Adagio for Strings plays. A black-and-white video from the "It's War" chapter of Conker's Bad Fur Day plays in the background, audio edited out. Credits roll during this time. Video ends with Conker entering the Evil Tedi bunker. Fade out.

Caption: T-Day plus Two. Some beach behind Tedi lines.

3rd Platoon Camp.

An overhead view of the camp. There are squirrels scurrying about the camp like ants on gum. Amid all the grayness of the squirrels there is a spot of brilliant red. Camera zooms in to show Private Conker. He is flipping a coin, and a cigar is clenched tightly in his mouth. Conker is not wearing the usual army attire. He wears his trademark blue jacket, and instead of boots, he walks on yellow-and-blue sneakers. His eyes are wide, and there is a splotch of deep blue in the very center.

When the T-Day invasion began, he was not enlisted. A barrel-chested sergeant had knocked him out and thrown him on the Higgins boat. What he would witness would not soon be forgotten. He was one of only four who survived the entire assault on his beach. The entire invasion amounted to about 300. Only about 100 are left alive, most of whom are wounded. Conker wasn't scratched.

A Lieutenant walks into the camp. He's holding a clipboard. Conker sighs and salutes.

Lieutenant: At ease.

The soldiers sit.

Lieutenant walks over to where Conker was minding his own.

Lieutenant: Are you a Private Conker?

Conker: Yes I am, sir. Who gives?

His voice has a certain accent to it, kind of New Jersey/New England.

Lieutenant: A certain squadron in the small bridge town of Rommel.

Conker: oh, what's THEIR story?

Lieutenant: They used to be two platoons, Private. Then some Panzer SS ran through the small town and chopped 'em into pieces. They lost about seventy of their men. The platoon was so pathetic that they had to form a militia out of the village. They eventually drove the Tediz outta there, but they need relief. The CO there is demanding some of the best this army has, and they drive in on Jeeps in groups of six. One of the soldiers he wanted was you.

Conker: This is a privilege?

Lieutenant: Not really. Think of it more as an order.

Conker: ok, I can handle this. Ah, who else is coming?

Lieutenant: We need to find that out. You were the only person the CO named. He just listed other bits and pieces.

Conker: What are these pieces?

Lieutenant (looks down at clipboard): erm, a .480 revolver…an entry man…medic…

Medic Corporal Tiernenn stands.

Tiernenn: Medic Corporal Abram Tiernenn, sir.

Tiernenn is a very kind soldier, very compassionate of his fellow rodent. He has been in the army since the start of the war, and has seen everything, so he is very calm under fire, especially for a medic.

Lieutenant: Well, that's one more thing off the list. How good are you?

Tiernenn (scratching his head): Well, an 88 hit our last .480, McKinley. Blew his leg right off. Lasted for about three minutes before he bled out.

Lieutenant: Hell boy, you must be pretty good. I've never heard of a squirrel that survived after being blown to bits by a mortar, nor have I heard of one who lasted more than one minute. You're definitely assigned.

Tiernenn: Thank you, sir.

Conker: So what else do you need? And what's an entry man?

Lieutenant: Someone who handles a 12-guage sawed-off.

PFC Kernelle arises.

Lieutenant: What's your name, boy?

Kernelle: PFC Sodry Kernelle, sir!

Kernelle is a hard-core patriot. He, like Tiernenn, joined the army at the start of the war, and ran many an intelligence/spy mission, being an entry man.

Lieutenant: You handle a shotgun?

Kernelle: Yessir.

Lieutenant: You're assigned.

Kernelle: Yessir.

Lieutenant glances at his clipboard.

Lieutenant: He wants a Katana.

Private Meffin rises from his seat.

Lieutenant: Name?

Meffin: Private Ashleigh Meffin, sir.

Meffin is only a little taller than his companions of the platoon, but much stronger than the rest, especially in his upper body, and a pretty good leader. His chest is as wide as a keg. Squirrel-sized keg, of course.

Lieutenant: You are a saber man, right?

Meffin: I suppose so.

Lieutenant: You'll do then.

Lieutenant looks around.

Lieutenant (cont.): Do we have anyone who can handle a .480?

Random Private: There might be one in the next camp.

Lieutenant: We need a sniper.

Private Peter Alva stands.

Lieutenant (sighs): Name?

Alva: Private Peter Alva.

Alva is a short cherry with titanium-frame glasses and ammo belts around his waist, just in case; a guy who just got into the world of war. He was one of the lucky souls that survived. Everyone on his boat thought that he would be one of the first ones to be hit, considering that he was in the front line. Just so happened that everyone but him got killed. He somehow scrambled up the beach, and was re-assigned to 3rd Platoon.

Lieutenant: What caliber?

Alva: 30-06.

Lieutenant: ok, you're reassigned also. I'm going to go check in the adjacent camp for a .480. Thank you, soldiers. Oh, and those chosen must be in the Captain's quarters at 0345.

Camera follows Lieutenant. He walks into the camp of the 2nd Rangers. All soldiers rise to salute.

Lieutenant: At ease. All I'm doing here is looking for a .480 revolver.

Staff Sergeant Handson stands.

Lieutenant: Name?

Handson: Staff Sergeant James Handson, sir.

Handson is a very tall squirrel, well built, war-trained, possibly the best leader in the army, and even stronger than Meffin. He has one distinguishing feature that separates him from the other squirrels. A large scar running from the top of his left eye to his jaw, quite like Sergeant Barnes's in Platoon. Company-wide legend says that this feature was caused by surgery. A bullet was lodged in his head, and multiple skin grafts had to be applied. While applying a graft, a surgeon dropped his scalpel, and…well…least to say, it was a pretty bloody incident.

Lieutenant: You handle a 480 Ruger?

Handson: Yessir.

Lieutenant: Well, you're going to Rommel with a group of six for relief.

Handson: Six for relief?

Lieutenant: There will be four other groups going.

Handson: Awright.

Lieutenant: Start packing, sergeant. And I expect to see you at the Captain's quarters in 0340.

Handson: Thank you, Lieuten'nt.

Cut to Captain's Quarters, late afternoon.

The Captain is pacing back and forth. He is the character from Conker's Bad Fur Day, the former Sarge. He is a huge squirrel, nearly twice Alva's height, and he talks from deep inside his diaphragm. On his off-days, he would work at the Cock and Plucker, a pub that Conker frequented.

The men slowly arrive and sit.

Sarge: So that's six. Good. Gentlemen, as you may know, you will be going to Rommel to help baby-sit a bridge with a diminished squad. But before you go running off on this little escapade, you must know the way there.

The lights suddenly turn off, and an overhead projector begins to whirr. On the white tent wall, a map of the surrounding area turns on, with Rommel on the northeastern corner. The beach was on the southwestern nook.

Sarge whips out a wooden pointer and smacks the beach. Camera snaps to the dot.

Sarge: Here is our little encampment, in the southwest.

His pointer moves along a straight line, and the camera follows.

Sarge: Where we want to be is here…in Rommel. But of course, we do not have the proper equipment to just chop through a whole lot of Tedi-infested forest. So we must take a road instead of flying with the crow.

The pointer again smacks the beach.

Sarge: At 0715, you guys will move out on a custom-made, muffled Jeep. Now, our analysts have studied every route on this journey, and the quickest route actually takes you through this line of forest…

Pointer moves along a forested road.

Sarge (cont.): …through some civilian pastures, where the city of Kestrel awaits with fuel and spare munitions…

Pointer follows road.

Sarge (cont.): …and through a mountain valley…into Rommel. Now this trip is approximately 100 miles.

Soldiers mumble.

Sarge (cont.): But this trip is important. We have intercepted intelligence that states that a reasonably large probe of SS Panzer Tediz has left their makeshift base.

Cut to Conker. He smiles to himself.

Sarge: Their probe consists of two Lion tanks and four Class 22's, along with about 50 infantry men.

Lion tanks are extremely large, slow-going, five Tedi tanks (navigator, two drivers, engineer, and artillery man), made for blockading small towns like our Rommel and blowing them to pieces with heavy artillery. They are heavily armored on all sides (it's their armor that makes them snails) except for the underside, which is uncovered because the armory would drag on the ground.

Class 22's, on the other hand, are small, nimble, two Tedi weapons (one man operates the tank, the other fires the shells), with ample-enough armor to fend off most grenades and some bazooka rockets. They are the blockade runners, formidable foes with enough agility to slip past even the technologically-advanced tanks of the United Squirrel Army (or USA. If I ever use this abbreviation again, you'll know what it is.)

Sarge (cont.): …and they are 200 miles away.

Cut to Handson as he raises his hand.

Sarge: Yes, Sergeant.

Handson: If their trip is 100 miles more than ours, then why are we leaving so damn early?

Sarge: I had the feeling someone would ask. The usual Tedi probe, even with the Lions, moves at about 10 miles an hour. Our specified Jeep has a drawback. To be totally muffled, all groups must move at a speed of about 6 miles an hour. Which gives all groups only four hours, give or take, to prepare for an all-out attack. It's a 16-hour trip. You must not stop for any reason, unless there is a battle in front of you, or you have to clear something. Provisions are provided in the Jeep, as are propane stoves if you can't stand to eat cold food.

Cut to Alva, squirming in his seat.

Sarge: If any of you wish to leave this important mission, so be it. Stand if you want to desert this struggling squadron.

Sarge waits for five seconds. No one stands.

Sarge: Great. Any questions?

Five hands are raised, the exception being Handson. Sarge searches the group and finds Conker.

Sarge: Private. (points to Conker)

Conker: How are we to know what roads to take?

Sarge: There is an integrated navigation system in the dash that will point you in the right direction. Yes, Private. (points to Meffin)

Meffin: Why must the Jeep be muffled so much?

Sarge: This road, while being the quickest, is also very dangerous. Tediz patrol the forests and some of the mountains passes. We can't risk making a commotion. Yes, Doc?

Tiernenn: Is music possible?

Sarge: What do you mean by that, Doc?

Tiernenn: Playing CDs, cassettes, eight tracks…

Sarge: oh, yes. A Bose system is installed. One speaker; again, we can't risk huge commotion. PFC?

Kernelle: If the Jeep itself is attacked, what protection do we have?

Sarge: Bulletproof glass, labyrinthine doors, flame-retardant, wheel-tire combination. Jeep and Mercedes worked hand-in-hand for this project, and all the safety features are from the Guard line of Benzes. This specific Jeep has the highest protection level, B7, which can withstand military rifles and most smaller explosives, like grenades, for an example. Next question…

Alva: What kind of food is provided in this car?

Sarge: Normal food. Bread. Ham. Cheese. Vienna sausages. Hardy food. I hope your taste buds can handle food and drink other than veal and wine.

Alva slumps into his seat.

Sarge: I guess that's it. See you in 13 hours and 45 minutes. Dismissed.

The squad stands, salutes, and disperses.

Cut to 3rd Platoon camp. Conker lay in bed, awake. He looks at a small watch. 7:03.

Conker VO: Well, look at what I have gotten into now: A whole lot of shit. Going to some damned town for a bridge and a few guys that I don't know.

I don't remember how I got involved in this damn war. All I know is that I wound up killing well over one hundred evil teddy bears, armed with guns, with weapons ranging from submachine guns to a tank. For what? Some cause that I have no opinion on. The invasion of gray squirrel lands. I don't live in the cities anyway. I don't live near gray squirrels. I live in a small community called Windy. Moved there after my 20th birthday with my girlfriend. Well, former girlfriend. She was my girlfriend until a weasel with a Tommy gun killed her. That was yesterday. Yesterday! So much has happened since yesterday that it feels like centuries ago that she was shot. It's like that song by that one band. "Yesterday all my troubles seem so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay." Wise words from the hit band in Windy. They'll hit home sooner or later in other parts of the country. All I want to do is go home and have brunch with Berri. But that won't happen. Not now. Conker sighs deeply. Oh well.

A shrill whistle sharply interrupts Conker's reflection.


Conker grabbed his stuff, woke the others up, and ran.