Pause.

WILHELM: Marcel.

Lieutenant Hartley sighs.

TOBY: Apparently not.

HARTLEY: Here we go again, the phantom Marcel.

WILHELM: He exists, please, believe me.

Lieutenant Hartley flicks through the large, leather notepad lying on his desk.

HARTLEY: I would love to believe you, trust me, I would. But, I looked into this Marcel fella, personally might I add, and I'm afraid that there be no records indicatin' that any sort of Frenchman ever surrendered themselves to any Allied forces in that there vicinity. In fact, there be no records statin' that a Frenchman even existed in the time and place you gave me. They were all either in France, or trapped in Berlin.

WILHELM: He escaped Berlin.

HARTLEY: Red Army had that place surrounded lad, ain't no way any Frenchman's gettin' in or out of there in one piece.

WILHELM: (Yelling) Well he did!

Wilhelm catches his words as an uncomfortable silence grips the room.

HARTLEY: Willie, I am goin' to be showin' you somethin' real important now, and I need the truth, the real, honest truth because, quite frankly, this whole debacle's givin' me a migraine.

From his jacket pocket, Lieutenant Hartley removes a small photograph, on the back of which, faint, undistinguishable pen marks have been hastily scribbled.

HARTEY: Willie, is this Marcel?

Lieutenant Hartley shows Wilhelm the photograph.

WILHELM: (Ecstatic) Yes! That's him!

HARTLEY: Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ!

Lieutenant Hartley, not sharing in Wilhelm's enthusiasm, slams the photograph onto the desk.

WILHELM: What's the problem?! That's him, that's fucking Marcel!

HARTLEY: No, it's not.

WILHELM: No it is! That's him, I swear!

Lieutenant Hartley picks up the photograph and kneels beside Wilhelm.

HARTLEY: Willie, look, are you 100% sure that this man is your Marcel?

WILHELM: 100%!

Demoralized, Lieutenant Hartley sighs heavily as he slumps to the floor.

HARTLEY: This man's name is not Marcel...

WILHELM: What?

Hartley flips the photograph around so that Wilhelm can read what's on the back.

HARTLEY: Read.

As Wilhelm reads, his fleeting joy dissolves into a hollow emptiness.

WILHELM: Oh.

HARTLEY: Yeah, "oh". And you say you were with this here man?

Wilhelm nods.

HARTLEY: Unbelievable.

Lieutenant Hartley stands up.

HARTLEY: Toby, look who Willie here let get away.

Flight of the Maybug (Script)Where stories live. Discover now