until we bring'em
home. Get some rest, we'll
reconvene for the morning brief at
04:30. Dismissed.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Night of Tension
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, NIGHT
The valley is a black abyss, the moon barely a sliver.
Bergeron presses himself low against the tree roots, hands
muddy from digging out his hiding spot. His radio clutched
tight. His breath slow, controlled.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Restless)
I can’t sit here waiting for them
to find me. I need to move, find a
way out...
He creeps to the river’s edge, placing each step
deliberately, avoiding noise.
The river is shallow, only over his head in a few spots. The
riverbed reveals sandbars and exposed rocks. His breath
shortens—the cold water shocks his body.
BERGERON (V.O.)
It’s too shallow... too exposed...
there's no way this’ll work.
He crawls to a tree. Every snapped twig, every whisper of
wind feels like an enemy footstep.
He reaches the tree-its gnarled roots create a natural hiding
spot. He digs in, pressing against the bark.
INTERCUT
Bergeron keys his radio. Voice barely above a whisper.
BERGERON
(Whispering)
Alpha, this is Bravo. The river's a
no-go. Can you reach your chute?
Your survival gear?
Danielson buries deeper into the brush, his radio a lifeline.
DANIELSON
(A whisper, strained)
Negative.
The bad guys are too close.
I’m gonna bury myself and lay low.
If I need help I’ll use my beeper.
Can’t talk anymore. They’re too
close.
A long silence.Bergeron closes his eyes. Presses his forehead
against the rough bark. Gunfire cracks in the distance.
Muffled voices carry over the wind.
BERGERON
(Just above a whisper)
Alpha, signal if you're in trouble.
Stay safe, my friend.
END INTERCUT
Shadows move south of his position. Bergeron watches from his
burrow, barely breathing. Across the valley, metal clanks. A
winch groans. A truck is being pulled across the river. The
NVA is moving supplies under cover of darkness. They’re
everywhere.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Grim realization)
They’re moving supplies under the
cover of darkness.
They’re everywhere...
We’re surrounded.
Operations continue for hours. Bergeron fights exhaustion.
But he can’t sleep. Every sound, every movement in the
shadows keeps him on high alert.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Quiet, resolute)
Stay calm...
Stay hidden...
They’ll come for us in the morning.
He tightens his grip on his radio. Ready to signal at the
first sign of trouble. The hours drag. The darkness grows
heavier.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Dreams of Home
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, NIGHT
Danielson lays still, buried in brush. He sips water, nibbles
an energy bar. Exhaustion overtakes him. His eyes flutter
shut.
DREAM SEQUENCE
He isn’t in the valley anymore.
The dim lights of the bar flicker as Danielson stares at the
half-empty beer in front of him. His fingers tap the side of
the glass, but the motion feels disconnected, like he's not
fully in control of his own body. The air is thick, almost
too still.
DANIELSON
(Confused)
Where am I?
The bartender leans forward, a grin spreading across his
face, too wide. The hum of the jukebox seems to warp, like
it’s playing a different song in another world.
BARTENDER
(Grinning, easygoing)
Ben, ya kiddin’ me? You’re at the
VFW.
Danielson blinks, eyes wide, but nothing feels right. His
head spins, but it’s not from the beer.
DANIELSON
(brows furrowed)
I...I don’t remember walking in.
How did I get here?
BARTENDER
(chuckles, polishing a
glass)
You walked in, ordered a beer, just
like always. You sure you're okay?
DANIELSON
Yeah, just tired.
Danielson's throat tightens, and he takes a sip of the beer,
but it tastes like nothing, like a memory he can’t quite
grasp. The coldness of it feels wrong. He swallows, trying to
steady himself.
BARTENDER
Why are ya hangin’ around here when
Mary and Brian are waitin’ for ya.
The words hit him like a punch. He looks up, his eyes wide, a
chill running through him.
DANIELSON
Waiting? Where are they?
BARTENDER
(smiling like it’s
obvious)
There’re home. Mary said you’re
picking out a Christmas tree this
weekend.
DANIELSON
(swallowing hard)
We always do. First weekend in
December.
If Mary had her way, we’d put it up
right after Thanksgiving dinner.
This is really weird.
BARTENDER
(Concerned)
You need me to call someone?
DANIELSON
This... this doesn’t feel right.
None of it feels real.
I just need to get home.
He downs the beer, leaves a five-dollar bill on the bar, and
heads for the door.
The light outside is blinding. He walks down an empty Main
Street. Then—his pace quickens. Running now. Past the police
station. Past the firehouse. To his house. Mary opens the
door.
MARY
(Elated)
Ben, I’ve been waiting all day!
You’re finally home!
They embrace. The warmth of her body a stark contrast to the
cold battlefield. Danielson blinks. He knows this isn’t real,
but he needs to believe.
DANIELSON
(Shaky, overwhelmed)
I don’t know how I got here...
But it’s great to be home.
I’ve missed you so much.
I love you, Mary.
She grabs his hand. Leads him inside. Brian plays on the
living room floor. Danielson picks him up.
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
(Soft, full of love)
Hey, my boy.
You’re getting so big.
How ‘bout a hug for daddy?
Have you been good for mommy?
MARY
(smiling, voice full of
warmth)
He’s just like his daddy...perfect.
(Teasing)
And a little bit of a handful.
DANIELSON
(Whispering)
I’m home...
Danielson jolts awake with the distant sound of gunfire. His
heart hammering.
Mary’s smile, her warmth—gone. The cold, jagged air of the
valley floods back into his lungs. He’s not at home anymore.
Not in the safety of his family’s arms. He’s back here. On
the ground. Alone.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
Danielson swallows hard. For a fleeting second, he doesn’t
know what’s real. Then—the radio in his vest presses against
his chest.
A reminder. Reality crashes in.
INTERCUT
DANIELSON (CONT'D)
(Voice shaking slightly)
Woody, I had the wildest dream. I
was home with Mary and Brian. It
felt so real.
A pause. Then—Bergeron’s voice, quiet but steady.
BERGERON
(Softly)
Glad you got to escape for a bit.
But it’s back to reality. You’re
stuck with me.
Danielson exhales, trying to shake off the dream’s lingering
warmth.
DANIELSON
(Clearing his head)
I know it’s a good luck sign. It
was so peaceful...
How are things on your side?
BERGERON
(Sighing)
Tired, but okay.
At least you had some comfort. I
wish I had a family to think about
right now.
Danielson shifts slightly, adjusting his weight.
DANIELSON
(reassuring)
You will, Woody.
Someday.
Bergeron doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice
is softer.
BERGERON
(Emotional)
I get it now. Family gets you
through the tough times...
(something settling inside
him.)
I’m lookin’ forward to that
someday.
(Brief pause)
Right now, my problem is — I can’t
sleep.
I’m afraid if I snore, I’ll give
away my position.
Danielson almost laughs—almost.
DANIELSON
(Sympathetically)
I know what you mean.
In survival training, they told us
about a pilot who got captured...
Because he snored. Makes you think.
BERGERON
(Muttering)
Yeah...let’s hope I don’t have that
problem.
(MORE)
BERGERON (CONT'D)
(Then, heavier, real
concern creeping in)
I just hope they have a plan to get
us out in the morning.
The enemy fire has been brutal. The
Jollys keep getting hammered.
They need to try something
different.
Silence lingers between them. Danielson stares up at the sky
through the scrub. His voice is quieter now—weighted
DANIELSON
(Worried)
I keep wondering...
How many more times are they gonna
try this before someone gets
killed? Or worse...before they
lose a crew trying to save us?
(A heavy pause)
I don’t know if I could live with
that.
A long silence. Then—Bergeron’s voice, steady, grounding.
BERGERON
(Firm, no hesitation)
If they can’t silence the guns—
It’s madness to keep sending in
choppers.
(A pause—then, softer,
reassuring)
But let’s not get ahead of
ourselves. I’m sure they’re working
on a plan.
We’ve got a few more hours till
daylight. Try to rest.
I’ll keep an eye out and radio if I
see any movement.
Danielson exhales slowly, fatigue dragging at him.
DANIELSON
(Sighing)
I hope they don’t order us to
relocate. With my bum ankle, I
won’t be able to do it.
Danielson closes his eyes briefly, letting out a breath. When
he speaks again, his voice is low, grateful.
Danielson presses deeper into the scrub. His eyes drift
closed. But the dream lingers. The warmth of home. The sound
of Mary’s voice. The weight of Brian in his arms.
For a second—He lets himself believe it again. Just for a
second. Then—his breathing slows. He lets himself drift off.
Even in enemy territory. Even in the middle of hell. He lets
himself sleep.
FADE TO BLACK.
END ACT ONE
ACT TWO
SUPERIMPOSE: “6 DEC 1969”
FADE IN:
E/I. KENYON, MINNESOTA, DAYBREAK
A black sedan glides to a silent stop outside the Danielson
home. Inside, COLONEL PATRICK OSBORN, a seasoned officer with
a firm but compassionate presence, sits beside CHAPLAIN MAJOR
DANIEL CLARK, whose kind eyes reflect the burden of their
mission. They exchange a heavy glance. No words needed.
Outside, the house is still. A single dim light flickers in
the kitchen. The officers step onto the wooden porch. Their
boots echo in the quiet morning. The doorbell rings. A
moment. Then—footsteps. The door opens.
MARY stands there, wrapped in a robe, her hair tousled, eyes
still clouded with sleep. Her fingers clutch the doorframe.
She sees the uniforms. A chill rips through her. Her breath
catches. Her hands tremble.
MARY
(a whisper, then a gasp,
then a sob)
NO, NO, NO!
Her knees buckle. Her breath shortens, gasping. Osborn and
Clark catch her, steadying her before she collapses
completely.
They guide her to the couch. She clutches a pillow to her
chest, eyes wide, searching—For anything but this reality.
COLONEL OSBORN
(Soft, steady)
Your husband’s plane was shot down
over Vietnam.
He ejected safely.
Rescue efforts are underway.
Mary’s breathing slows just enough to register the words.
From down the hall, a faint cry. She closes her eyes. Her
fist presses against her mouth, stifling a sob. She excuses
herself. Disappears down the hall.
A moment later, she returns, her 18-month-old son, BRIAN,
clutched tightly to her chest. Her voice quivers—trying to be
strong.
MARY
(Voice shaking)
Tell me everything.
COLONEL OSBORN
(Measuring each word)
We don’t have all the details yet. Only that Ben’s plane was
hit during a mission. He was forced to eject over enemy
territory. We have a rescue operation in progress.
MARY
(Eyes wet, pleading)
This can’t be true.
Are you sure it’s Ben?
COLONEL OSBORN
(Firm, but kind)
Yes, Mary. It’s been confirmed.
A choked sob escapes her lips. She pulls Brian closer,
rocking him gently, as if trying to shield him from this
moment.
MARY
(Her voice is barely a
whisper)
Please...bring him back to us.
He has to come home.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
A Call to Action
EXT. BERGERON HOME, NAPOLIANVILLE, LOUISIANA, EARLY MORNING
A black sedan winds down a quiet, two-lane road. Past
sugarcane fields blanketed in morning mist. It
slows—approaching a modest house with a wraparound porch.
Inside the car—Two officers exchange a look. The DRIVER
checks his watch. Sighs. Then—they step out. They walk
deliberately to the door.
A pause. Then—a knock. The door creaks open.
MRS. BERGERON appears. Her face puffy from lack of sleep. She
sees the uniforms. Her breath hitches. Her knuckles whiten
against the doorframe.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE, TACTICAL UNITS
OPERATIONS CENTER, NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time 04:30”
A dimly lit briefing room. Filled with weary, battle-worn
pilots. Maps and tactical charts cover the walls. Cigarette
smoke lingers, mixing with stale coffee.
At the front—COL Tripp. His expression—a hardened mask of
fatigue and resolve. He sips his coffee. Sets it down with a
quiet clink. Then—his voice cuts through the haze.
COL TRIPP
(Commanding)
Gentlemen, I know it was a short
night, and we’re all running on
fumes.
But today, more than ever, I need
every single one of you at your
sharpest. Lives depend on it.
The room falls into dead silence. Every man focused. An
INTELLIGENCE OFFICER steps in. Hands Tripp a folded note.
Tripp scans it. His jaw tightens.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Grim, clipped)
Great, more good news.
The enemy is setting up flak traps
on the karsts, targeting low-flying
aircraft.
Murmurs ripple through the room. LT. HARRIS clenches his
fists. Beside him, LT. COOPER nudges him lightly. Harris
glances at Cooper, who offers a small nod. It's not much—just
a fleeting exchange between two men who’ve shared more than a
few close calls. The weight of their shared experiences hangs
in the air. No words are necessary. The bond is understood.
LT COOPER
(Whispering)
We’ll get through this. Just like
we always do.
LT HARRIS
(Whispering, jaw tight)
Yeah, but how many more times can
we beat the odds?
Tripp’s voice cuts through the tension.
COL TRIPP
(Commanding)
Listen up. Our mission remains the
same. Rescue Alpha and Bravo.
This rescue boils down to three
tactics: kill the guns and enemy
outright, immobilize them with riot
gas, or cover them with smoke.
We need to rely on all three.
PILOT (O.S.)
Colonel, do we have updated enemy
positions?
Tripp walks to a large map, jabs a finger at the enemy
locations.
COL TRIPP
(Grim, precise)
Enemy fire is coming from all
levels of the karst:
- Big guns on the peaks.
- Medium guns inside the caves.
- Smaller caliber weapons in the
valley & trees.
The enemy is evading gas by
climbing trees. Giving them line of
sight targeting when the Jollys
arrive.
A heavy silence. They all know what’s coming. Tripp lets it
sink in. Then—his voice drops. Low. Steady.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(absolute, unyielding)
This is a deadly setup.
They have every advantage.
But we’ve got something they don’t.
The will to bring our brothers
home.
We hit them hard.
Fast.
Relentless.
And we don’t stop—
Until we bring them back.
The room holds still. Then—one by one, the pilots stand. They
file toward the flight line.
CAPTAIN BROWN
(his voice low, focused,
as he walks out with the
others)
Tripp’s right.
(MORE)
CAPTAIN BROWN (CONT'D)
We hit them with everything we’ve
got. No half-measures.
MAJOR DENEAU
(nodding, a grim
determination in his
voice)
It’s not about the odds. It’s about
getting them back. One way or
another, we’re bringing our
brothers home.
SGT. DOUG HORKA
Let’s make it count. We do this for
them. No one gets left behind!
The hum of distant aircraft reverberates in the background, a
constant reminder of the world outside the room. The air is
thick with anticipation, the quiet punctuated only by the
occasional shuffle of boots or the rustle of equipment.
FADE OUT.
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Dawn of Decision
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, SUNRISE
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time 06:00”
Sandy 1 circles the valley, a dark silhouette against the
first slivers of morning light breaking over the mountains.
The landscape remains shrouded in haze. The valley
below—eerily quiet.
Inside the cockpit, COLONEL Tripp grips the controls. His
visor catches the glow of the rising sun as he scans the
terrain.
A radio crackles—a voice cutting through the stillness.
CAPT WHITE, NAIL 21 (V.O. RADIO)
Sandy 1, this is Nail 21. I've only
been able to contact Bravo on the
Guard channel. Last contact was at
04:00. Everything’s quiet right
now. I’m returning to base.
Nods, flipping open his flight book. His voice remains
steady, methodical.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Firm, professional)
Boxer 22 Alpha and Bravo, this is
Sandy 1 Lead. Stand-by for
authentication.
A pause—then, a voice. Low, controlled.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
(Quiet, tense)
Sandy 1, this is 22 Bravo.
Alpha is unable to contact by
voice.
INTERCUT
Tripp runs his finger down a column of authentication
questions.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Sharp, direct)
Bravo, what’s the color of your
station wagon?
BERGERON
(No hesitation)
Green.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
Who’s your college's biggest rival?
BERGERON
Sandy 1. Old Miss...
Good morning.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Lighter, amused)
Good morning. You can’t fake that
accent.
You sound like a genuine Louisiana
swamp rat...a bayou boy.
Have you heard from Alpha?
Bergeron scans the valley, pressing deeper into his
concealment. His voice low, clipped.
BERGERON
(Alert)
Enemy's too close for him to talk.
I got a beeper contact earlier.
Nothing since.
(A tense beat—then,
measured)
What’s the plan?
Tripp exhales slowly. His next words are measured, heavy with
the weight of command.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
We aren’t making a move until those
guns are gone.
Take cover. Keep your head down.
Call in any enemy contacts.
The armada of the 7th Air Force is
on the way!
Bergeron glances at the sky. A determined smile flickers
through his exhaustion.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(To himself, quiet but
sure)
Today's gonna to be the day.
Hang in there Ben.
Won’t be long now.
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Dawn of Despair
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, SUNRISE
Bergeron adjusts slightly north, still hugging the riverbank.
His breath visible in the cold air. The valley floor
brightens. Shadows stretch long as the sun crests the
mountains.
He sees North Vietnamese soldiers moving toward Ben’s
position. His heart pounds.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. DANIELSON'S POSITION, DAY
Ben lies motionless, body pressed flat against the earth. The
enemy voices grow louder. Footsteps. Sticks snapping under
their boots. A bead of sweat slides down Ben’s temple.
Ben, helpless on the ground. The soldier, rifle raised, eyes
locked on Danielson. Ben’s heart races, the pulse in his
throat thumping loudly in his ears. His breathing shallow and
frantic. His hand trembles as he extends it, a desperate
gesture, a plea for mercy, for a chance.
For a moment, it feels like time itself is suspended.
Everything waiting, holding, unsure of what happens next.
Slowly, Ben extends his left hand.
DANIELSON
(Raspy, desperate)
NO! DON’T SHOOT!
SMASH CUT TO:
BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody sees them. The enemy troops closing in. Ben’s
outstretched arm. Then—CRACK! A shot rings out. Ben screams.
A raw, chilling sound that rips through the valley.
The, a long burst of gunfire. Then—Silence. The kind of
silence that shouldn’t exist.
Woody’s breath catches. His vision tunnels. Across the river,
he sees the enemy cutting down Ben’s parachute seat,
rummaging through his survival gear.
INTERCUT
Bergeron’s hands clench. A storm rises in his chest. His
radio trembles in his grip. He wants to call it in. To
scream. To run. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. He’s forced to
watch. Breathing shallow. A slow, horrified realization
settling over him.
A long, unbearable silence. Then—his voice breaks.
BERGERON
(Breathless, voice
breaking)
Sandy 1, Alpha's been hit.
Enemy troops found him.
He screamed. They killed’em.
Tripp’s hand tightens on the stick. His jaw clenches. A long
pause. When he speaks—His voice is quiet. But razor-sharp.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
Bravo, I copy.
What’s your status?
Bergeron exhales, gripping his survival radio tighter.
BERGERON
Alive, but barely holdin’ on.
Tripp shifts his grip on the controls. His voice softens—just
slightly.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Reassuring)
Hang in there. Stay low. It's
about to get loud.
(Tripp changes radio
frequencies)
King 1, relay to Blue Chip: Bravo
has reported that Alpha is KIA.
A silence that feels like it could shatter the air.
END INTERCUT
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 07:45”
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Airstrike in the Valley
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody exhales slowly. Steadies his grip on his survival
radio. Then a distant rumble. Rotors. The valley shudders
with the sound. His heart hammers. This is it.
Through the brush, he scans the sky. Searching. Waiting.
BERGERON
(Tense, urgent)
Nail 21, this is Bravo.
Troops gathering on the opposite
bank—closing in fast.
A pilot’s gloved hand tightens on the stick. Eyes locked on
the battlefield below.
CAPT WHITE, NAIL 21 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Sharp, immediate)
Bravo, I’m sending in F-100s.
Keep your head down.
Two F-100 Super Sabres drop in hard. Their noses angle
downward. Then—They unleash hell.
A storm of fire rips into the enemy troops. Blood and water
spray into the air. Soldiers dive for cover. Some don’t get
back up.
Bergeron peeks through the foliage. His breath catches. The
enemy isn’t moving anymore. A beat. Then—his voice crackles
over the radio.
BERGERON
(Breathless relief)
Nail 21, this is Bravo. All targets
eliminated.
That’s some shit hot shootin’!
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Tripp banks the aircraft, eyes scanning the battlefield.
Below—The carnage left by the F-100s.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Firm, commanding)
All aircraft, this is Sandy 1. It's
09:30.
One more hour of bombing before we
move in.
His fingers flex on the stick. The weight of the mission
pressing down.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD (CONT'D)
(Steady, calculated)
We've got a lot of aircraft in the
area.
Be aware of your surroundings.
Stand by for ongoing orders. Sandy
1, out.
Below, coordinated strikes turn the valley into hell. A
maelstrom of fire. Jets crisscross the sky. The central
valley looks like an active beehive. Explosions rip through
the karsts.
The rescue is coming. And it’s bringing hell with it.
CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody’s stomach knots as he spots more enemy troops advancing
through the smoke.
A lull in the bombing. The perfect time for them to strike.
His breath shortens. Sweat drips down his face. He grips his
radio tighter.
BERGERON
(Panic-stricken)
Sandy 1! They’re standin’ on my
chute! They’re closin’ in!
Tripp’s jaw tightens. He flips frequencies. His voice—calm,
but edged with urgency.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
Bravo, I have Shotgun 4 and 6
inbound. Get low!
The ground TREMBLES — Jets ROAR overhead. EXPLOSIONS ERUPT.
Shockwaves slam Woody into the dirt. Debris rains down. He
lifts his head, the enemy is gone. Obliterated.
Woody sags against the dirt. Relief flooding through him. But
he knows—This isn’t over.
BERGERON
(Breathless, relieved)
Sandy 1, the bad guys just
disappeared!
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Command Transfer: A Tactical Shift
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Tripp stares out over the battlefield. Five hours of bombing.
And too many enemy guns remain. A radio transmission crackles
through.
CAPT WHITE, NAIL 21 (V.O. RADIO)
(Grim, urgent)
Sandy 1, the intel was right. More
troops. New anti-aircraft
batteries. They rolled in
overnight.
Tripp grips the stick tighter. His fuel gauge drops.
Ordnance—almost depleted.
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD
(Tense, forced decision)
Sandy 7. This is Sandy 1.
I'm running low on fuel and ammo. I
need to turn control over to you.
(A pause—he flips
frequencies)
All aircraft, this is Sandy 1.
(MORE)
COL TRIPP, SANDY 1 LEAD (CONT'D)
Be advised that Sandy 7 is now
Lead.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
CAPT Hudson is a seasoned and highly respected officer, known
for his calm under pressure and strong tactical mind. Hudson
gained experience in various combat zones and was known for
his ability to lead a team through tight situations.
Hudson is also driven by a personal code of honor that
extends beyond the battlefield, keeping him deeply loyal to
his crew. He doesn’t speak much about his past, but his
actions—putting others first and shouldering the weight of
decisions—speak volumes.
The cockpit shudders as CAPT HUDSON flies low over the
valley. His eyes scan the terrain, his mind calculating every
move. The weight of past missions sits etched in his face.
But his focus never wavers.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Calm, commanding)
This is Sandy 7 Lead. Fast movers —
hit the karsts. Fill the valley
with smoke and gas.
(A glance at his watch)
It’s 11:00. Rescue operations will
begin at noon.
Skyraiders SWOOP DOWN — THICK SMOKE RISES. A WALL OF GRAY. It
stretches for miles. So thick—It can be seen from space.
Hudson glances at a photo taped to his control panel. A crew.
A mission that went wrong. His jaw tightens. Not again.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
22 Bravo, we’re coming for ya.
Stand by.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time 12:02”
Hudson keys his radio. His voice—calm, focused.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD (CONT'D)
Jolly 77, this is Sandy 7.
You’re a go. Two Sandys will
escort.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. JOLLY 77, DAY
The rotors chop through the air. LT COL KING grips the
controls. His voice—calm but intense.
LT COL KING, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(Firm, steady)
Received, Sandy Lead. We’re
proceeding.
A glance at his crew. They prep the Forest Penetrator. King
grips the stick tighter. For a second—His mind flickers to
his family back home. Then—he shuts it out. FOCUS!
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Jolly 77 dives into the smoke, flying low and fast.
Then—ENEMY FIRE ERUPTS.
He sees rounds SLAM into the rotor blades. The chopper
shudders violently. Bergeron’s radio shakes in his grip.
BERGERON
(Frantically into radio)
Jolly! You’re over me!
INT. JOLLY 77, DAY
The cockpit jolts. RED LIGHTS flash. ALARMS shriek.
SGT SURRATT, FLIGHT ENGINEER (CONT'D)
Bravo is right below.
Drop the penetrator!
CAPT SICHTERMAN, CO-PILOT
(Alarmed, struggling with
controls)
We're hit! Our flight controls are
gone!
The cockpit quakes. The controls fight back.
LT COL KING, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(controlled but grim)
Sandy 7, we've lost our flight
controls!
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT – DAY
Hudson watches from above. His hands clench. Then, his voice
cracks through the radio. Steady, but carrying the weight of
a terrible order.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD (V.O. RADIO)
(Measured, heavy)
Jolly 77, abort.
Turn to 090 degrees and climb out
of the valley.
The decision lands like a punch. King hesitates. But he
knows—there’s no choice.
The chopper banks away. Trailing smoke. Hudson closes his
eyes briefly. Then re-opens them. His jaw tightens.
INT. JOLLY 77 COCKPIT - DAY
King and Sichterman wrestle the controls, fighting the
crippled bird.
GUNFIRE intensifies. Every round feels like a death sentence.
SGT SURRATT
(Yelling over chaos)
We won’t make it if we don’t pull
up NOW!
King grits his teeth, pulls back hard on the stick. The
chopper LURCHES, struggling to climb.
LT COL KING
(Determined)
Hang on. We’re getting out of here.
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody watches the chopper stagger through the sky. Smoke
trailing from its frame. His gut twists.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Angry and bitter)
God damn it!
I’ll never get outta here...
He disappears back beneath the tangled roots. The jungle
swallowing him whole.
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
Hudson scans the valley—jaw clenched. He has minutes to make
a call. His eyes flick to the smoke walls. Still holding. The
opening is there.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD
(steady but urgent)
22 Bravo, this is Sandy 7.
Another chopper is in-bound. Stand
by.
His fingers brush the photo on the panel. A silent promise
to those lost crew members...this time he won’t fail.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 72, DAY
LT COL CATLIN is a no-nonsense, seasoned officer with a
wealth of combat experience. Born into a military family,
Catlin followed in the footsteps of his father, a decorated
officer, and has spent his career living up to that legacy.
Known for his sharp mind and ability to think on his feet,
Catlin is a leader who thrives under pressure.
Despite his tough exterior, Catlin carries the emotional
weight of war with him. He’s seen countless missions end in
tragedy, and those memories are etched in his mind. He has a
deep sense of duty and a commitment to ensuring that every
operation is completed with precision.
Catlin breathes deep. Focused. Ready. He knows the risk. He
doesn’t care.
LT COL CATLIN, JOLLY 72 PILOT
(With steely resolve)
Sandy Lead, Jolly 72 is inbound.
We’re bringin’ our boy home.
He shoves the throttle forward. Jolly 72 DROPS LOW—Slicing
through the smoke like a missile.
Gunfire ERUPTS. Bullets PING off the chopper’s frame like a
violent drumroll. The rotor wash sends Woody’s chute whipping
into the river.
A1C HARRIS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Gripping the hatch tightly)
Bravo’s right behind us!
Harris doesn’t hesitate — he MOVES. The hatch slides open.
Gunfire RIPS THROUGH the air. The penetrator DROPS into the
chaos
A1C HARRIS, PARARESCUEMAN (CONT'D)
We've got Bravo right behind us!
I’m droppin’ the penetrator.
Outside, the cable and penetrator SWINGS wildly as it
descends. Inside, Harris grips the line, heart hammering.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Abandoned Hope
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody's eyes lock onto the descending penetrator, his breath
ragged, heart hammering.
BERGERON
(Muttering, teeth
clenched)
Come on...
Just a little closer...
Woody pushes off the roots. His hand stretches toward the
harness. Then—BOOM!
An EXPLOSION ROCKS the chopper. A shockwave BLASTS through
the air, sending Woody to the ground.
INT. JOLLY 72, DAY
ALARMS SHRIEK. The chopper LURCHES violently.
SSGT LABARRE, FLIGHT ENGINEER
(Urgent, gripping the
frame for balance)
The tail rotor struck a tree!
The ends of the rotor blades are
shredded.
Catlin’s knuckles whiten on the controls, jaw clenched.
LT COL CATLIN, JOLLY 72 PILOT
(With forced calm)
Sandy 7, flight control’s
compromised—we have to abort!
(Shouting to crew)
Get the penetrator back on board!
NOW!
The penetrator SWINGS wildly. Still halfway down.
SSGT LABARRE, FLIGHT ENGINEER
(Desperately)
It’s halfway down!
Give me a minute. I can get him
out!
Catlin glances at the ground. Chaos raging. Clock ticking. He
knows the odds. He knows the cost. His voice cracks as he
makes the call.
LT COL CATLIN, JOLLY 72 PILOT
(Voice shaking)
If we stay here any longer, we’ll
all be dead!
PULL IT UP! NOW!
A gut-wrenching pause. Then—Labarre yanks the winch. The
penetrator retracts. Empty.
CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody watches the penetrator disappear. His chance—gone.
Again.
His chest heaves. He sags back into the dirt. Fists
clenching. Teeth gritting.
A horrible realization settling in. He’s still alone.
BERGERON
(Hollow, whispering to
himself)
God...
Will I ever get the hell outta
here?!
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 13:40”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
Hudson grips the throttle, scanning the controls. A last look
at the valley. The battlefield burning itself into his
memory.
CAPT HUDSON, SANDY 7 LEAD
(Resolute)
King 1, this is Sandy 7.
I'm running low on fuel and
ordnance.
I'm going to turn control over to
Sandy 11 and RTB with Sandy 8 and
Jolly 72.
On my way out, you need to get more
smoke and Vodka up here. Sandy Lead
is gonna need it.
(Hudson changes
frequencies)
All aircraft, this is Sandy 7.
Sandy 11 is now Lead.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Desperate Measures
INT. SANDY 11, DAY
LT GEORGE maintains a stoic, sometimes distant demeanor,
there's an intensity about him that gives the sense he’s
always five steps ahead, mentally preparing for whatever
comes next.
He is tall, with a lean, muscular build. He has short, dark
hair. His blue eyes are sharp and calculating, often scanning
his surroundings with a quiet intensity. His face is
chiseled, with high cheekbones and a jawline that’s slightly
weathered, hinting at the toll of combat. There’s a quiet
weariness in his expression, but his posture remains rigid
and confident, a man who’s seen too much but refuses to
break.
George grips the controls. Eyes scanning the battlefield. The
weight settles on his shoulders.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11
(Steadying himself)
Bravo, this is Sandy 11. Smoke’s
starting to clear. I’m sending in
more. What’s your status?
Woody leans against the tangled roots, gripping his radio.
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
(Voice cracking)
I’m okay...just frustrated as hell.
(Raw desperation)
Am I EVER gettin’ outta here?
George clenches his jaw, his resolve hardening.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11
(Unwavering)
You will. We’re not giving up.
George, feels his confidence build. He changes frequencies
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (CONT'D)
Shotgun 40 & 41 you’ll support this
next run.
Drop everything you have left of
Bravo. I repeat, LEFT side.
CAPT Gable acknowledges the order.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (CONT'D)
Hobo 54 & 55, you’ll cover the east
side.
Drop your ordnance to the RIGHT of
Bravo. Two A-1s are covering the
left.
Jets ROAR in. Ordnance expended. The valley SMOLDERS, the
smoke walls are still holding.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (CONT'D)
(changing frequencies)
Bravo, this is Sandy 11. The smoke
walls are in place.
I’m sending a Jolly your way.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 14:30”
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (CONT'D)
Jolly 68, proceed.
Shotguns and Hobos are providing
support.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 68, DAY
The chopper dives in low and fast. Suppressive fire ERUPTS.
The valley explodes in chaos.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (V.O. RADIO)
(Urgent, cutting through
the chaos)
Bravo, this is Sandy 11.
Pop your smoke!
Through the cockpit, CAPT SATTLER spots it. A thin trail in
the distance. Jolly 68 banks hard. Then—HEAVY ENEMY FIRE
ERUPTS. Rounds RIP through the chopper’s frame.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11 (V.O. RADIO) (CONT'D)
(Urgently)
Jolly 68. You've overshot Bravo.
His smoke is visible.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody SCRAMBLES up the steep 15-foot bank. His legs burning.
Adrenaline surging. He bursts over the top.
BERGERON
(Frantic)
Jolly, I’m directly below you!
Drop the hoist! NOW!
BOOM! A MASSIVE EXPLOSION rocks Jolly 68. Woody stumbles,
shielding his head.
CAPT SATTLER, JOLLY 68 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Strained, alarms sounding
in background)
Bravo, Jolly 68. We’ve taken a huge
hit. ABORTING! Take cover!
Woody’s chest heaves—he’s SIX FEET AWAY. His arms
outstretched. The chopper veers away. VANISHING into the
smoke. His legs go weak. The weight of everything crashes
down.
BERGERON
(Breathless,
dazed—muttering to
himself)
This is insane...
I’ll never make it outta here.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
No One Left Behind
INT. SANDY 11, DAY
George watches the retreating Jolly, jaw tightening. For 30
minutes he directs suppressive fire.
KING 2, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy 11, this is King 2. King 2 is
now the Airborne Mission Commander.
George checks his fuel gauge—dangerously low.
LT GEORGE, PILOT SANDY 11
(Resolute, switching
frequencies)
Sandy 13, this is Sandy 11. I'm low
on fuel and ammo.
I'm turning control over to you.
(Changing frequencies)
All aircraft. This is Sandy 11. Be
advised that Sandy 13 is now Lead.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 15:15”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 13 COCKPIT, DAY
LT Castagno is a driven, disciplined, and highly skilled
officer with a sharp mind and a knack for strategic thinking.
Raised in a small town, Castagno came from a military family,
with both his father and grandfather serving in the armed
forces.
Known for his calm demeanor under pressure, Castagno has a
natural ability to lead when situations get tense. He’s not
one to seek attention, preferring instead to let his actions
speak for themselves.
Despite his professional exterior, Castagno is still finding
his place in the world of combat. He harbors a quiet fear of
failure, knowing that every decision could have life-or-death
consequences. He’s the kind of officer who listens to his
crew, values their input, and does everything in his power to
ensure they all make it home.
INTERCUT
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
(Strong and supportive)
22 Bravo, this is Sandy 13. I know
it’s been rough. You’re gonna make
it through.
(MORE)
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
We’re all gonna make it through.
You just need to keep pushing—keep
believing in yourself like we do.
What’s your status?
Woody slumps behind cover, gripping his radio. His breathing
is ragged. His voice raw.
BERGERON
(Exhausted, near breaking)
I’m okay, just frustrated.
Every run is the same—Jolly gets
close, then it turns into the
Fourth of July.
(Pauses, voice cracking
with emotion)
Is it worth it? How many more crews
are gonna risk their lives for me?
(Forcing the words out)
I don’t know if I can live with
people dyin’ tryin’ to save my ass.
Castagno exhales. The hopelessness in Bergeron’s voice hits
hard.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
(Firm, unwavering)
No one’s here because they have to
be. They’re here because they want
to be. They believe in you, just
like I do.
This is our job. You’ve got a hell
of a lot of people fighting to
bring you home.
We’re not giving up.
Nobody gets left behind. NOBODY!
END INTERCUT
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Desperate Calls for Help
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Bergeron takes out a water bottle and takes a small sip.
After a brief respite, rounds WHIP past him. His body
instinctively jerks as the rounds slice through the air. The
sound of the bullets zipping past him is sharp and
relentless.
Castagno’s knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the
controls. His eyes narrow, scanning the smoke-filled valley
below.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (V.O.
RADIO)
Copy. Fast movers are inbound.
INTERCUT
Woody scans the haze — movement. Sleep-deprived, he questions
his vision. Then—Figures emerge. Closer. 20 meters. Closing
in.
BERGERON
(Pure panic, into radio)
Sandy Lead, troops in the open!
20 meters north! On my side of the
river! Comin’ straight for me!
Castagno’s hands tighten on the controls.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
Support aircraft with Vodka are
inbound. Stand by.
The gas drops. The canisters HIT. One STRIKES Woody, tumbling
to his feet. BOOM.
His body CONVULSES—eyes slam shut as his lungs SPASM. He
COUGHS violently, choking. The world SPINS. He tries to
retreat, but SLAMS into a tree. His body won’t cooperate.
He collapses near the riverbank. His throat burns like fire,
raw and shredded from the gas. Each inhale is a battle, his
lungs convulsing, rejecting the poisoned air. His stomach
lurches. He spits onto the dirt, thick and bitter, bile
mixing with the acrid taste coating his tongue. His head
throbs, a dull, pounding rhythm that drowns out everything
else.
The minutes crawl. The battlefield—once alive with chaos—is
now eerily still. The wind stirs the gas. Empty canisters
glint in the fading light. The enemy is gone.
BERGERON
(Breathless, into
radio—relief flooding his
voice)
Sandy 13, troops have retreated.
(MORE)
BERGERON (CONT'D)
That gas is brutal. Next time, how
‘bout keepin’ it further away.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
(With empathy in his
voice)
Received Bravo.
Sorry for the close drop. Just
tryin’ to keep you alive.
CUT TO:
Castagno’s eyes scan the valley. Radio chatter becomes
overwhelming. He slams his fist against the console.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (CONT'D)
(Furious, voice cutting
through the static)
I want EVERYONE to SHUT THE FUCK
UP!
Silence. Then—
CAPT HOFFMAN, PILOT NAIL 31 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Urgent, cutting through
the pause)
This is Nail 31. Bravo has troops
closing in!
If we don’t get help down there,
they’re gonna kill him!
We need to move—NOW!
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Desperate Measures
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Woody wipes sweat from his eyes. Shoulders heaving. He sees
shadows moving through the dust.
BERGERON
(Urgency in his voice)
This is Bravo. Troops in the open.
30 meters-closin’ fast.
Castagno grips the stick—voice steady but urgent.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (V.O.
RADIO)
Keep your head down. Fast movers
are inbound!
A low rumble builds. Then—A ROAR. Woody digs his fingers into
the earth. The ground VIOLENTLY SHAKES. Smoke and debris fill
the air.
Jet engines HOWL overhead. EXPLOSIONS RIP through the valley.
The shockwaves BLAST Woody’s body. Then—SILENCE.
Woody peers up. Blinking. The enemy is gone. He lets out a
shaky breath.
BERGERON
(Voice rough, exhausted
but grateful)
This is Bravo. You got'em.
I owe you guys a cold one.
His head falls into his hands. He is completely spent.
BERGERON (V.O.)
I don’t know how much more I can
handle.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 16:35”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 13 COCKPIT, DAY
Castagno exhales. Relief washing over him. For now, Bravo is
safe. But the mission isn't over. He scans the battlefield,
smoke walls still holding.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
(Determination in his
voice)
Jolly 03—this is Sandy 13.
The smoke walls are intact. You and
your escorts are clear to proceed.
EXT. VALLEY ENTRANCE, DAY
Jolly 03 and two escort planes THUNDER into the valley.
Slicing through the towering karsts. Then—HELL ERUPTS. CAVE
MOUTHS IGNITE. BUNKERS on both sides OPEN FIRE. TRACERS
CRISSCROSS the sky.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 03 COCKPIT, DAY
A veteran of numerous rescue operations, MAJOR HITT has built
a reputation for putting himself in harm’s way to protect
downed aircrews.
Hitt grew up around aircraft, his father a former WWII pilot
who instilled in him a deep respect for flying and duty. He
enlisted straight out of college, working his way through
flight school with a quiet intensity that set him apart.
Despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos, he never
hesitates. Because in this war, hesitation gets people
killed.
Hitt sees hundreds of enemy troops mass at the valley’s
mouth. A truck-mounted anti-aircraft gun swings into action.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Tense but controlled)
Sandy 13, we're taking intense
fire.
Large enemy force massing at the
valley’s mouth—
Plus a truck-mounted AA gun.
We need that area hit hard!
Castagno’s eyes narrow. His voice is ice-cold.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (V.O.
RADIO)
All aircraft—
HIT THE CAVES.
HIT THE TRUCK-MOUNTED GUN.
BURN IT ALL!
The escorts BREAK FORMATION. They DIVE. ROCKETS. BOMBS.
HELLFIRE. The caves ERUPT. ENEMY TROOPS are BLOWN SKYWARD.
The AA truck SHREDS INTO FLAMING METAL.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (V.O.
RADIO) (CONT'D)
Jolly 03, you should have a clear
path.
Proceed to Bravo. We'll keep the
pressure on.
Jolly 03 presses forward. Unshaken. Undeterred. SMOKE
THICKENS—ROLLING OVER THE RIVER. The rotor wash KICKS UP.
VISIBILITY DROPS TO ZERO.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Frustrated)
Damn it, we've lost visual on
Bravo!
The enemy gunfire slows, the chopper concealed by the smoke.
A tense silence.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT (CONT'D)
(The crew recalibrates.)
We need to climb out to locate him.
The chopper LIFTS. Emerging from the smoke. And into HELL. A
WALL OF TRACERS SCREAMS TOWARD THEM.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT (CONT'D)
(Grim, gripping the stick
tight)
Hold on-We're heading back in!
He shoves the stick forward. NOSE DIVES back into the chaos.
The smoke THINS.
The river appears. And there...Through the haze...Bravo.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT (CONT'D)
(Hitt locks eyes on the
target.)
Bravo, we see you.
The crew brace. One last shot. One last chance.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Desperate Rescue Attempt
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Smoke suffocates the valley, swirling in thick, rolling
waves. The ground is chewed to pieces; craters smoldering,
trees split and burned, bodies motionless in the haze.
Woody forces himself up the bank. Every muscle in his body
screaming. His hands shake. His legs threaten to give out.
But he pushes forward, eyes locked on the sound of
approaching rotors.
A flicker of hope.
INTERCUT
Major HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Eyes locked on the
battlefield, voice
steady)
(MORE)
Major HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT (CONT'D)
Bravo, pop your smoke! We need a
visual!
Woody fumbles for the pin. His hands are slick with sweat and
grime. He yanks—THWAP! A plume of color bursts into the
chaos.
BERGERON
Smoke popped.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
Got it! Hang tight, we’re coming
for ya!
Jolly 03 SWEEPS IN, the escorts’ suppressive fire blasting
enemy positions.
Woody tilts his head back, watching as Jolly 03 descends—a
mechanical angel cutting through the madness. Escorts light
up the tree line around him. Enemy tracers crisscross through
the air, whipping inches over his head.
BERGERON
(Frustrated)
Jolly! I’m at your 9 o’clock!
Opposite riverbank!
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Adjusting, voice firm)
Roger, Bravo. Moving to you now.
(Turning to crew)
Drop the penetrator!
The chopper drifts sideway, hovering to Woody’s position.
TSGT NARDI, the pararescueman, leans out, gripping the
penetrator as the cable unspools. The wind whips at his face,
his fingers tight around the line.
TSGT NARDI, PARARESCUEMAN
(Excited, eyes locked)
I see him! Maintain hover!
Droppin’ the penetrator.
He guides the hoist down, but the chopper’s violent downdraft
kicks up a fresh wall of smoke.
TSGT NARDI, PARARESCUEMAN (CONT'D)
(Struggling, frustrated)
Damn it! I lost him!
Woody hears it whining down—but the smoke blinds him. He
swipes wildly, searching.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Frustrated, coughing)
I can’t see it
SUDDENLY—A STORM OF GUNFIRE. THE JOLLY SHUDDERS. ENEMY ROUNDS
PUNCH INTO THE FUSELAGE.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Urgently)
Nardi, what's the status?!
TSGT NARDI, PARARESCUEMAN
(Frantic, scanning)
I lost him! Too much smoke!
ALARMS scream through the cockpit. The aircraft lurches,
rounds tearing through its frame.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Grimly, teeth clenched)
Sandy 13, we’re takin’ heavy hits!
ABORTING!
Jolly 03 banks HARD climbing out of the valley. The
penetrator whips back up into the bird.
Nardi leans out, eyes desperate, searching. Woody stands in
the smoke, staring up. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe.
MAJOR HITT, JOLLY 03 PILOT
(Voice shaky)
Bravo, this is Jolly 03. We’re hit.
Take cover. We’re pulling out.
END INTERCUT
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Desperate Rescue in the Valley
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION – DAY
A sharp ringing fills his ears. His fingers twitch against
the radio’s worn casing. The scent of scorched earth and
sweat clings to him. His lungs burn from the lingering gas.
Each breath feels like inhaling broken glass.
Another failed attempt.
INT. SANDY 13 COCKPIT – DAY
Lt. Castagno watches Jolly 03 struggle out of the valley,
trailing smoke. He slams his fist into the console.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13
(Low, furious)
Goddammit!
Castagno circles the valley, frustration etched into his
face. He glances at his fuel gauge.
LT CASTAGNO, PILOT OF SANDY 13 (CONT'D)
(Steady, reluctant)
Sandy 17, this is Sandy 13. My
fuel’s critical. You’re Lead now.
(Castagno switches
frequencies and addresses
the squadron.)
All aircraft, this is Sandy 13.
Sandy 17 is now Lead.
He takes one final sweep of the valley—then, reluctantly, he
banks away toward base.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 17:13”
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 17 COCKPIT, LATE AFTERNOON
MAJOR MONK is a battle-hardened A-1 Skyraider pilot with a
reputation for keeping a cool head under fire. A career
aviator, he’s been flying combat missions for years, earning
the respect of his squadron for his skill and sheer
determination.
Despite his tough exterior, Monk has a deep loyalty to his
fellow pilots. His sharp instincts and unflinching nerve have
gotten him out of impossible situations in the past.
Monk grips the controls, eyes scanning the battlefield below.
His voice is steady, calm under pressure.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT
(Reassuring)
We’ll get you out soon, Bravo. Stay
sharp.
Monk nods to himself. Bergeron’s voice is steady, but there’s
something in it—a fatigue beyond exhaustion.
Monk knows, this rescue isn’t just about getting Bravo out.
It’s about getting him out before he’s too far gone.
KING 2, AIRBORNE MISSION COMMAND (V.O.
RADIO)
Sandy Lead. Jolly 76 is on-deck.
You’ll be their escort.
Monk acknowledges the directive.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT
Copy, King 2. We'll handle the
escort.
His eyes scan the landscape—the fading light, the enemy
positions still active. Time is running out.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT (CONT'D)
Shotgun 60, lay smoke and gas west
of the river. South to north. Make
it solid.
(A beat)
Shotgun 70, same deal, east side.
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Desperate Rescue in the Darkening Valley
EXT. SKY – FIGHTER JETS STREAK THROUGH THE AIR
Thick curtains of smoke and gas erupt over the valley. The
landscape darkens.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 17:55”
Monk exhales. The rescue window is now.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT
Jolly 76, let’s go. We’re on the
clock.
Sandys 15 and 17 will be your
escorts.
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 76, LATE AFTERNOON
The chopper THUNDERS into the valley, its rotors slicing the
dense air. Then—HELL UNLEASHES.
Enemy tracers STREAK UPWARD, carving fiery paths through the
darkening sky. BOOM! BOOM!
AIR BURSTS DETONATE ON BOTH SIDES. The shockwaves RATTLE the
chopper.
CAPT SANDERSON, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Steady)
We’re in for a bumpy ride. Get
ready.
INT. SANDY 17 COCKPIT – MOMENTS LATER
Through the haze, he sees a fatal mistake—Jolly 76’s beacon
light flashing, a blinking bullseye for enemy gunners.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Sharp, urgent)
Jolly 76, kill your beacon! You're
a target for the anti-aircraft
batteries!
INT. JOLLY 76 – COCKPIT
Capt. Cody LUNGES, flicks the switch—The beacon DIES. But the
fire remains. They approach Woody's position, Monk radios.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT
Bravo. Light your flare!
TRACERS LIGHT UP THE SKY, walking directly toward Jolly 76.
Rear gunners OPEN FIRE with the minigun. Tracer rounds travel
back and forth.
EXT. BERGERON’S POSITION – DUSK
Bergeron’s hands shake as he fumbles for his flare. His
vision swims—his body is worn-out.
He strikes the flare—A GUTTING ORANGE GLOW. Then—FIZZLE. The
flare flickers...then DIES. The night begins to swallow him.
Above, Jolly 76 LOOMS, a dark silhouette against the dying
sun. Bergeron’s chest tightens.
INT. JOLLY 76 COCKPIT – MOMENTS LATER
Sanderson scans below. Nothing but blackness.
CAPT SANDERSON, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Frustrated)
Do you see him?!
CAPT CODY
(Stressed)
Negative. No visibility.
The chopper creeps forward, hugging the river’s edge.
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Desperate Wait in the Jungle
EXT. BERGERON’S POSITION – CONTINUOUS
Bergeron forces himself upright, scrambling up the bank. His
boots SLIP, dirt CRUMBLES beneath him. The chopper’s rotors
THUNDER overhead. He grits his teeth, grabs his radio—
BERGERON
(Desperate)
This is Bravo! I’m under you—3
o’clock! DROP THE HOIST!
INT. JOLLY 76 COCKPIT – MOMENTS LATER
Capt. Sanderson grips the controls. He sees nothing. Only
smoke. Darkness. Enemy tracers still cutting through the air.
CAPT SANDERSON, JOLLY 76 PILOT
(Grim, yanking the stick
left)
Bravo, it’s too dark. We have no
visual.
We’re takin’ heavy fire. We have to
pull out.
EXT. BERGERON’S POSITION – CONTINUOUS
Bergeron stares up, disbelief turning into raw fury.
BERGERON
(Yelling, desperate)
I’M RIGHT HERE! DIRECTLY BELOW YOU!
DROP THE PENETRATOR!
The chopper BEGINS TO CLIMB. Bergeron feels it before he
realizes—They’re leaving him.
BERGERON (CONT'D)
(Raging at the sky)
GOD DAMN IT!
The rotors fade into the distance. Bergeron staggers, his
breath ragged, his legs trembling. Then, without a word, he
turns, moving back towards cover. Each step heavier than the
last.
Bergeron slumps down, his back against a tree. His fingers
tremble as he pulls his last bottle of water.
He tips it back, drinking slowly, trying to ignore the taste.
His mind races.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(Thinking, calculated but
weary)
Okay, think. I’ll get Sandy to send
another chopper to my original
spot.
While the enemy is engaged, I’ll
get my seat kit with my survival
gear.
Best case, they pick me up. Worst
case, I’m better equipped.
He grabs his radio and keys the mic.
BERGERON
(Steadying himself)
Will there be any other attempts
today?
A long delay, then the radio crackles.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Monk exhales, hating the
answer he has to give)
Bravo, I'm afraid not, it's too
damn dark.
To operate safely, we'd need to
turn on our lights...and that makes
us sitting ducks.
You’ll need to hunker down for
another night.
A Nail or a King will be overhead
to monitor. We’ll keep you safe,
and we’ll be back at first light.
Bergeron closes his eyes. He already knew. But hearing it
still stings.
BERGERON
(Sighs, disappointed)
Copy that, Sandy 17.
I’m goin’ off air, but I’ll check
in at dawn.
He clicks off the radio. He pulls out a fresh battery. His
fingers fumble—not from inexperience, but exhaustion. He
swaps it, then tucks the radio away.
The battlefield stills. No gunfire. No voices. Just the
distant hum of insects and the slow creep of darkness
swallowing the jungle whole. Shadows stretch long and deep.
Bergeron sinks into the cold earth, pressing his body low
against the riverbank’s edge. He knows better than to
move—knows better than to hope for rest.
Pain gnaws at him. His body aches from the crash, from the
run, from the sheer weight of staying alive. The night wraps
around him, suffocating in its silence.
Another night. Alone. Waiting.
FADE OUT.
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Operation Urgency
INT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE, TACTICAL UNITS
OPERATIONS CENTER, NIGHT
The room is heavy with exhaustion. The last pilot steps
inside, his face drawn, shoulders slumped—the weight of the
day’s failures pressing down on every man here.
Near the maps, Tripp stands rigid. His eyes are hard, voice
steady—but beneath it, there’s something raw...A tight coil
of desperation.
COL TRIPP
(Steady, but intense)
They’re getting closer to his
position.
For the second night, Bravo is
fighting for his life.
For the second time, we told him to
bed down-said we’d be back in the
morning.
THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD!
He SLAMS his fist on the table.
The sound CRACKS through the silence—sharp, final. The room
shifts uneasily.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Laser focused)
We MUST take out the gun positions
while providing cover for the
Jollys.
We don’t know how many more chances
we’ll get. We HAVE to make them
count.
A murmur ripples through the room. A quiet growing doubt.
PILOT (O.S.)
(Grumbling)
Why are we doin’ this?
The room goes still. Tripp’s head snaps up. His face hardens.
His eyes scan the room, zeroing in on the source.
COL TRIPP
(Voice sharp as a blade)
We’re doin’ our job!
We’re Americans! That’s why.
We never leave a man behind.
(A pause—challenging
anyone to speak. No one
does.)
Any more comments?
Silence. The men exchange glances, but no one speaks. Tripp
lets the moment hang.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Sharp, direct)
Do we have a status report on
today’s ops?
The administrative officer steps from the rear of the room.
ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICER
(Professional, precise)
Sir, no written report yet, but I
have the numbers.
COL TRIPP
(Impatient)
Go ahead.
ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICER
Today's operations included 93 jet
aircraft; 96 Skyraiders; 11 Jollys;
12 NAILs; 5 HC-130s; 2 Cobra
Gunships and KC-135 tankers...A
total of 222 aircraft.
A ripple of astonishment moves through the room. The sheer
scale of their effort sinks in.
ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICER (CONT'D)
(Tighter, serious)
Five Jollys and four A-1s are
unserviceable.
No wounded. No KIAs.
Tripp exhales, tension still etched in his features. It’s a
small mercy in an otherwise disastrous day.
COL TRIPP
(Measured and firm)
We’ve burned through a lot of
ordnance.
He scans the room. Seeing their exhaustion. Seeing their
determination
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
We can’t keep this up forever.
I’ll be working on plans tonight.
We meet again at 04:30...
Get some rest.
The pilots begin filing out, their exhaustion palpable. As
the room clears, Tripp motions to LT COL LYLE.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Quietly)
Sir, stay back a moment?
Lyle nods, stepping forward. They move to the front, sitting
across from each other. Tripp leans in, voice lower now, but
intense.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
We need a new approach.
The same plan’s failed all day.
I think our best shot is using a
small gunship for the rescue.
LT COL LYLE
(Skeptical, arms crossed)
A gunship?
COL TRIPP
(Nodding, determined)
We send a Jolly one way as a
diversion.
Skyraiders hammer enemy positions.
Meanwhile, a Cobra gunship speeds
in, low over the river.
Bravo grabs on and they haul ass
downriver.
Once clear, they pull him inside
and RTB.
Lyle exhales, rubbing his temples. He stares momentarily at
the floor.
LT COL LYLE
(Skeptical, but thinking
it through)
(MORE)
LT COL LYLE (CONT'D)
You can't be serious? That’s your
best option?
COL TRIPP
(Unwavering)
Of all options? Yes.
LT COL LYLE
(Leaning in, challenging)
What were the other options?
COL TRIPP
(Deadpan)
First, insert a Special Ops unit.
They escort Bravo to a secure
extraction point.
(Blunt, direct)
That means inserting 20-25 men,
with zero intel on enemy strength.
Lyle nods, considering the risk.
LT COL LYLE
Next option?
COL TRIPP
The Fulton STAR system.
(Pausing)
Bravo activates the balloon.
A plane snatches the line with a
Skyhook.
(Pause—then, sharper)
The problem?
Getting the gear to Bravo, along
with exposing a slow-flying
aircraft to heavy fire.
Lyle sighs, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t like
it, but he sees the truth in it.
LT COL LYLE
(Concern in his voice)
But your plan uses a Jolly as bait.
If they go down, now we’ve got more
men to rescue.
COL TRIPP
(Frustrated but resolute)
I know the risk.
But what’s the alternative?
A long silence. The weight of it presses on both men.
LT COL LYLE
(Measured, thoughtful)
I don’t like it.
But you’re right.
We can’t keep running the same
play.
COL TRIPP
(Nods, acknowledging the
hard truth.)
That’s where I’m at.
Just tryin’ to think outside the
box.
Silence fills the room. Lyle finally breaks it, his voice
measured.
LT COL LYLE
Let me sleep on it.
We’ll talk again in the morning.
They shake hands. A firm, silent agreement. As Lyle walks
off, Tripp turns back to the maps. The weight of the mission
still heavy on his shoulders.
FADE OUT.
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
Haunted by Shadows
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, NIGHT
Darkness blankets the valley. The jungle breathes around
him—distant voices, the occasional crack of gunfire, the
unseen presence of an enemy that never sleeps.
Bergeron moves low, crawling along the riverbank. Every dry
leaf, every snag of his vest against the thick brush feels
like a gunshot in the silence.
He freezes. Listens. Nothing. Damn it.
Frustrated, he unstraps the vest—sliding it off, letting it
go. He feels exposed, vulnerable... but at least he’s
quieter.
Inch by inch. The terrain is unforgiving. His muscles scream.
His body is shutting down. Twenty yards. That’s it? It’s
taken hours.
Ahead—A large tree, its exposed roots tangled into the
earth—a natural bunker. A perfect place to disappear. He
stops. Thinks. Then—
He moves. Carefully. Slipping into the river. The water grips
him, cold and slow-moving.
He wades twenty yards downstream, emerging silently from the
cold water. Then, he doubles back, retracing his steps,
throwing off whoever comes for him.
BERGERON (V.O.)
(A hint of dry humor,
whispering to himself)
Thank God I watched The Lone Ranger
as a kid.
Bergeron presses into the tree roots, digging himself into
the earth. He packs mud and sand around his body—tight
against his skin. The dirt is cold, grounding him.
A hollow reed. He slides it between his lips. His only
lifeline if he has to bury himself. His mosquito netting
shields his face. But then—The ants. Crawling over him. Not
biting, but relentless. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t move.
Endurance. That’s all this is now.
His hand adjusts his .38 revolver. It slips. Drops. A small
splash. The river swallows it. Gone. His stomach knots.
Blindly, he gropes into the water—hands plunging into the
cold—searching. Nothing. It’s gone.
He exhales. His hand finds his last bottle of water, fingers
fumbling in the dark. He drops in iodine tablets. Watches
them dissolve. His thirst is a living thing. But he knows the
chemical taste. Knows how it sours the stomach. He slides it
back into his pocket. He’d rather be thirsty.
Silence. Then—Distant voices. Getting closer. Three shadows
emerge, moving through the haze—enemy troops. They reach his
discarded vest. A long pause. Then—AK-47 BURSTS RIP through
the jungle. A GRENADE arcs through the air—BOOM. Debris rains
down. Smoke coils through the trees. They find nothing.
Bergeron holds his breath. Two enemy soldiers stand mere feet
away, scanning the jungle. Oblivious. One of them spits into
the dirt. Then—Shouts from further up the river. A moment’s
hesitation—Then the enemy moves toward the false trail. It
worked. Bergeron listens, his heartbeat throbbing in his
skull.
Then, SHOUTS from further up the river. The enemy picks up
his fake trail. It worked. They move on. The sounds of boots
fade into the night.
Engines. Soldiers at the ford are preparing for something.
Bergeron listens. Takes mental notes. His hand finds the
iodine-treated water bottle. He hesitates. His throat burns.
But he doesn’t drink.
After what seems like hours, he manages to fall asleep.
BERGERON
(Desperate, whispering)
GET DOWN! If I can see ya, THEY CAN
TOO!
A sudden eruption of bullets. Bergeron watches, frozen in
horror. The jungle swallows Danielson whole.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
Woody BOLTS AWAKE—GASPING. His chest heaves. Sweat drips into
his eyes. His hands tremble as they cover his face. His
breath is ragged, broken. Tears cut tracks through the dried
mud on his cheeks.
He wipes his face. Swallows hard. Listens. The jungle is
silent. Only his own heartbeat in his ears. Slowly, he lays
back down. His body screams for rest. His mind refuses it.
Darkness presses in. The night is long. The waiting
continues.
Darkness presses in. The night is long. The waiting
continues.
FADE TO BLACK.
END ACT TWO
ACT THREE
SUPERIMPOSE: “DECEMBER 7, 1969”
FADE IN:
Genres:
["War","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
Tension at Tactical Operations
INT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE (NKP) TACTICAL
UNITS OPERATIONS CENTER
Dim green light from the tactical screens flickers over tense
faces. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and unspoken
dread. At the front of the room, a map of Bravo’s last known
position looms large—a deathtrap, encircled by enemy
fortifications.
COL. Tripp stands rigid, his voice taut, every word edged
with urgency.
COL TRIPP
(Voice taut with urgency)
Last night, we got a fresh supply
of riot gas—CBU-40 Incapacitant
Dust. This stuff lingers. Which
means today, we expect better
results.
A murmur ripples through the room. Some nod. Others exchange
wary glances.
LT. COL. Lyle slips in quietly, sliding into a seat at the
back. Tripp barely acknowledges him. His focus remains on the
assembled pilots and officers—a room thick with tension.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
We’re gonna hit the karsts hard.
It’s imperative we take out their
big guns before any rescue
attempts.
Time is running out.
He scans the room, his gaze landing on faces lined with
exhaustion. They all know what’s at stake.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
If we keep failing—or if we lose
more crews—Blue Chip will shut us
down.
Silence. No one speaks. No one moves.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Firm, no hesitation)
Alright, gentlemen. Let's get
rollin'.
The pilots file out. The room empties—until only Tripp and
Lyle remain.
Tripp stands rigid, arms folded, jaw tight. Lyle shoves his
hands into his pockets, his shoulders stiff. They’ve had this
fight before. They’ll have it again.
COL TRIPP (CONT'D)
(Lowering his voice,
intense)
What’s your take on moving forward
with the gunship rescue?
Lyle exhales, his gaze hardening.
LT COL LYLE
(Voice tight)
I can’t send a Jolly crew in as
bait.
Tripp’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers twitch
into fists.
LT COL LYLE (CONT'D)
It’s too risky. And we don’t even
know if Bravo can handle an
extraction.
(Eyes locking with
Tripp’s—firm)
I won’t sign off on it.
Tripp’s jaw tightens. A long, slow inhale and exhale.
COL TRIPP
(Face hardening,
frustration evident)
You got a better option?
LT COL LYLE
(Sighs, eyes searching for
answers )
None that don’t put more lives at
risk.
(Gesturing towards the
map)
Woody’s position is a damn
deathtrap.
We need to be smart, not reckless.
Tripp’s knuckles whiten where his arms are crossed.
COL TRIPP
(steady, intense)
You think I’m making reckless
calls?
Lyle holds his gaze.
LT COL LYLE
(Voice rising, frustration
breaking through)
We sent 222 aircraft in yesterday.
Almost lost two Jollys. How many
more lives are we willing to
gamble?
A charged silence. The tension in the air thick enough to
break. Tripp’s fury flares in his eyes, but beneath
it—something deeper.
COL TRIPP
(Fury blazing in his eyes)
We don’t leave our own behind.
That’s not who we are.
Either we get lucky...or this goes
to shit.
Lyle studies him. Sees the weight Tripp carries. Finally, he
sighs. A slow, reluctant nod.
LT COL LYLE
(Takes a deep breath,
voice heavy with concern)
I know that.
But I can’t back a plan that uses
crews as bait.
Another moment of silence. Then—Tripp exhales sharply. The
fight fades, but the weight doesn’t.
COL TRIPP
(Sighing, frustration
mingling with
determination)
I know ya don't take this lightly.
None of us do.
That's why I wanted your feedback.
We'll stick with our original plan,
and WE WILL GET BRAVO OUT!
Tripp claps Lyle on the back. The gesture is heavy. A show of
respect-A silent truce.
But the weight of the mission still lingers.As they exit
together, the tension walks out with them.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT: 558TH TACTICAL FIGHTER WING, CAM RANH AIR BASE,
SOUTH VIETNAM, DAWN
The first slivers of light stretch across the horizon,
casting long shadows over the airfield. Flight crews move
with purpose. Ground crews double-check every detail. The
distant rumble of jet engines pulses through the humid air.
Near an office door, JIMMY, a ground crew member, halts mid-
step. His gaze locks onto a tear-off calendar pinned to the
wall.
The date: December 7. A flicker of unease crosses his face.
JIMMY, GROUND CREW MEMBER 1
(Shocked, pointing at the
calendar)
Holy shit! December 7th.
You think that's an omen?
He points. A few nearby crew members follow his gaze. A
moment of silence. The weight of the date settles in.
GROUND CREW MEMBER 2
(glancing at the calendar,
deadpan)
Omen? Nah. Just a reminder that
history’s got a way of kicking us
in the ass when we least expect it.
A gust of wind kicks up, rustling the calendar page.
Jimmy doesn’t respond. He just tears his eyes away and turns
back to work. One by one, the others do the same, but the
tension lingers.
Then-A ROAR splits the morning silence. In the distance,
SANDY 1 and SANDY 2 take off, slicing through the dawn. The
rescue is on.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Dawn of Rescue
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, SUNRISE
The sky shifts from deep blue to streaks of orange and pink.
MAJOR Monk grips the controls of Sandy 1, his eyes locked on
the valley below. The river twists through the valley, mist
lifting off its surface like steam from a battlefield.
The radio crackles. A voice cuts through the static. JOKER,
the overnight scene commander.
JOKER (V.O. RADIO)
(Slightly static)
Sandy 1, this is Joker.
Bravo’s shifted north, near the
riverbank.
I was waiting for more light to
confirm.
Monk nods to himself, adjusting the stick.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
Got it, Joker. I’ll take over.
Monk banks the aircraft, descending in a slow arc over the
valley. His eyes scan the valley below-thick mist, tangled
vegetation, the hidden threat of enemy movement.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT (CONT'D)
Bravo, this is Sandy 1. Stand-by
for authentication.
Monk flips open his flight book, running a gloved finger down
the authentication list. He stops at a question only Bravo
would know.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
(Grinning)
Bravo, this is Sandy 1.
What's your best friend's name?
BERGERON (V.O. RADIO)
(Tired, but steady—Cajun
accent unmistakable)
Weisdorfer. How copy?
Monk chuckles. That voice. That familiar, exhausted, stubborn-
as-hell voice. Bravo’s alive.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
(Voice lighter, relieved)
Morning, Bravo.
I hear you’ve moved. Stand by for
further instructions.
Monk tilts the aircraft, gliding over the valley. His eyes
scan the fog-covered terrain—searching, calculating. Every
second matters.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT (CONT'D)
(Focused, methodical)
Bravo, this is Sandy 1.
I need you to mark your position.
Take out your strobe and cup your
hands around it, so it's only
visible from above.
I’ll spot it as I make a pass. Let
me know when you're ready. How
copy?
BERGERON
(Quietly, surveying his
surroundings)
Copy Sandy 1.
The valley stretches beneath him—a killing ground, a rescue
zone, a place where men have died and men will die again.
Monk waits. Eyes locked on the jungle below. Radio in hand.
Waiting for Bravo’s answer.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
Airstrike Tension
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, SUNRISE
INTERCUT
Bergeron moves carefully, his breath steady, controlled. He
pulls the strobe from his pocket, tucks it into his flight
suit. A quick flick—one faint pulse. Satisfied, he cups his
hands around it, angling it skyward.
BERGERON
(Quietly)
Sandy 1, Bravo is ready and
standing by.
Major Monk tilts the aircraft, rolling into a tight split-S
maneuver. The valley stretches out below—a tangled mass of
mist, jungle, and danger. Then—A faint flash. Monk’s eyes
lock on it. Just a single pulse against the haze.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
(Eyes narrowing)
Bravo, I’ve got ya.
You’re just opposite Alpha’s chute.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
(Warning in is voice)
Keep your head down.
Only radio if you're in trouble.
We’re about to start throwing some
God-awful ordnance around.
END INTERCUT
Bergeron flattens against the earth, barely breathing.
Then—HELL UNLEASHES.
EXT. VALLEY – AIRSTRIKE
Jets SCREAM overhead. The ground convulses as the first bombs
hit. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Fire and smoke ERUPT, rolling through the valley in waves of
violence and heat. Bergeron grips the roots beneath him,
pressing his face into the dirt. Shockwaves pound his chest.
Dirt and shrapnel rain down. His ears ring from the
relentless blasts.
THE ROAR FADES. Bergeron lifts his head slightly, heart
hammering. Through the thick smoke, figures move. Enemy
troops. Close. Too close. His hand twitches toward his radio.
MORE AIRCRAFT STREAK IN. Bombs. Riot gas.
A thick white cloud ERUPTS, swallowing the battlefield. The
gas burns his throat—his lungs seize. Eyes sting. He holds
his breath. Muscles locking against the pain. The chaos rages
for an eternity—
Then, slowly, finally, the smoke begins to clear. THE ENEMY
IS RETREATING. Bergeron stays frozen, watching. Only when the
boots fade into the distance does he allow himself to exhale.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Rough, exhausted)
Bravo, stay put.
We need a couple of hours to prep
for a rescue. Don’t move until we
say so.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 08:50”
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
Into the Smoke: A Desperate Retreat
INT. JOLLY 77, DAY
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
(Tense, clipped)
Jolly 77, this is Sandy 1. Proceed
with your run.
The chopper shudders as it pushes into the smoke-filled
valley. LT COL SHIPMAN grips the controls, his knuckles
white. Sunlight barely cuts through the haze, casting eerie
shadows over the rugged terrain.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(Snapping)
Sandy 1, I need a heading to
continue.
His eyes flick across the smoky expanse. Scanning. Searching.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT (V.O. RADIO)
Head north.
The smoke will clear as you go.
Visibility should improve up ahead.
Shipman banks hard north. The chopper slices through the
haze. Then—gunfire erupts.
Rounds punch through the fuselage. The chopper lurches
violently. Warning lights flicker.
A1C BROOKS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Urgently)
Contact!
20-30 hostiles in the trees-20
yards out!
Brooks aims his M-16, squeezing off bursts. Silhouettes drop
through the haze.
SSGT BOSWELL, PARARESCUEMAN
(Shouting)
Foxholes on the west side of the
river! 50 feet out!
Boswell spins the mini-gun, unleashing a deafening barrage.
Tracer rounds slice through the smoke, tearing into the
riverbank. Enemy positions EXPLODE under the barrage. But
the gunfire doesn’t stop.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(Struggling at the
controls)
Anybody got eyes on Bravo?
Brooks and Boswell exchange frustrated looks, both shaking
their heads.
A1C BROOKS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Frustrated, tense)
Negative! Can’t see a damn thing!
Shipman’s jaw tightens, sweat drips down his forehead. The
chopper bucks under fire. He’s flying blind.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(Nervous, sharp decision)
Sandy 1, we can’t see a damn thing.
Zero visibility. We’re gonna pull
out, refuel, and then we’ll be
back.
The chopper ascends. Climbing fast. Leaving the suffocating
smoke behind. The moment they break into clearer skies—The
valley below ERUPTS again. Gunfire still chases them.
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 1 COCKPIT, DAY
Monk’s face is tight with stress. His knuckles whiten around
the stick, sweat beading at his temples. He glances at his
fuel gauge—dangerously low. A knot tightens in his stomach.
No choice now.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
(Tense, stressed)
Sandy 7. This is Sandy 1. I'm
running low on fuel. I need you to
take over as Lead.
A moment later, a voice cuts through the static. Calm.
Measured. MAJOR DAYTON.
MAJ DAYTON, SANDY 7 PILOT
(Composed)
Roger Sandy 1.
Monk exhales, forcing his mind to steady. Focus.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 1 PILOT
All aircraft. Sandy 7 is now in
charge.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 09:00”
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Tension in the Skies
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
Major Dayton is a seasoned, no-nonsense officer in his mid-
30s, with a sharp, angular face that rarely betrays any
emotion. His brown hair is neatly trimmed, and a hint of gray
at the temples gives him a distinguished edge, though his
eyes remain youthful and keen.
There's a quiet authority about him—he doesn't need to
command attention, it just comes naturally. His leadership
style is direct, tactical, and leaves little room for
mistakes.
Dayton banks low over the valley, eyes scanning the chaos
below. The smoke is thinning—but what it reveals is worse. A
moving wall of enemy troops. Hundreds of them. Closing in.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Urgently)
Nail 38, this is Sandy 7.
I need you and NAILs 18 and 46 to
coordinate strikes on the big guns.
We need them gone, now!
He switches frequencies. His voice remains calm—but there’s a
new edge underneath.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (CONT'D)
(Hard, pushing)
King 4, this is Sandy Lead. I need
additional assets with smoke.
A1C COLON, RADIOMAN, KING 4
(Static over radio)
Sandy 7, smoke’s in short supply.
We’ve got a special airlift in-
bound to NKP. We’ll round up what
we’ve got and send it your way.
Dayton’s jaw tightens. No smoke means less cover. And less
cover means—A slaughter.
The radio crackles again. A voice cuts in—urgent. Shipman.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Tense, quick)
Sandy 7, there's a camouflaged
truck on the west side of the river
near Alpha's chute.
Approximately 750 troops in the
open northwest of Bravo’s position
at 9 o'clock.
Dayton’s face hardens, his gaze fixed ahead as he
contemplates the new intel.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Internal dialog)
Danielson’s last known location.
If those troops advance unchecked,
Bergeron’s position is compromised.
I can’t let that happen.
Dayton drops lower, hugging the valley. The jungle rushes
beneath him, a blur of green and smoke. He locks onto the
target below—A truck-mounted weapon. Enemy troops advancing
straight toward Bravo. Decision time.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (CONT'D)
(Over comms, steady but
urgent)
King 4, this is Sandy 7.
I’ve got a truck-mounted weapon and
a large troop formation advancing
from Alpha’s position, heading
straight for Bravo.
Requesting permission to engage on
the western side of the river. I
say again—permission to target the
western side.
A1C COLON, RADIOMAN, KING 4 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Paused response)
Sandy 7, message received.
Stand by.
We’re gonna need a minute on this
one.
The weight of the decision presses against him.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Internal dialog)
Could Alpha still be alive?
If I don’t act now, we might lose
Bravo, and all of this... all of
this will be for nothing.
(MORE)
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (CONT'D)
May God have mercy on my soul if
I’m wrong.
Minutes stretch into an eternity. The enemy keeps moving.
Time is vanishing. Finally—The radio crackles to life.
A1C COLON, RADIOMAN, KING 4 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Final, no hesitation)
Sandy 7, Blue Chip has approved
your request.
You are clear to engage.
Dayton doesn’t move. No relief. No hesitation. Just a hard
stare into the valley below. Knowing that
everything...EVERYTHING...now rests on his next move.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
After the Storm
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
Bergeron hunkers low, heart hammering, his breath coming in
short, tight bursts. The radio crackles in his ear—Dayton’s
voice.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (V.O. RADIO)
(Tense, controlled)
Bravo, this is Sandy 7. There are
troops massing north.
Trucks are moving in from the west,
near Alpha’s chute.
We’re gonna eliminate the threat.
Lay low.
BERGERON
(Grimly, swallowing hard)
Received Sandy 7. Standing by.
The reality crashes over him. They’re targeting Ben’s
location. The weight of it sinks in deep. Hearing it is one
thing, feeling it in his chest is another. Then-THE SKY
ERUPTS.
EXT. VALLEY – AIRSTRIKE
Jets DIVE into the valley. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The ground
convulses. Shockwaves ripple outward, shaking the jungle.
Bergeron presses himself deeper into the tree roots, gritting
his teeth against the relentless, rolling concussions. Dirt
rains down, heat burns the air, and the stench of smoke fills
his lungs.
THE FINAL DETONATION. A shockwave of silence follows. A void.
A pause. Then, slowly, the world returns.
EXT. BERGERON’S POSITION – AFTERMATH
Bergeron hesitates before lifting his head. Smoke cloaks the
valley. The air is thick, heavy. Across the river—the enemy’s
position is obliterated. To the north, columns of smoke twist
skyward, a visual marker of the carnage.
For a moment—he doesn’t move. Then, a quiet flood of relief
washes over him. No signs of movement nearby. His body sags,
exhaustion gnawing at his limbs.
A SMALL, PRIVATE MOMENT. With a heavy heart, he bows his
head. A brief, earnest prayer. His fingers raise the sign of
the cross-a silent hope, a quiet thank you.
Dayton’s voice cuts through the smoke-thick silence.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (V.O. RADIO)
(Tense, assessing)
Bravo this is Sandy 7. What's your
status?
BERGERON
(Shaken, but steady)
I'm alive...that was an experience.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (V.O. RADIO)
From my view, I think you’re in the
clear.
We’ve got some work to do before
another rescue attempt.
Stand by. We’ll get you out.
Bergeron tilts his head skyward. Through the thick smoke,
aircraft fill the sky. Even though he’s alone on the
ground... He knows—He’s not alone.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
Desperate Extraction
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
Dayton banks his aircraft, scanning the valley. Below, thick
smoke columns rise like pillars, stretching into the still
air. Perfect cover.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Urgent, commanding)
All aircraft, this is Sandy 7.
We're a go for the rescue!
(MORE)
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (CONT'D)
(Decisive, determined)
Jolly 77, you're up. I'm doubling
your escorts. We're setting up a
double daisy chain on both sides of
your chopper.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Focused)
Sandy 7, Jolly 77 is en route from
the staging area.
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 11:50”
CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 77, DAY
INTERCUT
LT COL SHIPMAN tightly grips the stick, eyes locked on the
terrain below.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
Everyone, man your positions.
Once we reach Bravo’s position we
need to be in and out. Make every
second count!
MSGT WILLIS, Pararescueman, grabs SGT SHINN, urgency in his
voice.
MSGT WILLIS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Focused)
Shinn, help me unwind and stage the
penetrator cable.
It'll minimize our hover time.
SGT SHINN nods. Both men move fast, unspooling the cable with
practiced precision.
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Sharply)
Jolly 77, you need to go low over
the river to avoid the big guns.
Inside the chopper, Shipman squints into the smoke,
disoriented.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
(Frustrated, adjusting
controls)
(MORE)
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
Sandy 7, this is Jolly 77.
We’re losing visibility in the
smoke! I need a heading!
MAJOR MONK, SANDY 17 PILOT (V.O.
RADIO)
(Quick, directed)
Copy. Your heading is 090.
Bravo is 75 meters from your
position.
THE AMBUSH. 50 meters from Bravo—GUNFIRE ERUPTS. From both
sides of the valley, enemy machine gun fire rains down.
Rounds punch into the fuselage. The bird shudders violently.
MSGT WILLIS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Alarmed)
We're takin’ heavy fire!
They're in the trees!
SGT SHINN
(Desperate)
Troops in foxholes on the other
side.
The crew returns fire. M-60s roar. Miniguns rip through the
riverbanks.
Above, Dayton circles. Eyes locked on the firefight. Trying
to control the chaos.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7 (V.O. RADIO)
(Urgent)
Jolly 77! You overshot Bravo! Back
up 25 feet!
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. BERGERON'S POSITION, DAY
The chopper hovers, rotors kicking up a storm of debris.
Wind. Dust. A deafening roar. BERGERON MOVES. No hesitation.
Adrenaline surges. His body reacts before his mind can catch
up. He bursts from cover—legs pumping, lungs burning. His
vinyl escape chart clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Arms
flail wildly.
ABOVE—Boswell leans out, eyes scanning. He spots Bergeron. He
hurls the penetrator.
SLOW MOTION: The cable spirals down—falling—falling. It lands
in the river.
No time to think. Gunfire erupts.Dirt spits up around him.
Rounds whine past his ears. Bergeron sprints.
He dives—HITS the water. Muted chaos. Bullets slice the
surface above—distant, distorted. His lungs burn. His fingers
claw through the water. He grabs the penetrator. GRIP IT.
HOLD ON!
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. JOLLY 77, DAY
MSGT Willis sees Woody grab the penetrator. His heart races.
MSGT WILLIS, PARARESCUEMAN
(Panic/excited)
We’ve got him! Winch him up!
The winch motor whines. The cable strains. The chopper
hovers, an easy target.
Willis sees it. The enemy is zeroing in on Bergeron.
MSGT WILLIS, PARARESCUEMAN (CONT'D)
(Shouting towards cockpit)
I have Bravo!
We need to get the hell outta here!
The intercom is down. No time. He dashes forward to update
Shipman.
MSGT WILLIS, PARARESCUEMAN (CONT'D)
(Yelling)
Bravo’s on the line!
We gotta go NOW!
Shipman doesn’t hesitate. He yanks the stick forward. The
chopper surges ahead.
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
58 -
Welcome Home
EXT. SKY ABOVE THE VALLEY – DAY
Bergeron JERKS—his body WHIPPING violently as the chopper
accelerates. Dangling. Spinning. Helpless.
Below—Enemy troops flood from the treeline. Rifles snap up.
A STREAK OF TRACER ROUNDS. A near miss. Another.
ABOVE—Willis and Boswell reach out—arms straining, fully
exposed. The cable swings wildly. Bullets rip through the air
around them. Then-their fingers clamp onto his flight suit. A
final desperate yank.
INT. JOLLY 77 – DAY
Bergeron slams into the floor. Hard. He gasps. Body shaking.
Drenched. Exhausted.
Willis drops beside him—hands flying, checking for wounds.
Bergeron’s chest heaves. A gash crusted with blood on his
brow. His flight suit is shredded, soaked in river water.
Boswell kneels beside him. His eyes soften. He pulls
something from his vest. A Search and Air Rescue badge. He
pins it onto Bergeron’s flight suit.
SSGT BOSWELL, AERIAL PHOTOGRAPHER
(Voice braking)
Sir, this is part of our tradition.
Welcome home!
Bergeron stares. Eyes glassy. A single tear carves through
the dirt and blood. He nods.
EXT. SKY ABOVE THE JUNGLE – DAY
The chopper ascends. Below—the battlefield shrinks. The
jungle swallows the fight. A distant, haunting memory.
LT COL SHIPMAN, JOLLY 77 PILOT
Sandy 7.
Mission accomplished!
Bravo is secured!
SUPERIMPOSE: “Time: 11:52”
END INTERCUT
CUT TO:
INT. SANDY 7 COCKPIT, DAY
Dayton exhales. The crushing tension in his chest finally
releases. A grin tugs at his face. His fist clenches in
victory, trembling slightly—the adrenaline still coursing
through him.
He switches frequencies—his voice thick with emotion.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Excited, voice cracking
with emotion)
All aircraft.
Mission accomplished!
Bravo’s been recovered!
A brief pause, then, the radio crackles again.
A1C COLON, RADIOMAN, KING 4 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Steady, authoritative)
Sandy 7. This is King 4.
Blue Chip is ordering all forces to
pull out immediately.
Dayton steadies himself, nods. Takes one last look at the
valley below.
MAJOR DAYTON, SANDY 7
(Relieved)
Sandy 7. Roger. Break...All
aircraft. Pull out immediately and
return to base. Sandy 7, out.
Still grinning, Dayton banks hard, heading home. Then—A final
transmission fills his headset. And it chills him to the
core.
A1C COLON, RADIOMAN, KING 4 (V.O.
RADIO)
(Matter-of-fact, yet
staggering)
Jolly 77. This is King 4.
Pass along the following to Bravo:
Time of rescue 51 hours; 15 rescue
attempts conducted; 493 aircraft
deployed with over 875 crew members
participating. Plus an unknown
number of ground and air crews
assisted.
(A final pause)
Welcome home!
CUT TO:
Genres:
["War","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
Return of the Jollys
EXT. NAKHON PHANOM ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE (NKP) AIRBASE,
DAY
The rescue Jollys approach the airbase, trailing red victory
smoke.
On the flight line, a massive crowd awaits. Pilots.
Mechanics. Medics. Command staff. Everyone is there.
Jolly 77 lands. The crowd surges forward. A wave of cheers
erupts. Thunderous. Deafening. Overwhelming.
Bergeron steps out. The weight of survival still clinging to
him. Flashes go off. Dozens of cameras capture the moment.
Someone hands him a glass of champagne—a tradition. Cameras
capture the moment. He tries to smile—but exhaustion dulls
everything.
BERGERON
(voice hoarse, struggling
to speak)
I need a medic.
A medic approaches. Bergeron reaches into his flight
suit—Pulls out a battered water bottle. Holds it up.
BERGERON (CONT'D)
(Half-joking, dead
serious)
Take this to the infirmary. I’ve
been drinkin’ this water.
(Dryly)
I’ll be damned if I survive the
enemy only to get taken down by
microbes.
Those around him laugh. The tension breaks. But his hands are
still shaking.
EXT-INT. COMMAND DEBRIEFING ROOM, DAY
Bergeron is surrounded while being escorted to the debriefing
room. Wood-paneled walls. Industrial lighting. A room where
stories are told and war is measured.
Inside, he spots his buddy—1LT JINK BENDER. Waiting.
Smirking.
1LT BENDER
(Voice full of admiration)
Boy, Woody, that was a helluva
rescue.
Fifty-one hours on the ground?
I wouldn’t have lasted five.
BERGERON
(Half smiling, eyes
glistening)
Fifty-one hours
(Shaking his head)
That’s a load of BS.
They forgot the time change in
Laos. It was 52 hours.
They laugh. Jink slaps him on the back.
1LT BENDER
(Sincerely)
I’m damn glad you’re back. Now
you’re back in this hellhole with
the rest of us.
CUT TO:
INT. COMMAND DEBRIEFING ROOM, DAY
The room falls silent. Four officers sit in quiet reflection.
Then COL. Tripp steps in.
A man of few words, but full of pride.
COMMANDING OFFICER
(Nods, respectful)
Colonel, please, take a seat.
First off, congratulations.
That was one hellava of a mission.
Tripp nods. But his face is solemn. A moment passes.
COL TRIPP
(Matter of fact, but
deeply proud)
Thank you, sir. Let me sum it up.
(His voice steady,
reflective)
In a war we were slowly losing—
For want of a winning strategy and
the national resolve to carry it
out—This was one bright spot.
(Scanning the room)
The aircrew fraternity knew-That
the commitment to recover one of
our own was the one standard we
could count on.
(Sitting back
slightly—voice
unwavering)
The amount of riot control gas and
white phosphorus smoke dropped in a
half-mile radius? It will never be
exceeded in the history of air
rescues.
(A pause—letting it sink
in)
Several hundred aircraft—
Operating in less than a square
mile—And not one mid-air collision.
(Softly, with pride)
Damn fine work!
FADE TO BLACK.
SUPERIMPOSE: "RETURN TO LOAS, 2020”
FADE IN:
Genres:
["War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
Reflections by the Nam Ngo
EXT. NAM NGO RIVER, LAOS, DAY
The river flows gently, untouched by war. The jungle
stretches in quiet serenity—a stark contrast to the past.
A weathered hand grips a cane. Woody Bergeron, fifty years
older. He leans against the same tree root that once shielded
him. His eyes scan the valley. A place where he fought for
his life. A place where he lost a brother. A place where he
was saved.
NARRATER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Woodrow "Woody" Joseph Bergeron,
Jr., was the first downed pilot to
survive three days in enemy
territory.
For his intelligence reports on
enemy activity during those 51
hours, he was awarded the Silver
Star. He served from 1967 to 1987,
retiring as a Lieutenant Colonel.
(A brief pause)
In 2003, a Laotian fisherman found
human remains along the banks of
the Nam Ngo River. A survival vest,
a knife and dog tags-Benjamin
Danielson’s dog tags were
discovered.
On June 15, 2007, U.S. Navy pilot,
LT CMDR Brian Danielson, son of
Benjamin Danielson, accompanied his
father’s remains to his hometown in
Kenyon, Minnesota for final
interment.
David Davison was posthumously
awarded the Silver Star and Purple
Heart.
FADE TO BLACK.
MUSIC, CLOSING CREDITS
BOXER 22 PARTICIPANTS
A-1 SKYRAIDER PILOTS
Capt. Ernest F. Anderson
1LT James Bender
Lt. Bert Bertrand
Capt. Stuart Bischoff
Capt. Richard E. Bolstad
Richard E. Brown
Lt. James R. Castagno (On Scene Commander)
Lt. Cavender
Richard Chorlins
Lt. Thomas Coleman
Capt. Don Combs
Maj. Jim Costin
Lt. Craig V. Curran
Maj. Thomas E. Dayton (On Scene Commander)
Maj. Earl Deneau (On Scene Commander)
Maj. Dean DeTar
Capt. Richard Diller
Lt. Jimmy Doolittle
George A. Driscoll
Capt. John Dyer
Lt. Dave Friestad
Noel F. Frisbie
Lt Col. Wilfred V. Gable
Maj. Gardner
James C. George (On Scene Commander)
Capt. Ralph Hanna
Maj. Robert Hoffman
Edward L. Homan
Lt. Howard
Maj. Edward M. Hudgens
Capt. Jackson Hudson (On Scene Commander)
Lt. Rex Huntsman
Capt. Mike Johann
Lt. Dave Kantrud
Capt. Chuck Kennedy
Maj. Lawrence Knox
Maj. Joe Leonhardt
OV-10 PILOTS AND OBSERVERS:
Howard D. Bernard
Capt. Fred J. Coffin
Maj. Phillip DeLeo
SSgt. John P. Doyle
Capt. Gerald A. Harman
Capt. Richard G. Hellier
Capt. Clark G. Hoffman
Maj. Thurston L. Hurt
Capt. Norman E. James
Maj. Ray H. Janes, Jr.
Thomas M. Leard
Maj. Lawrence Oullett
Capt. James B. Pierce
Capt. Delbert A. Post
Capt. Bruce A. Risinger
Capt. Donald J. Ryan
Capt. Henry J. Smith
Capt. John A. Warden
Capt. Gurney D. White
HH-3 HELICOPTER CREWS
Maj. Walter E. Barnes (Pilot)
Sgt. Richard G. Beasley (Pararescueman)
SSgt. Roy D. Bloebaum (Pararescueman)
A1C Davis J. Bond (Flight Engineer)
Lt. Richard V. Butchka (Pilot)(USCG)
SSgt. Ernest D. Casbeer (Pararescueman)
SSgt. Cavone (Flight Engineer)
SSgt. Robert W. Edgar (Flight Engineer)
Maj. James Z. Elkinton (Pilot)
Capt. John H. Fette (Pilot)
Capt. Leonard D. Fialko (Pilot)
Sgt. Wayne L. Fisk (Pararescueman)
Sgt. Ricky L. Fleming (Pararescueman)
TSgt. Claude C. Franks (Flight Engineer)
SSgt. Vincent P. Freeman (Flight Engineer)
MSgt. Harold W. Harvey (Pararescueman)
Maj. George C. Hitt (Pilot)
Maj. Edward L. Hlavaty (Pilot)
SSgt. Jon K. Hoberg (Pararescueman)
Capt. Charles W. Hoilman (Pilot)
Sgt. Douglas L. Horka (Pararescueman)
Capt. Kenneth T. Kelley (Pilot)
SSgt. Robert J.P. Laframboise (Flight Engineer)
SSgt. David W. Lilliston (Flight Engineer)
Lt. James M. Loomis (Pilot)(USCG)
Lt Col. Joe Lyle, Jr. (Pilot)
Maj. Robert W. Martin (Pilot)
TSgt. Eugene L. Nardi (Pararescueman)
Sgt. Gary T. Osborne (Pararescueman)
Capt. Robert W. Packer (Pilot)
Sgt. Ronnie L. Painter (FE)
Capt. Phillip O. Pfanschmidt (Pilot)
Maj. Bruce E. Prouse (Pilot)
SSgt. Curtis W. Pythian (Pararescueman)
Sgt. Robert Reisig (Pararescueman)
Capt. Travis H. Scott (Pilot)
TSgt. Donald A. Sutton (Pararescueman)
SSgt. Joseph Vai (Flight Engineer)
Maj. John H. Winter (Pilot)
HH-53 HELICOPTER CREW MEMBERS
A1C Raymond C. Banas (Aerial Photographer)
Capt. Richard M. Baskett (Pilot)
Capt. Holly G. Bell (Pilot)
Maj. Hubert Berthold (Pilot)
SSgt. Thomas D. Blakeney (Flight Engineer)
SSgt. Gerald D. Boswell (Aerial Photographer)
A1C Steven D. Brooks
Capt. Jerald A. Brown (Pilot)
Sgt. Lawrence T. Brown (Aerial Photographer)
A1C Terry E. Caffery (Pararescueman)
Capt. Donald L. Carty (Pilot)
Lt Col. Frank S. Catlin (Pilot)
Capt. Gary F. Cody (Pilot)
Sgt. Charles L. Colbert (PJ)
Sgt. James E. Corcoran (Flight Engineer)
Jackie R. Craft (Aerial Photographer)
Sgt. Douglas W. Crowder (Pararescueman)
Maj. Jerry A. Crupper (Pilot)
Sgt. Arthur M. Davis (Pararescueman)
† Sgt. David Davison (Pararescueman)
SSgt. John J. Eldridge (Pararescueman)
Sgt. James B. Gerwert (Pararescueman)
Maj. John H. Gill (Pilot)
Capt. Ted Griffith (Pilot)
Robert L. Harris (Pararescueman)
SSgt. Jack L. Hartman (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Robert M. Horne (Pilot)
SSgt. Charles Howard (Aerial Photographer)
SSgt. James A. Hunt (Pararescueman)
MSgt. Ronald R. Jeczala (Pararescueman)
Lt Col. Charles King (Pilot)
SSgt. Donald Labarre (Flight Engineer)
SSgt. Stephen L. Lebeau (Flight Engineer)
TSgt. William E. Lester (Pararescueman)
SSgt. David C. Lohrengel (Flight Engineer)
Lt Col. Alan Mateer (Pilot)
Sgt. Gregory J. McDonald (Pararescueman)
TSgt. Truman W. McDonald (Flight Engineer)
Sgt. Anthony J. McFarr (Pararescueman)
TSgt. Jack D. Moran (Pararescueman)
Sgt. James E. Nash (Pararescueman)
MSgt. Rodney D. Ohman (Pararescueman)
Capt. Stephen R. Olsen (Pilot)
MSgt. Henry Perry (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Dan L. Reeder (Pilot)
Sgt. Haven V. Richardson (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Gary F. Sanderson (Pilot)
Capt. Dennis H. Sattler (Pilot)
Capt. Leroy C. Schaneberg (Pilot)
Sgt. Brenton D. Schicker (Pararescueman)
Capt. Edward J. Sichterman (Pilot)
Sgt. William C. Shinn (Flight Engineer)
Lt Col. Clifton A. Shipman (Pilot)
Maj. Robert L. Smith (Pilot)
Donald R. Snyder (Pararescueman)
Sgt. Ronald L. Surratt (Aerial Photographer)
MSgt. Maurice F. Tasker (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Donald Y. Thompson (Pilot)
MSgt. William J. Warren (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Martin W. Weeks (Pilot)
MSgt. Edward M. Willis (Pararescueman)
SSgt. John E. Wilson (Pararescueman)
† Sgt. David Davison was the sole casualty from the aircrews
that participated in this rescue.
HC-130 CREW MEMBERS
Maj. Abbott (Pilot)
MSgt. Berger (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Bonck (Airborne Mission Commander)
SSgt. Brown (Flight Engineer)
Capt. Burd (Navigator)
TSgt. Butler (Flight Engineer)
Maj. Clements (Pilot)
A1C Conlon (Radio Operator)
Capt. Corley (Navigator)
TSgt. Cornell (Loadmaster)
SSgt. Daniels (Flight Engineer)
MSgt. Dunkan (Flight Engineer)
Maj. Feiler (Airborne Mission Commander)
Capt. Francis (Navigator)
SSgt. Gately (Loadmaster)
TSgt. Hallman (Flight Engineer)
Maj. Hanson (Airborne Mission Commander)
Capt. Harris (Pilot)
Heining (Pilot)
SSgt. Herring (Loadmaster)
Maj. Kendall (Pilot)
Maj. Kimmel (Pilot)
Lt Col. Landou (Pilot)
Maj. McFarland (Pilot)
SSgt. Moe (Radio Operator)
Capt. Myers (Navigator)
TSgt. Raper (Flight Engineer)
Maj. Ray (Navigator)
Lt Col. Reece (Airborne Mission Commander)
MSgt. Reid (Loadmaster)
MSgt. Rodgers (Flight Engineer)
Sgt. Roland (Radio Operator)
Maj. Smith (Airborne Mission Commander)
TSgt. Swaney (Loadmaster)
TSgt. Sweeney (Flight Engineer)
A1C Toomer (Radio Operator)
SSgt. Wareham (Loadmaster)
Not all names were legible on the primary source documents.
Therefore, some participants are not listed.