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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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I thought you said we had an hour, sir?
Well now I'm saying we're moving out. Get off your ass.
I've given this a lot of thought, sir. The best thing that could happen is, we find Ryan and he's dead.
Why's that?
Well, sir, consider the possibilities. A: Ryan is alive. We have to take him back to the beach. Knowing you, you don't let him carry my gear, even though he really should, and we all get killed, trying to keep him alive.
Except for the last part, that one's not bad.
B: Ryan is dead. He's been blown up by the German equivalent of Wade, whose name I know you don't want me to mention. There's nothing to find. The biggest piece is the size of a pea. We wander around, looking for him until the Germans pick us off, one after another.
I don't like that one.
Neither do I, sir. C: And this is the worst one, we find Ryan and he's wounded. Not only does he not carry my gear, we have to carry his gear. And him.
But we accomplish the mission.
Maybe. But what if he dies on the way back? you see what I'm saying, sir? The best possible situation is, he's dead, we find his body, more or less intact, we grab one of his dogtags and hightail it back to the beach, or better yet, we head over to Caen and catch up with division.
Has anyone ever told you, you're officer material?
No, sir.
That's a mystery to me.
Scans the Germans with his binoculars.
Looks like tea time, maybe they're Brits.
Looks like they've been having a hell of a party, here, Captain.
ON THE BRIDGE! WE'RE COMING IN.
I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. HERE WE COME. Cover me.
What if our guys open up, sir?
You're only allowed to shoot at Germans, that's one of the rules.
Have it your way, Captain.
Yes, sir, of course, sir, I was merely speaking hypothetically. IF this was a voting situation, then the vote would have been unanimous. But of course, it's not a voting situation, you're the captain, and you give the orders, sir.
You're goddamned right, I give the order. Vote! Jesus Christ! Listen to me, you little pissant pieces of shit, I am the ranking officer here and what I say goes, is that clear?
Maybe Caen.
Let's hope, because we're sure as hell not going to do any damage to them with what we have here.
Leave him to me, Captain, I'll have him pissing and moaning with the best of us.
See to it.
Cocks his Thompson. Settles down behind some sandbags.
HERE THEY COME!
OPENS UP with the MACHINE GUN.
Goddamn it...Goddamn it...Goddamn it...
Get back to your positions!
What deal?
I coach the baseball team, too.
I wonder if his cabin is still available?
That's not where I am. Miller No? Where are you?
Hears the FAINT DISTANT RUMBLE OF THE TANK. Barely has time to react. Sees:
Here they come.
FIRES a burst. Germans drops.
FIRES a burst. More Germans drop.
Continues FIRING. CUTTING DOWN the advancing Germans.
Knows what that means. He hears the RUMBLE OF THE TANKS.
Goddamn it!
More tanks... Ryan Lot's of them The fear on their faces turns to resignation. They know that they are dead men. They settle into their positions, and prepare to fire and die.
GO!
Rolls his eyes, takes a breath. Scrambles into the gap. The other five right behind.
CAPTAIN, IF YOUR MOTHER SAW YOU DO THAT, SHE'D BE VERY UPSET!
I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY MOTHER.
Worked, didn't it?
You tryin' to get yourself killed?
Don't need to, the Krauts go that covered.
Caen?
I wish. You and I are taking a squad up to Ramelle on a public relations mission.
You? Leading a squad?
Some private up there lost three brothers, got a ticket home.
What about the company?
Simpson.
Simpson? Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick!
I want Reiben on B.A.R; Jackson with his sniper rifle; Beasley, demolition.
Beasley's dead.
Okay, Wade. Translators?
Fresh out.
What about Talbot?
Twenty minutes ago. Miller Damn, I'll go see if I can find another one. You get Reiben, Jackson and Wade, meet me at transport.
You get a translator, Captain?
I've got a line on one.
Now we've got a straight shot, due north, to Ramelle, twentysix miles, two villages between here and there, St. Mere, then Bernay. We'll take the jeep as far as we can, then go on on foot.
We in radio contact with anybody up there?
Somebody put the wrong crystals in every one of the HundredandFirst's radios the night before the drop, not one of them works. We're going in blind.
A fucking mess, two maybe three Kraut divisions, no fronts, no lines, the drops were completely fouled up, we've got little pockets of paratroopers all over the place, trying to hang on. Command says we hold St. Mere, but north of that, it's all Krauts. Even if Ryan's where he's supposed to be, he's more than likely dead.
Hell of a mission.
Yep, hell of a mission.
Uh, Captain...
PUSH!
Uh, Captain...
Got it, sir. We gonna go take care of those eightyeights?
That's not what we're here for.
He's right, Captain, it might be kind of dangerous for those flyboys.
Tell that to Private James Ryan. We've got our orders. Let's go.
You ever going to open those letters? Miller keeps his eyes on the maps.
Maybe.
It's not normal, not reading letters from home.
Since when have things been normal?
You got me. Afraid of bad news?
Nope.
Good news?
You think they'll be alright?
They're fine. As long as they can gripe, they'll be alright.
And what about you?
They guys here aren't going to be able to hold out until battalion shows up.
Nope.
Command isn't going to let them withdraw and the Germans sure as hell aren't going to let them surrender.
Three for three.
If we stayed, we could make a difference.
You're kidding yourself.
You never know.
I hope this boy Ryan is worth it.
Now you're the one kidding yourself. Hell of a mission.
Yup, hell of a mission.