A young Italian girl survives the horrors of war to marry, love, live, and become a modern woman.
EXT. DOCKS OF BIZERTE – DAY
SUPER: BIZERTE, NORTH AFRICA, JUNE 1943
Clay, battle scarred buildings line the dock.
Supply ships fill the harbor. WORKERS (Arabs and Negro Soldiers) unload them and carry crates toward the shore. Stacks and stacks of TIRES are everywhere.
SGT. KANE-TUCK, (28) tall and solidly built stands at the start of the dock. His uniform is wet with sweat and he speaks with a southern accent.
A SAILOR (25), short with pimples hands him a clipboard.
Here you go, Sir, I just need –
That’s Sergeant, Bub, I work for a living. Y’all want Mr. Robinson. Hey, Robbie!
WARRANT OFFICER ARTHUR “ROBBIE” ROBINSON, (30) very tall, strong and with chiseled features, reclines and dozes under a nearby umbrella, his feet up on a pile of tires. He speaks with a New England accent.
Robbie opens his eyes, stretches and sits up straight. The sailor crosses to him and hands him the board.
Not more tires.
Some Pentagon jackass moved a decimal point and we’ve been getting tires for weeks. And it’s Mr. Robinson, not sir.
Robbie gestures around them as he reads the clipboard. His eyebrows shoot up.
You brought ten ammo ships into the harbor?
What’s a hah-bah?
SCREECH from above. ARAB WORKER #1 points into the sky.
ARAB WORKER #1
Everyone except the sailor hits the ground or dives into stacks of tires. Robbie sees the sailor freeze, grabs him and pulls him behind a pile of tires.
Commit this to memory, son. Fajaffi – incoming, cover your ass!
EXT. SKY – DAY
A GERMAN DIVE BOMBER SCREAMS toward the dock and releases a BOMB. The bomb WAILS and plunges into a ship’s Hold, but doesn’t explode. The Bomber flies off to the east.
EXT. DOCK – DAY
Kane slowly lifts his face out of the dirt. He takes off his helmet and wipes away the dust and sweat. Robbie and the sailor step out from behind the tires.
Robbie swallows hard and starts to walk toward the ship. Kane gets to his feet.
Are y’all nuts? You’re the Port Safety Officer, not bomb disposal.
Since the last time you dealt with a UXB. My pants are still wet from that little “fireworks display.”
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