INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Ecker lets out a long breath.

                                ECKER

                      I think I understand.  What about my

                      men?  If it comes up hot and heavy, and

                      we don't have anyone to protect us...

                      I'm going to be writing letters to

                      parents.  I hate writing letters to

                      parents.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny nods to himself, feeling.  He's done it himself.

                                KENNY

                      If the President protects you,

                      Commander, he may have to do it with the

                      Bomb.

            INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Ecker doesn't want to be avenged with atomic weapons.  No

            sane person would.

                                KENNY (V.O.)

                      I've known the man for fifteen years.

                      The problem is, he will protect you.  So

                      I'm asking: don't make him protect you.

                      Don't get shot at.

            Ecker down, deeply affected.  Suddenly, A BELL RINGS.  A

            TELETYPE goes off.  Ecker knows it's for him.  His orders.

                                ECKER

                      Okay, Mr. O'Donnell.  We'll do what we

                      can.

            END INTERCUT.

            As Ecker hangs up, the Duty Officer rips off the ORDERS,

            hands them to Ecker, who takes one look, then gazes out the

            window at the runway --

            EXT. RUNWAY - KEY WEST NAVAL AIR STATION - DAY

            A CART speeds down the flight line past the waiting F8U-1P

            Corsairs.  One by one, the four pilots accompanying Ecker and

            Wilhemy jump off to mount their planes.  The cart still

            moving.

                                ECKER

                      Get that fuel assayed?

                                WILHEMY

                      Yeah.  It sucks.  Ain't for high

                      performance babies like ours.  Shoulda

                      brought some from home, but what can you

                      do?  Last-second deployments...

            Wilhemy jumps off, then they're at Ecker's plane, and he

            jumps off.  Too late to worry about bad fuel now.  He hoists

            himself up and into the cockpit of the sleek navy jet.

                 INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

            As the canopy closes, Ecker powers up the engines, talks to

            his flight over the Guard channel.

                                ECKER

                      Okay, time to play Spin the Bottle with

                      our bearded buddy.  Nobody gets out

                      ahead.  Remember, just sitting here

                      we're only ten minutes from target.

            EXT. RUNWAY - DAY

            The Crusaders swing around in pairs at one end of the runway,

            and then the first two throttle-up, flaps down, and drop

            their brakes.  The machines LUNGE forward like duelling drag

            racers.  The FILL THE SCREEN, blow past.

            EXT. AERIAL - OVER KEY WEST - DAY

            The six Crusaders, in pairs, streak over the buildings and

            streets of Key West.  And in a heartbeat, cross the beach and

            are out to sea.

            And already on the horizon, the low clouds and dark line of

            land.  Cuba.  Ninety miles away.

            INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

            The ocean shrieks past so close you can see the white foam.

            Ecker checks the altimeter: 150 FEET.

            A small fishing boat looms ahead, its net booms reaching up

            like tree limbs.  The Crusader rockets over it.

            Ecker checks his instruments.  OUT THE WINDOW, the other

            Crusaders thunder over the water, past sailboats, cabin

            cruisers, the small-craft traffic outside Key West.  The

            speed sucks the breath away.

                                ECKER

                      Go to military throttle on my mark.

                      Three...two...one... mark.

            His airspeed indicator spins up to 400 knots.  And then his

            radio suddenly crackles:

                                PILOT #1 (O.S.)

                      Flameout flameout!

                                PILOT #2 (O.S.)

                      Shit!  Me too!

                                ECKER

                      Get some altitude!

            Two of the Crusaders pull up, away from the water.

                                PILOT #1 (O.S.)

                      Oh, God damn.  Got it restarted.

                                PILOT #2 (O.S.)

                      Yeah.  Yeah.  Me too.  Goddamn fuel.

                                PILOT #1 (O.S.)

                      Sir, I don't think she's gonna hold up

                      for the run.

                                ECKER

                      Affirmative.  You two get out of here.

            EXT. AERIAL - CRUSADERS - DAY

            The two planes with bad fuel pull wingovers to their left,

            head for the airfield in the distance.  The four remaining

            planes streak over the ocean.  There are no more small craft

            this far out in the strait.

            INT. ECKER'S CRUSADER - DAY

            Cuba, green and hazy, looms in the window.  Ecker throws a

            series of switches.

                                ECKER

                      Start your camera checks.

            A mechanical WHINE accompanies the switch-throwing.  Ecker

            pulls the trigger on his joystick and a THUMP THUMP THUMP

            hammers away.  There are green lights across his boards.

            One of the other pilots cuts in on the radio:

                                PILOT #3 (O.S.)

                      Failure.  All cameras.  Sonofabitch.

                      Film must not have fed.

                                PILOT #4 (O.S.)

                      Jesus!  Shit!  Oh shit!  I just shot it

                      all, boss.  Activator jammed open, its

                      exposing everything now.

                                WILHEMY (O.S.)

                      That's alright, Lenny, it happens to

                      most men at some time --

            Ecker grimaces, but his voice stays cool.

                                ECKER

                      -- Scrub, you two.  Get out of here.

                      Still with me, Bruce?

                                WILHEMY (O.S.)

                      That's affirm.

            The two Crusaders who've failed their camera checks break

            off.  And now Cuba's hills, the Havana sky line are right in

            front of them.

            EXT. CUBAN BEACH - CONTINUOUS

            The last two Crusaders streak over the surf, a white wake of

            spray in their jetwash, and cross the beach with a boom.

            EXT. AERIAL - CRUSADERS - CONTINUOUS

            The planes dip and rise with the green tropical contours,

            taking us on a sickening roller-coaster ride over Cuban

            countryside at treetop level.

            Palm forest, roads, can fields, more palm forest race by.

            And then, ahead, a large clearing.

                                ECKER (O.S.)

                      Warm 'em up.  We're here.

            EXT. ANTI-AIRCRAFT BATTERY - CONTINUOUS

            Cuban ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNNERS shout as they traverse their 40mm

            guns in their sandbagged emplacement.  The low rippling

            thunder of the incoming jets becomes an earsplitting ROAR...

            and the Crusaders blast out over the clearing.  The anti

            aircraft guns open up.

            INT. WILHEMY'S CRUSADER - CONTINUOUS

            Wilhemy jinks left to avoid a streaking of TRACER FIRE.